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strawberrysunsets · 2 years

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The Empty World (Ch. 5)

Donald Pierce x Reader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: Life with the other mutants provides a respite, before military forces arrive hunting for Laura.

Warnings: Violence, gore, injury, guns, knives, swearing.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut later on!:D

Author's Note: This chapter takes place during the events of Logan. I stayed pretty accurate to the scenes I took from the movie, but obviously Reader has been inserted into them!

P.S. I swear I swear the Reader/Pierce relationship is coming I'm just taking my sweet time getting there 😬

P. P. S. I've started school again, so I have less time to write, but will still try to release chapters regularly:)

Comments/reblogs/feedback mean the world to me!:)

Chapter 5: Allegiance

“Hand me that wrench?” You asked.

You were balancing precariously atop a step ladder, trying to work a rusted bolt from a socket in the factory wall. The plan was to attach the canvas covers which protected the space from the sun to a pulley-system, so that they could be retracted easily at night. It was one of the many small feats of engineering you'd created since joining Logan, Caliban, and Charles in the desert South of the border.

Caliban sat below you, repotting some plants on one of the factory’s wide counters. He handed the wrench up to you, then sat back down with a sigh.

“Some days I don’t know why Logan brought me here at all,” he grumbled. “I couldn't think of a worse place for a sun-averse mutant, save for, say, a boat on the ocean.”

You finally got the bolt loose, and pulled it from its socket, freeing up the space for the pulley.

“He can’t be serious about that,” you replied. “And if he is – well, we’ll find you a safe house before they set sail. Have you ever thought about going North? There are places in Canada where daylight lasts only a few hours, in the Winter.”

“I've gone North. The trouble is, I hate the cold,” Caliban replied.

You couldn’t help but laugh. But as you reached up to screw the pulley in place, a small static shock raced through your arm. You swore, dropping the screw to the ground below.

“Are you alright?” Caliban asked.

You clambered down the step ladder, and reached the ground.

“Shit,” you said, shaking out your hand. There was a vague buzzing sensation in your fingertips, and your skin felt slightly hotter than usual. You'd been trying to ignore it, but the sensation had been building all morning.

“Flare?” Caliban asked, eyeing you.

You nodded, and sighed, wiping your hands on your mechanic’s apron before grabbing a jug of water from the counter to take with you into the bunker.

“Remember what we talked about,” Caliban said, as you turned towards the doors leading to the factory’s rear. “3—4—5. Repeat the breathing exercise, and try to clear your mind. And remember – you’re safe!” He called.

“Roger that,” you replied, as you exited.

Caliban had been helping you for months, now. Since just after you’d arrived to the old factory. Helping you to slowly change the way you thought about your mutation – so that it wasn’t a curse, or something to hate, or fear – but something that you could make peace with, and even befriend. Something that, given time, you could learn to use, instead of having it use you.

It hadn’t been easy.

The gut-deep panic you’d grown accustomed to feeling was slow to dissipate, and the layers of pain it had caused you uncomfortable to peel away.

But you’d made progress.

You hadn’t been pulled back to the empty world since New York. And in the past few weeks, you’d even begun to feel like maybe – just maybe – if you reached out to the Ether, you might be able to harness its power.

You shut the heavy metal door of the bunker, and sighed as you crossed to lay on the cot in the corner. The room had originally been used for some part of the factory’s processing, but now its lead-lined walls helped shield the energy of your flares from the sensors of anyone who happened to be watching for them.

Like Transigen.

Inhale for a count of three, you thought, resting your head back on the rough canvas and closing your eyes.

Hold for a count of four.

Exhale for a count of five.

You immediately started to feel calmer, the breathing exercise Caliban had taught you quickly working its magic. You felt the flare begin to fade. And now drowsiness weighted your eyelids, brought on by the coolness of the dark room, and the late night you and Caliban had had tending to Charles. He’d been having one of his episodes. Not a seizure; just pain. The mental anguish of not knowing where he was or who he was with, and being trapped within memories that were slowly decaying around him.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you woke to raised voices from somewhere outside the factory, and the slam of a car door.

Logan must be back.

***

You arrived outside into the bright sunlight, and shielded your eyes. You were feeling better, now – the flare having faded in the hazy hours you’d dozed off.

