#jack Johnson packs

[evilhorse]

Power Pack #7 (Signed by June Brigman at the 2024 Baltimore ComicCon)

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 4: No More Secrets

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: Returning to NYC, heartbroken and jobless, you decide: no more secrets or tears and no more Harry. But he's a 40-year-old boy determined to find you in the city to make things right. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 8,5k, depression, dirty talk, fluffy, and angst... authors note: I'm in midterms and planned to publish the chapter on Monday, but I received so many requests asks from you guys and that I couldn't let you down. Thank you!

When the jet touched down at the airport, the sun was rising over New York City, casting a warm glow over the city. A tight knot formed in your chest as memories flooded in—thinking about the last time you left, whom you were with, and why you weren't returning with him this time. Stepping back into this beautiful city made you sigh. You knew that everything was about to change, which was good in some ways—you wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not anymore. However, it was also painful because you returned with a broken heart that would take time to heal.

Then there was the fact that starting tomorrow, you wouldn’t be working at Jack's place anymore—you’d be unemployed. During the flight, you barely said a word since he was glued to his laptop the whole time, always hustling. He was nice about it, though, treating you like a special guest instead of just a former employee. He made sure you had food and even set up a private spot in the back of the jet for you to sleep.

Once you both arrived at the Upper East Side, he mentioned you could stick around for a few more days if you wanted. You turned him down, saying it was all good because you had somewhere to go, and you really didn’t want to deal with Melanie’s face. Back in your room, you immediately started packing. The other maid girls came over, upset to see you go and wanting to talk to Jack on your behalf, but you stopped them, saying it was best for everyone and you knew it was the right call.

As you removed your dress and jewelry, tears began to well up, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. When you touched your right ear, you realized you had lost one of your earrings; it must have fallen out. Your mind was racing with so many thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed it was gone. A sense of panic washed over you as you thought, “I hope I didn’t drop it while running through the streets of Paris.”

You tossed the dress, jewelry, and heels—everything Harry had bought you—into a bag and pulled out the suitcase from the wardrobe that you hadn’t opened in three years. Your job never really gave you a chance to take a vacation. Even if it did, where would you go with such a tight budget? The closest thing to a holiday you had was last summer when the Johnson family took a trip to Miami from NYC. During their absence, you begged your cousin Zoe, who was working as a seasonal waitress at a hotel in Clearwater, Florida, to let you tag along. You had a great time for three days until you got caught swimming during work hours and were kicked out. You had used a small handbag back then, but now you needed the suitcase you brought from Atlanta—your trusty old friend. It held not just your clothes but also your hopes and dreams, and it had been your companion while you explored New York.

You slipped into some comfy clothes: blue jeans and a black blouse with open sleeves. With your hair in a ponytail and sneakers on, you were ready to head southeast to Brooklyn. As you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you sighed. It felt like three years ago when you were putting on these clothes, but this time, your hopes and dreams were overshadowed by heartbreak and regrets. Still, you weren’t the same girl you were back then. You felt determined and closer to your dreams, no matter what. You promised yourself you wouldn't be one of those girls crying over a guy. You’d been standing on your own two feet all this time, and that’s how it was going to stay. You zipped up your suitcase, set it on its wheels, and took a last look at the room before grabbing the handle and heading out. When you opened your door, you saw Danilo and all the other maids and staff from the mansion gathered in the hallway. You hugged and said goodbye to each of them when you heard Jack’s loud voice coming from down the corridor.

“Jack is really angry, so no one wants to get close to the main hall,” one of the girls explained.

You shivered at the thought of running into Melanie and her mom; meeting them was the last thing you wanted.

“I’ll head out before they spot me,” you said, glancing back at the staff one last time. They all looked at you with sad eyes. “I promise I’ll come visit again,” you added with a smile.

“Make sure you do!” they urged you.

“Oh, Cara mia, I’m going to miss you,” Danilo said.

“Me too,” you replied and gave him a tight hug.

They waved as the lift doors closed, and you waved back. The soft beep of the elevator reminded you it was time to go. As you walked toward the exit, Garry, Jack’s driver, noticed you and your suitcase. He stopped wiping the rearview mirror and came over.

“Need a ride?” he asked.

“No, I’m good. I just want to take a walk. By the way, did you happen to find any earrings in the car?”

“Earrings? Nope, haven’t seen any,” he said.

You let out a sigh, feeling a bit worried. “Is there any chance you could call the jet pilot or someone from the crew? It’s pretty important.”

“Sure thing, I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Thanks a bunch, Garry,” you said.

“Anytime, girl. If you need a driver, you know how to reach me,” he replied with a wink.

“That’s really nice of you. Thanks! Take care.”

“You too!” he said.

As you started walking down the street, you waved back at him. At first, your steps felt a bit unsure, but they quickly picked up pace as the mansion faded from sight behind you.

The tires let out a sharp squeal as the sleek black Mercedes glided to a stop beside Jack's car, which he parked erratically, and slammed the door a little too hard before hurrying to the front door of the mansion. Garry was still busy wiping down the car, surprised to see him, but he continued his work. 

Harry, out of breath, impatiently rang the bell repeatedly and pounded on the door. “Jack! Open up, dammit!” he shouted, glancing toward the windows. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he looked around anxiously. A moment later, Jack appeared in the doorway, puzzled. “Harry? What in God's name?” 

“Where is she? Is she in there? I need to talk to her,” Harry said, desperation clear in his voice. 

Jack squinted at him, very calm in contrast to him, “Who? Who are you talking about?” 

He had to be kidding. 

Harry exhaled a deep breath of frustration. 

Damn it, he didn’t even know your real name. 

“You're banging on my door for a maid whose name you don’t even know?” Jack remarked with disbelief.

“I’m not leaving until I see her,” Harry shot back, determined. 

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time because the others just told me she left the house.” 

Harry's heart clenched. “What do you mean she left? Where did she go? Did you kick her out?” 

“I can't have anyone in my house who goes behind my back, including my own daughter. I'm sending her away, too. Besides, it’s not your business. Why do you care?” 

Harry didn't have a clear answer to that; he just knew he couldn't let you go. He had to find you. 

“Look, just let her go; it's for the best. You know that I'm right,” Jack said dismissively.

“No, I don’t,” Harry muttered stubbornly. “Tell me where she went. You must know where she is.” 

“How would I know?” he lied. Just then, his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take this. I’ll wait for you at my house some other time, but now is not the right time,” Jack said, closing the door. 

Harry frowned and cursed under his breath. 

Garry, who had seen the whole thing, cautiously walked over to Harry, making sure Jack didn’t see him. “She left like ten minutes ago and walked down the street,” he said quietly, pointing in the direction you headed. “That way,” he whispered.

Harry shot him a quick look, then followed the direction he was pointing with a nod. “Thanks,” he said, feeling a rush of hope and excitement. He jumped back into his car, fired it up, and hit the gas. The tires screeched even louder this time as the car shot onto the road. But of course, traffic was not on Harry's side. He usually didn’t drive himself in the busy streets of New York, but this was an emergency. He kept looking around as he drove, searching for any sign of you.

“Damn it, where are you?” he kept muttering.

He drove past Central Park, zigzagging through traffic, but still no sign of you. It felt like trying to dig a well with a needle. Not the greatest driver to begin with, he was so busy looking around that he didn’t see a garbage can in front of him. When he finally spotted it, he slammed on the brakes, but there was a slight bump anyway. 

"Shit!" He growled.

A nearby cop came over and motioned for him to pull over. There was no real damage to the car—just a busted headlight and a small dent in the bumper—but he was pretty sure he’d get a ticket for hitting public property.

He didn't care about the ticket; he was frustrated and slammed down hard on the steering wheel. “Fuck! How am I supposed to find you now?” he growled to himself.

The old, rusty building stood in stark contrast to the large, luxurious one you had left on the Upper East Side just a few hours earlier, but for some reason, it felt warmer, even cozier. You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, practicing a bright smile until Zoe opened it.

“Whoa! Jesus Christ! Is that really you?” she said, bursting with excitement as she jumped into your arms.

You laughed and hugged her with one arm. “Yep, it’s me, Zoe. I’m back.”

Zoe pulled back, her expression shifting to a frown as she glanced at your suitcase and then back at you. 

"Will you have me as your flatmate for a while? Just like old times?"

“Are you kidding me? Come on in!” she said, motioning for you to enter as she closed the door behind you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t call you. My phone’s off because…” you mumbled as you stepped inside.

'Because I really didn't want to answer the calls from that charming millionaire who had kicked me out the moment he found out the truth about me,' you thought to yourself.

“Oh wow, sounds like a lot has happened, right?” she said, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “And I guess it’s not exactly rainbows and butterflies?”

“Kind of,” you replied.

“Come on, sit down. Spill everything,” she urged.

You flopped down on the couch, grabbing one of the cushions. “It’s a long story, and I’m not even sure where to start,” you said lazily.

She peeked into your bag before placing it on the table. “Start with this,” she said, holding up a diamond necklace she pulled from your bag, her eyes wide with surprise.

As the days dragged on, it wasn’t easy for either you or Harry. You were both dealing with your own stuff, but somehow, it felt like you were struggling with the same things. Now unemployed, you immediately began searching for a new job. You had applied to several cleaning companies, including your former employer, but hadn't heard back from any of them yet. The generous severance pay that Jack had given you was not enough to open a small bakery and pursue your dreams—at least not in NYC, maybe in Atlanta, which sounded like "Nah." So you had no choice but to find work; the bills needed to be paid, and you didn’t want to burden Zoe. As a waitress, she already worked nearly 8 to 10 hours a day, and by the time she got home in the evening, she was exhausted. 

It was one of those nights when she worked late again. When she finally got home, she was taken aback by the scene—though she really shouldn’t have been, given that she had an unemployed, depressed roommate. You were sprawled out in front of the TV, devouring a cream pastry you had made, totally lost in the show. You were deeply connecting with the character’s drama. 

“He’s going to leave you, you idiot; all guys are the same,” you muttered at the screen.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re back, didn’t see you there,” you said.

“Seriously, what is all this?” she asked, eyeing the mess: clothes and pastries everywhere, and the kitchen a total disaster. “You sure you’re a housekeeper?”

“An unemployed housekeeper,” you shot back.

“Right,” she said, putting her bag on the table a bit awkwardly. “Alright girl, that’s it.”

You just blinked at her while still chewing on your pastry. She walked over, snatched it from your hand, turned off the TV, and yanked you up by the arm.

“Are you planning to kick me out? I promise I’ll cover the rent with some of my severance pay.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “And how are you going to chase your dreams then? Come on, get up. Let’s move.”

“So you’re not kickin’ me out?”

“What are you? A stray kitten or something?”

The word “kitten” hit a nerve and brought up something you didn’t want to deal with, tightening your chest. You made a face.

“Then what?” 

“It’s time for an intervention,” she said, nudging you into the bathroom. It was small but okay, and when you stood in front of the mirror, Zoe adjusted you to face it.

“Look at yourself. You haven’t combed your hair in two days,” she said, running her fingers through it. “Your eyes look sunken from crying and lack of sleep.” You blinked in disbelief at the dark circles under your eyes— what the heck? Embarrassed, you quickly licked the corner of your lip to get the pastry cream off.

“Where’s the strong girl I used to know? This isn’t her at all. This is a total stranger—someone who’s given up, someone who’s lost the fight,” she said, looking seriously at your reflection. “You've let yourself go, and it’s starting to worry me. Babe, you need to pull yourself together.”

She was right, of course.

“Look, I’ll be inside, and when you come out, I want you to look refreshed, okay?” 

You nodded at your reflection, and she nodded back. “Good. I’ll give you some time. Shake it off and get it together. I’ll be waiting,” she said, giving you a supportive pat on the back.

That’s when you realized how bad you had let things get. Had you really looked like that for days? It was awful. You felt completely lost.

But no, you hadn't lost the battle, you were just getting started. You threw off the clothes that felt like they were sticking to you - you hadn't left the house in three days, so you'd been wearing them all the time. You stripped completely naked and turned on the shower. It took a while to heat up - old pipes, old flat. While you waited, you brushed your teeth and splashed cold water over your face.

As the hot water started streaming, you jumped in and let out a sigh—it was just what you needed. You washed yourself off, hoping to scrub away the worries clouding your mind at the same time.

When you looked in the mirror again after your refreshing shower, you smiled for the first time in days. 

You felt different and rejuvenated.

You also felt silly for spending your days in misery.

Keeping your smile natural, you walked into the living room.

“That’s my girl!” Zoe cheered.

You rushed over and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Zoe. You’re such a great friend.”

“So are you. How are you feeling?”

It was a question she’d never asked before, probably because the answer was hard to face every day. After thinking for a bit, you replied, “I’m feeling hopeful, ambitious, and determined.”

"That’s exactly what you need."

“Right?” you said, smiling. “I’ll call Danilo and let him know I’m going to the hotel tomorrow to take the chef's assistant gig, at least until I land something better.”

"Awesome! We can get rid of these pastries," Zoe said, still snacking on one.

You crossed your arms and shot her a playful look. 

"I mean, they’re amazing, and you’re really talented, but you’ve wiped out our flour and sugar stash. Plus, you need to bake somewhere other than home."

You glanced at the tray of pastries on the table. "Should we share some with the neighbors?"

Zoe’s eyes lit up. "Neighbors? That’s a great idea!"

She grabbed a plate from the kitchen and piled it high with the pastries you whipped up. You raised an eyebrow as she adjusted her dress in the mirror before bouncing out the door. 

"I think we’ve got a cute neighbor," you said with a smirk. 

She laughed. "Oh, it's one of the guys down the hall, John. He’s a waiter too and super hot—tall, buff, and those blue eyes!" 

You raised your eyebrows with a big grin. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush, huh?”  

"Let's say his eyes are blue like the Atlantic, and I'm going down like the Titanic."

“Wooohooo!” you whistled, and you both burst into laughter.

"Wish me luck!" she said she walked out.

Once you headed to your room to get dressed, you took off the towel wrapped around you and pulled out some fresh underwear from the drawer. As you put them on, your eyes landed on the bag sitting on your nightstand. You had almost forgotten about it, having intentionally ignored its presence.

Then you grabbed your phone, which you had stuffed away in the sock drawer, and turned it on. You figured it was time to confront what you’d been avoiding, especially since you’d been feeling good now. As soon as the phone lit up, tons of notifications popped up. You had used Zoe’s number for job applications, but that felt pointless now. You’d need to change that as soon as you found a new job.

Feeling uneasy, you swiped through the notifications without looking. You already knew who they were from, and you didn’t want to care. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

But deep down, you knew you’d take a peek.

There were missed calls and texts from Oliver and then from Harry.

So, he got himself a new phone.

That was a relief.

You could've called Oliver, but texting felt like the safer bet.

"Can we meet tomorrow? It’ll only take a few minutes. I have something to return."

Next, you called Danilo to see if his offer was still stood. While you were waiting for his reply, Oliver hit you up with a text.

"Sure. Where?"

Danilo called back just in time to tell you that the hotel chef was totally chill about it and is expecting you tomorrow. He mentioned, with a hint of smugness, that the chef is one of his best buddies. Plus, he owed him a favor as they're both Italian.

Since the hotel is in Manhattan, you set up a meeting with Oliver at a bar there during rush hour. You should’ve just handed over the bag and cut ties with him for good, but something kept bothering you: the missing earring.

You had no clue how much it was worth, and that freaked you out—probably more than your whole bank account. To Harry, it might be a sneeze, but you still needed to pay him back, even if it meant giving up all your severance pay.

You really hoped it wasn’t worth that much.

Otherwise, you were fucked.

"How long has he been like this?"  

"Almost five days."  

“Fucking hell.”  

Oliver and Harry's close friend Maria exchanged worried glances as they looked at him. Harry's daily routine was a bit different from yours. Every morning, he got up and continued to work with a renewed sense of ambition, but he preferred working from home. This was manageable in the beginning, but as the meetings piled up, it became overwhelming.  

Maria was not only one of his business partners but also an old friend. No matter how hard she tried to cope in his absence, she couldn’t manage without his support. She was already navigating life as a mother going through a divorce, and Harry's situation only complicated things further. Years ago, Maria’s husband and Harry had started a business together, working tirelessly to build it up. Despite facing challenges along the way, they always found a way to overcome them.  

Maria and Harry's friendship dated back to their childhood. She knew him wel. She knew he had always had relationships with women, especially after achieving millionaire status and becoming a successful businessman. He was the kind of man who was passionate in love, compassionate, and willing to make sacrifices when he found someone special. However, things had not gone well with his last relationship, and the fallout affected him deeply. Now, he found himself in this troubled state for the second time.  

Harry maintained his routine despite Oliver's pleas for days. He would wake up early, check his phone, go to work, and then drive around in front of Jack's house in the afternoons. But it all felt futile; there was no trace of you. It was as if you had vanished—like a fairy tale, just like Cinderella.  

Oliver tried reaching out to the dating agency, but it didn’t go anywhere. He talked to Jack again. He was convinced he was hiding something, but the guy was tight-lipped. No one could provide any information about your whereabouts. All Oliver had was your name and your resume, and there was no current address listed. He felt a sense of failure, worried for Harry for the first time in a long time.  

That’s why he froze when he saw the message on his phone that evening. He stared at it in disbelief, having saved your name as Melanie on his phone. Now, knowing your real name, he changed it back and considered how to respond to the message—whether to tell Harry or not. Ultimately, he knew he couldn’t keep something like this from Harry, especially when he was anxiously waiting for any news about you.

He walked over as Maria was on a mission to get Harry to hit the bar for a drink. 

“I'm not in the mood,” Harry mumbled, sprawled out on the couch with his arm over his face.

“Ollie, can you say something to our grumpy buddy?” Maria complained, looking at Oliver.

Oliver was a bit lost in thought; he cleared his throat, “Uh, Harry.”

