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stolensiren · 2 years

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for sail by owner // bobbi & cass

TIMING: sometime before jonas disappeared PARTIES: @timetide & @stolensiren SUMMARY: cass enlists bobbi's help to find a buyer for a sculpture she 'acquired' from a rude patron at a cafe. CONTENT: none!

Usually, Cass only stole things she knew she could sell in pawn shops and the like. Watches, jewelry, electronics… small things that would fetch decent enough money if she found the right shopkeeper to buy it. But… sometimes, her hands moved a little faster than her mind did. Sometimes, she was snatching something without thinking about it. Like, sometimes she accidentally grabbed an expensive looking sculpture from the car of the wealthy asshole who’d made the barista at her favorite coffee shop cry, and she knew no pawn shop would touch it.

Luckily, she did have an alternative.

Putting on her ‘Christie’ persona — which was really just her, but with a fake name and a little more meek — she called up the one person she knew would be able to help her. A few months ago she might have called Hikari, but… the other woman had been ignoring Cass’s calls for a while now, and Bobbi was a safer bet. The captain seemed more than willing to help, and Cass got another boat ride out of it. It would be fun, she thought.

She grinned at Bobbi as she came onto the deck. “I really appreciate the help,” she said. “And… I appreciate you not asking questions.”

You already know who's gonna win

You already lost, I'm up for the win, yeah

You already know who's gonna win

I'm undefeated, I'm fearless, fearless

Guapdad 4000’s Fearless blared throughout the captain’s quarters as Bobbi tinkered with a Darlington transistor. Now, normally, most people would be wearing clothes that were long enough to cover most of them just in case, you know, they’d get electrocuted while working, but a huxian like Bobbi, especially a huxian like Bobbi, could care less. Wearing only a white tank top over a pair of jeans, Bobbi bobbed her head to the music as sparks flew around her, mostly on her paper-free table. This wasn’t her first rodeo.

“Your kid’s here,” John didn’t even bother knocking, knowing full well that with that volume, their captain wouldn’t hear him. Instead, he just grabbed the door knob with a hand towel—Bobbi wasn’t the only experienced sailor on this ship—and walked right in, informing the unfazed woman whose face shouldn’t be that close to that circuit, or any circuits for that matter, of the news. “You sure this isn’t going to be like Senkaku?”

“Huh? Oh, right, yeah, okay,” Bobbi perked up, and in a matter of seconds, cleaned up her desk, which was the shortest way of saying she turned off what needed to be turned off and then just freaking dumped everything in the drawer underneath her table. Classy. Grabbing a denim jacket on her way out, she smirked at John who had of course followed her. “This isn’t going to be like Senkaku, John. She’s just a kid, just curious and in desperate need for adventure. What could go wrong?”

“Christie, hey!” Bobbi greeted the young woman as they reunited on the deck of her ship, gesturing for John to don his captain’s hat, which he did, immediately going around to yell at the others to prepare the vessel. The huxian, however, was more focused on her guest, still at awe at how she resembled her old, lost friend. “Eh, don’t worry about it! Captain needs more info, though. He’s been on edge lately because of all the weird stuff happening in town, including the docks. You mind clearing his thoughts about this?”

She placed a hand gently on her back as she started leading her towards the captain’s quarters, gesturing for Captain John to follow them as soon as he could.

Some of Bobbi’s crew weren’t exactly thrilled to see her, which was probably fair. The last time Cass had been here, she had snuck on board, after all, had enthralled several of the sailors in an attempt to keep herself from being caught. She was pretty sure the only reason they were tolerating her presence on the ship at all was because she was friends with Bobbi. But that was okay. Cass didn’t care to impress a bunch of crusty old sailors, anyway. There was only one person on board she was interested in hanging out with.

It was with careful practice that she reacted to the fake name on Bobbi’s lips as if it was the one she’d been called all her life, smile widening as the sailor approached. “Oh, right, yeah, I totally get that,” she nodded, throwing a nervous look towards the man commanding the ship. She wasn’t really scared of him, but she figured it was better to keep up the act that she was. It was always best to remain underestimated, even among friends.

Following Bobbi towards the captain’s quarters, Cass nodded. “Yeah, things in town have been… weird lately. I mean, they’re always weird, but, like, extra weird now. It makes sense to want more info. I’m, like, a hundred percent sure the sculpture isn’t haunted, though.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Bobbi rolled her eyes before shaking her head. That wasn’t aimed at Christie, of course. It was more aimed at the fact that the spooks seemed to be much harder to figure out now, especially for folks like Lilian who were gifted against them. Lil had even warned Bobbi to take extra precautions, if not for her stubborn self then for the boys. They were less long-lived than the huxian, though Lil didn’t know about that. Not yet. “Shame we don’t have an Egon Spengler, eh?”

The huxian had been in town since its founding, so strange stuff like that never really worried Bobbi, even though she did sporadically sail elsewhere during its first few decades, trying to find out more about the ghostly fleet that stole her ship, her most prized possession, the same ghostly fleet that made recent events an exception to her overall apathy with regards to the non-docks parts of town. Much harder to take back her stuff if everything she’d learned so far proved useless with all these new developments.

Heaving a sigh, Bobbi tried her best to calm herself down, remove those thoughts from her head, and focus on the task at hand. John joined them shortly after, closing the door behind them, a scowl on his face. Seems like he still hadn’t forgotten that bit about Christie headbutting his little brother. Dang, man can hold a grudge. “So, uhh, captain, looks like it’s X marks the haunted sculpture. Won’t be a problem, right?” She grinned at him before turning to the young woman, winking at her right in front of the dude with the bad mood.

John just crossed his arms and didn’t take his eyes off Christie. “We’ll see. What’s the plan, kid?”

There were some things in White Crest that went beyond Cass’s understanding. Not as many things as there used to be, thankfully — she knew a lot more now than she had a year ago — but enough to leave her feeling like she was scrambling more often than not. Ghosts were something she didn’t think she’d ever understand entirely. How could she when she couldn’t even see them? Lil and Jonas could try to explain things to her, but that could really only go so far, in the end. Furrowing her brow, she shot Bobbi a curious look. “What's an Egon Spengler? Is that, like, a ghost hunting tool?”

Something passed over Bobbi’s face, there and then gone so quickly that most people might have missed it. But Cass had learned to notice such things by necessity. In foster care, noticing the smallest shift in a person’s expression could ultimately mean the difference between life and death. She didn’t even know, really, how much of her ability to read people came from the natural empathetic abilities granted to her as a siren and how much was built up through her time in the system.

Not that it mattered much here. Bobbi had earned Cass’s trust during their last encounter, and she was hardly the biggest threat in the room. The ‘captain’ was still shooting Cass dark looks that proved he wasn’t entirely forgiving regarding Cass’s attempts to remain ‘unnoticed’ when she snuck on board the boat before, and she tried not to be obvious as she eyed him warily. “I just need to find somebody who’ll buy it discreetly. And for a fair price. I figured you guys could help with that. You found somebody to buy those paintings, before.” Somebody sketchy, sure, but Cass could handle sketchy. She’d proven as much back then.

John almost broke character, the making of a full-blown cackle escaping his mouth. Bobbi was quick to turn to him, annoyed at how he was quick to make fun of her advanced age. Swiftly, and perhaps the wisest decision he has ever made in a long while, John turned away, not locking eyes with Bobbi or the girl.

The huxian herself could only sigh, shaking her head, before turning to Christie with a chuckle of her own. She was…bemused. “You don’t know Egon Spengler? Ghostbusters? Imagine life as you know it stopping instantaneously with every atom in your body exploding at the speed of light?” That last part wasn’t the exact quote, but it was the closest Bobbi could recall.

John didn’t even bother remembering the kid’s name, noting her in his head as Stowaway Who Ruined Andrew’s Picture-Perfect Nose. To say that he loved his brother would be an understatement, though he would never admit to that. Far from it, he also believed that between the two of them, Andrew could escape the fisherman’s life and become something more. Like a model in those clothing commercials. He turned to Bobbi with narrowed eyes, and as if on cue, they both opened their mouths. “Old Creepy Guy.” “The Silver Fox.” Close enough.

“You’re in luck, Christie,” Bobbi grinned from ear to ear, much to John’s chagrin. She ignored him, though, because this wasn’t about him. Or Andrew’s halted modeling career. “We’re actually going to meet a potential buyer later today! And he’s way into…esoteric wares.” John cut straight to the point, wanting his part in all this over and done as fast as possible. “You even got the statue with you right now, kid?”

“Uh…” Cass glanced between Bobbi and the ‘captain’ carefully, shrugging a shoulder. “I saw the one with Chris Hemsworth in it?” She liked pop culture, but if it wasn’t comic books or superhero related, she tended to prefer the newer stuff by default. A side effect of being in her early twenties, she suspected. Plus, the special effects in old movies were always, like, super cringey. She only ever watched them to make fun of them, really.

It was cool, the way Bobbi and the ‘captain’ seemed capable of having entire conversations without ever actually speaking at all. It reminded Cass fondly of Levi and Marina, the way they were so in sync that it seemed like they shared a mind, sometimes. Bobbi and John seemed very much the same, especially when they came up with the same ‘client’ at once. Cass laughed at their respective names for the guy, quietly settling on Old Creepy Guy as a favorite.

“That’s perfect!” She shot John another dubious look, reaching to the messenger bag at her side to produce the little gold statue. “Uh, duh. I wouldn’t be able to ask for Bobbi’s help the right way if I couldn’t show her what she was working with, could I?” Maybe sassing the ‘captain’ of the ship wasn’t the smartest move Cass could make here, but he kept shooting her mean looks and she figured she was entitled to a little payback for that. “Can I come with you to meet him?” The question was directed entirely to Bobbi.

“Who’s Chris Hemsworth?” Bobbi shot both of them a confused look, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew who he was, well, how he looked, just not his name. John answered her without missing a beat, keeping his eyes on the kid. “Thor, God of Hammers.” At that, Bobbi nodded knowingly, the reference she understood quicker than she remembered the muscled Australian’s actual name. “I liked the female one better.” John frowned and gave her a look of disbelief. No spoilers, though.

At Christie’s sass, John audibly groaned, which made Bobbi grin. It wasn’t every day she saw John get one-upped by a smaller, younger girl. Besides from her anyway. The ‘Captain’ extended his hand to gesture his desire to get a good handle on the thing, though for no real reason than to make sure the kid wasn’t conning them. He scoffed at Christie’s request and let out a loud, “No.” Bobbi put a hand on his shoulder calmly and gave Christie a wink before making her own request. “Captain, may I request a sidebar?”

John stared some more daggers at the kid before nodding his head. The two went out of the quarters, though they didn’t really move that far away from the door, with much of their conversation still in Christie’s earshot. “What do you mean no? The old man would love her!” Bobbi scoffed. John heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “That’s exactly why I said no. The old man is a pervert. You’re gonna risk the kid for a pay day? I’d end up punching him in the face, and we can’t lose him as a client, even if he deserves a punch in the face.”

Bobbi saw his sigh and raised him her own, her hands finding their way on her hips.. “Kid’s not gonna get risked, John. If she’s anything like her mom… And besides, you’re not coming. Just gonna be me and her. Old man would love that, which means he’ll lower his guard. Not much of a threat then.” They continued arguing some more until things grew quiet. Bobbi returned inside the quarters. Alone. With a grin, she gave Christie a double thumbs-up. “Captain said yes! Wanna tell me more about the statue, why you need more money? If not, we can talk about something else. How’s school?”

Cass actually felt a little disgruntled at the ‘captain’s’ reference, because she didn’t want to like John, but it was hard not to think someone was at least a little cooler when they were talking about Thor. Keeping her eyes on Bobbi, she grinned. “I mean, same.”

Reluctantly, Cass held the statue out when John reached for it, allowing him to inspect it. She had nothing to lose there; she knew the figure was legit, and she knew it was pricey. If the weight of it was anything to go off, the metal it was made out of was real through and through. She’d be able to get a good amount of cash on it for scrap metal alone, but… She didn’t like the idea of selling it to someone just so they could melt it down. Maybe her friendship with Metzli had offered her some new appreciation of art that she’d never thought possible before.

She sighed as Bobbi and John gave contradictory answers to her request, nodding for them to go ahead and duke it out as she pretended not to listen. Something about an old man being a pervert and John not wanting to have to punch him, which was unexpectedly sweet. Maybe the ‘captain’ wasn’t quite as bad as he was pretending to be.

Continuing to listen to the argument, Cass hummed at the way Bobbi came to her defense… only to stop as the woman continued. If she’s anything like her mom… The words seemed to echo. She was still frozen when Bobbi reentered the quarters, eyes a little wider than they’d been before. She almost missed what Bobbi said next, blinking. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Great.” She needed to pull herself together. She could grill Bobbi later, when John wasn’t there to listen. “I guess I don’t really need money, but I’d like some. My new job doesn’t pay quite as much as what I used to do.” Jonas paid her well, but not as well as stealing money from rich people. “I’m not in school, though. Uh, when are we leaving?”

“More money’s always a good thing to have,” Bobbi quipped as she crossed her arms, a grin on her face, chalking the strange expression on Christie’s face to John being a dick to her. While the huxian liked to consider herself a capitalist, the years have softened her stance on her pirate-y ways. It helped that there were no true pirates around anymore, at least not the ones that she was molded by, fought with and against.

“We should be leaving soon,” and as soon as the words left her lips, the crew began to yell out their usual stuff outside, barely audible from where the two girls stood. As if on cue, Bobbi opened the door and gestured for Christie to join her on the deck before continuing. “The client lives on a yacht near Harris Island. Pretty sure he owns a fancy schmancy mansion over there, too, but he’s almost always on his yacht. Rich people and their yacht parties, am I right?”

John was talking to the other sailors, with his younger brother Andrew right beside him, the same guy whose nose Christie had broken before. Andrew’s nose was all healed up now. Well, as healed up as it could. It was less perfect now and more broken, which was why he was staring daggers at her when he caught sight of her. John noticed this, too, and patted Andrew on the head before walking towards the girls, though he simply nodded at Bobbi and shoved the statue back to Christie without speaking a single word to her, and disappeared into the captain’s quarters. Man can hold a grudge.

Bobbi found the whole thing funny but she didn’t linger on it. Sooner or later, John would soften up to the younger woman. Despite his grudges, he could never resist the whole knight-in-shining-armor schtick. That was why he worked well with Bobbi, with whom he often butted heads with but always made up at the end of the day. Or the week.

The huxian simply took to the railings and watched the waves crashed against their vessel with a warm smile. There was just something about the sea that always captured her heart. Even if she had spent decades, centuries even, at the sea, with the sea, Bobbi never really got tired of it. “Huh. I honestly thought you were still in school. You’re not, like, I mean, I’m not gonna judge but, you didn’t quit school, did you? And what’s up with the new job?”

“That’s what I always say,” Cass agreed, hoping the pounding in her chest wasn’t too obvious. There was no way she’d misheard what Bobbi said; she knew that. She weighed the pros and cons of just coming out with the question, but she didn’t think it would be entirely effective. Here at the docks, it would be easy for Bobbi to avoid answering if she didn’t want to. She could decide to agree with the ‘captain’ and kick Cass off the ship, or leave herself. It would be more straightforward with the sea beneath them. Cass was positive Bobbi wasn’t going to make her walk the plank to avoid answering her questions, at least.