To your surprise, Charles was already out in the yard, sitting in his wheelchair next to Logan, and a young girl with dark hair.

“What’s happening?” You asked, approaching them.

The girl immediately turned towards you, her eyes hard and suspicious.

“This is Laura,” Charles said, beckoning your forwards excitedly. “She’s a young mutant! She’s the one I’ve been communicating with.”

You gaped, staring from Charles to the girl.

“Come in, Laura; you can come in!” He beckoned her towards the factory.

“Communicating, my ass,” Logan mumbled, turning to you. “We need to start packing. We’ve gotta leave.”

“What?” You exclaimed. “Why? Where’s Caliban?”

“Driving out to the wash,” Logan replied, following Charles and Laura inside. “Some guy came around. Ex-military. They’re looking for her.”

You stood for a moment, stunned, then jogged to follow Logan into the factory.

“Ex-military? Do you know who sent him?” You demanded, mind working furiously.

Logan grunted. “Bad fucking news, that’s who. And they’ll be sending backup.”

***

Logan moved around the room, shoving items into bags as you sat at the table with Charles and Laura. The girl had wolfed down two enormous bowls of corn flakes, and was now starting on a third as you watched in fascination.

Charles was attempting to talk to her in broken Spanish, and you turned back to Logan, unsatisfied with the answers he’d provided you with so far.

“If she’s Gabriela’s daughter, then why are they looking for her?” You asked. “It doesn’t make sense. Just because she’s the first mutant born in 25 years?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Logan snapped back. “What matters is that they’re coming here – and they’re gonna find all of us in the process.” He scowled at Laura and Charles.

The girl – who couldn’t be more than ten, by your guess – scowled back at him, matching him glare for glare.

The walls of the factory rattled, as if another train were passing on the tracks beyond the dirt road.

“Just – un otro tren. Un choo-choo,” Charles said, trying to reassure Laura as she bolted upright. But Logan swore, striding to the window.

“It’s not a fucking choo-choo,” he replied.

He grabbed the bag he’d packed, and threw it into Charles’ lap before hurriedly wheeling the old man towards the door.

“Let’s go,” he grunted, as he passed you. “Now.”

You stared from his retreating back to Laura, still seated at the table.

“Logan – what about Laura?” You demanded.

“We’re leaving! She’s not our problem,” Logan replied over his shoulder. Charles protested as he was wheeled outside.

“We can’t just leave her!” You shouted after them.

“Come with us, or stay with her,” Logan replied, as he disappeared around the corner. “Your choice.”

You stared after him, aghast.

The sound of approaching vehicles was growing louder every second. They must have nearly reached the factory’s gate.

Laura’s face had hardened throughout the exchange, making you think that she understood more English than she let on. But still, she sat stubbornly at the table, refusing to move.

“Laura – come on,” you said, rounding the table towards her. “Ignore him. You came come with us – we’ll get you away from the people who are trying to find you.”

She glanced up at you, eyes wary. It seemed for a moment as if she was going to rise and follow you – but then the sound of cars arrived in the yard outside, followed by the sound of slamming doors and cocking weapons.

“Shit!” You swore, running to the window.

Through the grimy glass, you made out Logan’s silhouette, where he stood beside the limousine. He was surrounded by armed men. It looked like Charles was already in the back of the limousine. A moment passed, and words were exchanged – before Logan unsheathed his claws, and the knot of people descended into chaos. The scuffle was short and brutal, and Logan disappeared from view.

You stepped back from the window, breathing hard. “Laura, we have to get out of here. I have my motorcycle in the back – we can take that.”

If the transmition isn’t acting up, you thought. If only you’d finished repairing it sooner.

But the girl didn’t move from the table, simply taking another measured bite of her corn flakes. You followed her gaze. She was watching the security feed of the front entrance. A line of burly men were walking up to the door. At the same time, you heard as the door to the compound was wrenched open.

Laura didn’t move from the table.

You dodged behind a wall, hiding in the shadows of a broken metal boiler. The least you could do was surprise them, when they entered.

The situation was quickly devolving from bad to worse, and you knew there’d be no getting out without a fight. All you had was the hunting knife you carried on your belt, but it would have to be enough. You didn’t know what Laura’s mutation was, but you hoped it would be something helpful.