Harry moved his arm away from his face and glanced at him. "You'd better take a look at this." Oliver handed the phone to him, showing him the message on the screen.

Maria continued. “And, if you want, I can take you to a strip club or something, like the old days—my treat,” she suggested, sitting on the edge of the couch and looking like she was about to give up. 

When Harry finally saw the message you sent to Oliver, he shot upright and grabbed the phone from him. 

A grin spread across his face.

"Oliver, what have you done to make Mr Happy smile again?"

Oliver chuckled, “Not me; it was all her. Thank God for that.”

“I should just call her,” Harry mumbled.

Oliver grabbed the phone back. “She isn’t going to answer. She said she just wants to drop something off and doesn’t want to talk with you—at least, not yet.”

“I don’t care; I want to talk to her. I really need to see her,” Harry pushed back, frowning.

“I don’t think she wants to see you, man.”

“You really think that would stop me?”

“Nope, not at all.”

Maria jumped in, “Why don’t I just handle the talking—girl to girl? I’m really curious about her anyway.”

“No way.”

“Not happening.”

“Relax! I’m not going to bite her or anything,” she said, folding her arms.

“Look, I told her I’d go alone. But if you want to talk to her too, fine. You should get your act together anyway.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I need to figure this out, Ollie.”

“Alright, it’s getting late. I’ve got to bounce. See you in the morning.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket and left while Harry went into the bedroom.

“Am I invisible or what?” Maria huffed.

“Just go home, Maria! I’m good; there’s nothing to worry about!” Harry's voice echoed in the hallway.

“Yeah, I can see it! You must care about this girl more than I thought if just one text can change your mood like this after we’ve been working hard for days and my efforts feel wasted.”

“Sorry about that!”

“Wow, you didn’t even put in an effort,” she said as she made her way to the door. “Hope that girl feels the same about you, dude. Catch you later.”  

Harry thought about it while putting his T-shirt on. That’s what he was kinda unsure about—how you actually felt, especially after what went down last time. But he was set on making things right.

Whatever it took.

It was one of the most luxurious hotels in Manhattan. You arrived early in the morning, bubbling with excitement as you rushed straight to the kitchen. Danilo informed you that Chef Bruno prided himself on punctuality and had little patience for tardiness. You felt the weight of this when he grimaced slightly, revealing that you were only two minutes late—perhaps you weren't so early after all. Fortunately, he was also kind and helpful, and you soon impressed him by preparing and serving every dessert he requested throughout the day.

The kitchen buzzed with energy, resembling a beehive. Commis chefs and cooks labored over their dishes as waitstaff darted about, meticulously inspecting each plate before delivering them to the guests.

By evening, as the sun began to set, you had adjusted to the frantic pace.  You couldn't help but dream of one day running your own bakery-restaurant amid such a whirlwind once you completed your training and got ready to receive your certificate. But you recognized that achieving that dream would require hard work and dedication.

As you glanced at your watch, you realized your meeting with Oliver was drawing near. Just as you were about to remove your apron and toque, a waiter approached Bruno and whispered something in his ear. Bruno turned to you with a glint in his eye, saying, “Here’s your chance to really shine.”

“I thought I had done enough for today,” you replied, the fatigue evident in your voice.

Bruno chuckled, “What you've accomplished so far are just baby steps, my dear. If you can whip up my specialty, the chef’s special, you might just receive that certificate sooner than you think.”

“I thought dinner service was over,” you replied with a frown. “Most of the staff has already called it a night.”

You felt utterly drained—exhaustion was an understatement.

“Do you know who we are serving for dessert?” Bruno asked, pulling out couverture chocolates and vanilla pods from a drawer.

You leaned over the counter, resting your elbows on it. “Who is it?”

“The owner of this hotel.”

Surprise lit up your face. “Really?”

“Absolutely! He orders my special dessert every Sunday night. Looks like today is your lucky day.”

“And I thought it was my unluckiest,” you murmured.

“Uh-oh. Success doesn’t come to those who shy away from challenges,” he replied playfully.

“Hey! What makes you think I’m afraid?” you shot back.

“Because you’re whining like a little girl,” he teased.

“All right then, can you share the recipe for your signature dessert, Chef?”

The dessert was a special creation, similar to a chocolate brownie topped with cherry sauce. You managed to prepare it in under half an hour, meticulously garnishing the plate with white chocolate and more cherry sauce.

“Well, not bad,” Bruno said, squinting as he appraised your work. “Let’s hope Mr. Finnegan likes it,” he added with a mischievous grin.

He was careful not to shower you with too much praise—this was no time for complacency, especially since he had asked you to deliver the plate personally.

Before you made your way out, Bruno advised you to carry the plate with one hand, not two, and to have confidence in yourself. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the dining room. You could feel Bruno's gaze following you as you approached the man sitting with his back to you. When he turned around, you were so taken aback that you nearly dropped the plate, ruining the dessert.

Bruno slapped his forehead in frustration, muttering quietly in his native language.

“Y-you... Alan?” you stammered, recognizing him. This was the man you’d encountered in Paris—what was he doing here?

He looked at you in surprise and then smiled. “Oh, you are the girl from Paris, whose name I still don't know.”

Embarrassed, you bowed your head and introduced yourself. “But what are you doing here?”

Alan laughed. “Well, I'm staying here; apparently, I own this hotel,” he replied with a polite smile.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. The coincidence was overwhelming. “Well, excuse me, I didn't know.”

“But I didn’t know you were a chef. You looked like a model or a celebrity the last time I saw you.”

You laughed nervously.

A model? A celebrity?

He must be joking.

"Well, I'm not actually a chef, I'm still trying to get my certificate so I can open my own restaurant."

“Really? I hope you get it. Did you prepare this?”

“Yes, please enjoy your dessert. I hope you like it.” You bowed your head slightly and turned to leave for the kitchen, but he stopped you with a raised hand.

“Why don't you join me?”

“But I... ” Just then, your phone rang. It was Oliver. Damn, it was almost nine o'clock. “I have to take this,” you said, looking at Alan, who nodded and took a forkful of his dessert.

“Oliver, I'm sorry I got held up at the hotel. Do you mind if I'm a bit late?” you asked in a whisper.

He responded from the other end, “Which hotel are you in?”

You told him the name of the hotel and where you were, then hung up. When you looked back at Alan, he was halfway through his dessert. He glanced at you. “It's really delicious. Taste it, please.” He gestured toward the chair opposite him.

It felt a bit awkward, but he was your big boss, so you couldn't refuse—not if you were going to work here with Bruno. You pulled the chair, sat down, and picked up the fork on the table. You took a bite of the dessert and realized it was fantastic. You smiled, proud of your creation. Alan's gaze was fixed on you; there was something strange about it, something you couldn't quite understand.

“Come on, finish it all,” he encouraged with a smile.

“But—”

“Come on, please. It's fun to watch you eat.”

What the hell?

What did he mean by that?

Some men really don’t know how to give compliments.

“So, how do you know Jack?” he inquired, still focused on you.

You swallowed the last bite of your dessert and replied truthfully, “I used to work as a housekeeper at his place.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “That's quite intriguing. But I shouldn't be surprised; I sensed you were a strong woman right from the start.” He chuckled, and you returned a shy smile.

Once you finished your plate, you glanced at him. “I’m really glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Finnegan.”

“Just call me Alan, please,” he said with a warm smile.

At that moment, you heard someone call your name, causing you to jump in surprise. Harry was approaching you from across the hall. You froze, your eyes wide with shock. Instinctively, you took a step back, but before you could react further, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around you.

“I finally found you,” he said, resting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you even closer to his chest.

You stayed still, dazed by his sudden appearance. Then, you caught a glimpse of Oliver, and anger rose within you. Placing your hands on Harry's chest, you gently pushed him away.

Alan stood right beside you, and you cursed your luck. What a first impression.

With a quick, icy glance at Alan, Harry grabbed your hand and tugged it. “We need to talk. Come with me.”

“Wait…” you protested, but he held your hand firmly, making it hard to pull away. “I’m really sorry about this, Mr. Finnegan,” you added sheepishly. Alan frowned at the scene but didn't interfere. It seemed they knew each other.

As soon as you stepped outside, you managed to free your arm from his grasp. “Let go of me! What do you want, Harry?” 

He frowned, looking slightly puzzled. But why? Had he forgotten how he treated you last time?

“How dare you just pull me away like that? I was with my boss!” you exclaimed.

“Your boss? Since when is Alan Finnegan your boss? And why are you dressed like this? Aren't you a housekeeper? ” he asked, scrutinizing your outfit.

Right. 

There were no more secrets between the two of you.

Just heartbreak.

“You mean an unemployed housekeeper. Jack fired me, and I think you know that. And Alan, Mr. Finnegan… Wait a minute, why do I have to explain this to you? It’s over between us, isn’t it? Last time, you told me to ‘get out,’ and I did. That was pretty clear.”

Harry shook his head. “I am sorry. I misunderstood. I was angry. I thought you were a gold-digger or a crook. I had no idea you worked at Jack's house, and you didn’t tell me from the start. I felt betrayed. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

At that moment, one of the waiters approached you with your bag—the one you intended to give to Oliver.

“Thank you, Nancy,” you said.

“By the way, the clothes and the hat…” she pointed out, glancing at your outfit.

“Oh, sorry,” you replied, taking them off immediately. Once she left, you handed the bag to Harry. “Here, take this.”

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Stuff that doesn’t belong to me,” you said, looking away.

Harry peered into the bag and then back at you. “Are you serious? These were bought for you.”

“No, they’re for Melanie. I’m not Melanie,” you insisted.

“Why are you doing this?”

You ignored his question. “I couldn’t find one of the earrings, sorry.”

Harry was about to tell you that he had found the earring and had it with him, but before he could speak, you cut him off, making him more frustrated.

“I don’t want to owe you anything. I’m embarrassed enough as it is. I’m ready to pay whatever it’s worth.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” And what about the other things? The things that can’t be fixed with money?” 

It was awkward to hear this from him.

You locked eyes, his expression serious and his gaze intense. “You deserve better than me, and you can do better than me,” you said, turning toward the street and starting to walk away.

Harry watched you for a moment before rushing to catch up. “What if I want you and not them?”

You kept walking, not sparing him a glance. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Ever since I first saw you. I like you for who you are, not just for the role you play as Melanie Johnson. If you wanted to object, you should have done it that night.”

“What did you expect? I was wearing her clothes, and you kissed me. I was going to end it, but I couldn’t, and I kept lying.”

"You didn’t have to keep lying for me to like you."

You stopped and faced him. “Who's kidding who, Harry? Do you really think you would have looked at me the same way if you knew I was the maid?”

He paused to think. 

You shook your head. “That's what I thought,” you said, continuing to walk. He followed you.

“You didn't give me a chance. If you had explained everything, I would have answered that question. Besides, you judge me, but I never judged you.”

“But people like you often do. I am invisible to them, just someone who cleans and tidies up. Why should you be any different?”

“You're doing it again,” he muttered.

“What do you want from me, Harry?” you asked, stopping.

“The truth.”

“What truth?”

“You had to lie to me, and I understand that, but was everything a lie?”

You tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, feeling the weight of his eyes on you. “You want the truth? Part of me wanted to see what it felt like... to have someone like you look at me the way you did, even just once. And I’m sorry. Truly, I am. If I could go back to that night, I would tell Melanie to get off her ass and handle it herself.”

He sighed. “Was it real? Any of it?” His brown eyes searched yours, filled with a desperate plea for honesty. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him—not when he looked like that.

You nodded slowly. “Yes, it was real. So real that I struggled with the thought of letting you go. But I had to— that was the plan. Until that night came along. Then... I couldn’t. And when I walked into the room the other night, I meant to tell you everything, hoping you'd accept me for who I am.” You hastily wiped away a tear that threatened to spill down your cheek.

Harry took your hand, gazing deeply into your eyes. “Can't we start over? A second chance, another date—me as I am, and you as you. No secrets. What do you say?”

Your heart raced, like spring flowers blooming within you. But then that memory flashed in your mind—the moment he kicked you out of the room. What if one day, he hurt you because of your social status? Or if you hurt him simply by being who you are? You pulled your hands back. “Like I said, Harry, you can do better than me. Our worlds are so different; I just can’t fit into yours. Besides, I have my own dreams to chase, and I need to work for them. I made that promise to myself.”

“I can help you make that happen; you just have to ask.”

You frowned. “If I can’t achieve it on my own, then is it really success?”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Go on living as if I never crossed your path. Because that’s what I’ll do. It’s for the best. Goodbye, Harry,” you said coldly, turning away.

This time, he didn’t chase after you. You knew you had hurt him, maybe more deeply. 

But this was better. 

It had to be.

As you stepped out of the subway and started walking home, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Harry. 

What on earth? 

Hadn't you made yourself clear just a little while ago?

You opened the message, your heart racing. 

“If you think I’m going to give up that easily, kitty, you’re mistaken. This isn’t over. It’s just the beginning. I’m going to make you mine.” 

Kitty?

Seriously? 

He's so back.

“Oh great, here we go again,” you muttered under your breath. As you made your way into the apartment building, you managed to open the door behind you with your back, using your foot to close it, texting him back.

“In your dreams, Mr. Castillo.”

“You're already in my dreams, darling.”

You felt your cheeks flush and took a moment to collect yourself before stepping inside your apartment. Upon entering, you noticed Zoe had already made herself at home. 

"Hey honey! How was your day?" she asked cheerfully, but you sensed a strange tone in her voice.

“Oh, don’t even ask,” you sighed.

“Well, I hate to add to your stress, but…” 

“Why? What happened?” 

Zoe stepped aside and gestured towards the couch. “This happened.” 

Your eyes went wide as you spotted an unconscious Melanie sprawled out on the sofa, completely wasted. “What the… Melanie?”

“A blond guy dropped her off this afternoon and just left. I didn’t know what to do, so I waited for you.” 

“Ugh, Nate!” you hissed through gritted teeth. You immediately pulled out your phone and tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. 

“God damn it!” Frustrated, you dialed Jack’s number next, but he didn’t answer either. 

What the hell? 

Just then, your phone rang—finally! But it wasn’t Nate; it was a call from someone on the board of directors for the cleaning company. 

“I’m calling to let you know your application has been approved, and you need to start work tomorrow morning, right away.” 

Zoe looked at you expectantly. “Or?” 

You met her gaze and nodded, which made her clap her hands in excitement. 

“Uh-huh, I’ll be there,” you replied, a grin spreading across your face. “Thanks,” you added and hung up. 

“They finally called!” Zoe hugged you tightly. 

“Yes!” you said, beaming with joy, but also wondering why they didn't call Zoe's number but called yours.

“So when do you start?” 

“I have to be at the building by 8 a.m. sharp.” 

“Is it standard house cleaning or regular maid service?” 

“I’ll be cleaning one of the penthouses in the building. They mentioned we’d go over the details about continuity later, and I should be getting the address shortly,” you said, glancing down at your phone.

“What is it?” Zoe asked.

“It’s just a bit strange. Usually, they provide all the details right away, but they didn’t this time. Plus, they specified only one house. It feels like I was handpicked for that particular place.”

“Maybe the owner is really particular and prefers to have just one person working there. And let’s not forget, even though you were let go, you did have three years of private work in a mansion. Your resume speaks for itself.”

“Yeah, you might be right." Perhaps Jack left a glowing reference that influenced their decision.

“Come on, you’ve been waiting for this call for days. Stay positive!” she said, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

Just then, you both heard a series of grunts from Melanie. She rolled over on the couch and started snoring.

“What are we going to do about her?” she asked.

“We’ll tackle that in the morning. Let’s hit the hay before it gets too late. I start work tomorrow!”

“Yes, you do!” 

You both touched each other’s hands, intertwined your fingers, jumped for joy, and embraced again. 

“Let’s celebrate with your first paycheck! You’re buying!”

“Sure thing, girl!”

As you woke up that morning, a long-forgotten feeling washed over you, and a smile crept onto your face as you stepped out of bed. The weight of job responsibilities, the thrill of feeling useful, and the excitement of a new job with a fresh salary all surged within you—an opportunity that edged you closer to your dreams. While getting dressed, a sudden high-pitched scream jolted you. You sighed, recognizing the voice and knowing exactly who it belonged to.

Zoe was already in the living room when Melanie stood on the sofa, wide-eyed and looking utterly bewildered as if she had been kidnapped. 

“Look who finally woke up!” Zoe snarled.

“What on earth are you screaming about?” You hissed

“Nate brought me here?” Melanie was a mess, with disheveled hair and smudged makeup on her face. She sank onto the couch, still feeling dizzy.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. "You've just woken the neighbors, you weirdo," Zoe grumbled as she went to open it. "Oh, hey John!"

“Are you girls okay? I was worried when I heard that scream,” he said, peering inside as you waved him in. “Hey John, sorry!” you replied with a grin. “We’re having a sleepover, and someone is still drunk.”

Zoe flushed bright red, embarrassed at being caught in her pajamas by her crush. You stepped closer to her and stifled a laugh. 

“Wow, that's fine. I was actually going to knock on your door anyway,” he said, glancing over at Zoe. “By the way, are you going to the wedding this weekend?”

“The fancy one with all the celebs and billionaires? Yeah, I’ll be there. They’re paying pretty well,” she said.

“Same here; otherwise I'd have no reason to go. I’m already wiped out from working two jobs during the week; I’m really grinding it out.” 

“Full-time waiter?” you mocked.

“Also doing deliveries,” John sighed.

“Wow, you must be a superhero or something.” 

“Gotta pay the bills, girl. Want to come along, too? I can ask the boss.”

“Pass on the waitress gig, and I don’t need to; they called me yesterday. I was just about to head out for work.”

“Really? That’s awesome,” he responded, giving you a friendly tap on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, John. I need to get ready and head out now,” you smiled at both of them and turned back toward your room.