Cass watched as John spoke with some of the other sailors, flashing the one whose nose she’d broken a fierce grin when no one else was looking. The persona she’d built for herself on Bobbi’s boat — one that was, for the most part, a scared, meek kid who had only lashed out due to her own terror — ensured that nobody would believe him when he spoke of it later, which was kind of funny. Maybe a little mean, but Cass was okay with that.

She took the statue back, fiddling with it for a moment before tucking it back into her bag. She trusted Bobbi, but she didn’t really have the same faith in anyone else on this ship. She didn’t want to lose the statue she’d gotten with her own sticky fingers to someone else’s.

Following Bobbi over to the railing, Cass looked out over the sea. She had a newfound appreciation for it these days, built up through her friendship with Levi and Marina. “I mean, I did,” she admitted, “but that was a long time ago. I dropped out when I was sixteen. I’m twenty-three now.” It was strange, just how much time had passed. Sometimes, it felt like just yesterday that she’d run away from the latest group home the state had stuck her in. Others, it seemed like an eternity since her time living on the streets. “I got a job at an antique shop. The owner’s pretty chill, so he lets me do whatever.”

“Huh,” Bobbi seemed genuinely upset when Christie revealed she had dropped out of school, which was a little weird, considering Bobbi didn’t formally attend school. The huxian was able to get her engineering degree only through lies and deceit, as she never had any legit documents that were required of her so she could enroll in the first place. Hard to get those when you don’t die. Plus, there was the whole thing about guardians and citizenship and the ever-changing educational system. Fortunately for Bobbi, as the computer and the Internet finally arrived, so did Photoshop and more terribly illegal things that she’d rather not get into. “Ever think of going back to school? Never too late.”

The thing about the antique shop piqued her curiosity soon after. That was a pretty good situation for some shenanigans. She wondered, as her eyes narrowed at Christie and where the statue was, if that was all intended from the very beginning. “So that statue…” Bobbi cleared her throat, hoping for the best instead of the worst. She wasn’t one to judge people but she’d rather have Christie on the better side of the world than be on the same side as her and her parents. “...that’s not from the antique shop, is it? You didn’t, uhh, borrow it, right?”

“Land ho!” John would soon call out to everyone on the ship, just as Bobbi always did, as they approached the Silver Fox’s yacht, even though actual land was still further in. The rest of the crew instinctively responded, already preparing to board the other vessel. “Ho!”

Bobbi herself joined in before she started watching the yacht with steely conviction, arms crossing themselves across her chest. The damned thing was the very example of opulence. Even from afar, she could smell the expensive liquor and other party stuff wafting in the sea breeze. If only she didn’t know who owned the yacht, she’d be so impressed. Without turning to her, instead sharing a knowing look with John at the helm, Bobbi whispered to Christie a final warning, “You sure you want to come with? Those abilities of yours are always good to go, right?”

Bobbi looked disappointed and, for a second, a strange jolt of fear surged through Cass. She’d always hated disappointing people, always felt nauseous at the thought, even if it was someone she didn’t know particularly well. But the feeling quickly passed as she assured herself that Bobbi wasn’t mad at her or anything. She shrugged at the question, glancing down at her feet. “I dunno. I thought about getting my GED for a while but, like, I don’t really need it or anything. Nobody’s ever asked.” And if they did, Cass was more than capable of lying her way around it. She’d always been good at that.

It probably was a little suspicious to admit that she worked at an antique shop while holding a statue she intended to sell that was definitely an antique. But the idea of stealing from Jonas was so absurd that Cass actually laughed at it, shaking her head quickly. “God, no. I didn’t borrow it from the shop.” She had ‘borrowed’ it from a rich guy’s fancy car, but Bobbi didn’t ask about that, so it wasn’t like she was lying.

Hearing the ‘captain’ call out in a way that probably meant they were leaving soon, Cass hummed. She followed Bobbi’s gaze to the yacht ahead, thinking for a moment how fun it would be to sneak aboard that ship. There’d certainly be more things to steal than she’d be able to carry. Maybe another day, she figured.

Turning back to Bobbi, she nodded quickly in response to the question. “Oh, yeah, for sure. I definitely want to tag along. And I’m definitely good to go.” She paused for a moment. “Your friend didn’t need to warm up, did she? When you knew her before?”

There wasn’t much else for Bobbi to say on that front, especially considering that formal education was the least of the long-lived’s concern. There were far more important matters that Bobbi had to deal with, and in the end, she still managed to get that degree. Although, again: through lies and deceit. “You’ll figure it out yourself. I mean, whatever works for you, you know?”

Whether the statue was acquired through legal means or not paled in importance to the new task at hand. Bobbi will just have to inspire Christie to go down the right path instead of this one, though that felt nigh impossible to someone in her shoes at the moment. Easier said than done. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, well, she was actually always the first out the door. Or in this case, off the boat.”

Bobbi chuckled at a stray memory of the good old days, as she gestured for Christie to follow her to the dinghy. The Captain watched them both, scowling because he did not get his way, muscled arms across his muscled chest. Two others helped the ladies off, and Bobbi did not waste any time before rowing them closer to the yacht, where a pair of serious men with visible weapons watched them with eagle eyes as party music blared on behind them. “Silver Fox has his own personal guard, and even the captain and his crew are former soldiers, so the old man’s a bit protective,” the huxian whispered the fact under her breath. “Of himself.”

Then she turned towards the guards and raised a hand, “Hey, guys! It’s Bobbi. I’m here to meet with Mr. Quincey!” They just stood there for a few seconds, eyes watching them, before one of them put a finger in his ear and then nodded, gesturing to the other one to follow his lead, as they helped both ladies aboard. Bobbi gave Christie a wink and waited for her to follow before giving the same two men a playful smirk. “Thanks, guys. Always a pleasure.”

“Bet we can take them both,” Bobbi quipped as they left the guards’ range of hearing. Or at least she barely cared. “You go high, I go low.”

“Yeah. For sure.” Cass was a little relieved Bobbi didn’t push the subject; it was the kind of thing that could get awkward relatively quickly, and she didn’t want that with Bobbi. Things with Bobbi were simple in a familiar kind of way; lying to someone about the bare basics of her life, giving them a fake name and a mostly made up backstory… It was something Cass used to do all the time. There was something interesting about the strange new twist of Bobbi knowing something not even some of her friends knew about her — that she was a siren — without knowing her real name, too. It was a little intoxicating, in its own way.

Every bit of new information Cass learned about Charlotte was intriguing, especially after having met her in her brief time travel adventure with Sloane. Bobbi wasn’t entirely forthcoming with her short answers, but Cass still soaked up the new facts like she needed them. And maybe she did. Charlotte was the only other siren Cass had ever known, even if she’d known her so briefly and long before she was meant to. “Did she hang out on your boat a lot?”

Following Bobbi, Cass was a little surprised to find that they were headed towards the yacht. Maybe sneaking aboard wasn’t an option, but it didn’t have to be if she was invited. “What should I expect here?” John had seemed apprehensive about the whole thing, and Cass suspected he probably had good reason to be. The last time she’d witnessed one of Bobbi’s business dealings, the ‘customers’ had been rude and brash and kind of gross. She doubted this would be any different.

Once on board the yacht, Cass fell into step behind the guards, snorting as Bobbi turned to her. “Their boss might not wanna pay us if we do that,” she replied, though she wasn’t against the idea of fighting these guys. “But we could totally take them down if we wanted to.”

“You could say that,” Bobbi had conflicting memories of her friend. Most of what she could remember, or more precisely, want to remember were good things. She was kind, she was fun, she made her laugh a lot. Those things. But you don’t become close friends with someone and just have good memories. Long friendships tend to be a little mix of both, the good and the bad, and sometimes, some things become a little bit of both instead of choosing a side. “She was like a sister to me.” Maybe even more.

“Smart,” Bobbi grinned as they made their way further inside the yacht, leading the kid up the stairs that gave them quite a view of the large flat foredeck that was currently occupied by a bunch of girls in bikinis dancing to some party song the huxian wasn’t familiar with. That didn’t stop her from bobbing her head to the rhythm, however, as well as admiring the delicious eye candy. “Just your typical bad guy HQ.” Soon, they stopped in front of a locked door and Bobbi calmly rapped the wood three times without moving her eyes away from the young girl. “No windows inside, at least four visible guards, maybe six, and even the servers know how to fight.”

When the door slowly opened, Bobbi gestured for Christie to follow her in. What greeted them was a bar with a collection of expensive bottles but decorated terribly with plastic flowers, as if the decorator was just the bartender, who at that moment, watched them with keen eyes. The rest of the room was typical in its excess, not unlike what one would see in a Vegas casino, which was John’s favorite description of the old man: A walking Vegas casino.

“Bobbi! You look beautiful tonight!” The old man shooed the two paid arm candy fluttering around him and descended the small flight of stairs, just three steps, that propped the bar a little higher than the rest of the room. Bobbi was quick to discourage any physical contact between them by making a completely exaggerated bow. “We’ve come for business, Mr. Quincey! Something that should pique your interest.”

Bobbi then turned to Christie, gesturing for her to introduce herself, and more importantly, show the old man her ware. At the same time, she discreetly scouted the room, counting four guys just standing around, obviously guards, while noting that there were two other servers plus the bartender, which all sported terrible attitudes for the service industry. Definitely punching bags.

“What was she like?” The question came out small, uncertain. Cass had known Charlotte for a moment, when time saw fit to throw her back to the eighties where the woman was probably younger than she was. And she’d felt — something, in that time. Some kind of connection, some kind of tie. Metzli had theorized it could be something like what hunters felt when they encountered the things they were meant to hunt or, perhaps more appropriately, what fae felt when they found others like them. And that made sense, because Cass had never met another siren before, but she wondered if there might be more to it, too. Bobbi’s earlier words echoed in her head. If she’s anything like her mom… She needed, with a hungry thrum, to know more. She needed to know everything. And she needed Bobbi to want to tell her.

Though… now might not be the best time for it. The yacht was like a maze, and Cass was careful to map it out in her mind, nose wrinkling when she saw the girls in bikinis. Some of them looked younger than her which, considering the fact that Bobbi and John had both mentioned that their client was an old man, was pretty gross. “You think these guys, like, take notes during James Bond movies? If he’s got a giant fishtank with a shark in it, I’m gonna lose my shit, Bobbi.”

She followed Bobbi into the room, glancing around at the decor. She was uncharacteristically quiet as she took it all in, opting to make herself small and unassuming rather than give anything away. If they did end up having to fight anyone — which, like, they shouldn’t, should they? This was a business deal! — she wanted to be underestimated. It always served her best.

The old man was pretty much exactly what Cass had expected him to be. Old, wrinkly, and gross. His wandering eyes raked up and down Bobbi and Cass in turn, and he made no real effort to hide the hunger behind them. It took everything Cass had not to let her disgust show on her face. She let Bobbi do the talking; the sailor had a working relationship with the old man, anyway, so it would be easier to let her handle this part.

Smiling when Bobbi turned to her, she nodded at the man. “Christie,” she said, the fake name slipping easily through her lips. She offered no last name, fake or otherwise; she figured, given the situation they were in, the man wouldn’t object to it. After all, sketchy people understood sketchy practices. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the statue. “Bobbi tells me this is something you might like. I think it’d fit in pretty well with the decorations you’ve got here, don’t you?”

The thing about memories was, at least in Bobbi’s case, which she had learned to accept a few decades ago, they tend to get muddled with emotions. Sometimes, you over-remember the good of a person. Other times, you end up focusing on the hate, the rage, that you miss the more important moments where they did good beyond what you could have understood at that point in time.

But Charlotte? Bobbi could never forget how she had been quite the character in her crew. “Hardheaded, stubborn, but more or less someone you’d want holding the knife while you’re on the table.” Operating table, that was what the saying she’d heard somewhere sometime ago specified, but Bobbi wouldn’t mind if Charlotte was her butcher. She stole a glimpse of Christie, curious as to why she was suddenly so curious about the woman. Does she know? “Why so curious?”

The old man did in fact have a fish tank. Well, two of them. One was filled with expensive pet fish, clearly for show, while the other only housed a pair of baby sharks, both bigger and taller than Christie. Why anyone would keep baby sharks in a saltwater aquarium was anyone guess, but Bobbi’s was that the old man had a tiny peepee he had to overcompensate for. The tanks were propped on opposite sides of the room they were in. Marina would probably lose her shit, too, if she ever finds out about this.

“Well, well, well… Consider my interest very piqued,” the old man licked his lips at the sight of Christie, even before she showed him the product, which did not sit well with Bobbi. Crossing her arms, the huxian resisted dropping the frail old man with a quick right by clenching her jaw. John wouldn’t have had the same…decorum. When his old, decaying eyes finally landed on the statue, they widened as much as they could. “May I?” He tried to get a hold of the item, but it was already clear that he would pay as much as he could for it. “Where did you find such a fine specimen? Tell me more about it.”

Hardheaded. Stubborn. Words that had been used to describe Cass a time or two in the past, words that weren’t entirely inaccurate descriptions. She wondered if there was some kind of genetic component to a person’s personality, if you could grow up with the same traits that made your mother who she was even if you’d never met her at all. That was assuming she was right about what Bobbi’s words had meant, of course, and that Bobbi herself was right about whatever assumptions she’d made. It was a lot of ‘what ifs’ that Cass was clinging to because for a kid who’d never had anything when it came to her biological family, even the tiniest snippet felt like a feast.

She shrugged at Bobbi’s question, trying to act like it didn’t matter when the reality was that it might be the only thing that did. “I’ve never met another siren before,” she replied. “I was raised by humans, so I always just kind of… thought I was one of them, too. I’ve only known about this stuff for, like, a year, and I guess sirens aren’t that common, you know? So… I’m curious. About the one you used to know.” It wasn’t even a total lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

The fish tank brought a faint smile to Cass’s lips, at least; she glanced over at Bobbi and inclined her head towards it, raising her brows in silent communication. Given the fact that she’d just mentioned it, she figured Bobbi would know exactly what she meant. But… it was probably best not to say it aloud.

Especially not with the way this guy was looking at her. She’d seen that look before plenty of times; it wasn’t one she particularly liked. But Bobbi was here with her, and she had a job to do, kind of. She was going to sell this stupid statue and buy something expensive with this creepy old man’s money. When he reached for it, she held it towards him, allowing him to take it for a closer look. “It was a gift,” she lied smoothly, “from a man in White Crest. Something his grandfather left him that he didn’t have room to keep. I don’t think he knew what it was worth when he gave it to me, so his loss is my gain, right? And your gain, too, for the right price.”

“Fair enough,” Bobbi gave her a knowing wink before she reminded herself of her similar experiences in the past year. “Been a while since I met someone like me, too, so I know the feeling. You met another of yours within the past year? Mine went missing.” The circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the other huxian in town remained a mystery to Bobbi. Well, Hikari was a kitsune, but a rose by any other name is still a rose. She had since wondered if she just upped and left without telling her. Or if her latest encounter with Teagan was an omen, perhaps Hikari had disappeared at the hands of a hunter.

“Do your humans know what you are?” Bobbi was genuinely curious to know. Her humans, her crew, did not know what she really was, that she was not as mundane as them. John had almost caught her with the truth once or twice but so far, so good. The young man had never spoken up about it, and the rest of the crew showed no realization of any strange goings-on aboard their ship. Well, not supernatural strange, of course. They did have that encounter with Marina back when they collected that chalice to save the town, but only Bobbi and two others actually came face to face with the jellyfish queen. The rest had to stay away from the shore, remain afloat for the quick getaway.