“Good luck!” he called after you, then turned to Zoe. “We’ll pick you up with the guys Saturday afternoon.”

“Sounds good!” she replied, visibly more relaxed.

You called Nate again as you stepped off the subway, making your way through the streets of Manhattan to the address they had sent you. 

“Yep?” he replied, sounding groggy.

“Listen, that thing you left on my couch yesterday? You need to come and get it right now and throw it out, got it?” 

“Thing? You mean Melanie? Are you really calling her trash?” 

“To me, she is.”

“Come on, babe, I’ve done my part. Now it’s your turn.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You raised your voice more than you meant to, causing a few passersby to give you curious glances. Ashamed, you lowered your head and kept walking. 

“Don't you think it's partially your fault Jack kicked her out?” 

“How dare you say that? Do you even hear yourself?” 

Your stomach turned when you heard the unmistakable sound of a girl, no, two girls moaning on the other end of the line, and it hit you why. “I’m a little busy right now. If you're not joining the fun, I should hang up.”

“Ugh! You’re disgusting! I hate you!”

“Love you too, babe,” he said with a cheeky laugh. 

Fuming, you abruptly ended the call and shoved the phone into your bag. “What an asshole.” He was a real pain in the neck. As you continued down the street, thinking about how to deal with Melanie, a car pulled up to the curb just as you crossed the street. You nearly stumbled when you heard a familiar voice. 

“Morning, beautiful.” Harry was leaning back in the seat of his Mercedes, window half down and a grin plastered on his face.

“Harry? Oh, please, not now. Go away—I’m already running late.”

“Want a lift?” 

“No, thanks. After last night, I realized I should avoid you,” you said firmly, resuming your pace. The car kept moving alongside you at a slow crawl. 

“Would you consider avoiding me over breakfast?” he asked, still grinning. 

“Look, Harry, I’m really sorry, but I’m starting a new job today and I just can’t fit you into my schedule. Is that clear?”

“Hmmm. Not as clear as the memories of that night in Paris with you meowing in my ear. Which I have been replaying over and over. Like a special kinda music to my ears.” he said, smirking and pointing at his ears.

You paused for a moment, swallowing hard as your cheeks flushed. “Huh! I’ve already forgotten; I suggest you do the same. Just erase the damn tape!”  

He pursed his lips teasingly. “Hmph, I could if I didn’t still have your fingernail marks on my back. Nice color, by the way,” he remarked, nodding at your nails.  

You glanced at the red polish you had applied just the night before, then back at him, watching as he chuckled at your reaction. You frowned and said, “Just knock it off.”  

"I will, but only if you promise to let me take you to dinner one night," he replied with the cutest grin.  

Oh boy.  

Those damn puppy-dog eyes.  

Shit.

Ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Fine, but not anytime soon. I’m swamped with work.” You were already at the entrance of the apartment building.  

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, kitty. See ya!”  

You squinted at him as you crossed the street. He rolled up his window and sped off around the corner. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the building.

“Is everything set?” Harry asked, just settling into his seat at the office. 

Oliver nodded, noticing the grin on his face and his upbeat demeanor. “Yes, the meeting kicks off in ten minutes. Maria's on her way. 

By the way, your invitation arrived. The tailor is expecting you tomorrow. With the wedding this weekend, time is tight.”

“I know, thanks,” Harry replied, setting aside his friend’s wedding invitation. He pulled out his iPad and opened the smart home app, looking as excited as a kid in a candy store.

“Why didn’t you mention that you found the other earring?” Oliver suddenly inquired.

“It just didn’t feel like the right time,” Harry responded.

“Listen, if I know her at all, she’ll want to make it up to you,” Oliver said.

“That’s exactly what I want,” Harry replied.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I had no clue you had a bit of a dark side, buddy."  

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“It’s just an excuse to see her, isn’t it?”

Harry didn’t reply, but Oliver could tell the answer was yes. “Like you wouldn’t see her often anyway,” he suggested with a smirk. “You better put as much effort into your work as you do into chasing her, or Maria's going to kick our asses,” he added before heading out of the office.

Harry tuned him out and connected to the home camera in the penthouse through the app. When he spotted you in your maid outfit, pushing the vacuum cleaner in the hallway, he couldn’t help but smile. “Welcome home, Cinderella,” he murmured to himself. 

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

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lots of love 💋💋❤️❤️

[hollywoodfamerp]

Pack your bags, Famers! Our annual winter trip is taking place in… Australia! On February 16th, all celebrities will land in Sydney, Australia to kick off our trip!

Under the cut, you’ll find the list of roommates! 

Couples from the ship list have been roomed together and everyone else was randomized by a generator. If you have been roomed with another fc that you play, please message us POLITELY and we will fix it asap! Roommates are subject to change due to unfollows, follows, activity check, etc. so please like this post to keep up to date on any changes.

Zendaya Coleman & Xu Minghao

Gigi Hadid & Lee Taemin

Kelsea Ballerini & Miles Teller

Renee Paquette (Renee Young) & Awsten Knight

Meryl Streep & Choi Soobin

Ariana DeBose & David Corenswet

Sam Reid & Britt Lower

Normani Kordei & Zac Efron

Byun Baekhyun & Hayden Christensen

Gareth Southgate & Charles Leclerc

Harry Kane & Matt Smith

Lainey Wilson & Alycia Debnam-Carey

Joe Jonas & Emma Stone

Kit Connor & Robyn (Rihanna) Fenty

Tom Holland & Jon Moxley

Liam Hemsworth & Joey King

Melissa Barrera & Cynthia Erivo

Florence Pugh & Anne Hathaway

Andrei Iosivas & Abel Tesfaye (The Weeknd)

Jordyn Woods & Wong Kunhang (Hendery)

Eiza Gonzalez & Hailee Steinfeld

Vanessa Kirby & Isabela Merced

Simone Ashley & Jung Wooyoung

Lily James & Mike Evans

Cha Eunwoo & Dianna Agron

Adria Arjona & Madelyn Cline

Matthew Tkachuk & Mazz Murray

Renee Rapp & Jonathan Bailey

Leigh-Anne Pinnock & Joshua Hong (Hong Jisoo)

Alex Gumuchian (bbno$) & Chase Stokes

Rebecca Ferguson & Kang Seulgi

Britt Baker & Pedro Pascal

Aaron Tveit & Ariana Grande

Peter Hernandez (Bruno Mars) & Lee Felix

Demi Bennett (Rhea Ripley) & Ashley Fliehr (Charlotte Flair)

Hwang Hyunjin & Christopher Bang (Bang Chan)

Sarah Paulson & Jessica Lange

Travis Kelce & Taylor Swift

Chris Evans & Naomi Scott

Noah Centineo & Anya Taylor-Joy

Benson Boone & Manu Rios

Glen Powell & Romee Strijd

Niall Horan & Olivia O'Brien

Sophie Turner & Dove Cameron

Nick Robinson & Nicholas Hoult

Park Seonghwa & Megan Jovon Ruth Pete (Megan Thee Stallion)

Choi San & Jeon Jungkook

Sabrina Carpenter & Jenna Ortega

Chloe Bailey & Josh O'Connor

Karlie Kloss & Oliver Stark

Rylee Arnold & Joe Burrow

Olivia Dunne & Ja'Marr Chase

Cate Blanchett & Jenna Lyons

Selena Gomez & Nick Jonas

Olivia Rodrigo & Halle Bailey

Sam Claflin & Chris Pine

Sebastian Stan & Margot Robbie

Colby Lopez (Seth Rollins) & Rebecca Quin (Becky Lynch)

Pamela Martinez (Bayley) & Mercedes Justine Varnado (Sasha Banks)

Zoë Kravitz & Lili Reinhart

Danny Amendola & Olivia Culpo

Emily Blunt & John Krasinski

Josephine Skriver & Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Cari Fletcher & Victoria de Angelis

Kim Hongjoong & Diamanté Quiava Valentin Harper (Saweetie)

Hailey Baldwin & Luke Hemmings

Min Yoongi & Kim Namjoon

Saoirse Ronan & Jack Lowden

Nicholas Galitzine & Taylor Zakhar Perez

Ashton Irwin & Harry Styles

Lauren Jauregui & Bill Skarsgard

Elizabeth Lail & Jason Sudeikis

Stefani Germanotta (Lady Gaga) & Jessica Chastain

Kim Jisoo & Christian Yu

Dakota Johnson & Sam Heughan

Tom Hardy & Candice Swanepoel

Chris Hemsworth & Elizabeth Olsen

Mason Mount & Perrie Edwards

Kaia Gerber & Juno Temple

Momo Hirai & Charlie Hunnam

Kendall Jenner & Taylor Hill

Xiao Dejun & Paul Mescal

Daisy Edgar Jones & Sydney Sweeney

Shawn Mendes & Adam Brody

Alexander Skarsgard & Rachel Brosnahan

Jasmine Tookes & Yu Jimin (Karina)

Vanessa Hudgens & Lalisa Manoban

Bella Hadid & Laura Harrier

Kim Taehyung & Josh Allen

Andrew Garfield & Lucy Hale

Dua Lipa & Samara Weaving

Callum Turner & Joe Locke

Ryan Blaney & Cindy Kimberly

Jalen Hurts & Damiano David

Austin Butler & Kathryn Hahn

[essenyare]

Should It Be Sunless

Headcanon for Jack Krauser’s origin because why not 🤷🏻

AO3🚪English | 中文

WARNINGS: Major Character Death, Pre-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Blood and Gore, Jack Krauser Needs a Hug, No beta we die like Marvin

Even before reaching puberty, Jack Krauser was already taller than most kids his age. At eight, he resembled a hemlock overdosed on sunlight—lean and sinewy, his bones sharply defined beneath skin stretched over a meager layer of fat, perhaps even a little malnourished.

By the time he officially enrolled at Loyola Sacred Heart High School, he had already shot up to one hundred and seventy centimeters, standing like a lone flagpole swaying in the wind—taller than some upperclassmen who had already gone through voice changes. Dressed in sportswear, he stood out in a way that felt almost unnatural.

Among the brazen students of Missoula County, there were always a few who had no regard for teachers with thick lenses resting on their noses or for female classmates. They would scrawl crude depictions of genitalia and obscene words onto the blank pages of their notebooks, tear them out, fold them into paper planes, or crumple them into balls before hurling them at the backs of their unsuspecting victims, followed by laughter that made no attempt at restraint.

Such vulgar and witless provocations held no real weight in Krauser’s mind. His skin had long been toughened by Montana’s brutal winters and scorching summers. He remembered the days his father took him hunting for grouse and rabbits in the woods—early spring in Montana was still bitterly cold, the snow on the trails beginning to melt, leaving slick patches of blackened, wet earth beneath their feet. He liked the damp air filling his lungs, invigorating him more than any toffee could.

A rabbit, struck in the belly, lay twitching by a thicket, and when he reached out to touch it, the dying creature kicked out violently, scratching four shallow lines across the back of his hand. His father smacked him hard on the head, nearly sending him tumbling forward, then shoved him aside. The gaunt, towering man swiftly twisted the rabbit’s neck, ending its suffering in one practiced motion.

When Mr. Rogers, the English literature teacher, irritably flicked the wadded-up paper ball off his desk, Krauser caught a glimpse of the deep blue exhaustion in his eyes—blue, like his father’s, like his mother’s, like his own, as if everyone under this sky bore the weight of the same vast ocean. But his father had been gone for three weeks now. The man had taken his hunting bow and rifle, leaving behind only an unfinished pack of cigarettes.

His mother lit one up, tapping the long ash into a chipped glass ashtray a few minutes later. She had heated up a pot of slightly runny mashed potatoes; a loaf of bread and some dry cheese sat on the wooden counter, looking free of mold. For Krauser, this was already a generous dinner—far better than the previous nights, when all he had was a slice of toast and a cold glass of milk.

His mother had left for work again. She had just returned from her shift at Johnson’s central lumberyard sorting department, staying home for only two hours before heading out to her second job as a waitress at Mellott’s Bar & Grill. It was the weekend; she wouldn’t be back until at least one in the morning, maybe even later—especially if some drunken lumberjack insisted on ordering more rounds.

Krauser rummaged through the trash and retrieved the cigarette pack, pulling out a slightly crushed one and lighting it up. The moment the flame licked the tobacco, he burned his fingers and shook out the match. Suddenly, he realized he couldn’t quite recall how his father held the smoke in his mouth before exhaling. The man had always released the smoke in perfect rings, like some precision-timed cooking mechanism. With each inhale and exhale, thick, greasy clouds coiled around his head, further shrouding his already unapproachable face in layered obscurity.

As Krauser watched the curling smoke, he always felt that his father’s voice came from some distant void, filtered through an invisible mesh, stripped of warmth until only the brittle contour of his words remained. The man spoke of hunting, of waiting, of why people inevitably made mistakes and why those mistakes could not always be undone.

He said that once a trigger was pulled, the bullet would never return; once an arrow was loosed, there was no use expecting the prey to escape. His tone was as calm as if he were merely stating the weather, as if he were telling Krauser that Montana’s spring snow would always melt, whether one wanted it to or not.

Then he would wave a hand, signaling Krauser to fetch him a beer, or simply lift his chin—its stubble coarse and dirty blond—dismissing his mother with a single gesture, as if her voice was more grating than a dying animal’s cry, something intolerable beyond measure.

In those moments, though the three of them shared the same space, they remained utterly isolated within their own worlds, like planets drifting along predetermined orbits in the night sky, never to intersect.

Krauser pursed his lips into a coin-sized circle and inhaled, a bitter, nauseating taste spreading across his tongue like a bar of rancid soap shoved into his mouth, sliding down his throat. A wisp of loose, grayish smoke slithered into his left gum like a boning knife, and the long-dormant ache in his teeth flared up again. The dull, pulsing pain made him lower his head in silence, as if it could somehow smother the inexplicable irritation gnawing at him from within.

-tbc-

[reddorkredemption]

My Blessed Son—Chapter 25

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||  

Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word count: ~10,000

Chapter under the cut <3

A week passed by without much fanfare.

Tommy came by briefly the day after their visit with Sawicki to tell Jack he’d been successful in convincing him to take back his statements. Jack still had his qualms about that— it still gave him an icky feeling in his gut— but he chose to take the win for what it was. 

After Tommy left, Jack didn’t hear from him again. He assumed that meant there was nothing of note going on regarding Fordham, and he wasn’t going to complain about that. He needed a break from it all.

He’d spent a lot of that week outside, walking around the ranch and enjoying the last moments of sun they’d get before winter fully took over. And when he wasn’t wandering outside, he was with Lilly. 

They were settling into their new relationship, still a little awkward and unsure— or he was, at least. She greeted him with a kiss every morning, and every time, it made him weak in the knees. They’d cook breakfast together, talking and joking like they always had, and then work on the ranch chores side by side. At the end of the night, they pulled a random book off the shelf, curled up in front of the fireplace, and read it together.

The days were so blissfully uneventful— a brief reprieve from all of the stress surrounding the situation with the BOI. He was almost able to forget about it entirely, almost able to taste the freedom he’d feel once the whole thing was over.

That was, until that morning when the documents he’d requested from Leigh Johnson finally arrived on his doorstep in a large, bulky envelope. 

Jack had spent most of the afternoon flipping through them, carefully reading them several times over. Many of the events referenced in them seemed to be taken straight out of his father’s journal. He pulled out the journal to compare, and sure enough, the related entries in it correlated almost perfectly with the story told in the documents. Grabbing a blank sheet of paper, he noted down every similarity. He’d love to see Tommy try to tell him the journal was all made up now. 

In addition, many details were given about the marshal’s correspondence with the bureau, with Ross and Fordham being explicitly named several times. Most notable of all was a telegram among the documents— a brief message from none other than Archer Fordham himself, requesting that a guide be arranged for Jack’s father in New Austin. 

With all of this, there was no way Fordham could deny what he’d done. And if what Tommy had said was true— that heads would roll if word of the bureau’s actions ever got out— he couldn’t wait to see the look on Fordham’s face when confronted with it all. Jack practically held his cushy career in the palm of his hand now; he could crush it at any time.

As he finished going through the papers, he stuffed them back into the envelope, along with his notes and his father’s journal. He planned to give them to Tommy later and reassert the idea of using all of it as leverage to get Fordham off his back. They now had all the proof Tommy could want— all the proof he so arrogantly assumed Jack could never get. 

Moving on from the documents, he shifted focus to his other, albeit less damning, pieces of evidence: the letters he’d written to Charles for his mother. They had also arrived that morning, all packed into a single envelope postmarked from a small town in Canada. 

Jack tore it open and dug out the stack of letters inside, setting them on his desk. Not wanting to read through them all and have to relive all the memories inside them, he only gave each one a cursory scan. One by one, he read just enough of the letters to tell what they were about and then slipped them into the envelope with the marshal’s documents. 

He wasn’t thrilled that Tommy was going to be reading them— some of the contents were a bit personal, and he wasn’t exactly sensitive. Jack was dreading hearing whatever stupid, snarky thing he’d have to say about them. But if that was what it took to get him off the hook for killing Ross, he’d just have to suck up his pride and let it happen.

As he grabbed the final letter in the stack, he noticed that it had a strange weight to it. Furrowing his brows, he unfolded it, and a small object slipped out from between the folds in the page, clattering onto his desk.

He looked down, his breath hitching when he saw the glint of a golden ring topped with a small ruby— the exact ring his father had given his mother when they got married. 

Setting the letter down, he picked it up and turned it in his fingers, unable to believe what he was seeing. He thought it was gone. His mother had lost it a few months before she died. He’d torn the house apart trying to find it for her, all to no avail. How on earth did it wind up tangled up in his mail? 

His breathing turning shallow, he shoved the ring into his breast pocket and picked up the letter, the edges of the page wrinkling from the strength of his grip. Immediately, he was puzzled. It wasn’t in his handwriting like all the others were, and after a quick scan, he was certain that he’d never seen it before.