Bobbi raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest, when she caught a glimpse of Christie’s gesture. She immediately knew what was up, having wanted to do the same first but to no avail. Younger generation’s always quicker on the draw, it seemed, and perhaps for obvious reasons.

The old man’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the item while Bobbi kept hers on him then the girl and finally stealing glances at the other men in the room, counting them in her head, as discreetly as she could. Without turning to them, Mr. Quincey had the women, his paid eye candy, escorted out of the room with the rest of his non-gun-toting guests. Okay, here we go. Bobbi braced herself as the old man suggested a price, something lower than what any of them expected. As expected. It was his strategy, it seemed, to first go low and then a few steps higher. Cheeky old man. Let’s see how the girl bites.

“If I have, they haven’t told me,” Cass replied, and it wasn’t technically a lie. She’d met Charlotte, sure… but that had been in the eighties, thanks to the town’s recent flux of time-related shenanigans. And Charlotte hadn’t told her she was a siren. Cass had just known. It would be too complicated to explain that now, especially to Bobbi. If the Charlotte Cass met was the same one Bobbi had known — which she suspected to be the case — it would raise all sorts of questions on both ends. And they didn’t have time for that now. “Missing? When?” Maybe Bobbi’s friend’s disappearance was related to the time travel stuff, too.

At the question, Cass shrugged a shoulder. “Some of them do. But, honestly… I don’t really know as many humans as I thought I did.” And in White Crest, it was hard to tell. There were plenty of people Cass had assumed were human only to find out later that they weren��t. She’d learned it was best not to make any such assumptions.

The old man sent everyone who wasn’t packing a piece out of the room, and Cass tensed. She knew that was a bad sign… but she also knew it likely meant that both she and Bobbi had been underestimated. The guns, she figured, were here to intimidate. They would use them if they had to, but they probably didn’t anticipate any kind of resistance.

Cass raised a brow at the ‘offer’ the man presented her with, pulling the statue back with a shrug and tucking it back into her bag. “Sorry. I thought you’d take this more seriously. That’s okay, though. I should be able to find someone else who’s willing to pay a fair price. Have a nice day.” She turned towards the door as if to leave, looking unconcerned about the men with guns. The best strategy in situations like this, she’d learned, was to refuse to even entertain offers like the one she’d been given. It sent a certain kind of message.

“A while back,” Bobbi simply shrugged, downplaying the loss of a recently made friend. Having been alive for that long of a time, you tend to see friends come and go more times than necessary. Besides, their kind weren’t exactly known for having stable relationships, staying with friends and family. A fleeting fancy, whether a newly met lover or a different prospect in work and lifestyle, could just easily spur a huxian, or a kitsune, to abandon everything they’ve ever known for the new pursuit. She was guilty of that herself. “Though to be fair, she’s a traveling saleswoman, and was just renting a place in the Outskirts, so she probably just left for greener pastures. Wouldn’t be the worst timing, all things considered.”

Bobbi simply nodded at Christie’s answer. With her youth and beauty, she had immediately assumed she’d have made so many human friends, especially at that age, with the whole university and stuff. Bobbi herself had made many human friends around that time, when she tried to find herself in the academe, though to be fair, most of the humans around her were inherited, few of them were friends newly made, or more precisely, from scratch. John himself was a descendant of one of her closest allies as the pirate scourge Lin Baozhai, and the rest were the same. How strange it always seems to her that some people always find each other, by blood and by fate.

When Christie started to move towards the door, Bobbi made way for her while turning towards the old man with a playful smirk. The huxian admired the proverbial balls on this one, though that would be less accurate: Balls are technically easier to hurt. She wasn’t that much of a sports fan, but the amount of balls she had to replace over the years told her the same. Especially basketballs. Those things blow out easily. Or maybe I should stop getting the cheaper ones.

“Wait,” the old man brought her, and probably everyone with that volume, out of her reverie, prompting the two large men to enter the room before anyone else could leave. Bobbi saw Mr. Quincey let out a sigh before he continued, “What’s your price? Let me see if I can top it.”

“A saleswoman?” Things were clicking into place a little, and Cass shifted. “Is her name Hikari?” It had been so long since she’d heard from her friend, any attempts at contact going unanswered. And it was easy enough for Cass to assume that the kitsune had simply thought her no longer worth whatever friendship they’d built — that was what people usually did, after all — but she couldn’t fathom Bobbi as someone so easily abandoned. Not for the first time, dread gnawed at her gut. But Bobbi didn’t seem concerned, and Cass’s instinct was, as it always was, to cling to that optimism, too. “You’re probably right,” she said, forcing herself to believe it. Getting out of White Crest wasn’t a bad thing. It was probably something more people ought to consider.

Especially human people. It wasn’t something that applied to Hikari, of course, but it was something that came to mind as Cass considered just how few humans she actually knew. Jonas and Lil, with their ghost-seeing-abilities, probably didn’t count, so… Sloane might be the only actual human Cass really knew at all. It was strange to think about, now that she considered it.

Maybe it was better that way. She was beginning to believe some of the people who insisted that humans only ever really hurt people. Even this man, old and frail, thought he could step to Cass and Bobbi just because he had money, had power. Cass wasn’t one to stand by for things like that. Bobbi wasn’t, either. Of course, she had no intention of actually leaving without making a deal, and she doubted she’d be allowed to without a fight, but if there was one thing Cass was good at, it was putting on a show.

She smiled faintly as the man called out to her, pausing and tilting her head. Without turning around, she rattled off a price. It was one she’d pulled from her research, one she figured was fair to both of them… but was a little more in her favor than his. He had tried to lowball her, after all. “I won’t go a penny lower,” she warned. “If you try to offer me less, I’m out. I can go around your guys, or I can go through them.”

“Yeah, Narisawa? You knew her?” Bobbi was a little surprised at that thought. She didn’t picture the kitsune as someone who befriended younger folk, especially since she seemed to want to stay old and ancient, putting less to no effort integrating herself with the modern times. Bobbi couldn’t blame her. She was like that herself, but being trapped in White Crest, or more precisely trapping herself in the town until she got her ship back, required creativity on her part, especially with the whole long-lived thing.

Bobbi and the old man exchanged glances. Hers was meant to only gauge his reaction. Just in case it would require her intervention. If Mr. Quincey’s frown was any indication, things were about to get a little interesting. Before he could say anything, one of his men made the unfortunate decision of approaching Christie, hand held out, as if ready to grab her. Put her in her place, that’s what another one of Mr. Quincey’s men had said when he tried the same thing on Bobbi. I wonder how One-eyed Jones is doing now.

“Yeah. We’re friends!” Cass intentionally ignored the past tense of Bobbi’s statement, feeling as if there was a rock settled into her stomach at its presence. It was like Bobbi said earlier — Hikari probably just left town. People did that sometimes, had every right to do that. Cass had left every city she’d ever lived in, hadn’t thought of most of them or the people she’d met inside their borders since the day she did. Hikari was probably the same. That was all.

A moment of silence followed Cass laying her cards on the table, a moment where the old man seemed to consider things. Cass could tell he didn’t love the number she’d thrown out, or the attitude she’d given when providing it, but she’d hoped for… a peaceful negotiation, at least. That seemed off the table when one of the men reached out to grab her. Using one of the moves Metzli taught her, the siren caught the man by the wrist and twisted until something snapped. “Like I said,” she said, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding, “I won’t go any lower.”

Perhaps acting on instincts, the other guy on Mr. Quincey’s payroll immediately pointed his gun at Christie, which prompted Bobbi to draw a concealed firearm from her back. She pointed the ancient-looking arsenal at the bodybuilder threatening a much smaller woman with a long-range weapon. On her face, a playful smirk challenged the serious scowl of the paid enforcer. “Easy, son. We don’t want to traumatize the fish in their glass prison, do we?”

“Enough!” Mr. Quincey boomed, silencing the room. For an old man, he still had some pipes in him. Bobbi stole a glimpse of him but didn’t quite sheathe her weapon yet, even as the other guy lowered his boomstick. With a sigh, Mr. Quincey shook his head, disappointed at the events that unfolded aboard his party yacht. He slowly addressed Christie with a more serious tone, though it wasn’t near anything threatening, more like a teacher trying to retake control of his classroom from an untouchable student. “If you would be so kind as to let my man go? I can wire you the money, you can leave the item with me, and we can be on our merry ways.”

At that, Bobbi gave the old man an unsolicited nod of approval, which he caught with a raised eyebrow. Something else caught his attention, though, and his disappointment immediately turned to shock. “My god, Is that…a flintlock pistol?” Mr. Quincey threw away all pretense and approached the huxian, waving off the same guy Bobbi had a dick-measuring contest with just a few seconds ago when he tried to express concern regarding hs employer walking right into a loaded gun. Bobbi flipped the gun in the air, tossing it so it would land barrel-first in her hand, and offered the item to the connoisseur. “Queen Anne. Not loaded, of course,” she turned to the annoyed grunt with a wink before grinning at the oblivious old man. “My item. Thought you’d fancy a souvenir from one of my…previous dealings.”

The gun pointed at her was something Cass probably should have seen coming, but she was surprised anyway. For all the threats she’d had made against her in White Crest, having a gun pointed at her head was actually a relatively unfamiliar thing. Even in her vigilante nightlife, it wasn’t something she saw often. Most people in this town preferred other weapons, probably because guns were pretty useless against most supernatural creatures. Cass really wasn’t looking to find out what kind of damage one could do against a siren.

Fortunately, it seemed she wouldn’t have to. Bobbi was just as quick to pull out her gun as the goon was, but the old man didn’t seem to want a firefight. Which was probably smart. Shooting projectiles in a boat probably wasn’t the best idea. Looking to the old man, she hesitantly released her grip on the goon whose arm she’d twisted, and he yanked it back to his body with a grunt. “Wire me the money first,” she said. “I think you owe me that much, considering.”

The tension seemed to evaporate a little, and Cass was glad for it. She was a thief, but she wasn’t the kind of criminal who was used to this kind of thing. She much preferred Bobbi and the old man talking about guns to the previous situation of everyone waving them around.

Mr. Quincey frowned at Christie’s statement, but when he turned to Bobbi again, the huxian simply smiled and gave him a shrug. Why not?, she exuded the thought without the need for words and the old man could only heave a sigh. They’ve worked far too long with each other to not get these subtle hints between them, not unlike inside jokes between two old friends.

He tride to return the flintlock pistol to Bobbi, only to be declined—It’s yours!—much to his delight. The old man, with the gift still in his hands, cradled like it was the most expensive thing in the world, then began to walk out of the room, his goons making way for him albeit a little embarrassed at their own conduct. Bobbi winked at Christie and nodded, a gesture for her to follow. When they started walking, the goons stayed behind them, eyeing them coldly. Bobbi could only chuckle, whispering to Christie, “You’re pretty exciting, kid. You should join the crew when you’ve got some free time from the antique shop.”

Outside, they walked past another room, catching sight of the same oblivious partygoers from earlier, before ending up inside a much smaller room where a girl with long legs and practical eyeglasses was seated behind a laptop. Bobbi grinned when their eyes met, “Hey, Sally! Heard about Jeremy. His loss.” The woman named Sally just shrugged as Mr. Quincey went behind her, whispered a retelling of what had happened in the other room, and turned to Christie with arms crossed. “What’s your account number then?”

Bobbi had her back, something which made Cass relax just a little. She was pretty sure she could get out of here without a problem — she was getting better and better at the whole ‘siren thrall’ thing, especially now that she actually knew what it was — but it was nice to have some backup, anyway. It was nice to be appreciated.

Cass preened under Bobbi’s praise, smile slipping onto her face as the whisper reached her ear. “I don’t think your captain would dig that idea very much,” she joked, thinking of John. If Cass decided to hang out on the ship as a permanent crew member, the guy would probably blow a gasket. Which, to be honest, did sound kind of fun to watch. “I’ll think about it.”

Following Bobbi, Cass flashed a smile to ‘Sally’ and walked with a confident air about her. She had just won something, in a way. The old man’s money, Bobbi’s respect… It was a pretty good trip, all things considered. Rattling off her account number when the old man requested it, she bounced. “Pleasure doing business with you, dude,” she said, watching her phone and waiting for the ping. When the money came through, she pulled the statue back out of her bag and held it out to him.

Bobbi smirked. She was growing too attached to the girl that she even started thinking about telling her the truth of it all, how she was the actual captain and not John, though John should be, considering all the work and loyalty he had put into their ship and crew. But the moment was not conducive to such truths. They had more pressing business to attend to, one that involved a whole lot of money.

Instead of the old man, Sally was the one who took the statue, nodding at Christie as a gesture of gratitude and scowling at Bobbi when their eyes met. The huxian simply shrugged at her before Mr. Quincey ushered the two women out of the room, the girl first so he could whisper something to Bobbi: “Something that resembled the Jade Wind was spotted sailing off the northern coast two nights ago.” Bobbi’s eyes widened in surprise and hope, and she thanked the old man before leading Christie back to their dinghy, as fast as she can, ignoring the goons along the way.

Once off the yacht, Bobbi ignored Mr. Quincey and his men as they stared at them rowing away, back to her own ship. The huxian herself was quiet during the entire trip back, mostly because she was too busy inside her own head, now contemplating the possibility of finally regaining her most prized treasure. And yet, she wasn’t quite sure how to do that. How could she steal from the Lost Fleet what had been stolen from her?

Cass wasn’t privy to what the old man whispered in Bobbi’s ear, only the way it made her uncharacteristically quiet on the journey back to her boat. She pushed down the feeling that she’d done something wrong, knowing it wasn’t the truth even if her insecurities insisted it very well might be. If Bobbi wouldn’t speak, Cass would fill the silence instead; she’d always been good at that. She blabbered on as they made their way back, talking about nothing in particular. And when they were finally back on the deck of Bobbi’s boat, she offered the other woman a small smile. “I really appreciate all your help here,” she said quietly. “If there’s ever anything I can do to help you… You know where to find me, right?”

“Right,” Bobbi offered Christie a warm smile. The rest of the trip had been quiet, from Mr. Quincey’s yacht to the fishing boat and finally back at the docks. Even with her crew, the huxian pirate turned fisherfolk didn’t share the burden of her past. It was too early, she told herself, tried to convince herself, and bringing someone else in could only risk their lives. After all, at the end of the day, Bobbi still had no idea how to deal with the Lost Fleet. She’d learned a few things or two about ghosts from Lil, but she wasn’t even sure the Lost Fleet were all ghosts. The thought of teaming up with a hunter just disgusted her, especially after what happened to her and Teagan. Despite the information, she was still back at square one.

Bobbi settled for sending the young girl as best as she could, reminding her that she had a home on her John’s boat, though she wasn’t as sure the crew would like that idea. She did break one of their favorites’ nose a while back. “Think about the offer, all right? Captain could use all the help he can get. Feels like a new storm’s brewing on the horizon, if it’s not here already. Take care of yourself out there, Christie. See you around.”

#timetide #bobbi: for sail by owner

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chaifootsteps · 1 year

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You know what would be fuckin cool? A horse girl movie, but with dinosaurs.