Starting at the top of the letter, he began reading it, the paper shaking as his hands trembled.

Charles,

(A trusted friend of mine is helping me write this.)

The doctor came by a week ago, and the news wasn’t good. Things have quickly gotten worse, and he doesn’t see me coming back from it. He says six months if I’m lucky. 

Jack has taken it very hard. I’m worried for him. He’s back to shooting up birds in the sky. I thought he’d given it up when I got sick— all of it. He dropped everything to take care of me and the house. He was starting to seem more like himself, but I can feel him slipping away again. He promises he won’t do anything stupid, but it’s hard to believe him. I’m terrified of what will become of him and of what he’ll do when I’m no longer here to stop him.

I know you have your own family to worry about and that you can’t look after him from so far away. And I know he, like John, would do whatever he wants anyway, regardless of what anyone has to say about it. All I ask is that you remind him that he isn’t alone.

Also, I’m sure you’ve noticed I enclosed my ring with this letter. I want him to have it after I’m gone, and if I keep it, I’m afraid he’ll bury it with me. Please give it to him for me. Whenever you think the time is right.

(Please be discreet in your return letter should you write one. I don’t want Jack to know about this.)

—Abigail

When he reached the end of the letter, he threw the page down onto his desk as if it had burned him. He buried his head in his hands, fingers clenching around clumps of his hair.

His chest burned with a grief that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d always tried his best to avoid thinking about her death; he never really let himself process it. He pushed the memories down and buried them under any distraction he could find— alcohol, books, the whole Ross situation. But now she’d practically shown up on his doorstep to remind him, refusing to be ignored.

Reading that letter felt like ripping a bandage off an old wound, only to find that it hadn’t healed at all. It was still bleeding, still fresh as the day he got it. 

As the grief festered, guilt crept in next, joining hands with it in a joint quest to tear him apart. Guilt for worrying her so terribly while she was already dealing with so much. And guilt for the fact that she was right to worry. After she left him, he had gone and done the exact stupid thing she’d been so worried about. The shame that brought him could’ve swallowed him whole.

A part of him was also furious at her. How could she lie to him about losing the ring? He had held her while she cried— sobbed— over it. She was so convincing. He had beaten himself up for weeks over his inability to find it, and the whole time, she knew exactly where it was.

He was mad at Charles too. Why hadn’t he warned him about this? They’d talked on the telephone for several minutes, and at no point did he mention it. He had the urge to pick up the phone right then and scream at him for it. How could he not say anything?

As his mind reeled, he was startled by the sound of music coming from the living room. A familiar tune his mother used to love to sing and play on their old piano, ‘Oh, Susanna’. 

But he had to have been imagining it. The piano in the living room was broken; it was so out of tune it sounded like a dying animal. There was no way the even melody he was hearing was coming out of that thing. 

He must have been losing his mind. The thin string tethering him to sanity had finally been snapped, and all it took was a simple little ring. His hands moved from his hair to cover his ears in an attempt to drown the music out, but all he did was muffle it slightly.

The song bounced around in his head incessantly, mocking his sorrow with its cheerful tune. He tried everything he could to shut his crazed brain up, resorting to jamming his fingers in his ears. It didn’t help. All it did was muffle the sound a fraction more.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: if the sound was only in his head, why did covering his ears muffle it? 

His distress giving way to confusion, he took his fingers out of his ears, the music becoming clear again. Straightening up, he planted his feet on the floor, feeling the subtle vibrations of the sound reverberating through the house. He wasn’t imagining it; the piano actually was being played in the living room.

As the music continued, drowning out the thoughts in his head, he took a series of deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Once he felt he’d come back down to earth, he stood up, knees wobbling, and shuffled to the door to investigate the sound. 

It got louder as he exited his bedroom and even louder as he walked down the hallway to the living room. He froze when he rounded the corner and found Lilly sitting in front of the piano, head down as her fingers worked the keys. 

He didn’t interrupt her. He couldn’t. He was almost entranced by the melody— and shocked that it was coming out of that old piano. It had been a long time since any pleasant sound had come out of the thing; he never thought he’d see the day it came back to life.

Hell, she’d done more than just bring it back to life. He couldn’t recall it ever sounding this nice. The sound was so rich and clear, bouncing off the walls and filling the atmosphere with a warmth he hadn’t felt in that house in years. Every last note was perfect.

As Lilly reached the end of the song, the final note reverberating throughout the room, she rested her hands in her lap and smiled at him. 

He stared back at her, dumbfounded. “You fixed it?”

“I did.” 

“W-When?” he stammered. “I never heard.…”

Her smile turned sheepish. “I’ve been working on it for the past week or so whenever you were outside. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and studied the piano, still dumbstruck. “I thought you couldn’t fix it. You said it’s too hard.”

“I did think I couldn’t, but I decided to give it a try anyway.” She shrugged and ran her finger along a string of keys, the sound they produced perfectly in tune— as far as Jack could tell, anyway. “I just did the best I could.”

“The best you could?” he asked, breathing out an incredulous laugh. “It sounds perfect.”

“Sure. It’s perfect,” she said. “As long as you don’t touch the last few keys over there.” She gestured to the far right end of the piano. “Or this one.” She pressed a single black key near the center, causing a slightly off-key note to ring out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It just hates me.”

Jack chuckled and squeezed into the small spot beside her, the bench squeaking in protest as he sat down. “Still a lot better than it was.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” She smiled at the piano and then up at him. “It’s a work-in-progress, but at least I can play a whole song on it without wanting to gouge my ears out now.” 

To illustrate her point, she placed her hands back on the piano and started playing to the tune of ‘Oh, Susanna’ again. He tensed a bit as the song pulled his thoughts back to the letter he’d just read and back to the ring that rested heavily in his shirt pocket. It weighed on his heart like a ton of bricks, sending an aching pain through the center of his chest. 

The melody suddenly stopped, and Lilly pulled her hands away from the piano, furrowing her brows at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” he assured her. “It’s just—” His voice caught, and he took a breath. “My ma… She liked to play that song. It was one of her favorites.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head and forced a bittersweet smile onto his face. “It’s nice to be able to hear it again.” 

‘Nice’ may not have been the right word for it. It hurt. It hurt the way happy memories long since passed always did. But it hurt in a way that he didn’t want to stop. If those memories ever stopped hurting, it would mean he’d forgotten them. There were so many things he wanted to forget, but the sound of his mother playing the piano— no matter how out of tune it often was— wasn’t one of them. 

Lilly rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “You sure?”

With another shaky breath, he leaned into her embrace. “Yeah. Thanks for fixin’ it,” he said. “She would’ve loved to see it soundin’ so much better.” 

She squeezed him. “Well, I wish I could’ve met her.”

“Me too.” He pulled away slightly to give her a sad smile. “She would’ve loved you.” After a beat, he added in a softer tone, “I love you.”

She hugged him even tighter. “I love you too.”

Jack leaned further into her embrace, resting his cheek on her hair as they fell into silence. 

He’d never stop being grateful for her. Her presence always soothed him like nothing else did, always brought him from the brink without much effort at all. She was all he could ask for— and more. 

It broke his heart that his parents would never get to meet the woman he loved. He wondered what it would’ve been like if they were still around— what they would’ve thought of her, how they would’ve interacted with her. 

They probably would’ve been shocked that he found a woman who gave him the time of day. He certainly was. Ma would claim that she always knew he’d find someone, but he’d know she was lying. Pa would make some dumb joke about how he always thought Jack would end up marrying a book or something. 

And he didn’t even want to think about what Uncle would have to say about their relationship. Probably something that would get him a one-way ticket to sleeping in the barn for a week— or for ten years if Pa got his way.

He could see Lilly having coffee with his mother in the morning— they both loved it more than anyone else he’d ever come across. And his father could’ve tried to teach her how to help with the ranch chores. He surely would’ve gotten a kick out of her proclivity for swearing like a sailor when she’s frustrated. He’d joke that she’s just like Ma in that regard.

Maybe Lilly would’ve even joined them for one of their nights gathered around the fire, where they’d sing and play music together. She could’ve played her violin for them. Shown them all what real, proper music sounds like.

He breathed a laugh at the thought.

Lilly lifted her head from his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He shook his head, a small smile remaining on his face. “Nothin’. Just remembering something.”

“Remembering something? And smiling about it?” she asked. “That’s… kinda unusual. What is it?”

“Nothing crazy,” he answered. “Just thinkin’ about how we used to sit out by the fire when I was a kid. Ma would sing, and I’d play the harmonica. Sometimes Uncle joined with his banjo— if he wasn’t too drunk, which was rare.”

She chuckled and then drew her brows together as if something had suddenly just occurred to her. “Wait.” She pulled away from him. “You can play the harmonica?” 

“Yeah. Kinda.”

She grinned. “Wha— Why’d you never tell me that?”

He shrugged. “Never came up.”

“Only because you never brought it up.” She gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “You have to play something for me.” Sitting up straighter, she continued, “Oh! Or better yet, we could play something together!”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What? C’mon, it’d be so fun.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed it. “Go get it. Please?”

“I, uh…” He trailed off, trying to think up an excuse. 

He enjoyed all those nights playing the harmonica with his family as a kid, but he couldn’t say he was all that incredible at it. As silly as it sounded, the thought of playing for Lilly was a bit intimidating. She was so talented. She could play all these complex songs on these complex instruments— and she did it so beautifully and with such apparent ease. She’d even gotten a job doing it. 

He knew he and his measly harmonica couldn’t hold a candle to her. 

Just then, he remembered— she had to go back to work at the saloon today. At five-o-clock. She’d asked him that morning if he could give her a ride, and a glance at the clock told him it was nearing time for them to leave.

Thanking his luck, he asked, “Uh, don’t you have to go to work soon? Really soon?”

Lilly whipped around and looked at the clock, slouching when she saw the time. “Yeah. I do. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.” She sighed and pressed her lips together, shooting him a glare.

“What?” he asked, playing dumb. “I just don’t want you to be late.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Right. Okay.” With a sigh, she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “Guess I better go get ready then.”

She took a step to start walking away but stopped short, suddenly hugging him from behind. “You are gonna play that harmonica for me eventually though,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re not getting out of it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, breathing a laugh. “I kinda figured.”

She snickered and hugged him tighter, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Be right back.”

She pulled away, and he immediately missed her warmth. Smiling to himself, he looked over his shoulder and watched her walk down the hallway to her bedroom. Once she disappeared inside, his eyes shifted over to the mantel where his parents’ portrait hung.

His smile fell, and he slouched as catching his mother’s eye in the photo made his heart ache again. Placing his hand on his chest, he ran his fingertips over the ring in his pocket.

The words in her letter replayed in his head. He could almost hear them as if they were being spoken in her voice— all the concern and desperation woven throughout them. It brought the shame seeping back into his gut. He hated that he’d made her feel that way. He hated the boy she had written that letter about— that stupid kid so lost in his anger that he’d lost sight of everything else.

But he was doing a lot better now. 

He wasn’t the boy spoken about in the letter anymore. And he hoped that somehow, she knew that. He hoped she could see all the progress he’d made, and he hoped she could forgive him for all the mistakes he’d made first. He had to believe that she could. It tore him apart too much to think that that desperation was the last thing he’d ever made her feel and that he’d never be able to change that.

With a shaky breath, he tore his eyes away from the portrait and looked back at the piano. He tapped a few keys, cutting into the overwhelming silence that had filled the room. Growing uncomfortable as the sound echoed throughout the room, he stood up and wandered back to his bedroom.

He grabbed the letter on his desk, folded it back up, and shoved it deep into a drawer. There was no way he was going to give that one to Tommy. 

The thought brought his attention back to the thick envelope of papers sitting on the desk. He picked it up, deciding that he might as well go give it to Tommy after dropping Lilly off. Opening it up, he looked through the documents again to ensure that everything was in order— or, if he was honest, to distract himself from his lingering emotions. 

After a few minutes, he heard Lilly call out from the living room, “Jack? Are you ready?”

“Yeah!” he shouted back, shoving the paper he was looking at back into the envelope. “Coming!”

———

Jack pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse to a stop outside the Blackwater Saloon. The streets were bustling with life— people and horses all going about their business as the end of their workday grew near. 

Unfortunately for Lilly, her workday was only just beginning. She frowned at the building and sighed. Here’s to another ten riveting hours of playing the piano for a bunch of people too drunk to care.

Jack hopped off the saddle, giving his horse a pat on the neck before offering his hand to her. She took it, his calloused skin rough against hers, and jumped down, kicking up a small cloud of dirt as her feet hit the ground. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze in return before releasing it. “You’re welcome.” 

“Oh, and don’t worry about coming to pick me up later. Tommy’s gonna drive me home.”

“Alright,” he said, turning his back to her to start digging through his saddlebag. “Uh, speaking of Tommy, where’s he staying?” He pulled out a thick envelope and turned around, holding it up. “I need to go give him this.”

“He’s at the hotel. That big room on the second floor,” she answered, a lilt of curiosity in her voice. “What is it?”

“It’s all the stuff I got to prove what those agents did. Letters, records, stuff like that…. I put my pa’s journal in there too. Maybe he’ll believe it now with all the other stuff to back it up.”

“Sounds promising,” Lilly said with a nod. “Y’know, if you want, I can give it to him for you when I see him later.” Her expression turned playful. “Spare you from havin’ to speak to him. I’m sure you’re sick of him by now.”

Jack shrugged. “I actually haven’t heard from him in a few days.”

“What, you miss him or something?”

“Definitely not,” he replied without hesitation. “You can give it to him. Here.” He held the envelope out to her.

Snickering, she took it and held it in the crook of her arm.

Jack paused, glancing down in thought before asking, “We are sure he’s… okay though, right? It’s kinda weird that he hasn’t come around to talk my ear off in a while.”

“He is,” Lilly assured. “I talked to him over the telephone this morning. Sounded fine to me.” 

“Okay. Good.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Look at you, worrying for his well-being even after what an ass he’s been to you.” Her expression softened. “You’re too sweet.”

He let out a nervous laugh, and his cheeks flushed slightly, as they always did whenever she’d say anything even mildly flirtatious. It made her heart stir in her chest; she’d always found it adorable. 

“I dunno about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don��t want him keelin’ over or something before he’s done helping me.”

Lilly stayed quiet, continuing to smile adoringly at him.

Jack smiled back at her, shifting on his feet as a beat of silence passed between them. “Well,” he said, slapping his palms on his thighs, “I guess I should get goin’ now. Uh, tell the bartenders I said hi.”

He turned to get back on his horse, but she grabbed his hand and made him face her again. “Wait. You forgot something.”

He furrowed his brows at her. “What?”

She licked her lips and glanced around, hesitating when she noticed how many people were scattered nearby, a few of whom were already staring at them. She knew what she wanted to do wasn’t proper— her mother had drilled all of those stupid, polite society rules into her head. She knew she’d be inviting stares and disdain and gossip. But she decided she didn’t care. People already talked about her— about both of them. They already gossiped about things that weren’t even true. What was there to lose?

“Lilly?” Jack prodded.

Tightening her arm around the envelope he’d given her, she looked him straight in the eyes. Then, with a quick breath, she stepped forward, threw her free arm around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss. He tensed at first but quickly relaxed, melting into her touch.

When they separated, they were met with several horrified stares from people around the street, as well as a couple of scoffs from a pair of older, fancifully-dressed women walking by. 

“This generation, I swear,” one of the women grumbled as they scurried away, heels clacking and noses pointed in the air. “No respect for themselves!”

“Nor anyone else,” the other woman added.

Lilly snorted and rolled her eyes at them before returning her attention to Jack. His face was flushed, and he stared back at her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Giving him a mischievous smile, she brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and said, “I’ll see you later.”

“O-Okay.”

The smile remaining on her face, she took a step back, and Jack took that as his signal to leave. He moved to climb back onto his horse, his foot slipping out of the stirrup the first time he tried to hoist himself up. Lilly suppressed a giggle as he attempted a second time, this time getting up into the saddle with ease. 

He gave her a final smile and a wave goodbye, which she returned. Then, he spurred his horse and took off down the street. 

Lilly lingered on the sidewalk, watching as he rode away. When he rounded the corner out of sight, she hugged the envelope he’d given her against her chest and headed for the saloon’s entrance. 

As she walked inside, she was immediately met with the familiar musky scent of the saloon and, more notably, with the wide-eyed stares of Mrs. Howard and Mr. Weaver. They stood behind the bar, their hands frozen in the middle of their respective tasks. Mrs. Howard tightly grasped a broom, her mouth agape. Mr. Weaver was in the middle of polishing a glass, though he appeared less stunned. Instead, there was amusement behind his eyes and a slight smirk playing at his lips.

Lilly stepped closer to them, stopping a few feet away from the bar. She stayed quiet and stared back at them, waiting for them to say something.

“Did you just…” Mrs. Howard finally spoke. “Did you just kiss him?”

Lilly shifted on her feet and hugged Jack’s envelope tighter, knowing she was about to be scolded for her impropriety. Clearing her throat, she answered simply, “Yes.”

For a moment, they were quiet again, their eyes boring into her. She tensed further, their silence and the anticipation of their disapproval threatening to swallow her. But to her surprise, the scolding she was expecting never came. 

Instead, Mrs. Howard let out a delighted gasp, her hands releasing her broom and flying up to her face. As the broom clattered onto the floor, she scurried out from behind the bar and pulled Lilly into a tight hug.

Letting out a breath of relief, Lilly leaned into her, unable to fully return the hug because of the envelope wrapped in her arms. As they embraced, Lilly looked over Mrs. Howard’s shoulder at Mr. Weaver. He had resumed polishing the glass in his hands, and the smirk on his face was now more pronounced. 

Unable to help herself, she smirked back at him.

Mrs. Howard quickly pulled back and planted her hands on Lilly’s shoulders, regaining her attention. “So you two are… together now?”