Like, a world where dinosaurs never went extinct and humans just kinda evolved with them, eventually utilizing them like we did horses, using them for riding and farm work and such, complete with bad cgi dinosaurs and bad acting.

Enter the main character, a city girl whose parents died tragically in a car crash or something, so she has to go live on her uncle/grandparents' ranch, despite hating dinosaurs because when she was 5, she fell off a dinosaur and vowed to never ride again.

She meets the conventionally subpar attractive farm hand who only speaks in old wise countryisms, and immediately gets in an argument with him for some stupid fuckin reason and is TOTALLY not gonna fall in love with him by the end of the week.

As her grandparent/uncle show her around the farm, she sees a... (googles dinosaurs for five minutes).... triceratops?... yeah, sure, let's go with that.

She meets a triceratops that's totally wild and untamable, and when she sees it, she knows that they have a bond. Her grandparents tell her to stay away from it because it's dangerous and wild, and no one can tame it, but she's like, "No, it's not dangerous, it's just scared and misunderstood! No one understands it, but I do!" Despite having zero knowledge or experience with dinosaurs.

She ignores their warnings, spending time with the triceratops and slowly training it, and when the farm hand sees them together, he sees their connection, and he offers to help, giving her lessons and support instead of informing his employer that their granddaughter/neice is messing with a large, supposedly dangerous wild animal that could easily kill her.

After a while, the grandfather finds out and tells her to stay away, letting on that he plans to sell the triceratops in a desperate attempt to raise money because they're about to lose the farm! The girl knows she can't let this happen, so despite the warnings and the fact that she promised to never ride again, she works to train the triceratops for the big race/rodeo/barrel racing/jumping competition that conveniently is offering enough prize money to save the farm.

She works hard, and despite the triceratops suffering an injury/getting sick, probably caused by the stuck up rich bitch who's also competing and hates the main girl cause she's poor, she makes it to the competition and wins! She proves to her grandparents/uncle that the triceratops could be trained, and that she was right all along, and the grandparents/uncle is so proud and tell her that she's just like her mother, and that she'd be proud.

The main girl and the farm hand fall in love and start dating (SHOCKER), and the farms saved, and they ride off on dinosaurs into the sunset.

Cue the credits with cheesy country song about being strong and following your dreams, remixed with the jurassic park theme.

I need this. The world needs this.

#candycoloredwolf #actual blog post

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veronicasanders · 1 year

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I've spent the better part of yesterday afternoon convincing myself I don't need a mini wok station or a raclette grill, tell me about something you don't have any way to justify buying but you just want anyway? Either bc it sounds fun or kind of neat or bc you just always wanted it :)

First of all, you DEFINITELY need the mini wok station. The raclette grill—I guess it depends how much you love raclette. 😂

Second, the problem with me answering this is that I usually just buy stuff when I feel like it. So instead, after the jump, I’ll tell you about some of the insane, impractical purchases I’ve actually made. 🌈

I think the first one that comes to mind is a custom-painted, Drag Race-themed tea service for 10. It’s like 52 pieces, and it’s displayed in a lighted cabinet. I love it and I’m thrilled that I have it but…I mean yeah, it was objectively insane. I’ll DM you some pics if you want. (In my defense: I was on Percocet and having a bit of a bipolar meltdown.)

I used to buy literally everything I ever saw on an infomercial until I just decided that for my own sanity, I can’t watch infomercials. Those purchases included wrinkle cream when I was 16 because “it’s never too early,” a Montel Williams blender which we only ever used to crush ice, and a thing called an “egg wave” to cook eggs in the microwave. Which btw is the grossest way *possible* to cook eggs but I was living in a dorm with no kitchen at the time, just a microfridge. (And we were forbidden from having hot plates because of fire safety.) Anyway. I don’ watch infomercials anymore.

A gym membership that I used approximately 5 times in the 3 years I had it and the only reason I canceled is because I got a new credit card so I didn’t actually have to call them.

Dr Fluffernutter himself. The man, the legend. It started when I wrote a god like him into Galactica and then got jealous of my character's fictional dog. And I love him to pieces but it was objectively too much money to pay for a dog. Also, the way people in LA gave me SHIT for not getting a rescue from a shelter. But in fairness to me…he’s VERY cute. Like, so much cuter than any of the dogs I saw on the rescue websites. No offense to those povo dogs but...just not my style.

I ALMOST bought a new car when I was having my bipolar Percocet meltdown, but didn't. Responsible? Totes. She's learning.

Except that a year or so later, I spent about $500 on Build-a-Bear clothes for Doc. Like, there's so much that he has to have his own closet. So I guess I also bought an entire Ikea wardrobe for my dog. But look, I don't have kids!! And what's the worst that can happen from spoiling your dog? It's not like he's gonna grow up to be a douche who buys a social media company and runs it into the ground...

Lastly...when I first moved here to Sweden, it was really hard to find housing that would allow the dog, so I rented a room from this guy. And it was fine for a little bit but long-term, it was not the right situation. And it was SO hard to find something so I just bought an apartment. In cash, since I don’t have a full-time job here and so I don’t qualify for a mortgage. Which was pretty much all my money but on the plus side, now I own an apartment and I can sell it when I want to move. The only issue is that I don’t know the rules for taking money out of the country. I should have looked into that but…it was a cute apartment in a cute building in a cute neighborhood so I didn’t really have time to think too hard. 🤣

I don't think I can top "an apartment" but in terms of shit I definitely don't need but WANT, I do have my eye on a painted lady style dollhouse. Come on, LOOK HOW CUTE:

Plus you an get so much adorable stuff to put in it. Fruit and veggies, sushi, little teeny condoms so that your dolls don't get knocked up. A TINY DOLLHOUSE TO GO INSIDE YOUR DOLLHOUSE!!!

Really the question here is, how do I NOT buy this??

#walking down the glittertrail #why did this take me all week?#well #it was the week from hell so that's probably the main thing #love you though #BUY THE MINI WOKS!!!!!!#MINIIIII WOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKS!!!!!!!!!!!

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littlegoldfinchh · 1 year

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genuine question why is your family 1, a bag of dicks 2, such a mess (no offense)

I WISH I FUCKING KNEW like holy shit you don't know the half of the stuff that's going on. But you know what!:) I have the time and im bored so get comfortable because im gonna tell you soooo many shit about my family

So first of all, my aunt texted me that i should stop being jealous and passive agressive about the fact that my grandma gave my cousin her car. But my brother in christ WHY would i be jealous? I can't even fucking drive.

But not only did my grandma give my cousin her car! She completely cut me out of her will (just for funsies!!!) and she's going to leave everything (her house and every other possession she has) to my cousins.

And i have NEVER said anything about this. My parents (especially my dad lol) raised me to be respectful yknow especially towards the elderly, so i have never EVER expressed how fucking bad that felt. Instead i have sacrificed my free time everytime my grandma needed me to translate stuff when her german friends came to visit. And i did!

I'm gonna be 23 in 3 months but she has never invited me over for dinner, she sends me (usually spoiled and straight up moldy) food like once a year. Because you know, I'm already fat, i don't need to eat more food right?

And look, my part of the family isn't rich. We're not poor either, but that money could have paid off some debts, including my student loan. But no, let's leave everything to my cousins who are literally millionaires.

This whole thing broke out because i told my grandma that i really like a painting she has (i have always loved it and it's genuinely beautiful, i don't want to sell it at all, it has sentimental value for me and i would hate if my cousins just straight up sold it because that's EXACTLY what they're planning to do) and i asked her to leave that one painting to me. Instead of my cousins. But apparently i overstepped some invisible boundaries with this lol

And this is literally just the tip of the iceberg but im not going to bore everyone to death with my shitty family. So yeah it just sucks because I've never been jealous or MEAN even though i had every right to do so, and this is what i get for all the help during these years lol. Getting called a passive agressive jealous bitch. Me. Lmao

#like i just had enough #i genuinely want to move to america and just start a new life and never come back and never ever interact with my family again #like im genuinely hurt. especially because i consider myself a kind and helpful person and now they're smearing shit over me for literally #no reason #rambling #ask

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itsays · 2 years

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#had to lend my aunt $80 because she crashed her car #i asked my mom what happened and she said she was drunk driving (i believe her) but she says it was an accident (bullshit)#she was gonna sell the car because she needs the money but instead all she has now is a destroyed car and it's her fault #cant even pay for the crane herself she has to ask me #she's so irresponsible im so mad at her she always does this #then she gets mad my mom 'has it easy because my dad pays for everything' which is such bullshit #my moms entire life has been sacrifices and the reason she has her life in order isnt because of my dad it's because of herself #how can she be mad her siblings are doing better in life when they've made good decisions but she isnt and she always makes bad decisions #my mom would've ended up fine without my dad. she went to school she graduated college she went to work with no issues. she never did #she needs to stop blaming her problems on the world and start looking at herself #i at least trust she'll pay back but this is such a waste of money. it's not like the cat broke YOU broke it #money down the drain. could've killed someone #so heated right now #the older i get the more i understand why my mom didnt want her to move in with us

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

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A day at the farmers market with cottagecare!Harry

Summary: The styles family spends a day at the farmers market :)

warnings: possible swearing

“Morning” Harry yawns, coming downstairs, walking down the creaky steps of their cottage. “Good morning, honey” Y/n softly calls, whipping something up in the kitchen, making what looks to be a mixed berry smoothie. Harry yawns, wrapping his arms around his little girl and kissing her cheek multiple times, saying a good morning. She clings to his Henley, saying good morning to him while she smacks on her fruit.

Harry pulls his little boy out of the bassinet he was laying in, smiling down at him and kissing his forehead. “What are you making, dovie?” Harry asks, patting Forests bum. Y/n scoops out the dark purple colored smoothie like substance out of the blender, putting it in a mason jar- like almost every other thing in their kitchen. “It’s baby food,” Y/n says, holding a small multi-colored baby spoon up to Forrest's lips with the thick baby food on it. The little boy opens his mouth the smallest bit, taking the spoon in.

“My love, we can just buy that.” Harry says, making Y/n shake her head.

“And we can just buy a lot of things we make but I’m not feeding my baby’s that crap.” Y/n says, pulling Forest into her arms.

“The farmers market opens today, I want to go up there and look around then sell some of our stuff. I love doing that” Harry explains, going back over to violet and giving her a hug. The almost two year old clings to her daddy, Harry pulling her out of the chair and up into his arms, giving her a proper morning cuddle. “That would be nice. The weather is a bit rainy today though,” Y/n hums, reaching up to find a lid for the mason jar before stashing the baby food away in their vintage fridge.

Y/n sets a bowl of oats and berries down next to Harry, giving him a peck before telling Violet that she needs to finish her breakfast. Violet's face scrunches up, covering her daddy’s mouth. “Icky!” She says, making the couple laugh. “Go eat your breakfast, sweet pea” Harry says, letting her down from his arms and letting her toddle her way back over to her own seat.

“M’ I love this weather” Y/n sighs, opening a window, welcoming the fresh breeze in their stuffy cottage, the fresh scent and sound of rain now hammering through their home. “Know y’ do” Harry smiles, Y/n joining them at the wooden table, setting her own bowl down, Forest latched to her.

“It’s the perfect day to go to the farmers market, just have to dress the little ones for the colder days.” Y/n says, Harry giving her a warm sleepy smile, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “I bet the ducks are enjoying this” Harry adds, Y/n nodding at his words and Violet clapping her hands together while she munches on some honey covered fruit. The honey from their own bees they take care of, outside in their brood box.

“Definitely,” Y/n breaths, letting her eyes fall closed for a second to let the sound of the rain relax her before opening them back up, diving into her breakfast.

“Honey, have you seen my glasses?” Harry asks, trudging down the stairs, ready for a day at the farmers market. He’s dressed in a ribbed cotton shirt- a warm brown color, along with a pair of brown plaid pants to go with it, some daisies stitched in the pockets that he asked Y/n to add just for him, and a forest green beanie to keep his curls from getting wet- but all he needs are his glasses to finish the look. “I’ll give you two guesses, baby” Y/n says, packing some small snacks for Violet while they are gone for a good chunk of the day.

“Do you have them?” Harry asks, rounding his way to the kitchen, seeing his circle lenses on the top of her head. “How did you know?” She teases, Harry shrugging and pulling them from her and onto his eyes, pushing them up his nose.

“Let’s go,” Y/n sings, pulling Forest into her arms and pulling the diaper bag onto her shoulder. Harry reached out for his daughter, holding a hand out for her. “Come here, little one” Harry calls out for violet, she stampers over to her daddy after placing her crayons down. She reaches for his hand, Harry pulling her up instead, resting her on his hip.

They walk out of the cottage, locking the door and walking out of the gate. They walk over to their Volkswagen bus, a white and orange one. They originally got it because they both love the sixties aesthetic of it and it was a good way to haul everything from their little farm, but now they have grown to love it for more than just farm usage. “Let’s buckle you up,” Harry coos, placing Violet in her car seat while Y/n buckles Forest in his much larger car seat, making sure he is comfortable and secure. Harry makes sure Violet is comfortable before sliding the door shut and getting in the driver's seat.

“Did you bring a lot of honey?” Y/n asks, cradling Forest to her chest, patting his bum softly while Violet sets behind them, snacking on some grapes. She’s a hungry girl.

Harry nods, setting mason jars over the while fold out table that was already set up at the farmers market, under a small canopy “Yeah, and I brought some pumpkin jam too” Harry notes, setting everything up in rows, organizing them and grouping them all together neatly into their separate categories. Y/n nods, kissing Forest's hand, warming up her small baby. Harry turns, wrapping his arms around violet in a warm hug, resting his chin on top of her head. She wraps her small arms around him, giving him a squeeze. “I love you” Harry says, kissing her head.

“Love you!” Violet says, making Harry smile, kissing her cheek. Y/n holds Forest up, looking at him suspiciously. “Babe, I need to go change Forest” Y/n says, stepping out of the beige topped canopy and grabbing the diaper bag she had packed just before they left. Harry nods, pulling violet close to him. They hate that they are such ‘helicopter parents’ but they can’t help it, they both mainly work from home and they love their children more than anything in this world. “Okay, I’ll just keep Violet close to me.” Harry hums, playing with the small pig tails that spring on the top of violet's hair. “So you don’t get stolen because you are so cute!” Harry coos, making Y/n give him a strange look, walking back to their bus.

Harry sells a couple jars of honey and some strawberry jelly while they are gone, coming back with a blue knit hat on Forest’s head, a big embroidered bumble bee on the front of it. “Where did you find that, honey?” Harry asks, violet standing in front of him, playing with his wedding ring. “A lady sold it at her stand so I bought it from her” she says, tucking Forest in his car seat and giving him a small stuffed animal that has a rattle in the belly- it’s one of his favorite toys.

“Do you think he’s gonna stay blonde?” Harry asks, the boy only having a thin layer of hair coating his head, it’s a blonde color- almost just like Harry’s when he was a toddler. Even though Harry had the beautiful luscious locks that he has now he didn’t really start getting hair until he was around one year old. “Probably not,” Y/n says, holding a hand out for violet.

“Hello,” an older woman sings, making the couple turn their head, putting on a warm smile to welcome the customer. “Hi!” Violet chirps, making everyone laugh, Harry softly rubbing her back. “You two look so young! Are these your kids?” She asks, the couple nodding, Y/n trying to calm the slightly fussy baby. It’s noisy at the farmers market and Forest needs to sleep, he is only three months after all.