They were, weren’t they? It was almost hard to believe. All of that back and forth was finally over, and they were happy. She was happy. For the first time since she lost her father, she could honestly say that.

Slowly, a grin spread across her face, and she answered with a nod.

“Oh, finally!” Mrs. Howard exclaimed, pulling her in for another hug. “Every time I saw you two talkin’... the way you look at each other…. I just knew. I knew you’d end up together.” She pulled out of the hug and looked over her shoulder at Mr. Weaver. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Uh huh,” he replied, not looking up from the glass he was cleaning. “I never heard the end of it.”

Lilly chuckled, and Mrs. Howard clicked her tongue at him. 

“Ignore him,” she said, turning back to Lilly. She clasped her hands together and held them against her heart. “Goodness, I’m so happy for you. For both of you.”

Not knowing what else to say, Lilly smiled back at her and simply said, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She paused, the grin on her face suddenly faltering. “However…” After a glance around, she gently grabbed Lilly’s arm and pulled her closer to the bar. Lowering her voice, she said, “I’m not quite sure how I feel about the two of you living together now. I hope you’re… behaving yourselves.”

A nervous laugh tumbled out of Lilly’s mouth. “What?”

“Fannie,” Mr. Weaver interrupted with a scoff. “Mind your own business.”

“What?” she asked, twirling around. “I’m just saying. They’re not married, so—”

“And I’m just sayin’ you should mind your own business.”

“Fine. Fine. I’m sorry.” She held up her palms in defeat. “I’m glad you two are happy. Just…” She sighed and leaned in closer to Lilly, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Try to behave, okay?”

Lilly fidgeted, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Uh, I-I plan to.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does he?”

“Alright.” Mr. Weaver set the glass he was cleaning down hard on the bar. “Lilly, why don’t you go get on that piano?” he said. “You’re supposed to have started five minutes ago. Owner doesn’t like payin’ us to stand around.”

“Right. Good idea,” Lilly said, latching onto the change in subject. “I’ll do that. Let me just put my things away first.”

She lowered her head and scurried around to the other side of the bar, giving Mr. Weaver a look of gratitude. He winked at her in response. Working quickly, she carefully placed Jack’s papers into a cabinet behind the bar and then headed straight for the piano.

As she settled into her seat and cracked her knuckles to prepare to start playing, she heard Mr. Weaver mutter to Mrs. Howard, “You’re terrible.”

“I am not!” she protested. “I was just—”

“Bein’ damn nosy. That’s what you were doin’.”

She scoffed. “You watch your mouth.”

Snickering at the exchange, she shook her head, placed her hands on the piano, and began to warm up for the night.

———

The night at the saloon passed by just like every other night did. By the time the night was winding down, Lilly’s hands were cramped from working the piano for so many hours straight. When the last drunk patron finally stumbled out the door, the bartenders waved her over to help them clean up behind the bar, and she left the piano without hesitation.

She got busy sweeping the floor, pausing frequently to crack her sore knuckles, while Mrs. Howard wiped down the bartop. Mr. Weaver stood beside them, cleaning all the glassware that had been used throughout the night. 

For a while, they worked quietly, enjoying the silence after a long night of rowdy customers. Technically, they weren’t supposed to start cleaning up and putting things away yet— the saloon was still open, and the owner didn’t like to give the appearance of being unwelcoming. However, it was rare for new people to come in that late, so they’d all agreed to ignore that rule.

But if anyone asked, Lilly’s hands were on that piano until three-o-clock on the dot, and the bartenders were standing behind the bar, smiling and looking inviting.

Eventually, Mr. Weaver broke the silence with a clear of his throat. “Y’know,” he said, nodding at Lilly, “I met your brother the other day.”

“You did?” Lilly snorted and glanced up at him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Go through what?” He laughed. “I liked him.”

She paused her sweeping and straightened up, eyeing him skeptically. “Really?”

“Yeah. He was real friendly. Seemed like a fine man.”

Lilly blinked at him, letting the words hang in the air like they were the silliest thing she’d ever heard. “Okay.” With another snort, she shook her head and looked back down at the floor, continuing to sweep. “If you say so.”

“Alright, what am I missing?” he asked, tossing his rag onto the bar. “Jack wasn’t too fond of him either. What makes this guy such a bad person?”

Her broom froze again, the smile on her face faltering. “What? I never said he’s a bad person,” she said, her voice turning strained. “He’s just annoying. Overbearing. Not… bad.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” he said, holding his palms up. “I’m sorry.”

Lilly stammered a bit, flushing as she realized how defensive she’d gotten for no good reason. She wasn’t sure where that came from. “Right. Sorry. I-I didn’t mean to get defensive.” She lowered her tone, twisting the broom in her hand. “It’s just… as annoying as he is, he’s done a lot for me. He’s a good brother. In his own way….”

Mr. Weaver only nodded in response, giving her a warm, albeit slightly uncomfortable, smile.

“Aww, ain’t that sweet?” Mrs. Howard cooed from the other side of the bar. “Hey, maybe you should bring him around sometime so I can meet him too.”

Lilly turned to her and bluntly replied, “That’s not a good idea.”

“What?” she scoffed, furrowing her brows at Lilly’s sudden change in tone. “Why not?”

“Like I said, he’s annoying,“ she reminded her. ”And you know how you don’t like it when I swear? Who do you think I learned that from?”

Mr. Weaver chuckled. “I assumed it was your parents.”

“Nope,” she said matter-of-factly. “All him.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Howard grumbled. “I hope your momma yelled at him for teachin’ you all that.”

Lilly let out a laugh, though it came out more bitter than amused. “She didn’t. She was too busy yelling at me for mimicking him.”

The bartenders shifted on their feet, a beat of uncomfortable silence filling the air.

Mrs. Howard cleared her throat. “Oh. Well… if I ever do get the chance to meet him, I’ll be sure to yell at him for you.” 

Lilly laughed— genuinely this time. The thought of her scolding Tommy for his mouth was priceless. If only Mrs. Howard had been her mother instead. “Thanks,” she said between chuckles. “But I think it’s better to just steer clear of him.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m here.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp rapping at the saloon’s back door. 

“Ah!” Mr. Weaver clapped his hands together and turned to Mrs. Howard. “I bet that’s that shipment we were waiting on.” 

She sighed and slung the rag she was cleaning with over her shoulder. “About time.”

“Huh?” Lilly asked.

“They’re delivering that last bit of liquor to replace what we lost a while back,” Mr. Weaver told her.

“They deliver things in the middle of the night?”

“They do now,” he said. “Less likely to get intercepted by the temperance lunatics that way.”

Lilly’s brows drew together. “Really? I would’ve figured the opposite.”

“Nah, they go to bed early on Saturdays. Not exactly criminal masterminds.” He chuckled and patted her shoulder. “You hold things down out here, okay? Shouldn’t be too long. Come get us if there’s a problem.” 

“Sure,” Lilly said.

Mr. Weaver headed to the back, and Mrs. Howard gave Lilly a smile before following behind him. Lilly listened as the door leading into the back room shut followed by the slamming of the heavy exterior door as they went outside. 

The saloon went dead quiet, the only sound being the scraping of Lilly’s broom as she continued sweeping. It was sort of eerie being in there without another soul around, but at least she didn’t have to deal with any patrons.

After a few minutes of quietly cleaning, the bell on the saloon’s side door rang, indicating an arrival. She glanced up, expecting to see the bartenders and wondering why they hadn’t just come in through the back. Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw a couple of bureau agents sauntering in instead— one of them being the man behind all of Jack’s recent troubles, Fordham. 

He walked in with his head down, eyes shielded by the signature bowler hat on his head. The other was dressed similarly and briefly made eye contact with her as he walked inside. 

Lilly turned her back to them before Fordham could look up too, not wanting to risk him recognizing her. Her breathing quickening, she kept sweeping her broom across the same spot on the floor in an attempt to act natural. As she did so, she took a few peeks over her shoulder, observing the men.

Luckily, Fordham didn’t appear concerned with her presence. He went straight to a table by the door and sat down with his back turned to her. The other agent stood beside him, gabbing about what they should order to drink.

Lilly had the urge to go and run out the back door to get away from them, but before she could, the agent accompanying Fordham left the table and started heading for the bar. 

She put her head down and kept sweeping, listening as his footsteps echoed through the empty saloon, getting closer. When they finally stopped in front of the bar, she kept her back turned, pretending not to notice him. 

He lingered behind her for a moment, his presence making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. When she still didn’t acknowledge him, he snapped his fingers at her, as if she were a dog. 

“Hello?” he called to her. “Excuse me?”

Irritation rushed underneath her skin, shoving some of her anxiety away. Snapping? Really? What kind of asshole…. Gripping her broom tighter, she looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him.

He tapped on the bar. “I need two whiskeys.”

“I’m not a bartender,” she said, keeping her voice low to avoid drawing Fordham’s attention. “You’ll have to wait for one of them to come back. They’re—”

He breathed out a condescending laugh. “What, you’re incapable of pouring some liquid in a glass?”

Lilly paused and bit her tongue. Why was every single one of these guys so unpleasant? Was it a requirement for the job or something? Desperate to get rid of him, she turned to face him, pressed her lips together, and forced a tight smile. “Alright. I’ll do it. Just a minute.”

Dropping her broom and grabbing a random bottle of whiskey off the shelf, she knelt down behind the bar, her face falling into a scowl the second she was out of his sight. She pulled out a couple of the dirty glasses that Mr. Weaver hadn’t gotten around to cleaning yet and set them down on the floor in front of her. 

She opened the bottle of whiskey, wrestling with it for a few seconds before the top finally popped off, and filled the glasses. Not knowing exactly how much she was supposed to pour, she just filled them up halfway. 

She had half a mind to finish them off by spitting in them, but she was afraid the guy would hear her or peek over the bar and see her. So she decided that the dirty glasses would have to be insult enough.

Rising to her feet, she set the glasses down hard on the bar in front of him and forced the smile back onto her face.

“Thank you,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it.”

Lilly clenched her jaw. She definitely should have spit in them…. Taking a sharp breath, she said, “Not at all. That’ll be seventy-five cents.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Seventy-five cents for a couple of whiskeys….” Sighing, he produced a few quarters and tossed them onto the bar. “What is the world coming to, eh?”

She stared blankly at him, having no desire to commiserate with him on the state of the economy— or whatever the hell he was on about. With a disinterested sigh, she asked, “Is that all?”

Her tone gave him pause, but only for a brief moment. “It sure is.” He grabbed the glasses and stepped back from the bar. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She glared at the back of his head as he returned to the table. ‘Dickhead,’ she mouthed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. She slammed it back down onto the shelf, the glass clinking and the liquid inside sloshing violently. 

She frowned at the men as they settled into their seats and started chatting, making it clear they had no intentions of leaving anytime soon. The back door called to her again, urging her to leave. She needed to get out of there before she was recognized.

She took the first step towards the door but froze when Fordham’s voice reached her ears. His tone was sharp and biting— nothing like she would expect from two coworkers having a friendly drink together. Glancing at the table, she saw him throw his hands up in frustration as he spoke. 

She looked back at the door, giving it a final consideration before turning away from it. Curiosity piqued, she picked her broom up and moved to the end of the bar closest to them. Positioning herself where she could see them without being too conspicuous, she pretended to keep cleaning and listened in. 

The agent who’d ordered the drinks held up a hand to get a word in. “What exactly did he say?” 

“He said he ‘made a mistake’,” Fordham answered. “The kid wasn’t who talked to him. The man he talked to looked similar, but he didn’t have the same build, and he was much older.”

Lilly recalled Jack telling her something about Tommy bribing a guy— a former bureau agent who had told him where Ross lived. She assumed that must’ve been what they were talking about. And by the tone of his voice, it was clear Fordham wasn’t happy with the outcome of that. Hopefully he didn’t suspect anything….

“I think he’s full of it. I think he’s just saying that to get back at me,” Fordham continued. “He knows how important the identification he gave is. He knows how much was riding on that. It was one of the only sure things we had.”

Well, that was reassuring. Tommy had claimed they didn’t have much evidence against Jack, but hearing it straight from Fordham’s mouth was especially sweet. 

“Well, what about that other thing?” the other agent asked, taking a sip of his whiskey. “You were going to that ranch the kid said he was at, weren’t you?”

“Yes. We went.”

“Anything come of that?”

Fordham huffed. “No. The people who own the place said he was there. They were very confident in the matter.” He snatched up his drink and gestured with it as he continued, “We even asked the other ranch hands, and they all said he was there. One of them went off on a rant about having to clean up after him after he vomited in their wagon.” He scoffed. “Can you believe the dedication those people have to lying for him? It’s ridiculous.”

Thank God for those people, Lilly thought. She wondered if they actually knew they’d been lying for him. He had been at that ranch a while ago, after all. Just not when he told the bureau he was. Either way, she was grateful for them.

“Huh.” The other agent leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin, pausing in thought. “All of them said he was there?”

“All of them.”

He hummed. “Well… maybe they weren’t lying then.”

Fordham’s hand froze in the middle of raising his glass to his lips. “What?” 

“Maybe he was there,” he clarified. “Maybe… he didn’t do it.”

The soft scraping of Lilly’s broom stopped, and she listened more intently, a slight smile crossing her face. This conversation just kept getting better, didn’t it?

A beat of silence passed, and Fordham put his glass down without taking a sip. “Of course he did,” he said. “Y-You don’t actually think that—”

“One person lying for him would be one thing. But a whole ranch full of people, and everyone said he was there?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Seems kinda cut and dry to me….”

“It was him,” Fordham insisted, his voice strained. “It was. Nothing else makes sense.”

“To you. Nothing else makes sense to you,” the other man shot back. “Have you even considered any other possibilities? Because from the outside, it doesn’t look like this kid had anything to do with it.”

“Exactly. From the outside. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice rose. “I’ve been working on this case for months; you haven’t. You don’t know all the facts.”

There was a pause, and Lilly could feel the tension filling the air between them. 

When the man finally replied, his voice was quieter. “You know, I’m starting to think you just want it to be him.”

Fordham scoffed. “What? Why would I—”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe if you can convince yourself he’s just another lowlife, it’ll make you feel less guilty for what happened to him. For everything you did.”

“That is—” He stopped and stammered a bit, growing flustered. “That is completely ridiculous. This has nothing to do with—” 

“I’m just saying. Maybe you should consider the fact that you might be a little too close to this. Get someone else to deal with it.” He paused to take a slow sip of his drink. When he pulled the glass from his lips, he stared into it and added in a lower tone that Lilly almost didn’t catch, “Or better yet… just let it go. I don’t understand why you care this much anyway.”

Fordham cocked his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Swirling his glass, he mumbled, “It wasn’t exactly… undeserved.”

“What are you saying?”

He sighed. “Can we just be honest with each other? That guy, Ross? He was a complete ass. You oughta know that better than anyone.” 

Lilly’s eyebrows shot up at that, and she had to suppress a laugh of disbelief. This guy was surprisingly insightful; she was starting to feel glad that she hadn’t spit in his drink. 

He continued, “I don’t know how you could stand working with him for so long. I would’ve blown my head off within a week.” He breathed out a laugh. “The way he acted? The long list of people he pissed off? He was asking to get shot someday.”

Fordham stared back at him, the silence heavy. “Are you insane?” he hissed. “I could have you fired for saying that.”

The other agent snorted at that. “Go ahead, Archer.” Shaking his head, he took the last gulp of his drink and slammed the empty glass onto the table. “Set me free.”

“Alright, we’re done here.” Fordham stood up, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, and shoved a finger in the other agent’s face. “You are way out of line. We’ll be discussing this in my office tomorrow morning. First thing.”

Throwing his hands up, he protested, “I don’t work on Sunday.”

“You do now.”

Without giving him a chance to argue, Fordham turned to head for the door. As he faced her, his eyes met hers. Heart jumping into her throat, she immediately looked away, gluing her gaze to the floor. She could feel him staring— could feel the tension in the room rise as he realized who she was and that she had likely just heard everything he said. She didn’t dare raise her head again. 

His eyes were trained on her for what felt like an eternity, and her hands tightened around her broom until her knuckles turned pale. What if he came up to her? She’d never talked to him before, never even been this close to him. She would have no idea what to say. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything at all. That was probably best. That was what her brother would tell her to do. Never talk to the cops. Ever.

He huffed, and Lilly allowed herself a quick glance up at him, just in time to watch him start stomping towards the exit. 

Once he was gone, she slowly raised her head, watching as the front door swung back and forth from the force with which he’d shoved it open. Breathing a sigh of relief, she relaxed her hands, her palms stinging from her nails digging into them.

The other agent let out a heavy sigh, bringing her attention to him. Slamming his hands down on his thighs, he stood up and headed for the exit, muttering to himself about something Lilly couldn’t make out. 

Pausing in front of the door, he turned around and pointed at her. “You didn’t see or hear any of that, by the way.” 

“Any of what?” she asked, tilting her head and feigning innocence.

He eyed her for several uncomfortable seconds before giving a single nod. “Good.”

With that, he turned back around, shoved the door open, and left.

Her eyes lingered on the door, and a smirk crept its way onto her face. Joke’s on him; she definitely had heard all of it. And boy was she gonna enjoy telling Jack and Tommy every word.

———

Lilly stared at the clock behind the bar, watching as the second hand made its final round on the way to three-o-clock. When it finally passed twelve, she grinned and set the broom in her hand against the wall. 

Crouching down behind the bar, she pulled Jack’s papers out of the cupboard where she’d stashed them. Not wasting any time, she said a quick goodbye to the bartenders, not even waiting for them to respond before rushing straight to the door.

“You two behave yourselves!” Mrs. Howard reminded her as she pushed the door open. 

Lilly suppressed an eye roll. “We will!”