“How old are you two?” She makes light conversation while picking out a couple of jars of jam and a jar of honey looking over all the different items they are selling today. “I’m twenty four and she is twenty three” Harry says, the woman nodding. She looks around some more, picking out some of their fruit before letting Harry ring her up.

“So you make this all yourself?” The woman asks, looking at the mason jar with twine wrapped around the neck of it, a tag on it that reads ‘strawberry jam’ in Y/n's chicken scratch handwriting. “Yeah, we have a big garden and some bees, we make it all ourselves” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and humming while the woman hands him the money. Violet clings to his leg while he talks to the woman, her arms wrapped around his thigh and her face shoved into his leg, Harry softly rubbing her back and giving it light scratches every now and then.

“Thank you,” the woman sings before walking off, her goodies all wrapped up in a paper bag Harry had given her. “Thank you!” Harry cheers back, bending down and wrapping Violet in a hug, “‘m tired, daddy” Violet says, Harry nodding and rubbing her back, her shirt rising up and exposing her soft back. “I know, pumpkin, I know” Harry says, pulling her up on his hip and holding her close to him, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Foggy,” Violet says, patting Harry’s chest. Harry nods, walking over to his wife and opening the diaper bag, finding Violets (rather large for her size) frog plushie that Harry had actually made for her. “Here, love-bug,” Harry says, Violet taking her frog in her arms and cuddling it, laying her head back on her daddy’s shoulder, trying to sleep.

“He’s asleep,” Y/n says, Harry turning and seeing his boy asleep in his car seat, mouth open. Harry chuckles, softly scratching Violets back.

A large man comes up, suspenders attached to his hefty jeans, he must be a farmer. He looks through some of their stuff, his big husky hands grabbing at one of their jars of pepper jelly. He grabs a jar of honey, some peaches, and jalapenos, setting it all down in front of Harry. “Is this all for you?” He hums, trying to be polite to the intimidating man, stuffing it all into a paper bag with the arm that wasn’t cradling Violet to his chest.

The man nods, breathing harshly through his nose. Harry nods, sliding the bag towards him, “Fourteen dollars,” he says, the man nodding and digging some money out of his dark leather wallet, plucking a few bills out and handing them to Harry.

“Thank you!” Harry chirps, shoving the money in the little tin box. The man nods, taking his bag and walking off, leaving the family alone again.

“I’d say we did pretty good today” Harry says, the day now dwindling down, finally putting the remnants of what they hadn't sold up. Their jars on a shelf and their fruit and veggies stored either on the fridge or on their big fruit and veggie baskets. “Yeah, we sold a lot. I’m just happy we still got a good chunk of our blueberry jam, Violet loves that stuff” Y/n says, making her husband nod, organizing everything to his liking.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect our lavender syrup to sell that well but the sweet old lady’s seemed to be very interested.” Harry notes, chuckling at the memories of today. Y/n nods, the warm lighting of the cottage comforting her- only candles and a few warm colored lamps to light their dark house. “Yeah, I didn’t expect anyone to buy the dandelion lemonade because of the flower but they were very interested.” Y/n says, coming up behind Harry and rubbing his knotted shoulders, rubbing out all the aches and pains from today.

“Next time let’s bring some of our baked goods, I’m sure everyone would adore your angel food cake.” Harry says, making Y/n giggle, wrapping her arms around her husband. “I only make that for you and Violet” she says, resting her head on his back and cuddling into him.

Harry’s chest rumbles with a soft chuckle, nodding as he places the last jar of pepper jelly in front of the other, “I’m sure they would love your lavender and poppy-seed muffins then” Harry adds, Y/n nodding. She does enjoy baking, especially trying out new recipes with the huge garden she has access to, fresh ingredients, eggs and fresh milk constantly coming through. Harry is the better one in the kitchen though, but she won’t admit it.

“I wanna make some sun tea tomorrow, what should I make?” Y/n asks, placing a kiss on the back of her husband's shoulder. Harry pulls her arms around himself even tighter, giving her wrists a squeeze after. “Whatever you would like, and you could add some lavender and lemon to it” he says lowly, his voice getting more deep and scratchy as the clock ticks later. He leans back into her, resting his head on the short space of her shoulder. Placing a kiss on his cheek she noses over his hairline, “yeah,”

“Let’s go to bed,” Harry says, picking up the kitten that had jumped on the kitchen counter and placing it back on the ground with a scratch to their head. “Let’s,” Y/n agrees, grabbing his hand and pulling him up the stairs, tracking up to their bedroom to start their nightly routines and head to bed.

A/n: HI! this posted early :( I think I accidentally set it to the wrong time. Thank you to everyone who read and reblogged the first part of my cottage core series, you're all so sweet, it really does mean a lot. My requests are open!! so please request some ideas for cottage core harry!!! This isn't like a consistent story, its more like blurbs that sorta go together. I have part three done already and it will be posted possible later next week since its Sunday for me now :)!!! thank you to everyone again! sorry for the early post and please request some blurb ideas for cottage core Harry :))))))

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oitommothetease · 3 years

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Invisible String (13/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warning : angst, violence, sad reader, sad Bucky, shitty Rumlow, maybe Steve isn’t that bad, the doughnuts are back from chapter 11, did I mention angst?, angst, more angst

Everything was dark, you noticed. When you slowly returned to consciousness, you half expected to be in your bed with Bucky tangled beside you, just like in your dreams. He fit so perfectly in your bed — your life and you, as if he was a part of you, and you weren't sure where he ended and where you began.

But when you moved to stretch your aching limbs, they moved a few inches before halting by some sort of restriction. Instantly, the bubble of your dreams burst, and everything came to your mind, and you abruptly looked around to find him. Bucky was still unconscious — tied to a chair, but instead of rope like yours, he was tied down with manacles. He had restraints on his wrists and ankles. You were sort of offended that they didn’t think you were strong enough to be captured like him. Not that you wanted those manacles anywhere near your body, but you preferred not to be treated as if you were meek.

What could be worse than getting kidnapped? It's definitely getting rekidnapped with the person who came to rescue you. Clint lied, he was working with Rumlow. His source was nothing but an ambush for Bucky. There were more than 4 of Rumlow’s men in the warehouse. Clint lied so that Bucky would come under prepared and he fell right into the trap.

Earlier, it was just you in a room alone, but now it was you and Bucky in a dingy cell-like room with a closed door. He was still knocked out when the man known as Rumlow walked in. You recalled him from the time he came to the club, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards the safe embrace of your lover.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Rumlow’s steps halted when he was near your tied form. His hand came for your cheek and naturally, you recoiled away. Your rejection didn’t deter him, it only fueled his fury more as he held your chin tightly in his other hand and made you look at him. You attempted to get out of his grasp, which only angered him more, and he struck his hand to your face. It ached so much and it was so loud that it jolted Bucky up.

“Will you look at that,” Rumlow mocked, pushing your face away from his hold. “Lover boy can feel her pain.”

It took a second for Bucky to drink in the sight and commemorate everything. Once everything came back to him, he looked at you deplorably, his eyes filled with concern and guilt as he saw the blood dripping down your face.

“Get away from her, Rumlow!” Bucky seethed when his gaze was back at the man who hurt you. Despite the warning, Rumlow moved more towards you. One hand running his knuckles on your face in an attempt to be soothing, while the other held your chin in a painful grip.

“Why do you get to keep such a pretty thing all to yourself?” Rumlow asked rhetorically. “I should get a taste too.”

Before Bucky could try to do something, a knock on the door attracted everyone’s attention. Clint came in with a look of victory on his face.

“You betraying son of a bitch,” you hissed. Unlike Bucky, you didn’t have much self-restraint or any wise escape plan cooking in your head. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

“You’re new, sweetheart,” Clint pointed out, his tone condescending. “You don't know how it works.”

“What I know is that your wife is friends with Wanda's girlfriend,” you retorted back immediately. You were tired of being seen as weak. ”How will she feel when she finds out that you betrayed Bucky?”

A look of uncertainty came over Clint's face and you continued, “I might be new, sweetheart, but I’m not dumb.”

When Clint was astounded, Rumlow spoke up,” Ah, the power of pillow talk. You are one feisty little bitch. What else did he tell you? Did he tell you that his work is not illegal and he sells weapons to the government?”

You looked at Bucky, hoping that the man you knew and loved was nothing like this monster who assaulted you. Rumlow continued, “Barnes, Rogers and I started this whole a business together. They enjoyed the money that was brought in with our illegal escapade. He enjoyed girls like you every day. Until one day, the childhood buddies decided it was time to go clean. And they just left us in pursuit of some dream life.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked over at Bucky who was staring at the floor as if waiting for it to open and swallow him whole. Was he ashamed of his past? Did he think that his past would make you love him any less? If he did, then he was highly mistaken because now you didn't see James as your arrogant boss. Now you saw a young boy who made some questionable choices and, to make a better life for himself and his family, he changed his direction. Now you saw a reckless boy who did stupid shit in his past like everyone in the world and instead of letting it define him, he made a better life for himself. Now you saw a hardworking boy who worked his ass off to build an empire for himself and his loved ones. All of these versions of him existed before you, but you only saw one — the one that mattered to you at least, you just saw the love of your life, your Bucky.

The universe might have listened to your pleas because Rumlow’s phone rang and both he and Clint exited the room. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with Bucky. He didn't want to, that you were sure of. What were you supposed to say? That his hardship and past made him look hotter in your eyes? You wanted to avoid romanticizing his struggles, so you resorted to the only thing you do when you are tense.

“This is not the lunch date I had in mind,” you teased, forcefully huffing to make the situation seem less intense. When Bucky did not respond or even looked at you, you retorted to another antic. “I remember that song name, you know — Invisible String. Taylor Swift, of course. It would make an excellent bakery name. We can -”

“We can what?” Bucky finally snapped, “You want me to fire my friends and convert the most profitable club into a fucking bakery, huh?”

“Is that what you want? A life with a man who got you involved in this shit?” you flinched at his harsh words. You knew this wasn’t your Bucky — your Bucky was all about sweet touches, teasing words and passionate kisses. No, this was the Bucky that Rumlow recognized.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your tone gentle. “I’m sorry you're stuck here because of me, but -”

He cut you off. “Doll,” he exhaled, his voice devoid of all the venom present a moment ago, It was filled with the adoration towards you that you were used to; Nonetheless, it still made you feel dizzy all the time. His face softened before saying, “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I got you into this mess. I should have stayed away from you.”

You opened your mouth to object. You wanted to tell him that he was being stupid — that you would get through this together, but he sustained.

“I will stay away from you,” he pondered, his eyes avoiding yours again.

No, you wouldn't let that happen. You finally had him, and you wouldn't let Rumlow get into Bucky's head. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he concluded, “When we are out of here. I will maintain my distance.”

You tried to ask him to stop saying that, but he kept ignoring your words and looked at the wall behind you for almost an hour. When it got to your nerves, and you were starting to get pissed he started whistling a song you weren’t quite familiar with. “Seriously? How old are you? Five?”

He didn’t respond. “So what? You're just gonna ignore me while we’re tied here?”

“Hey, let's play a game,” you tried again.

Before you could lose all your patience and start yelling at him, you heard grunting sounds from behind the door. You shuddered, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to see Rumlow again, in fact, you never wanted to see Rumlow.

Sensing your discomfort made Bucky finally speak up. “Y/N, look at me,” his voice sweet as ever, as if he hadn't been ignoring you for the past hour. You looked at him, and he held your gaze, assuring you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak anything. Both of you held your breath, waiting for someone to walk in and hurt you more, but it never came. All that came was a blond man with a gun in his hand, whom you recognized instantly — Steve. You didn't like that man one bit because he clearly disliked you, but at that moment, he was your angel who came to your rescue.

Immediately, Steve ran towards his pal who nodded his head towards you, indicating his friend to let you out of the restraint first. Again, he had manacles around his wrists and limbs, and he wanted you to be free of the rope that was around you. Steve took his friend’s request and freed you of your restriction before doing the same for Bucky.

When you stood up, the world stood up with you, and you realized that you hadn’t eaten anything in more than 24 hours. You almost collapsed on the floor when two strong hands came to your relief and held you. You didn’t need to keep your eyes open to see who it was. Likewise, you knew it was Bucky — you could recognize his touch anywhere, and just liked that you passed out.

The next time you gained awareness, you were moving swiftly. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge that you were in a car. You craned your neck upward to find your head situated on a hard and firm chest, Bucky looked down at you and engulfed you tighter to his side, your legs resting on his lap while his free hand was settled on the back of your thigh, holding you closer to him.

“Doll,” his voice was barely audible, and you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to him or if he didn't whisper it in your ear. “You gotta eat something.”

Tiredly, you nodded and Bucky nudged you softly, encouraging you to straighten up a little before eating something. You straightened your back and somebody passed a box from the passenger seat. Steve, you recognized him and the person in the driver's seat — Sam. Both of them looked at you sympathetically, and you smiled at them, or at least tried to. You were so exhausted.

Bucky opened the box and took out a doughnut, which you brought for him that morning, or was it the previous morning? How long had it been since you were kidnapped?

Two doughnuts and one bottle of water later, you were back at your apartment. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back as Steve and Sam followed both of you. You hesitated before unlocking the door, and Bucky ran his hand on your back reassuringly as he ensured you, “I’ve got you, doll.”

Bucky said something to Sam and Steve, but you were too exhausted to listen. Once they were gone, Bucky strode towards you, cupping your face in his hands as he scanned your face for all the wounds. “How about you clean up, and I’ll get the first aid kit. Okay, doll?”

Just like the whole night or day or whatever time it was, you didn't remember most of the bath. You remembered going into the shower — you remembered water running down your body — you remembered seeing red water (probably from your bruises) seeping in the drain — you remembered seeing someone in the mirror you didn't recognize — you remembered falling to the floor and crying and most importantly you remembered calling for Bucky.

As if standing outside the door, Bucky was crouched over you instantly . He wrapped a towel around your naked form and held you on the bathroom floor while you cried and finally acknowledged the trauma that you had encountered.

Bucky held you as you continued to cry in muffled sobs against his chest. When you fell asleep, he placed you and tucked you in your bed comfortably before getting in himself. You wrapped your arms around him in your sleep and held him like the anchor he was to you. Bucky pressed a kiss in your hair and whispered his love and apologies to you for pulling you into his messed up life. You couldn't fathom a word he confessed before sleep finally engulfed you.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @sabrinathesimp

A/N - Hey, I finally made a Taglist .This was a very intense (please don’t hate me) I love you bye. Take care!