The chill of the night air hit her the moment she stepped outside, and she couldn’t stop herself from shivering as she scanned the street in search of her brother. It didn’t take long for her to spot him— the sleek black motorcar he drove around in wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. It was parked at the corner of the street, right in front of the general store.

Tommy sat slouching in the driver’s seat, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the steering wheel. He seemed lost in thought, too much so to notice that she had come outside.

Tucking Jack’s papers under her arm, she eagerly started towards him, the dull clacking of her shoes echoing through the empty streets. She couldn’t wait to tell him everything she’d overheard. He was gonna love it. 

When she reached the car, she excitedly slammed her hand down on top of the passenger-side door. “Tommy!”

Tommy bolted upright and turned to look at her, eyes wide. As he took in the sight of her, the surprise on his face quickly turned to anger. “Jesus fucking Christ, Lilly!” he snapped, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. “You scared the shit out of me! Why are you yelling?”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his reaction. “Woah,” she said, brows drawing together in concern. “What’s wrong with you?”

He blinked back at her a few times before shaking his head and steeling his expression. “Nothing. Just—” He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Just get in the car.”

After a brief hesitation, she opened the door and cautiously slid into the seat beside him, setting the envelope of papers down on her lap. She eyed Tommy as he started fumbling around with the pockets of his coat, seemingly a bit flustered. 

“Sorry,” she said, beginning to feel guilty for startling him. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I figured you heard me coming.”

He only offered her a quick glance in response as he continued digging through his coat pockets. When he didn’t find what he was looking for in his coat, he huffed and moved on to his pants pockets. “Where the hell is—”

“The key is in the car.” Lilly pointed at the key sitting in the ignition. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

He froze and frowned at the key. “Right,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “I knew that.” 

“Okay.”

Sighing, Tommy turned the key and then hopped out of the car to give the engine a quick crank. The car roared to life without a hitch, its loud rumbling piercing through the quiet night, no doubt pissing off the sleeping residents of Blackwater. 

Tommy got back in the driver’s seat, shutting the door a little too hard, and disengaged the brake without a word. Lilly watched him as they began to slowly roll down the street, her eyes fixated on his expression— on the slight furrow in his brow and the downward turn of his lips. It was so different from that usual smug expression that was eternally plastered onto his face. It made her uneasy. 

He glanced over at her and then down at the envelope resting in her lap. “What’cha got there?”

“Oh, um, it’s something Jack wanted me to give you.” She lifted up the envelope, holding it closer to his line of sight. “It’s a bunch of papers and stuff he got to prove what those agents did to his family a few years ago. Since you said you needed proof.” 

“Okay, great,” he said flatly, returning his gaze to the road. “Just leave it on the seat or somethin’ after I drop you off. I’ll look at it at some point.”

She set the papers back on her lap. “Alright….”

They went quiet as they turned down the street that led out of Blackwater, Tommy never taking his eyes off of the road and Lilly never taking her eyes off of Tommy.

‘Okay, great’? That’s it? She figured he’d have more to say about the papers than that, seeing as he thought Jack’s whole story was ridiculous. She’d expected some kind of sarcastic remark at the least. 

Something was seriously off about him. The way he’d freaked out when she startled him, the sullen expression on his face, the slump in his shoulders— he never slouched. 

“Quit staring at me, Lilly,” he said, giving her a side-glance. “I hate that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she blurted out. “And don’t say it’s nothing again. I know that’s not true.”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“No. I’m really not.”

She chewed on her lip. “Is it about Jack?”

“No.”

“Is it about me?”

For half a second, he hesitated. Anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but to her, it was unmistakable. “No,” he said, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “Will you please just drop it? I’m trying to drive.”

She held his eye for a moment and then, with a resigned sigh, slouched back in her seat. 

So it was about her. His reaction had made that clear. And the fact that he wouldn’t tell her that caused a hint of anxiety to stir in her chest. What could be so bad that he couldn’t tell her? 

Despite her unease, she chose to let it go for now. Trying to pry anything out of him was pointless. He was a closed book, wrapped in chains and padlocked. That was a great thing if you’d told him some secret you wanted him to keep, but not so much when you wanted him to tell you something.

But at least it wasn’t anything to do with Jack. She could take some comfort in that. He was fine— more than fine, based on what she’d overheard in the bar. That was what really mattered.

She sighed and drummed her fingers against the envelope in her lap. “Well… whatever’s wrong with you,” she said, “I think I have something that’ll make you feel a little better.”

Tommy gave a disinterested hum. “And what’s that?”

“You know that Fordham guy?” she asked.

His lip twitched, and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Uh huh.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at his fists. “Uh, he came into the bar tonight with another one of those agents.”

He straightened up a bit and raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? Did he talk to you?”

“No. But I did overhear some things you might be interested in.”

“Such as?”

Lilly smiled and began her recount of events by simply stating, “He’s starting to fall apart because of you.”Tommy looked back at the road and smirked. Lilly’s smile widened; she knew that’d lift his spirits. But despite the slight upturn in his mood, his response came out gruff and drenched with bitterness. “Good.”

[bomberqueen17]

Liveblogging the Aubreyad, book 5: Desolation Island pt 1

We left off after book 4 with Jack sent home with the news of the victorious Mauritius Campaign. The scene opens and we find that his reward for this was an appointment to the Sea Fencibles, which left him ashore for a considerable period of time. But with the various prize-money and head money from the Mauritius campaign he has been buying horses, making improvements to the house, and alas, investing in schemes and playing cards for high stakes.

However, his children are doing well and it seems a new appointment to a ship will be forthcoming. Ashgrove Cottage, as we see, is entirely staffed by sailors and former sailors, who are not intimidated by Sophie's mother, and Killick and Bonden are part of the household. Jack has paid off his mother-in-law Mrs. Williams's debts at least, and she is no longer living with them out of necessity, but rather because she prefers it alas.

Stephen has been staying with them periodically, and Diana Villiers is in England again, and the two have arranged to meet. Stephen's first appearance in the book is destined to be as part of a consultation of a number of physicians concerning Sophie Aubrey's mother's health.

But Jack has news of a new ship, and is eager to have Stephen join him aboard. He's been given command of a fifty-gun fourth-rate, an old unfashionable sort of ship, and it's none other than the Horrible Old Leopard, ostensibly bound for the East Indies by way of Botany Bay where they're to rescue Bligh from another mutiny.

We see the two men ashore a little bit, and come to understand that Stephen, tormented over Diana, has been taking perhaps too much refuge in laudanum, and has made some mistakes in his intelligence-work and, possibly, as a medical man. He is, however, still keen-witted enough to notice that Jack is being cheated at cards. Jack calls out Andrew Wray for it, who is a highly-placed secretary in the Treasury office, but Wray does not respond to the challenge.

They have a dinner before they leave, and have a chance to speak to Peter Heywood, who had formerly commanded the Leopard but also had known Bligh of Botany Bay in former days, had in fact been involved as a youngster in the mutiny against him. TOM PULLINGS attends, and we get a little paragraph to give us some appreciation of how much time has elapsed since the beginning of this series, now at least a decade ago:

Thursday brought Mr Pullings, and in his candid pleasure at seeing Jack and Stephen again he seemed scarcely to have changed from the long-legged, long-armed, shy, friendly, tubular youth Stephen had first met as a midshipman so many years ago; but in fact he was a man of far greater weight, more burly both in character and person. It was apparent, from his competent handling of young George, produced for his inspection, and from his behaviour to Captain Heywood, that he was now in the full tide of his life, and swimming well. His behaviour was of course perfectly deferential, but it was that of a man who had seen a great deal of service, and who thoroughly understood his profession.

Stephen tells Jack he cannot accompany him in the Leopard, and sets off to London to see Diana. But she is not there. She has left hastily and permanently, leaving unpaid bills and another Dear John note for Stephen; apparently government men came and took her away, and then she came back, packed up her things, and left with the American Mr. Johnson again, never to be seen again.

Stephen takes this badly, as you might understand. He is summoned to the Admiralty, where an Admiral in charge of intelligence makes an inept attempt to manipulate him into revealing information about Diana and her friend Louisa Wogan. This only infuriates Stephen, who nearly fights the man, but instead leaves. His friend Sir Joseph Blaine tracks him down and explains what's going on-- one Louisa Wogan was an agent for the Americans and used her charms to extract a great deal of information from various British officials. Diana had forwarded letters for her, and it is unclear how much Diana knew at any point-- likely nothing, but it was possible she was also an agent under deep cover.

What Sir Joseph wants is for Stephen to travel with Louisa Wogan, who has been sentenced to transportation to Botany Bay, and to try to uncover who she was working with. Sir Joseph has arranged for Mrs. Wogan to be transported on the Leopard, as well as some other prisoners, to give the operation camoflage.

Stephen knows that on some level he is being got rid of. He knows too much but has recently been unreliable. They cannot entrust him with any very sensitive missions. They cannot cut him loose. But he is so depressed he agrees to it.

Except Jack then balks, because he does not want to transport prisoners, thinks it ignominious duty for a man-of-war, is furious at the whole idea. Stephen makes a single effort to fix things, gives up, but then Sophie takes over with more spirit than she normally displays, throwing a candle on the floor and making Jack listen to her. Stephen had said he wanted to go, and she wants Jack to go with Stephen. She is, in part, afraid (she confesses this to Stephen earlier) that Jack will get into a duel with Andrew Wray and be killed, but she is also afraid that Jack keeps getting into more trouble with the scoundrels and speculators that are trying to drain away his fortune, and she also worries he has been pining for the sea. So she makes a rare show of temper, and then pleads with him that this would do Stephen good, Stephen has been disappointed by Diana again and must not be left here in England to brood in this cold climate, and surely Jack must do Stephen good. This argument quite destroys any resistance Jack had: he must do all in his power to help Stephen.

So they go.

Soon after departure, in heavy weather, the convicts murder their superintendent, and their surgeon dies falling down a ladder. They were supposed to be a self-sustaining little unit and not be under the purview of the ship's company, but Pullings discovers that their conditions are too squalid to tolerate. He and Jack completely scrap the accomodations originally set out by the transportation board-- a poorly-ventilated cage with awful drainage-- clean the whole area, and rehouse everyone in more reasonable accomodations.

(Stephen is in withdrawal, having quit his laudanum. It makes him very cranky. Jack and Tom are solicitous of him. “They could not tell that his whole person was shrieking for its usual dose, but they did know that he was in need of something, and having no more than kindness, coffee, toast, and orange marmalade, they offered these, together with tobacco.”)

They also, in the storm, have discovered a stowaway aboard the ship. Which is unheard-of, a man-of-war of that period being so starved for hands they would take anyone animate as a volunteer, usually. The young man is so seasick as to be incoherent, a starved little slip of a fellow. After he is taken away to the sick-bay, Pullings admits he's seen him before-- he tried to volunteer, and Pullings heard his educated accent and saw his soft hands and emaciated frame and turned him away, because he thought the work would actually kill him.

(Stephen recognizes him as well; the man had tried to speak to him outside a coffee-shop. He recognizes the name as well. He is Louisa Wogan's hopeless lover, one Michael Herapath, who was interrogated after her arrest but dismissed as knowing nothing of substance.)

We meet Mrs. Wogan, a beautiful young woman with genteel manners. She politely asks if someone can take away the dead rat that she had killed with her shoe. Stephen ascertains that while she knew Diana, she does not know him; Diana never mentioned him, apparently. Stephen also notices here and in a few other places that some of the rats on the ship seem to be sick.

[I'll pause here for some content warnings. As with everything in this series, it's all Period Typical Whatever, and I admit some of it passes by me and I don't notice it, so please be advised, there's probably racism and sexism and worse I'm just not remarking. But I will caution that among the convicts, there's discussion of some of them being "idiots", one of the women is a "half-wit" who in her simplicity has sex with literally any man who asks, and another is a "Gipsy", who tells fortunes and such, though Stephen does treat her as a person.]

The ship goes on about its way, Michael Herapath begins to learn how to be a sailor, and decides to learn how to climb the rigging. He contrives to fall in, and Jack rescues him. He writes Jack a handsome note of thanks, which impresses Jack, and while he is recuperating in the sick-bay (he struck an obstacle on the way down and was mildly injured) Stephen befriends him somewhat.

The second lieutenant, Grant, an older fellow who had his seniority stripped from him at some point for some matter of discipline, leaving him junior to Tom Pullings, is revealed to be a bit of a tedious blow-hard, who does not do subordination very well. He holds forth at length about the only possible place to cross the equator, the place he crossed it, until Pullings quite midlly asks how many times he has performed this feat? Twice, he answers, and Pullings points out that Aubrey has done so a score of times. Jack rejects this-- only eighteen times, he says, as he doesn't count all the times he crossed it when on a patrol that led back and forth over it.

This does not quiet Grant at all. He does not recognize that anyone else might have expertise on anything. He continues on his discourse, unmoved.

But meanwhile some of the convicts are ill, and after a little while it comes out that they are sick with gaol-fever (this is typhus, which had a very high mortality rate before antibiotics were discovered). It spreads throughout the ship's company despite Stephen's best efforts at quarantine (he does not know typhus is spread by lice). As the ship is becalmed in the doldrums or variables near the equator, drifting helplessly, more and more of the crew sicken and die, leaving the Leopard severely undermanned.

Among the sick are Stephen's assistant, an anatomist named Martin from the Channel Islands, and none other than poor Tom Pullings.

Herapath, being well-educated, takes over from Martin as Stephen's assistant in the crisis. Martin survives the fever, but before he can recover dies of pneumonia.

The ship drifts for twenty-three days, and 116 men die. But then the wind picks up at last, the ship begins to run again, and even the sick men perk up and begin to recover. Jack rates Herapath a midshipman to reward him for his service even though Herapath, an American citizen, is thus ineligible for any promotion beyond master's mate.

Stephen begs Jack to stop at the nearest land, which in this case is now Brazil, they having drifted so far west from their course in the doldrums. He needs supplies, and also needs to discharge a number of the gaol-fever convalescents, who are too fragile to survive shipboard life. First among these is Thomas Pullings, heartbroken, and so weak he cannot sit up.

Leading up to this, Stephen has contrived to get Herapath and Wogan time alone together, and has begun to feed documents to Herapath to give to Wogan, to poison her as an intelligence source. She produces some lovely, useful, illuminating letters, which Stephen gets ashore to the American consul in Recife along with his own reports on them, back to Sir Joseph.

Meanwhile the Leopard meets HMS Nymph, carrying despatches but put in to effect some repairs; she reports that there is a Dutch 74-gun ship, the Waakzaamheid, patrolling nearby, which chased her.

Jack has great respect for the Dutch and keenly does not wish to meet any Dutch 74s. As they make their way back across the Atlantic toward the Cape, he tries to get his diminished crew into some kind of fighting condition, setting up his two brass long nines as stern-chasers to be fired from his cabin and bribing his steward, Killick, into allowing this desecration of his housekeeping by letting Killick fire off some of the shots, which works beautifully to pacify him.

They see the Dutchman, and finally make a distant approach, close enough to signal, and after some signaling the Dutchman hoists his own colors and gives Leopard a broadside at extreme range, which does little damage. Leopard flees, but slowly, and they begin to exchange fire with their chasers. At dark, Jack has a barrel set adrift with burning pitch and crackers in it, to decoy the ship away from them, and changes course, pleased with the day's performance and certain to evade the Dutchman in the night.

In the morning the Dutchman is there, closer than before. Jack realizes that they are being driven southward, away from the Cape. This is what happens in a long, determined, eerie chase, the Dutch captain knowing exactly what Jack needs.

One night the Waakzaamheid makes an attempt at boarding, gliding up and opening broadsides, but Jack guesses what he's about, and does not return fire until he sights the boats-- far away, and on the other side of the ship, trying to sneak around him. The attack only fails because an errant breeze favors the Leopard and allows them to get away. They kill a number of Dutchmen in the boats with grapeshot, and barely escape. Jack knows his weak crew could not repel boarders.

He resolves to run down far enough south that the seas will be too rough for such capers again. The Dutchman follows him, much more driven and focused than is in any way warranted by what a dubious prize the Leopard would make. (Jack theorizes that perhaps in the attempted boarding, he killed someone the Dutch captain cared about a great deal; otherwise he cannot explain the dogged pursuit.)

Stephen has begun creating a false document, in French, purporting to have been among the affects of Martin (who had spoken fluent French), pretending to be the report of a French agent discussing British intelligence including all of the double agents therein. He creates this document intending to pretend to have found it, intending to ask Herapath to help him make copies for British authorities, which will thus enable Herapath to bring it to Louisa; this will admirably uncover whether Louisa's American chiefs have any direct connections with French intelligence, by implicating a number of their agents as traitors. Stephen of course has at his disposal a wealth of detail known only to himself, Sir Joseph, and a few men in Paris, to make this document very, very convincing.

Larkin, the master, has been drinking heavily and now snaps and murders one of the Marine officers. They confine him.

They meet a British whaler, who gives them news that they have not seen the Dutchman. Jack asks him to correct his navigational charts of the area, and gets valuable information about various remote islands in the region.

The master having gone insane, Jack realizes his duties had been neglected-- he does not know how much water they have. Stephen notices that Grant seems to be frightened; he has never been in action before. Jack doesn't understand what's wrong with Grant but recognizes something is amiss in his behavior.

The Dutchman appears again. He is stalking them. He chases them with reckless speed. One of the women aboard (the "Gipsy") gives birth overnight, and Stephen has to perform a Cesarian section on her.

The seas are enormous now and the Dutchman, gaining, opens fire with the bow chasers: he means to destroy the Leopard, not take her, for no boarding can be possible in this sea, and any damage to a mast means broaching-to and foundering with all hands and no hope of rescue.

Jack begins to return fire with the stern-chasers. The spray spoils the priming, and Moore, the Marine officer, suggests using a cigar in place of slow match, as one can hold it in one's mouth.