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic

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formulinos · 2 years

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i hate to think about the future of the sport bc tbh i hate to think about the future period but i think that today’s discussion between las vegas gp and monaco has much worse questions to be asked than the ones i’ve seen around so i would like to bother people atm.

first thing is that i actually think that the las vegas project is the one that f1 should have tackled waaay back when they wanted to get back to the us after indy. it has the pseudo prestige, it has the big sponsors, it has the big fuck off glitz that would get an american to watch formula 1. i get why they would want to conquer america, it’s the one demographic that had eluded f1 (and in a way, it’s refreshing to see european demographics ignored the same way us rest of the world are) and if you consider this is the sport that had people crashing themselves to guarantee a race win then yes, they’re gonna get competitive everywhere. sucks that they needed a pandemic and netflix to actually get sponsors convinced to race there, and the track is wack, but again, fits with the whole decadent theme they’re going for. COTA is one of the tracks of all time, so you also get why she is there, it’s the whole miami project that’s redundant but it does reek of “we weren’t sure we’d get vegas on board but now since we’re here, we might as well”

the thing is that f1 knows DtS is dying, even before we did. drivers don’t want to participate in it because they know it’s all manufactured and teams have ruined every bit of originality it had to use it as PR instead. netflix doesn’t do long running shows and f1 fans are more quick to turn against things than the internet on zoe kravitz. but dts was a way to get in america and now they have to capitalise on it as much as they can, that is, by getting your above average paycheck murican who likes to collect attendance tickets like thanos and the infinity stones and get him to pay up for all three. the rest of the fandom they refuse to make f1 accessible to? they still will watch those gps and talk about them a lot. it’s three american grand prix, one of them will stick way after dts is over and the ones that don’t will be as profitable as they can during their short lives. miami and las vegas are street circuits and that’s a plus: less expensive than the regular tracks to set up, still capable of getting that grade 1 to fia’s standards. not a lot of investment to justify them sticking around for 15 years but still enough to get money. good.

but now, if you ignore the whole american conundrum and the sportswashing, there is a hard pill to swallow and that’s the fact that formula 1 outgrows its traditions because it’s raised to do so. every year they learn they can do better, faster cars (which is their one goal) and the thrill of making them is far greater than the “respect” for the history of the sport. i mean, if you make them safe and capable of going around 57 laps on a row than that’s all that matters. and if you are looking at it from a technical aspect, well, you can’t stop a car from growing up because of a track. monte carlo has been the landscape of some of f1’s most beautiful and cruel moments, but f1 must make beautiful and cruel moments that sell elsewhere. so, what the fuck can you do about it? and i mean that question because i am a monaco enthusiast and i will defend its permanence on calendar for much longer because fuck it, it’s the crown jewel still and one quali lap there has more thrills that some entire race weekends elsewhere. i think monaco is as safe as long as the complaints of longer championships don’t get to higher management, which is not a lot of time as we’re getting closer to 25 races each and each year. f1 and fia will try to accommodate as many races as possible until the unions have enough.

but like, once it’s over and it’s that or oil money or freedom money, then yeah, euro races are fucked and history will be in the books alone. but how can you pay back to those tracks? we already have the Grands Prix Historiques in monaco and france but unfortunately no one checks for them which is a shame, because they are a nice alternative to keep things going. if football has friendlies, maybe an alternative would be to make the occasional « f1 parade/demo » on countries that have motorsport history but not enough to actually host a race anymore. or maybe it’s time albert thinks about where in monaco he could actually fit a grade 1 fia circuit.

this isn’t very satisfying, actually. shit.

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lsholland · 3 years

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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

#tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland imagines

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse

Previously On Relic Keel

Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island.

Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern.

After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends.

Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit.

Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort.

The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father.

Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio.

Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo.

James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks.

Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself.

Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out.

A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

part v

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as he’s getting away from his mother.

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest gal pal didn’t like golf. He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am his little princess,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am,” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate me, and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a great actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned how.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over that any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I crave his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, thanks,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a schemer. You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are you worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I know he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, how do we not know what’s up with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got out? As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it safely. Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road. He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. Frankenstein. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “You’re at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was—good. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she did love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, you’re staring out a window. What do you see? What the fuck kind of prompt is that? That’s what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me why I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, honest, I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s—exactly.”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered how she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” the paint. Everything.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of wanting him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel awful about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you are. But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, Frankenstein in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. Get in, tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re funny, Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“No,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say go back.

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? Saint.”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something feels good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn’t know. Which means I make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading Frankenstein through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought.

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking—fetch me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio and he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of course I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary treasure.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on Wolfsbane, and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to know about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I ever pass that up?”

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, very noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said New Orleans Saints.

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little godly sleepover, but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there is something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.

169 notes · View notes

rpmusingsforthesoul · 3 years

Text

This is Us Season 2 Sentence Starters

( feel free to change pronouns )

“What the hell is going on?”

“Catch your breath? What does that mean?”

“I need to stop feeling so…disappointed and I need to start feeling something else first.”

“Are you fake smoking?”

“No, I’m not throwing down with you in an adoption parking lot.”

“I’ve been chasing it my entire life; perfection.”

“When it comes to you and me? Baby, there ain’t nothing muddled there.”

“We are perfectly imperfect. And I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“I’m drunk right now. I’ve been drunk all day. I’ve been drunk for weeks.”

“I’m still really upset and I don’t think I’m ready to talk about any of that just yet, but…I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

“Get in the car. Get in the car, ___.”

“If you have a problem, we will fix it together. I just need you to get in the car so we can go home.”

“I’m gonna go pay the tab even though we didn’t order anything.”

“You are the strongest person I know.”

“No, I’m not a masochist. I did not invite her.”

“You’re really cute when you’re dumb.”

“You’re tougher than that itch. You’re stronger than that itch.”

“Well who actually likes bowling?”

“When the snow is gone, I want you gone too.”

“She told you what I said?”

“Screw you, ___! And that is really hard for me to say because confrontation makes me cry!”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t make me the nagging girlfriend when you were a jerk.”

“At work if I’m wrong, it’s just money. But what if I’m wrong with a baby?”

“Damn. I almost had a baby named after me until I said that, huh?”

“You are not ‘instead’ of anything. You are exactly how it was meant to be.”

“Middles can be the hardest because that’s where you can really lost. But middles can also be a beginning too.”

“Just a year ago, my mother was alive and I had my girl and we were having a son. And now they’re all gone.”

“You tell me you’re disappointed? Well guess what. I am more disappointed. I am the most disappointed man you ever met in your whole damn life.”

“Oh wait. I thought I was gonna be the one who was gonna bring the heat and you were gonna calm me down. So we’re switching?”

“Next time I’ll reschedule getting jumped.”

“And even when he tries to tell people how pathetic he is, they don’t hear it. They just cheer.”

“Are you out of your mind coming back here, you bastard?!”

“That necklace, it’s the only thing I have left in my life from my dad. It’s the only thing I have.”

“I just need somebody to help me! I just need help please!”

“I’m in pain out here. Look, I’m in pain here!”

“We’ll I’m not gonna apologize for being excited.”

“It happened to me. It didn’t happen to you.”

“I’m trying to be strong here ‘cause that’s the gig. But it happened to me too. And it hurt.”

“At least the coffee’s cold.”

“Those were my onions. You just took them from me.”

“Life feels like pac-man sometimes I guess…it’s the same game over and over again. Same board, same ghosts.”

“I’m not holding in my passive-aggressive sighs.”

“You wanna talk about your tortured childhood? You wanna compare baggage?”

“The only thing you’re addicted to is attention.”

“You know, for a bad guy, you have one hell of a disguise.”

“Did we forget something at the mall?”

“Some people look at vacation rentals, some people look at porn, I look at dogs.”

“I’ll be back with a sledgehammer. This’ll be great!”

“Just let me remember you when it was good, okay? Will you do that?”

“I want you to know that you weren’t just a name on my list. ___, you were the name.”

“See? No porn, no puppies, no puppy porn.”

“I need you to wake up! The house is on fire! Get dressed! Put some shoes on!”

“Look at me, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay? Just look at me. Just be calm ‘cause we’re gonna get out.”

“Get down here now, ___! ___, don’t go back inside!”

“I’m going in the kitchen to get that and I’m never coming back.”

“How could you possibly joke right now?”

“When you lose someone…when you lose someone unexpectedly, it hurts…differently.”

“That’s what unexpected loss is like. It’s like a lightning bolt you can’t even see, reaching inside of you and tearing out your guts and-“

“No no, can you just back up? And can you leave me alone?”

“Can somebody get this person to give me some space, please?”

“I’m gonna be strong for them. God help me, I’m gonna be strong for them and if you can’t be strong either, then you need to take a walk around the block until you can.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there that night and I’m sorry the last thing I ever said to you was…awful.”

“I wanted to come here, I wanted stop avoiding you and I wanted to just talk to you. And just talk to you and tell you that I’m sorry and tell you that I’m gonna do better, okay?”

“If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make you proud of me. I swear, I’ll make you proud of me.”

“The night ___ died, I thought ; we’re done. We won’t come back from this. And then I thought ‘okay, maybe they can. Maybe one day.’ Not because they needed him less, but they were built out of stronger stuff than I was.”

“Do you know that you changed my life? That you saved my life?”

“I’m always crying.”

“Uh-oh? What does ‘uh-oh’ mean?”

“Get out. You’re walking home.”

“Don’t you try and sell me on what you can’t do because I’m too old, I’m too smart, and I’m not buying it.”

“Can I just sit here with you for a little bit?”

“It was not your fault. Do you hear me? He was a grown man who made a choice. And if I have to spend the rest of my life making sure that you know that, I will.”

“It’s okay, because every battle scar is gonna tell our story.”

“I sit inside your anxiety every damn day and you can’t give me one night?”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child.”

“You can’t sleep either?”

“I like you, but you’re soft.”

“Choosing our people is the closest we come to choosing our own destiny.”

“I liked your toast. I’ve always been a sucker for a good toast.”

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #inbox meme #inbox memes #rp prompt #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #roleplay prompt #Inbox prompts #sentence starter #sentence starters #this is us sentence starter #This is Us

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sofreddie · 3 years

Text

Fricking Free

Summary: After a close call, Dean decides it's time to settle down into a normal life.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen, Miracle (the beautiful floofy pupperz)

Warnings: 15x20 AU, Injury to Dean (but no death), Angst, Fluff, Pregnancy

Word Count: 2,239

A/N: A part 3 or epilogue of sorts to the Dog-Gone Witches and Pesky Portals mini-series. I combined them into one list since it's all connected.

Sam hissed as he pulled Dean's body off the pole of rebar that had impaled him, gently laying him on the floor of the barn. The wound was really bad. The rebar narrowly missed his spine and heart, but he was sure it broke through at least one rib and punctured his lung.

He knew he'd have to get his brother to a hospital immediately if he had any chance of saving him. With his last bit of strength, he hoisted Dean into his arms and hurried to the Impala.

Laying Dean across the backseat, Sam rummaged in his pocket for the keys before shutting the door on his brother and hopping in the driver's seat.

Dust kicked up as he sped off towards the nearest hospital. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror to keep an eye on Dean. He looked like he was passing out.

Other than subconsciously praying that his brother would be alright, only one other thought rang through his mind.

Y/N was going to kick both their asses.

Y/N parked the antique truck in the large parking lot of the hospital. Sam called her as soon as he got Dean to the hospital. She immediately took off to meet them, several hours away.

Sam shot up from the waiting seats in the hall outside Dean's room as soon as he saw her enter. He stood and waited for the yelling, but she rushed to him and crashed into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He was surprised, but grateful, as he understood her fear.

"He's in here," Sam said as he pulled from the hug and led her into the room. She walked through the door and her eyes landed on Dean in the bed. He was covered in bruises and bandages and so many things.

Her breath caught in her throat and she choked back a sob.

"Hey," Dean croaked with a small smile.

"You could've died," she blurted out in a whisper. She took several steps closer to him, speaking louder not but not quite yelling, "You almost died."

"I know," Dean rasped, "But I'm okay-"

She raised a hand to silence him, "I did not travel across the universe for you to turn around and die on a hunt Dean Winchester," she chastised, "You saved the world countless times. You've replaced God. You're frickin' free!" she huffed, "So be free Dean, with me. please," she begged, carefully taking one of his hands in her, tears streaming down her face.

"I can't handle seeing you like this. I can't handle not knowing if you're coming back. Please, please," she sobbed, dropping her head to his chest and holding him as carefully as she could.

Dean carefully draped an arm over her back, holding her to him as she cried. It broke his heart to see her like this. She didn't know, but Sam had had a similar conversation with him when he woke up.

He glanced at Sam then over Y/N's shoulder. His brother gave him an 'I told you so' look and Dean minutely nodded, looking back at Y/N.

"Okay," he said, brushing her hair back and looking into her eyes, "You're right."

He may never feel like he could completely quit hunting. But he trusted them and they both said he should. So he'd try. She was right. She was here, with him. After he had missed her so much.

It would be dumb to throw that all away. He almost died on that hunt. He swore to himself to never do that to her again.

Sam drove Dean and the Impala back to the Bunker, Y/N following behind in the truck. She was angry, hurt, scared. Sam hoped the drive back might give her time to calm down.

Dean was certain she didn't believe him and was gonna leave him. They all do eventually.

When they finally parked in the Bunker's garage, Dean was surprised to see Y/N there, helping him out of the car and offering to help him to their room.

Sam followed behind with their bags, ready to help if Dean seemed to falter. But he and Y/N seemed to make it to their room just fine. Sam set their things inside and helped Y/N get Dean settled onto the bed.

He still had a long way to go to heal. They were back to doing things old school. Just another reason not to take so many risks. This hunt made Sam realize that any day could be the last now. For real.

It was sobering. It made him want to seek out all the things he couldn't before because of the life, because of Chuck. He wanted that for Dean too.

Y/N sat on the bed next to Dean, taking his hand and Sam smiled.

"I'll just leave you two to it," Sam said, going for the door.

"Hey Sam," Y/N said, turning to look at him, "Thank you for your help, and for keeping him alive."

Sam grinned and nodded, "Always."

Y/N smiled then turned back to Dean once the door was closed, "You're gonna be laid up for a while," she sighed.

Dean swallowed hard, "Are you gonna leave?" he asked in such a small voice it surprised her, "Are you gonna go back home?"

She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, "I am home," she responded, "I'm not going anywhere, Dean. But I am not above nagging and a little shoving and smacking if you put me through this again. I'd kick your ass now but looks like someone else did me the favor."

Dean laughed, taking in her playful smile. She called this home. She was staying.

"Now, do you want food or do you want to get comfy and watch some mind-numbing entertainment?"

"Pizza and Netflix in bed with you sounds fucking perfect," Dean groaned, letting his head drop back against the headboard with a lazy grin.

"On it, Babe," she responded, pecking his lips. Dean drew her back to him, reigniting the chaste kiss and deepening it. She pulled from the kiss and giggled, "Oh, no stud. You're out of commission for the time being," she patted his chest and he groaned once more, before taking off to set up for their relaxing evening.

Dean actually enjoyed the break he got while healing. Spending time with Y/N was just like back at her farmhouse. Except he was practically an invalid for weeks, Sam and Y/N having to help him with everything.

Now that he was healed, he was restless. He promised he wouldn't hunt, and he knew Y/N was still wary that he could or would even keep that promise. But he was determined.

Instead, he started picking up odd jobs around town: handyman, car repair, lawn maintenance. Whatever people needed, Dean offered a hand and started making a decent amount of money.

That's when the idea struck him.

If he could make and save enough money, maybe he could find a small home in the area. Maybe even a little farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Y/N would love that.

Suddenly, the apple pie life seemed attainable, tangible. So he turned to Sam for help with his plan. Sam was completely on board and started making all sorts of suggestions on how they could make the money: side jobs, part-time gigs, hustling, and selling a few non-dangerous artifacts from the Bunker.

Sam was certain they could make enough for Dean and Y/N, and for him and Eileen. Dean was over-the-moon when Sam told him he and Eileen wanted a home and to start a life.

Everything finally seemed to be falling into place.

Dean found Y/N in their room, folding and putting away laundry. He smiled at her, always loving the small moments of domesticity. They were new and refreshing and he didn't want to take any of it for granted.

"Hey, Babe," Dean caught her attention. coming up behind her and grabbing her by the waist as he placed a kiss on her cheek, "Can we talk for a minute?"

Y/N stopped what she was doing, turning to Dean with trepidation. She knew Dean wasn't a big talker. She nodded, giving him her full attention. He sat her on the edge of the bed and joined her.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since that last hunt. You're right. It's time I left the life behind. It's time I focused on our future."

"Dean-" she interrupted, feeling incredibly guilty, "I'm sorry I said what I said. I know you hunt. I know that-"

He raised a hand silencing her, "I want to. I want a life with you."

She smiled brightly, leaning in and kissing him deeply with relief. Maybe they could have a simple, domestic, safe life.

"Rise and shine, Sweet Thing," Dean said as he swiftly pulled back the covers, revealing Y/N. She groaned as she wiped her mess of hair from her face to glare at him with barely open eyes.

Dean chuckled and pecked her lips before handing her a mug of coffee and sitting beside her on the bed.

"Why are you so chiper so early?" she groaned, "I thought that was Sam's thing."

He laughed again, "Well, I'm in a good mood and I'm really excited."

She raised a curious brow at him, taking a hefty gulp of her coffee to help her mind, "What's going on?"

"Get up and you'll see," Dean said, getting up from the bed and beginning to go through the closet and dresser, pulling out clothes for her. She decided arguing with this crazy person wouldn't get her anywhere, so she just went along with it.

Whatever it was, at least it made him smile so brightly. That tugged on her heart strings a bit.

She took turns getting dressed and gulping her coffee, trying to move as swiftly as her body would allow. Dean was practically vibrating in place, like a kid ready to go to Disneyland.

An hour later and she understood why.

Dean stopped the car at the end of the long driveway - practically a private road - to the charming yet dilapidated farmhouse in front of her. She climbed out of the car, her eyes taking in the property around her.

It reminded her of her own farmhouse in a way. Or it would if it wasn't so rundown and overgrown. That didn't deter her though. She wouldn't shy from a fixer-upper. Hell, her home was one too.

"I bought it," Dean said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. He rested his chin on her shoulder as they both looked over the house and property.

There was plenty of land. She could already pick out a few good spots for a garden. The property was surrounded by woods too, so there was a sense of privacy and quiet.

"I figured we could fix it up together," He said as he took her by the hand and led her inside, showing her around and telling her all the ideas he had for the place. Her face hurt she was smiling so hard so long, "Sam said he'd come by and help too."

"He's not coming with us?" she asked, wondering why Dean would leave his brother behind.

"He bought a house too," he grinned, "For him and Eileen. It's in town."

"Wow," she huffed a laugh, "So you really were serious. About leaving it behind? Building a life with me?"

"Yes. We can be happy here."

She looked around once more before settling on him again and smiling brightly, "I think we can," she agreed.

Y/N groaned as she placed the bowl on the floor, petting Miracle on the head with a smile. She stood up straight, a hand on her lower back for support, the other on her large belly.

She perked up, hearing a car pull up the drive outside. She opened the front door and went down on the porch, smiling in greeting at Sam and Eileen as they exited the car.

Sam reached her first, giving her a hug and kiss on the cheek. He rubbed a hand over her belly in greeting to the baby, before stepping aside for the women to hug and coo. They laughed, barely able to hug each other as their matching protruding bellies got in the way.

"Dean in the garage?" Sam asked and Y/N nodded with a roll of her eyes.

"Is he ever anywhere else?" she joked. She ushered Eileen inside, Miracle happily greeting them both.

Sam made his way to the garage. It was a large barn previously, but he and Dean had converted it. Sam smiled at the sign above the entrance: Family Business Auto Repair & Restorations.

With Baby and a few cars from the Men of Letters Bunker, Dean was able to showcase his skills locally - and eventually regionally - which allowed him to really take off with cars professionally. He always thought about it, but never thought it could be a reality.

After a quick hug and greeting, the brothers made their way back to the house. The four of them tried to have dinner together at least once a week.

The brothers stopped in the trek, spying the women sat on the porch chairs, sipping at lemonade. A pitcher and additional glasses sat waiting. Dean smiled at his brother.

"Living the dream."

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

#fricking free #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam x eileen #15x20 au #15x20 fix it #dog-gone witches #pesky portals

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever”

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Notes: Inspired by the Klaine advent drabble prompt "ache". So this is a story I started a while ago, but stopped after chapter 4 because it started to get a little too real. But I’ve started revising, and now I’m ready to finish it.

Chapter 1 (3197 words)

“God! That traffic was insane, wasn’t it?” Sebastian complains, pulling off the highway and onto the less congested road that leads to the heart of Manhasset.

Kurt mutters in agreement, but he barely noticed. His right temple has been glued to the passenger side window the entire trip. Eyes pointed skyward, he watched the clouds pass by as they drove, counted the trees, followed a flock of birds as they flew off to warmer climes far, far away.

Away from here, the way Kurt wishes he could.

“I called ahead to turn the gas on. And the electricity... ” Sebastian has been rambling about nothing for the whole hour and forty-five-minute drive, filling the tense air of the Navigator with verbal static. “We’re gonna want to air the place out for a few hours. The realtor told me it stinks like mold but that there isn’t any actual mold in the house. I hired two separate contractors to go through the place anyway and make sure. I wasn't going to take the guy's word for it. He struck me as a sandwich short of a picnic. I mean, you should have seen him, Kurt! He was wearing a purple paisley tie and brown loafers with a grey suit. And not like royal purple. That would have worked. But puce! Jesus Christ!” He chuckles. It bleeds into a nervous cough. “I didn’t say anything, but it would have been nice if you were there to give him some subtle pointers. Or not so subtle. You know how much I love seeing you in action. Oh, and we'll have to go over our insurance policy. I’m having a second independent appraiser… ”

“Are we there yet?” Kurt interrupts, preferring to focus on how the changing leaves mute the skyline than on a single word coming out of his husband’s mouth. Not that he could catch a one the way they’re sprinting off his tongue like lemmings off a cliff.

The trees soothe Kurt, smooth the rough edges of this bumpy ride. They grow differently out here than in the city: springing up in rows, displaying their fall colors, blending one into the other like an ever-changing river - red tree, yellow tree, brown tree, gold tree…

Their daughter Grace would call out the colors on their long car rides Upstate, conjuring rhymes where there were none. They roll through his memory in her singsong voice.

Green tree… uh... lean tree!

Kurt smiles, clutching on to the sound of her voice.

He's terrified of the day he'll forget what her voice sounds like.

“Just… uh… just a few more blocks,” Sebastian replies, his attempt at chitchat cut short by his husband’s impatient tone. Despite his infinitely expressive voice, Kurt only uses three tones nowadays - angry, impatient, and indifferent. Sebastian hasn’t learned how to avoid any of them, but he hates Kurt’s indifferent tone the most. “Not too far.”

“Good. Because I’m tired of sitting in this stupid seat.” Kurt switches positions, massaging his hip for emphasis. 'Tired of sitting in this stupid seat.' That's what he said. But he meant, 'tired of being stuck in here with you.'

And Sebastian knows it.

Sebastian turns down two streets that spiral together tighter and tighter until he and Kurt are locked in to their new neighborhood.

Locked in to their decision to move here.

“Here it is.” Sebastian pulls up to the curb at the point before the street turns into a cul-de-sac.

Kurt sits up slowly to accommodate his stiff spine and numb ass. Looking around, he sighs in frustration. “Here what is? There are five houses on this block. Which one is it?”

“Guess.” When Kurt sighs again, Sebastian says, “I’ll give you a hint – it’s one of these three,” and motions to the houses on Kurt’s right. Kurt rolls his eyes but turns to the houses closest. They all appear relatively identical – three floors with a pointed roof and a square porch, reminiscent of a gingerbread house. They probably have basements – a huge selling point in this vicinity. But they don’t call them basements Upstate. They call them cellars. Somehow, the word cellar is more refined, and therefore more acceptable than having a dull, run-of-the-mill, drafty basement.

Need that cellar so you can have the most expensive cabernet on the market on hand in case we need to drunkenly judge Sally Jones’s latest highlight fiasco.

“She should have gone with lowlights, Sharon. (sip) Haven’t I been saying that, Kayla? (sip) Haven’t I been saying that she should have stuck with lowlights? But only around her face. (sip) Ha-ha-ha-ha! Please, pass the brie.”

Kurt spent a good portion of his life living in a basement bedroom, so he’s not above the word. But he remembers a time back in high school when he thought that was the person he would grow up to be. He’d start out as one of the New York elite, then become an Upstate snob. When his kids (two of them – a boy and a girl) were grown and gone, he’d start an artists’ colony. He'd retire to a lighthouse, isolate himself in obscurity while being ironically jaded at the world.

Well, he's nearing forty, and he is jaded, but for entirely different reasons.

The house at the curve in the cul-de-sac is painted a sea green Kurt isn’t thrilled with. But that can be remedied with a bucket of paint and some elbow grease. From its position, it probably gets the bulk of the noon sun.

There goes their electric bill.

Kurt knows Sebastian doesn’t care about trivial things like finances, but just because they have the money to spend doesn’t mean they should shovel it out the window. Plus, there's their carbon footprint to think about. But more importantly, there goes his fair skin, which will freckle at every meal while he does nothing other than sit at the kitchen table.

No, thank you.

The house beside it is in a better position, slanted away from direct sunlight. But it’s painted a slate blue that comes across as too harsh considering the neighborhood’s neutral color scheme. Sebastian should know better than to see that house and say, “Yes. That’s it. That’s the one,” unless the inside looks like the Palace of Versailles.

The last house is also blue, but this blue borders on pale grey, a similar shade to his father’s house in Lima. A maple tree has grown through the pavement in front, shading the house and shedding its red-gold leaves all over the front yard.

And this house has a porch swing.

He and Sebastian used to talk about owning a home with a porch swing. It became a prerequisite for the home they wanted to retire in. Kurt pictured sitting on their swing side by side in the early mornings, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

Sebastian, on the other hand, talked about having sex on the thing and scaring the neighbors.

Same planet, different worlds.

“It’s this one,” Kurt guesses, gesturing to the blue-grey house. “The one with the swing. Isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Sebastian jokes but warily, afraid of what the fallout might be if Kurt doesn’t like it. Sebastian has been climbing a tenuous ladder to make his husband happy. One misstep and he'll plummet back to the bottom, with no certainty that Kurt will let him try to climb up again. It’s his own damn fault, Sebastian reminds himself as they get out of the vehicle. He did this to them, so he’ll let Kurt lash out, let him bare his teeth and his claws, let him dig in with both hands and rip.

Sebastian deserves it.

He leads Kurt up the walkway in silence, past the tree and the swing. He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, standing back so Kurt can be the first one over the threshold. Kurt takes his time, poking his head in first, then taking a hesitant step. This is an all-or-nothing moment for him. In his heart, once he walks inside, there's no turning back.

He sets his foot down, rests his weight on it, and a dozen memories come flooding back: the house he lived in with his mom and dad, the house he and his dad moved into when his dad remarried, the dorm rooms he suffered from high school to college.

The first night he spent in Sebastian's penthouse, the excitement of feeling like he'd found his true home.

The house he dreamed of raising Grace in.

In the end, they stayed in the penthouse for convenience. He regrets not getting her an actual house with a yard and a swing.

Like this one.

The irony.

The room lists, Kurt's head swims, but he wraps his arms around himself and doesn't let it show. He focuses on the here and now. He's taken a step. He just needs to take another. And another. Keep going. Keep moving forward, or else he'll crumple to the ground.

And Sebastian will rush to catch him.

Kurt would rather bury himself under the porch.

Kurt breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, relies on a cold and detached demeanor to help him instead of the strong arms of his husband.

This house has a different feel from the open floor plan of the penthouse they've been living in since college. It's cramped around the corners, with a lot more shadows and a lot less noise. Sebastian likes that better. He’s an Ohio native, same as Kurt. But unlike Kurt, he considers himself a country boy. Even though Sebastian built his identity around becoming a state's attorney like his father, he loved the quiet life: wide-open spaces, blue skies, unhurried, and just plain normal.

Kurt saw Ohio as a cage he couldn't wait to break free from.

Sebastian could have bought Kurt any house he wanted. In that vein, Sebastian feels like a heel for jumping on this one without consulting Kurt first. He reasoned that he'd been the one house hunting, not Kurt. So when a contact told him that the owner of this house, a house Sebastian had had his eye on for a while, was finally selling, it seemed too perfect, especially considering the timing.

Sebastian bent over backward to rescue it from escrow.

Kurt didn't want to leave the city, but it was full of too much pain for him to handle, too many memories, friends and acquaintances who had yet to hear the news, and those who constantly offered their condolences. Few people greeted him anymore without their smiles dropping and the words, “I’m so sorry,” coming out of their mouths, as if joy shouldn't exist around him anymore.

It made his head, his heart, and his soul ache.

Kurt loved New York City, but there was nothing left for him there but the constant hollow thud he felt whenever he saw something that reminded him of their angel Grace. School would be starting soon. All of her friends will be moving on to the fifth grade. But his daughter...

Life ended for her too soon.

“Here.” Sebastian reaches for Kurt’s hand, but Kurt reflexively pulls it away, slipping his hands into his pockets to cover for his flinching from Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. “Let me show you why I think you’re going to love this house.”

Sebastian jogs up the stairs to the next level. Kurt follows a few steps behind. When he reaches the top, he sees three doors. They pass the first two without mention. Sebastian opens the last.

“Here.” Sebastian crosses to the opposite side and throws open one of two windows, filling the musty space with the crisp bite of autumn. “I thought this room could be your new studio.”

Sebastian knows him too well. The room is perfect. Even at dusk, it’s flooded with natural light. It looks out over the rooftops of the other houses, giving him a view of the surrounding forests and orchards stretching way past the highway. With a little TLC, it could look just like his studio in their penthouse.

Or he can turn it into something new.

Start with a clean slate.

“What are the other two rooms?” Kurt asks offhandedly. He doesn't need to.

He knows what the other rooms are.

There are only two rooms they can be.

“A bathroom and the master bedroom,” Sebastian answers, watching his husband stroll across the floor.

“So this would have been… ?”

“A spare? A guest room?” Sebastian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to find an easy groove to stand in.

Kurt frowns. No. It would have been Grace’s bedroom if she were still with them. Kurt was trying to get his husband to acknowledge that. Cruelly. But if she were with them, Sebastian wouldn’t have cheated, their marriage wouldn’t be falling apart, and they wouldn’t be running away from their problems.

“I guess I could put a foldout bed in here,” Kurt throws out as he estimates the space.

“You can if that’s what you want,” Sebastian agrees. “Or you’re just saying that to hurt me, which, if you are, you’ll be happy to know, it’s working.”

“I’m not saying that to hurt you,” Kurt eloquently lies. “I’m being practical. I’m not going to have easy access to the Vogue workshop if I live two hours away. If I expect to get a new line started, I’m going to have to pull long hours.”

Sebastian scrutinizes his husband, who’s doing his best to avoid looking at him. “You’re… thinking of starting a new line? You didn’t mention that.”

Kurt shrugs. “Did I have to?”

“No. I mean, I wasn’t sure that you would go back to designing so soon after.”