They run this way, exchanging fire, frantic activity; Leopard's mizen-top is hit, Waakzaamheid is gaining. They start their water to increase speed.

A splinter knocks Jack out, hitting his head. He is unconscious for some moments, and Stephen has to stitch his scalp back together.

He drags himself back up, helps run out the gun again. Moore aims and fires it, and Jack is knocked down again, his leg injured. But the shot flies true and hits the Waakzaamheid's foremast, bringing it down, and causing the ship to broach-to.

She is immediately overwhelmed by the following wave and vanishes without a trace.

'My God, oh my God,' [Jack] said. 'Six hundred men.'

I will call an intermission here.

[dmercer91]

nhlers as ultra specific things

this is basically a list of nd lore as nhler hcs

cause it makes them feel more human and i feel like that’s a good thing

pls add on or feel free to challenge my choice of player <3

michael bunting bites his nails

matthew tkachuk messes with his eyebrows and eyelashes

luke hughes picks at scabs and acne

dawson mercer pokes his tongue out when he’s focused

nico hischier picks at his nails

trevor zegras plays with a rubber band when he’s unsure

mitch marner tells stories and forgets the point

mark estapa chews on his hoodie strings

rutger mcgroarty zones out so hard he doesn’t catch what people say to him

freddie andersen cracks his knuckles when he’s uncomfortable

william nylander picks at / messes with the cuffs on his long sleeve shirts

john gibson doesn’t like eye contact but makes a point of doing it in case he seems rude 

seamus casey says ‘huh?’ only to properly answer a question without it being repeated

jamie drysdale doesn’t like it when his food touches

elias pettersson shuts down when he’s overwhelmed

jack hughes scrolls on his phone with his mouth over the caps of his water bottles

andrei svechnikov jumbles english and russian when he’s flustered

pyotr kochetkov gets migraines

auston matthews hates his laugh

john marino thinks he’s the king of sarcasm but misses most sarcastic comments

cole caufield has a hard time reading when it’s his turn to speak and often cuts people off or misses his window

tage thompson responds to compliments with an extremely awkward grin and an enthusiastic thumbs up

owen power pushes up his glasses only to find out they’re not even on his face

ryan graves has a good singing voice but his voice will absolutely never see the light of day

sidney crosby smiles and nods when he could not have less of a clue what’s going on

rasmus sandin consistently trips over his own feet

dougie hamilton often says ‘thanks, you too’ when a non hockey player tells him he played well

ethan edwards wanders off mid conversation if he hasn’t spoken in a while without even realizing

arber xhekaj complains consistently about one thing and when he’s given a completely reasonable solution he refuses the advice

kent johnson draws on his arms

gavin brindley has a really niche/uncommon skill and is completely baffled when others are impressed

alex turcotte struggles doing groceries cause he’ll only buy what he’s currently craving

timothy liljegren has a good memory but only because he can associate things he needs to remember to the absolute most random third party aspect ever

connor mcdavid will enter a room with a task to complete and stand in the doorway buffering cause he can’t remember what it was

leon draisaitls hands are always cold

logan cooleys room is really messy but he can remember that he has a pack of gum in his black sweatpants that are on the far left corner of his floor under the red shirt. if the gum is moved to an appropriate place for gum it will never be touched again

connor bedard laughs at really bad jokes out of pity (or cause he doesn’t get it and he feels like he should)

quinn hughes has no social battery unless he’s with his person - in which case he is on crack

[the-bah-commune]

Can we request an artists choice brainmade alter, level 5 with a kidcore aesthetic and is a permakid but the rest is up to you!

hi! this little guy in our system just recently fused into someone else, but she seemed perfect for you, so consider this us passing the torch, so to speak. hope you like him.

a new flower has blossomed! 🌹

artists choice, permakid, kidcore ... [LVL 5 PACK]

══════════════════

name(s) ;; crea (cray-uh), crayola, dottie, clifford, skeeter

pronouns ;; he/him, she/her

age ;; 10 (permakid)

species ;; human

gender(s) ;; pangender

orientation(s) ;; aromantic, asexual

role(s) ;; syskid, mood booster, autism symptom holder

source ;; brainmade / alter pack / the rosebud collective!

sign-off(s) ;; – 🖍 ; ❤💛💙

══════════════════

appearance ;; 4'3" and petite. light tan skin. short fluffy white hair. dark brown eyes. kidcore style. see below for picrew.

personality ;; shy and friendly. he's afraid of meeting new people, but is respectful to anyone he comes across. she is creative and artistically inclined. unfocused and a little messy.

══════════════════

likes ;; colouring books, the muppets, sesame street, thomas the tank engine, kidcore, soccer/football

dislikes ;; flashing lights, loud noises, anything that could cause sensory overload

possible front triggers ;; colouring, dressing in kidcore fashion, needing a mood boost

══════════════════

cisid(s) ;; cisautistic, nonverbal, kidcore, permakid

transid(s) ;; transbloodless, transadored, trans2D

kink/fetish/para(s) ;; n/a

══════════════════

moodboard ;; found here

playlist ;; "chase the wind" - fraggle rock / "sesame street theme" - sesame street / "happy" - pharrell williams / "crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes" - kristin andreassen / "banana pancakes" - jack johnson

kinlist ;; carl (arthur) / brain (arthur) / julia (sesame street) / boober fraggle (fraggle rock)

bonus info ;; n/a

[star0mania]

Twilight OC because I don't fucking know anymore-

"The word students mostly use is..." "Tempestous?" "More like bitchy"

Name: Alexis Robin Cullen

Name Meaning: First Name: Alexis- Protector of humanity  Middle Name: Robin- a bird Last Name:  Cullen- Good-looking lad

Title: The  Hellhound

Nicknames: Alex (preferred name) Al (Bella and Alice) Rory (Edward, Jacob and Jasper) Robin (Emmet and Rosalie) Mittens (Edward and Alice) Little one, my little star (Belinda) Sis, Ri-Ri (Bea) Auntie Ria (Hailey) Ria (friends)

~~~

Age:   Physical Age: 17

Ages throughout the saga: Twilight: 15 Twilight New moon:  16 Twilight Eclipse: 17 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 1: 18 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2: 19

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Species: vampire

~~~~

Date Of Birth: August 10th 1990

Place Of Birth: Miami, America 

Date Of Death:  N/A

Place of Death:  Forks, Washington

Cause of Death: N/A 

Abilities:  Basic vampire abilities Improved speed Exceptional self-control

Special Ability: shapeshifting (can shapeshift to any human or animal)

~~~~

Nationality:  American

Languages:  English Korean Spanish Italian 

~~~~

Schooling: Forks Highschool

Previous Occupation: Ice Cream place employee, student at Forks Highschool Current occupation: Music Producer

Previous Resident:  Miami, America 

Current Resident: Forks Washington 

First Appearance: Twilight

Last Appearance: The twilight saga: part 2

Status: alive

~~~~

Played by: Julia Stiles and Raegan Revord for younger self Voice: Julia Stiles and Raegan Revord  

Eye color: dark blue

Hair color: dirty blonde

Hair texture: wavy/curly

Hair length: long

~~~~

Appearances: 

Twilight The Twilight Saga: New Moon The Twilight Saga: Eclipse  The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part one The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part two

~~~~~

Mental Health: Anxiety Disorder  Hypomnesia

Fears: Hydrophobia: Fear of water Nosocomephobia: Fear of hospitals

~~~~

Positive Traits: Confident Kind  Caring Loyal Courageous Brave Sassy Bold Adventurous  Independent Protective

Negative Traits: Sarcastic  Rebellious  Secretive  Childish (rare trait) Lazy(rare trait) Can feel guilty easily Struggles to open up to people

Skills: Hacking Coding Writing Art Lock-picking LyingSoccer

Hobbies: Baking Singing Writing Reading Archery  Dancing Skateboarding  Playing soccer

Likes: Animals Her guitar  Her computer Wolves Nature Music HorsesReading

Dislikes: Dresses Snobs The volturi Socializing  School  Homework Makeup The heat homophobics Salmon Her cat sneeze Needles

~~~~

Drinking: sometimes

Smoking: sometimes

Addictions: n/a

~~~~

Pet: Batty- Australian Cattle Dog- female Simba- Golden Retriever- male

~~~~

Best Friends: Bella Swan Alice Cullen Jasper Hale

Close Friends: Rosalie Hale Carlisle Cullen Emmet Cullen Esme Cullen Edward Cullen Jacob Black (long lost friend)

Friends: Eric Yorkie Mike Newton Angela Webber Jessica Stanley 

Frenemies: The werewolf pack

Enemies: The volturi  James Victoria Laurent 

Family: Carlisle Cullen- Father Esme Cullen- Mother Edward Cullen- Brother Alice Cullen- Sister Belinda- Bio Mum (deceased) (played by Idina Menzel) Jaybird- younger bio brother (deceased) (played by George Henry Davidson)  Bea Austin- older sister (deceased)  (played by Sophia Carson) (age: 17-20 in Alexis's tale) Jack Austin- brother-in-law (deceased) (played by Joseph Quinn) Nick- Bio Dad (unknown) (played by Dwayne Johnson)   Jacob Black- Imprint/Mate Mindy Black- daughter (played by Jenna Ortega) (special power: Fire control) Jazzy Black- daughter (played by Zendaya) (special power: water control) Chad Black- son (played by Mason Gooding)(special power: electricity control) Annika Austin- niece (Played by Sadie Sink)(special power: Ice/snow control) (age: 1- 8(in Alexis's Tale(a book I'm finna write), same ages as Seth in the rest of the saga) (Crush: Seth Clearwater)

Annika in the rest of the saga:

(Alexis's tale)

(Twilight)

(New Moon)

(Eclipse)

(Breaking Dawn)

"Ugh, you want me to shift, you don't want me to shift! Choose a lane!" "And now you're a boy." "I am today."

~~~~

"Before you ask, I brought the dog in."

Love Interests:

Past Love Interests: None. Well, a teen named Rick had a crush on her but they're just good friends

Current Love Interest:  Jacob Black

                             ~~~~~~

Ship Name: Jalex

Relationship trope:  Long lost friends to enemies Starcrossed lovers enemies to friends friends to lovers soulmates 

Relationship headcannons: -TBA-

Relationship playlist: Love will find a way- TLK 2 I Won't Say I'm in Love- Hercules Bella Notte- Lady and the  Tramp A Thousand Years- Christina Perri True Love- P!nk Rewrite the Stars- The Greatest Showman You Belong With Me- Taylor Swift Love Story- Taylor Swift Someday- Z-O-M-B-I-E-S We're of the same pride- TLG Neverland- Zendaya Faded- Sara Farrel version Photograph (female and male version)- Ed Sheeran Perfect- Ed Sheeran Happier- Ed Sheeran Shut Up and Dance- WALK THE MOON Marry You- Bruno Mars Beautiful  to me- Ollie Murs Mary on a Cross- Ghost Hello Hello- Elton John and Lady Gaga Love me like you do- Ellie Goulding 

Relationship variants: Gamora + Peter Quill- GOTG Wanda Maximoff + Vision- MCU Max + Lucas- Stranger Things Kiara + Kovu- TLK 2 Bluestar + Oakheart- Warrior Cats Brightheart + Cloudtail- Warrior  Cats Bella + Arrow- Survivors Hanna + Caleb- Pretty Little Liars Kat + Patrick- 10 Things I Hate About You Maggie + Glenn- The Walking Dead Michonne + Rick- The Walking Dead  Millie +  Moxxie- Hellvua Boss Elle  + Tao- Heartstopper Katherine + Danny- Just Go With It Angel + Scamp- Lady and the Tramp 2 Lady + Tramp- Lady and the Tramp Jenna + Balto- Balto Juliet + Gnomeo- Gnomeo and Juliet

Relationship Aesthetic: 

~~~

Trivia: Alex lives in her own huge house with the help from  Carslie so she can provide for Hailey after her sister died.She mostly shapeshifts into a lioness. Its basically her  spirit animal lolShe met Jacob when she was in the forest one timeOut of everyone in the family, Emira likes Alice and Rosalie the bestAlex loves to play with her dogs and play on her guitar She got bullied when she was little Alex used to own a bunny named Frothy but he went missing ;w;

Backstory: Alexis was born to Belinda, a vampire and Nick, another vampire on the 10th of August before her brother, Jaybird and along with their younger sister Bea. Belinda was a huge role model in her life where her dad was hardly around. Their mom warned them about the werewolves. They hanged out with the Cullens whenever both of their parents were busy. When she was 8, she met Jacob and played with him but was cut short when her mom took her away from him, telling him his family was part of the werewolves. So, she never hanged with him again.  Soon enough, when a fight between the Volturi and their family broke out, the dad ran away in cowardly fear and her mother and brother died. Alex and Bea cried next to their mother and brother that night and she grew distance between her sister.

A few years later, Bea and a vampire named Jack  Austin, soon having a child with him. Alex noticed something off with Jack and tried to tell Bea but Bea wouldn't  listen. Alex gave up and looked after Hailey whenever her sister or brother-in-law were busy and grew attached to her. She soon met Jacob again when she told him off for going onto vampire territory. Bea and Alex continued going to school, hence Carlisle helping them with school fees cause he's ✨rich✨. After getting into an argument  with Bea one time, Bea got ran over   by a car and passed away and Jack left, leaving Alex with Hailey. She soon started hanging out with Jacob,  giving up with everything and they both slowly started to develop  feelings for each other. By the time they were 17, they started to secretly date, the pack and Cullens soon finding out and who   knows what happens next :)

Character variations: Gamora (ROTG) Kiara (TLK) Kat Stradford (10 Things I Hate About You) Megara (Hercules) Sidney Prescott (Scream) Mindy Meeks-Martin (Scream) Bella (Survivors) Missy (Young Sheldon) Bluestar (Warriors) Loona (Hellvua Boss) Octavia  (Hellvua Boss) Megara (Hercules) MJ (Spiderman) Nimona (Nimona) Hanna (Pretty Little Liars)

Memorable Quotes: "What is this, asshole day?!" -Alex to a few classmates when they didn't leave her alone

"I guess in this society, being a male and an asshole makes you  worthy of our time" -Alex to a few classmates when they were being jerks

"Who's ready to get FUCKED?!" -Alex to a few friends when they're drunk

"Hey...you have a   bit of oceanic blue glimmer in your eyes" -Alex to Jacob when they're hanging out at night

"Holy shit, Carslie!" -Alex to Carslie when he showed her, her  new house

"I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car; I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you're always right; I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." -Alex in English and Literacy class, reading a poem out loud about Jacob lol

Theme song: All Is Found

Annika and Alex:

Bea and Alex:

Jaybird and Alex:

(Art not mine) (If ya see any references, ykwyk)

------------------------------------------------

OC #2

"Hey, leave him alone!"

Name: Annika Daisy Austin

Name Meaning:  First Name:  Annika- grace Middle Name: Daisy- a small plant Last Name:  Austin- capital of Texas

Title: The Hellhound's Cousin

Nicknames: -TBA-

~~~

Age: Physical Age: 

Ages throughout the saga: Alexis's Tale: 1-8 Twilight: 10 Twilight New moon: 12 Twilight Eclipse: 14 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 1: 16 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2: 18

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her/they

Sexuality: Pansexual

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Species: vampire

~~~~

Date Of Birth: May 8th 2005

Place Of Birth: Forks,  Washington

Date Of Death: N/A

Place of Death: N/A

Cause of Death: N/A

Abilities: Basic vampire abilities Improved speed Exceptional self-control

Special Ability: Ice powers (elsa)

~~~~

Nationality: American

Languages: English

~~~~

Schooling: Forks Highschool

Previous Occupation: Forks Primary Current occupation: N/A

Previous Resident: Forks, Washington

Current Resident: Forks Washington

First Appearance: Alexis's Tale

Last Appearance: The twilight saga: part 2

Status: alive

~~~~

"The Volturi? Really? We gotta be afraid of a guy who looks like a rat?"