"After?" Kurt tilts his head inquisitively but still makes no eye contact.

"After... moving. There's going to be a lot to do here. I thought you'd give yourself a year. Maybe more." Sebastian answers so quickly, Kurt wonders if he'd practiced. They talk in code, this whole conversation a carefully choreographed tango through a labyrinth of knives.

Sebastian didn't mean after moving. He meant after the death of their daughter. Kurt practically spent every spare second he wasn’t designing for work designing with her. Kurt has been a designer since high school. Aside from music, it's his passion.

Sebastian feared Grace's death might sever those harp strings.

"I think you underestimate me. Besides, you’re considering going back to working in the city after… ”

Pivot, walk walk, close.

The dance changes. They switch places, and Kurt leads.

Kurt isn't talking about them moving or Grace.

Kurt means after Sebastian cheated.

Kurt only agreed to move out of the city and live in a house he's never seen to keep Sebastian away from the man he's convinced will become too big a temptation to resist the next time they get into any kind of argument. Granted, it took their daughter dying for Sebastian to cheat, but Kurt figures it’ll keep getting easier from now on to come up with an excuse.

Can't agree on where to go for dinner? Have a huge blowout over which cards to send out for Christmas? That's it! I'm sticking my dick in someone else!

“Anyway, I wouldn’t want to wake you by crawling into bed at four in the morning, not when you have to be at work at six,” Kurt finishes when he’s let that dig soak in long enough.

“I’m not going back to work for a while, remember? That’s what a leave of absence is. And even if I was, why would I mind you waking me?” Sebastian risks a grin. “In fact, I was thinking that it might be nice to get back to what we used to do in the mornings before work. I miss that.”

Sebastian holds his breath while he sees how that remark lands. He waits for Kurt to look at him. Kurt hasn’t been able to look at him, really look at him, since hungover Sebastian came home in a taxi the morning after, clothes ruined, their marriage officially in the gutter. Grace passed away six months ago, which means he’s been waiting for a while.

He’s still waiting.

“This isn’t all about you,” Kurt reminds him, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

Kurt didn't yell. But that doesn't mean he's not furious.

“I know,” Sebastian says softly. He rubs his cold hands together, wishing he could stick them underneath his husband’s thick, button-down sweater, and press his palms against Kurt’s skin. A year ago, Kurt would have squealed, “Bas! Your hands are freezing!” But he would have wrapped his arms around himself and held on, would have let Sebastian lean in for a kiss, would have fallen for the line, “Now that my hands are warm, maybe you can help me warm up a few other things.”

Then they would have made love on the wood floor with the door open.

If only he could make Kurt laugh the way he used to.

Then maybe Kurt would love him again.

But going by his husband’s expression, dreary as the olive sweater he holds closed with one hand at the neck, Sebastian knows that now is not the time.

“Is this what you need to make you happy?” he asks. If only it were that simple. If only a house, or a car, or a vacation could turn back the clock and erase everything that happened.

Erase everything Sebastian did, and bring their daughter back.

Kurt doesn't answer right away. He's not purposefully keeping Sebastian in suspense. He couldn't care less what's going on in Sebastian's head. This is his future he's considering.

He's going to take his time.

He circles the room, contemplating the echo of his footsteps on the roughly finished wood, debating whether or not it's a sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life. If not, is it worth putting in the time to fix it?

He traces the path of sunlight as it travels across the wall. That brings a new detail to his eye - a torn corner of wallpaper above the open window revealing a word underneath.

Darling.

Kurt eyes it from a distance, tries not to pay too much attention to it in case Sebastian is behind it. It doesn’t look like it was written recently. It's more than likely part of the pattern underneath. But leave it to Sebastian to try to woo his husband back with something syrupy like that.

Something hopelessly romantic.

Something he thinks Kurt will fall for.

“No,” Kurt answers honestly, re-examining the fading wallpaper, the scuffed floors, the peeling ceiling. His gaze glances his husband’s face and settles on the dust-streaked window. He stares out at the sky, the clouds, the trees, the birds flying wild and free. He’s never going to be able to fly away like that, so he might as well accept this cage he's been given. It's what he's supposed to do, after all. “But it’s worth a try.”

He has little else left to lose.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel

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gloster · 3 years

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FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2020

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

I know I speak for all when I say....I cannot wait to toss 2020 out the door the way Uncle Phil constantly did with Jazz. One of the things that got me through this rough year, besides family & friends & BTS, were fanfics.

It’s that time of year again where I make a list of all the fanfics that I absolutely adored. Some are by veteran favs of mine, others are new to me who just knocked it out of the park. If you’re interested in past lists, here is 2019′s list and 2018′s. If y’all are interested in doing your own fanfic favs of the year, please do so and tag me. Always on the hunt for new favs.

So without furhter ado, my fav fanfics of 2020:

1). Another Word for Forever series by stardropdream (sheith)

Summary: Shiro knows better than to expect love in an arranged marriage. This is all for the sake of universal peace, after all, and solidifying a Terran-Galran alliance. At the very least, Shiro can hope to make a friend out of this. Becoming friends would be much easier, though, if he and his husband could actually communicate.

With a language barrier and a mountain of cultural differences between them, getting to know Keith proves to be a challenge. Luckily, Shiro's always worked well with challenges.

2020 shockingly became the year of sheith. I ended up rewatching the show w/my bestie @littlenightdragon. Diving more deeply into it w/my other bestie @kila09. She and I spent the better half of this year devouring so many fanfics of them in various AUs. I came across new fanfic authors, and stardropdream is among them.

If I could describe this series & stardropdream, I’ll take a cue from Lady Gaga: “ talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it”

This series was just PERFECTION. I’ve gotten into arranged-marriage AUs and this has been one of the best I’ve read. It was just perfection. The language barrier definitely added an extra charm to it, in which Shiro finds his own ways to get to know his husband better: both creative and funny ways. So many cute moments, so many funny moments with Hunk being the translating middle man between them, and the smut. THE SMUT. THE SMUT. THE SMUT. Just *chef’s kiss* Incredible. It was just so so sweet, and such a comfort read. I reread this series 5 times already and hope Robin (the writer) does more stories in this AU.

Please read this series. You’re not gonna regret it. It will MELT your heart.

Honorable Mentions:

If I Called You Mine

Sail Across the Sky Just to Get to You

Finding Shelter (The Alien Baby Remix)

Say You Do(n’t)

2). The Golden Hour by @goldentruth813 (sheith)

Summary: After a space mission failure, Shiro loses his arm and his career. Two years later he's settled into a quiet and simple new life on his farm, but when a beautiful alien crashes in his field, he discovers the answers to his questions—and possibly the keys to his future—will come from the stars.

I’m sure no one, least of all Janel the writer herself, is surprised to see this author featured on this list. For now the 3rd year in a row. WOOOW 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿 She is the reason I got into shieth, and she just continues to put out amazing conent with them. This story by far has been the best she’s done this year-possibly one of the best ever.

We have Shiro trying to have a simple life at the farm with his dog and animals. A curious BOM Keith who shakes things up with his boldness/innocence-and questions bound to test blood pressure, especially Shiro’s. Loads of cute moments, loads of funny moments, and also loads of oreos.

If summary and my thoughts don’t sell you, only one thing will: reading it for yourself.

Honorable mentions:

Two Hearts in Bloom

Mountain Men

Home is in Your Heart

3). Spun like Gold by Neyasochi (sheith)

Summary: Though Shiro is currently operating his fledgling bakery business out of a decrepit food truck he got for cheap in a repossession sale, he dreams of something more: a cozy bakery and cafe on a tree-lined street somewhere, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and sugar glaze instead of diesel. A little money could go a long way to helping him get off the ground-- and luckily, Keith has money to burn.

Or: Keith takes care of Shiro’s financial woes, in exchange for a little sugar.

OMG, OMG, OMG was this story so sweet. Neyasochi already sold me with the baking/baker Shiro trope, but went a step further throwing in sugar-daddy Keith who knows his way around his manic family and cars, but when it comes to asking a cute guy out? What better way to make an impression than becoming his best paying customer?

Honorable mentions:

oh, devour me

Healing Touch

on your hand of gold

4). The Destiny You Sold by @tryslora (drarry)

Summary: In which Draco knits, Harry makes wands, and things get very tangled up between them.

If there’s one thing I love about fanfics is how they introduce you to tropes you never would consider before. Draco and knitting was a combo I didn’t realize how much I needed until now. And I love the fact knitting played a big part of the accidental bonding. Also loved the fact everyone in their friend group shipped them like crazy. Highly, highly recommend

5) What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (drarry)

Summary: Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

The Quidditch World Cup is only a week away; as Captain of the English National Team, Hermione has assured him that his immaturity won’t be tolerated by the Ministry.

And then Malfoy shows up.

(Inspired by the blink-182 song of the same name.)

It’s no secret that I’m such a fangirl of @lazywonderlvnd. Any drarry story I read, I always love. Last year, I ADORED The Changing Lights, which was one of my favorites last year, and her updating/finishing the story was a massive highlight for me. I thank ya for that.

This story was honestly refreshing. I’ve grown so used to Harry being responsible, always doing what’s right, that seeing a story where Harry pretty much has his middle finger in the air to “good reputation”, “being responsible,” because as he brought up: “I’m 25. I’ve been fighting all my life. I’ve earned my life to have fun.”

Okay, granted, it wasn’t quite like that but it was along those lines. And I agree. After all he went through, Harry deserves to have fun. He deserves to be reckless and make stupid decisions.

Also, it was such a blast reading a story where Harry is the brat & Draco has to keep him in line. LOVED.

Honorable mentions:

Inside Your Mind

Aletheia

6). Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (drarry)

Summary: When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence. Draco starts to worry, and then he starts to care, and then... horribly... he starts to fall in love.

Do not let the title fool you like it did me. Title alone, I was thinking it was going to be a fun, fluffy story involving baking, maybe chocolate crafting. However....it was not that at all. It was more. A lot deeper. A lot more angsty. It explored mental health, PTSD and the dangers of loved ones ignoring the signs, and contained an important message:

You can’t love someone out of their illness/disease/ addiction. Which is true and this story showed that.

7). i’m still here by owedbetter (zutara)

Summary: "You see me."

And somehow, that makes all the difference.

If there’s one of the few good things 2020 has brought, it was Netflix bringing back ATLA to their library. Which in turn ignited my love for zutara & had me drag @kila09 into that ship.

This story was just incredible. The way it was written, it really felt like it could have been canon. Deleted scenes that a certain creator didn’t want us to see. The way Zuko and Katara came together, starting from their peaceful friendship after the Southern Raiders episode up, becoming closer along the way.

I dare y’all to read this and not think OMG...is this secret canon bonus material? I definitely plan to read more by owedbetter.

8). all the what ifs i never said by rosegardenlake (sheith)

Summary: Keith is nine when he first notices Shiro. Shiro is gentle and quiet, always keeping to himself. Keith is rough and loud, running wherever his feet will take him, screaming on the top of his lungs into the wind. But despite that, they're a constant throughout each other's lives...if only that could be enough. As they grow, Keith just wants them both to be happy, but instead, he's falling apart.

Rosegardenlake is another sheith writer who I adored last year & adore this year as well. This was a story that I read during the beginning of quarantine-life and when I tell you the number of times Keith’s emotions of loneliness got to me, it’s a big number.

Keith’s struggle with life after high school, after peaking in school, and his mental health reminded me too much of where I was at 2018, which wasn’t a good year for me at all, especially mentally. So that was triggering but it was also helpful since I saw how far I came. And it was beautiful seeing how far Keith came.

Also the relationship between Shiro and Keith was just beautiful. It’s very funny how Keith was Shiro’s protector growing up and Shiro became Keith’s later on in life. There’s a chance your heart may be heavy, but will also be so swelled up with feelings these two bring it.

Honorable mentions:

Where the Light Doesn’t Reach

9). When Night Comes by Oh_Hey_Tae (BTS; poly ot7)

Summary: Jungkook’s tipsy, but he’s not buzzed enough to miss that he doesn’t recognize any of the four dozen people here. And seeing as his friends aren’t ones to ditch and there’s no way they’d play a prank this mean on him, Jungkook reaches the conclusion that he just walked into a stranger’s very expensive home, uninvited, and started eating their food and petting their well-dressed dog.

(Or: Jungkook shows up to the wrong Halloween party and meets the most powerful family in Seoul.)

I can easily say Oh_Hey_Tae easily one of my favorite BTS fanfic favs. Always come through with the stories, and this one was just amazing. We have Jungkook stumbling into a Halloween story, and soon enters into a intense, insane relationship with all six guys, who are already in a relationship with each other. Oh, and supernatural creatures at that.

You do see certain relationships are stronger, deeper. For example, a lot of moments between Jin and Jungkook. Vmin has their own story and moments. But it was just so amazing.

Fair warning. Halfway through, things get darker and Oh_My_Tae really loves playing readers diirty with the angst, but it’s so good.

10). peace-weaver by magisterpavus (sheith)

Summary: You will be the peace-weaver, his mother told him, smiling though her dark eyes welled with unshed grief. The one who brings two bitter enemies together and ends the bloodshed and death between us, once and for all.

But men will always crave war. The Galra, most of all.

Yet another arranged-marriage AU that I loved. This particular one is well-loved in the sheith fandom. I can definitely say it’s considered one of the classic fanfics that’s been read or shared at one point or another.

The story itself reminded me a lot of Macbeth, involving murder and dark forces at bay. The dynamics between Shiro and Keith reminded me of Drogo and Daenerys from GOT, one of my fav couples there, which only made it all the more better for me.

I do credit the author for the creative approach they took with quintessence and Shiro’s role/persona as the Champion

Honorable mentions:

The Boy in the Window

Sheith Demon/Priest AU

A Matter of Scale

Directive

Honorable mentions that I seriously wanted to add to the list but this post is already lengthy. All amazing, all greats reads by various writers y’all should check out:

Hold Me Tight, or Don’t by snowfallen (yoonmin with a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU featuring assassins and hitmen, secret identities, fake marriage, and a lot of smut)

The Prince and Pirate by Maniacani, @nerdherderette (drarry with a splash of royalty and pirates. Perfect if you’re needing to fill in any Pirates of the Caribbean or Black Sails cravings)

First Kisses are the Best Ones by SashaDistan (sheith in a 50 First Dates Fusion heartfelt/heart-gutting story)

freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (drarry w/Harry explaining the many ways why Draco’s the love of his life. we love to see it)

The Sacrificed by SasuNarufan13 (sasunaru w/ dark fairytale elements similar to Little Red Riding Hood & Beauty and the beast + feat. mpreg)

Chasing Treacle Tart (and Draco Malfoy) by xErised (drarry feat. lunch lady Draco + scheming Harry + loads of fun w/sweets & more)

Red Desert by @beatitudinembty (taekook in a unique sci-fi AU; hard to explain but so worth a read

one way ticket to another life by starboykeith (sheith Hades x Persephone background)

Even So by lewilder (zutara; arranged marriage+ language barrier +soft strangers to lovers)

Well, lovely people, there you have it. My top 10 favorite fanfics of the year. I do notice a certain ship shows up a lot on this list, but I wasn’t kidding when I said they took over this year. Still, I tried to mix the list up with other fav ships/fandoms of mine. To the writers who created these incredible stories. I applaud you. I thank you for creating and sharing these wonderful stories. Anyone interested in doing the tag, please do.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, GUYS

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