Played by: Sadie Sink

Voice: Sadie Sink

Eye color: ocean blue

Hair color: red

Hair texture: wavy/curly

Hair length: long

~~~~

Appearances: Alexis's  Tale Twilight The Twilight Saga: New Moon The Twilight Saga: Eclipse The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part one The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part two

~~~~~

Mental Health: N/A

Fears: -tba-

~~~~

Positive Traits: Confident Kind Caring Loyal Courageous Brave Sassy Bold Adventurous Independent Protective

Negative Traits: Sarcastic Rebellious Secretive Childish (rare trait) Lazy(rare trait)

Skills: Skateboarding  Baking Painting Drawing

Hobbies: Singing Writing Reading Skateboarding

Likes: Animals Her guitar Her computer Wolves Nature Music Horses Reading

Dislikes: Snobs The volturi Socializing School Homework The heat homophobics Salmon Needles

~~~~

Drinking: n/a

Smoking: n/a

Addictions: n/a

~~~~

Pet: Batty- Australian Cattle Dog- female Simba- Golden Retriever- male

~~~~

Best Friends: Bella Swan Alice Cullen Jasper Hale

Close Friends: Rosalie Hale Carlisle Cullen Emmet Cullen Esme Cullen Edward Cullen

Friends: Eric Yorkie Mike Newton Angela Webber Jessica Stanley Jacob Black Seth Clearwater Leah Clearwater

Frenemies: The werewolf pack

Enemies: The volturi James Victoria Laurent

Family: Belinda-grandmother (deceased) (played by Idina Menzel) Jaybird- younger bio brother (deceased) (played by George Henry Davidson) Bea Austin- bio mother (deceased) (played by Sophia Carson) (age: 17-20 in Alexis's tale) Jack Austin- bio father (deceased) (played by Joseph Quinn) Nick- grandfather(unknown) (played by Dwayne Johnson) Seth Clearwater- Imprint/Mate

"For the last time, I ain't Elsa-"

~~~~

"You're not bad yourself"

Love Interests:

Past Love Interests: none

Current Love Interest: Seth Clearwater

~~~~~~

Ship Name: Sethikka

Relationship trope: Friends to Lovers Starcrossed lovers soulmates

Relationship headcannons: -TBA-

Relationship playlist: True Colors- Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake Didn't Know I could Feel This Way- Lady and the Tramp I Don't Care- Emma Heesters 

Relationship variants: Cloudtail + Brightheart- Warriors Scamp + Angel- Lady and the Tramp 2 Nala + Simba- The Lion King  Rani + Kion- The Lion Guard Elle + Tao- Heartstopper Gwen Stacey + Peter Parker- TASP

Relationship Aesthetic: -tba-

~~~

Trivia: -TBA-

Backstory: Annika Daisy Austin was born on the 8th of May 2005 to Bea and Jack Austin. She loved her parents and aunt dearly and they loved her back. Whenever her parents weren't around, she hanged out with her aunt, Alex. But everything took a turn for the worse when her parents died. Alex was forced to look after Annika. But everything sorta worked out for the both of them.

A few years later, she meets Seth when they are training to fight Victoria's vampire crew in Eclipse. They became friends and as time passed, she developed a small crush on him. She teased him playfully sometimes but other times, she was good friends with him. They met again when Edward and Bella got married and hung out secretly when no one was looking. They soon became a couple while Edward and Bella were on their honeymoon. And time will tell what happens next :D

Character variations: Brightheart (Warriors) Gwen Stacey (TASP) Angel (Lady and the Tramp 2) Hailey (TMF) Milly (TMF) Claire (Tales of Arcadia series)

Memorable Quotes: -Tba-

[evilhorse]

Power Pack #8 (Signed by June Brigman at the 2024 Baltimore ComicCon)

[missywritesfor7]

Banana Pancakes | JHS

Synopsis: A short Hobi fluff inspired by Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson 🎶

Pairing: j-hope x reader

Word count: 902

Warnings: none. It’s all fluffy 🥰

The sound of heavy rain wakes you from a restful sleep on a Saturday morning. You had planned to run some errands and do some shopping today. You and Hoseok are just a week away from finally moving into your first home and there’s still a lot that needs to be done.

You roll over to look at your phone and see that it’s only 9:30am, but the forecast shows heavy rain lasting all day. You contemplate whether it’s worth going out in or if those errands could wait.

An arm reaches around your waist pulling you close into small spoon position.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Hoseok whispers kissing your shoulder.

“Good morning, my love.” You shift around to face him and his bright beautiful smile and give him a soft kiss.

“Are you still going out today?” He asks pulling you closer.

“I was thinking about it, but I don’t know. I really have a lot I still need to get done before the move.”

“It can wait though, right?” He pouts. “It’s raining a lot, maybe you should just stay in today.”

“When will I have time during the week to get everything done though?” You know he has a point, but getting things done any other day with work on top of it all would be such a hassle.

“Maybe you should worry about that later, and just stay in with me today.” He presses his lips to yours making your decision for you. No way you can go out in that rain when it’s so warm here in his arms. “Stay home and I’ll make you some pancakes.”

“Pancakes?”

“Banana pancakes,” he smiles. “It’s raining, why not?”

You chuckle at how adorable he is. You’re not even sure if you have the ingredients for banana pancakes, and half of the dishes have already been packed. You can’t resist his enthusiastic offer though.

“Ok, let’s have pancakes,” you say making his face brighten up even more.

“Let’s go!” He squeals jumping out of bed.

Despite the dark and gloomy climate outside and the booming rain hitting the roof, the sun is shining inside as Hoseok digs through the cabinets for everything he needs to make banana pancakes in nothing but a pair of pajama pants.

“Aren’t all of the pans packed?” You ask him looking at all of the half packed boxes sitting around the kitchen.

“We have one!” He lifts a tiny skillet erupting into his contagious giggle that never fails to make you smile.

The skillet is only big enough to cook a single egg and you two have never actually used it before. Hoseok bought it as a gift for you one year along with the biggest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen, saying the little things are just as special as the big things.

“We can just make a bunch of small ones,” he says mashing a couple of bananas in a bowl.

“I’ll make some coffee then,” you laugh.

The rain continues pounding outside, so much so that you’re a little surprised that the power is even still on. Hoseok is completely unfazed though, mixing batter and dancing to his own little tune. There’s never a quiet moment with him around between his cute sound effects and his adorable little songs. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pour each of you a cup of coffee and you hand him one as he pours a small spoonful of batter into the tiny skillet on the stove.

“I thought we would have more batter than this,” he giggles. “There’s more banana than actual batter. I think we can get 4 small pancakes out of it.”

Clearly that won’t be quite enough for you both, but it doesn’t even matter. Spending time with him fills you more than any amount of pancakes could. You set your coffee down on the counter and wrap your arms around him from behind.

“Maybe I’ll just eat you up then,” you say kissing his bare back. His body is warm and comforting and honestly makes you want to curl up in bed with him again and cuddle all day.

He pours the batter for a second pancake after placing the first cooked one on a plate. He turns around to face you as the sound of the batter sizzles in tiny on the skillet.

“Eat me up, my love.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

Hoseok is gentle and soft every time he touches you. His lips are healing on even the worst of days. He’s your happy pill, your comfort blanket, your light at the end of every tunnel. Suddenly the pancakes are forgotten. The rain is forgotten. It’s just you and Hoseok in your own bubble of love.

It isn’t until the smell of burning bananas pulls your lips apart as he quickly turns around to remove the tiny pan from the burner and turn off the heat. He turns back to you with an embarrassed smile.

“Well...” he chuckles. “At least we have one pancake.” He pulls you back into an embrace and kisses your forehead. “That’s not enough though.”

“Babe, as long as I have you I have plenty. Can we just go back to bed and cuddle instead?” You ask giving him a quick peck on his heart shaped lips.

“Anything for my wife to be.”

[vmures]

Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up then tag 5 people

Thanks for the tag @lucky-bishop! 💜

Favorite playlist also stresses me out, but here's the first five tracks on my shuffled packing playlist, which is full of songs I love (I put it together when I was packing and cleaning house before a cross country move a couple of years ago but it still gets a lot of play).

Love Me Anyway (feat. Chris Stapleton) by P!nk

Mess by Noah Kahan

All at Once by Jack Johnson

For Everything by Texas

Cover Me with Sunshine by P!nk and Willow Sage Heart

No-pressure tags: @missanniewhimsy, @mirrorthoughts, @yogi-bogey-box, @paganaidd, @ambersagen (and anyone else who wants to play along)

[darkmaga-returns]

Putin Goes Full “Billy Jack” on the West

25 November 2024 by Larry C. Johnson 174 Comments

People born after 1970 probably have never heard of Billy Jack. I likened Vladimir Putin to Billy Jack during a couple of interviews today and figured I better ensure the younger audience [those under 50] know what I mean. Billy Jack, a movie starring Tom Laughlin, was a surprise hit in 1973. Laughlin’s character, Billy Jack, was a half-Indian seeking justice for the native Americans of South Dakota. It is a modern David vs. Goliath theme (I can’t believe this is now a 50-year-old movie). Here is the iconic scene I referenced:

What does Putin have to do with Billy Jack? It is a metaphor for the Oreshnik missile. Putin’s speech on Thursday, following the unveiling of the Oreshnik with the multiple, almost simultaneous, strikes on the Yuzhmash plant in Dnipropetrovsk, laid down this marker — i.e., if the West continues to launch ATACMs, Storm Shadows or SCALP missiles into Russia, Russia will hit back with the Oreshnik and there is not a damn thing you can do to stop it. Sort of like Billy Jack’s right foot. Wham!

I think the Oreshnik is a game changer in every sense of the word. It is precise. It packs the punch of a tactical nuclear warhead without requiring any radioactive material to initiate a chain reaction. It does not create a massive fireball or a toxic cloud that could block out the Sun. It is a genuinely new type of strategic weapon.

Oreshnik can inflict mass destruction on a fairly large geographical area (e.g., one-square mile in the case of Yuzhmash) without causing mass civilian casualties — provided the civilians, having been forewarned, have evacuated the target. In other words, the destructive power of a tactical nuke with the precision of a sniper’s bullet. As Professor Ted Postol remarked during an interview with Danny Davis last Friday, “I have never seen something like this.” Best of all, there is not a single air-defense system in the West that can stop it. That is what I mean by describing it as a, game changer.

Today was a trifecta of interviews that discussed various aspects of the Oreshnik and the course of the war in Ukraine. I began the day with Nima and Judge Napolitano and finished up the afternoon with Danny Davis’ Deep Dive. (BTW, congrats to Danny, who now has 100,000 subscribers.) Enjoy:

[brooklyn-adesina]

character information

name: brooklyn adesina

nicknames: brooke, chef, boss lady

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexuality: pansexual

age: 39

birthday: june 4, 1985

place of birth: new york ny

occupation: owner of jack's bar

time since arriving in merrock: three years

aesthetics: tlong fingernails, constantly listening to music whenever she can, & diet sodas with lemon

parents: william adesina (father) & penelope adesina (mother)

siblings: three siblings

pets: corgi named rigatoni

appearance:

faceclaim:  cynthia erivo

height:  5'1"

build: petite

eyes:  Hazel

hair:  Black

piercings:  multiple ear piercings, septum, nostrils

tattoos:  too many to count

personality:

traits: butally honest, overly critical, talented & creative

labels / tropes:  boss bitch

mental health:  fine

physical health:  healthy

likes:  people who don't question her, people who respect others, cooking as a release

dislikes:  people who shame others, people who don't speak up for others.

fears:  N/A

phobias:  None

biography:

Brooklyn was the oldest of the bunch and that's something that her parents never let her forget. They were always busy with their rich friends and out doing things. When she was old enough to take care of her siblings, it's like it was all she did for a long time. Eventually though, her siblings were old enough to take care of herself and she could be a real kid. She had friends in school, but she never got to spend a lot of time with them due to her babysitting duties. She didn't know what happened, but there was one day where her parents just clicked and they became very family oriented and they did a lot more things together. 

As a teen she was following her mother around the kitchen, baking with her and then she was grilling with her father as well. At first it was believed that Brooklyn was going to go into politics because of her strong opinions and how she didn't care about what others thought about her, but it was clear her talent for cooking was present.

Brooklyn decided to go to Johnson & Wales University where she majored in Culinary Arts and Culinary Arts Management. She graduated at the top of her class and she was hired as a private chef for celebrities. While this would be exciting to most people, she felt like it wasn't utilizing her talent all that well so she decided after a year or so to quit and she went back home to New York City where she got a job in a high end steakhouse and she was ready to build her way up the corporate ladder.

After years of busting her butt, they made her the head chef and she was ecstatic. However, one day she was missing her family and they all had moved to Merrock. She didn't want to give up her amazing job, but family was far too important to her now that her parents seemed to care about it. So she packed up her bags in 2021 and came to Merrock to join her family. She was working as a chef, but recently Jack's bar was up for sale and it was perfect because she could be the boss so she decided to buy it and she's been running it for about six months now. 

[roseartsandfics]

More Tim Burton Art Dumps Yay!

Yippee! More Tim Burton art dumps! I know it's kinda late but at least I got them done! These were done Thursday ^^

1. Willy Wonka creating a chocolate sculpture of himself (hoping it wouldn't melt) ^^

2. Tarrant Hightopp trying on different hats ^^

3. Lydia Deetz wearing a strange red dress, doesn't seemed to be impressed with it since Goth is her only style choice (I am terrible at drawing her ;_;)

4. Just 5 sewing :3

5. Emily placing her roses on a vase 💙

6. Jack with a candlelight ^^

I know they are not that perfect but at least I have them done, and had them done early before the 20th.

I watched some of my favorite Tim Burton movies, and Corpse Bride I just watched yesterday and rewatched it again with my mom ^^

What y'all think?

Lydia Deetz and Beetlejuice ©Tim Burton, Tom Duffield, The Geffen Company and Warner Bros.

Tarrant Hightopp (Mad Hatter) and Alice in Wonderland (2010) ©Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton and Disney

Willy Wonka and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ©Roald Dahl, Tim Burton, Warner Bros. and Village Roadshow Pictures

5 and 9 ©Shane Acker, Tim Burton, Timur Bekmambetov and Focus Features

Jack Skellington and The Nightmare Before Christmas ©Tim Burton, Henry Selick, Touchstone Pictures and Disney

Emily and Corpse Bride ©Tim Burton, Mike Johnson and Warner Bros.

Artwork ©RosePrincessArts

No copyright infringement is intended

Used: regular basic pencil, Crayola colored pencils, silly scented colored pencils, Cra-Z-Art colored pencils and 48 pack colored pencils

[warningsine]

Breaking Bad’s final season is 10 years old. It’s hard to believe it’s been a decade since Walter White’s story came to a close. All of the deceit, violence, plot twists, and puzzling cliffhangers the series provided still occupy a mountain of space in our heads, just begging for yet another rewatch. In the time since the final episodes of the beloved crime drama aired, no show has quite matched the exquisite pacing and pitch-perfect tone of the eight episodes that concluded Walter’s time as the meth kingpin of New Mexico. Still, even amongst an array of masterpiece hours of television in the second half of the show’s fifth and final season, the Rian Johnson-directed epic “Ozymandias” stands tall above all else. 

“Ozymandias” starts with a nearly 15-minute scene in which Hank (Dean Norris) is killed by Uncle Jack (Michael Bowen) and his gang of Nazis, Jesse (Aaron Paul) is essentially sold into meth manufacturing slavery to Todd Alquist (Jesse Plemons), and Walt wanders through the desert in search of transportation back home. The sheer amount of action during this time period would be enough for most shows already, but Breaking Bad was just getting started. 

The scene when Walter arrives home to Walter Jr. (R.J. Mitte) and Skyler (Anna Gunn), apoplectic and deliriously wondering why they won’t believe him about Hank’s death, is where the episode truly enters the pantheon of TV greatness and even ascends to a higher legend regardless of medium. Skyler has decided that she simply won’t stand for Walt’s intimidation tactics and disregard for the White family any longer, and this is when “Ozymandias” turns into one of the most bone-chilling horror flicks of the 21st century. 

Fans of Vince Gilligan’s show will instantly recognize the cadence of the scene from the jump. Walter goes into persuasive essay mode when Skyler makes the heavy claim that Walt killed Hank. Walt always has one more lie in the chamber, one more plea for survival when his time is up. This time his elaborate, emotional explanations are raw and real, but why would Skyler know that? She’s had to play along with Walt’s games for five seasons now, and this time there is no turning back.

The camera closes in on the set of knives in the kitchen. Even as Walter paces back to the bedroom to pack his family’s belongings, Walter Jr. on his tail fishing for answers, Skyler stalks the weapons that are just mere meters away from her hands. The matriarch of the White family goes on the offensive, building a symbolic and literal barrier between herself, her son, and the criminal father whose immoral acts have multiplied for 60 episodes up to this point. 

When Walt approaches Skyler with a lack of sincerity, she swings at her husband with the blade, slicing into the flesh of his hand. The look of unadulterated shock on Walt’s face is where the scene turns into a Kubrickian chill ride. Not a single note of music or background sound assaults the senses as Walter and Skyler commence years of frustration pent up inside of them, fighting for the handle of the killing object with their entire might. Cranston and Gunn are beyond bombastic in these 30 seconds of madness, culminating in Walter Jr. careening into the violence when he realizes his mother is overpowered. 

For so much of the series, Walter Jr. views his father as an idol, a man he can admire for inspiration. On a dime, he’s able to flip his perception of his parents, saving the guardian who actually deserved his respect this whole time. This character development choice combines with Johnson’s decision to pan the camera slowly out from the family, coalescing into a frightening epiphany for Walter and the viewers at home: the nerdy science teacher from the pilot episode has transformed into an antagonist worthy of our shame. 

“We’re a family.” As Walter bellows these heartbreaking words, the cries of baby Holly and Skyler paint the picture of what type of household Walter has decimated. A wife, son, and infant daughter are the victims of a mass murderer, a drug dealer, and a psychopath. Especially when juxtaposed with the cold open of the episode, when Walter and Skyler are planning mundane scheduling occurrences such as what to eat for dinner and vital, life-changing moments like what to name their unborn child, this horror scene defines the fall from grace that Gilligan so desperately set out to craft. 

Walter Jr. calls the police on his father, and in a split second, Walter digs into his authentic self, kidnapping his daughter to gain leverage over Skyler one last time. When Skyler realizes what’s happened, she dashes outside and pounds on the window panes of the dilapidated truck Walter escapes in. The most menacing part of the exchange is Walt’s decision to forcibly back his way out of the driveway, ignoring the family SUV behind him. The red vehicle ends up halfway down the street, the sounds of screeching metal echoing in unison with the haunting score now being played in the background. 

The weight of these sounds crescendos with Skyler’s begging for Walt to cede control of the baby. Anna Gunn’s performance here makes the entire scene, and it’s as beautifully acted as any clip in the show. She won multiple Emmy Awards for Best Supporting Actress for the fifth season, but infinite adulation seems more apt. Gunn forces the audience to sympathize with her, even after some questionable decisions in the third and fourth seasons of the series. 

These four minutes pack more story into their allotment than most shows do in an hour. We learn so much about all three characters, their motives, and where they are headed at the show’s cataclysm. The roller coaster Rian Johnson builds feels like a Rube Goldberg machine of horror. Every action causes a chain reaction that expounds upon the previous one. There’s no time for the audience to take a single breath, and we often have to make split-second emotional decisions about the characters we’ve all come to love at one point or another. Johnson has the gall to jostle with that profound connection and shatter the anti-hero trope that Walter White came to define. Cranston’s character is Jack Torrance, and we’re all whimpering Wendy.

“Ozymandias” is still the textbook example of television horror for the last 10 years and will be for at least another 10.