You listened, as heavy footfalls approached Laura. Then they stopped before her, and there was a metallic noise as something was held up.

“You gonna come with us, Laura?” The soldier asked.

You tensed, preparing to leap out and tackle him to the ground – but before you could, there were a flurry of blows, and the man screamed in pain. You looked around the corner. Laura was on him. Literally, on him – spinning around so that she was on his back, her fists hitting him repeatedly in the back of the neck.

No – not her fists.

The claws protruding from them.

You stared at the scene unfolding before you, stunned. Laura leapt upon the next soldier, severing the tendons in his leg with a swift blow.

She was like Logan. Her mutation – it was the exact same. Before you had time to contemplate this revelation further, you’d leapt out from behind the wall, and were assailing the next soldier who ran to join the fight. You dealt a few quick punches, then clipped him in the temple with a high kick, sending him to the floor.

When you turned, Laura was already gone – a trail of dead or maimed soldiers left in her wake. You pelted for the door, and burst out into the blinding sunlight, running in the direction she’d gone.

“No. Laura – ” A familiar voice was calling, in a placating tone. “No!”

You arrived in the factory yard just in time to see Laura leap on a soldier with a wordless cry. Her claws sliced through the muscle of his shoulder, before severing his arm clean off. Then the other soldiers were on her, and she was leaping and dodging between them, slicing savagely through flesh and bone.

You were astounded, but you ran to join the fight, intent on protecting her. Not that she seemed to need it.

Across the yard, you spotted Logan struggling up, battling the men around him.

All at once, something clicked in your mind. You’d thought some of the soldiers inside the factory had looked familiar – their clothing and gear a specific mix of military and mercenary attire at odds with the uniformed law enforcement with them. But now, you realized why. Those are not just soldiers. They’re Reavers!

At the same moment, you recognized a familiar blond head across the yard. He was shouting orders to his men, and shoving them in Laura’s direction to join the fight.

This couldn’t be happening.

You fell upon the nearest Reaver, clobbering him hard over the head with the butt of your knife, before grabbing him in a headlock and choking him. He struggled, gagging, just as another Reaver ran at you. You threw the one you were holding into a fence, and spun to meet the next. You weren’t quick enough to dodge his punch, though, and it caught you on the jaw, throwing you to the ground. You rolled quickly away, and managed to tangle your legs with his, felling him. Then you leapt on him and grabbed his head, ramming it against a metal fencepost. He went limp.

You rose, panting, from the dirt, to see that the yard around you was in chaos.

And between the fighting bodies, through the haze of dust, you caught sight of him once more. Just as your gaze landed on him, he happened to turn to look in your direction.

Your gazes met.

The shock in Pierce’s eyes was mirrored in your own, but his expression quickly morphed from surprise into feral delight. He smiled, and waggled his fingers in a cheeky wave.

Logan had escaped the knot of soldiers surrounding him, and you watched as he threw himself into the limousine, and gunned its engine to life.

“Laura –” you shouted, taking on another Reaver as he ran at you.

Laura decapitated the nearest soldier, then swung around, eyes finding you.

“The car!” You shouted, pointing, as you ducked the Reaver’s punch. “Go!”

Laura’s eyes locked onto the limousine, and she ran for it, diving between soldiers on the way.

At the same moment, three different weapons were levelled with your head.

“No te muevas!” A soldier yelled. “Don’t move!”

You froze, staring down the barrels of the semi-automatic rifles. For Laura, the bullets had been a mere deterrent – but you wouldn’t be so lucky. You dropped your knife, grimacing, and slowly raised your hands.

Across the yard, you saw Laura leap to land on the limousine’s hood, claws digging into the metal. The car jerked to a stop. Logan’s eyes scanned the yard, and found where you stood, cornered by the soldiers. He looked stricken.

But you were trapped. And they had a way out.

“Go!” You screamed at him.

A blinding pain tore through your shoulder, and you were thrown backwards onto the ground.

They shot me.

You lay in the dirt, gasping for breath, as you heard the limousine tear from the yard.

Two of the soldiers who’d surrounded you remained with you, rifles cocked and aimed downwards, but the others ran to join the trucks peeling out after the limousine. You couldn’t see where Pierce was, but you assumed he’d joined the chase.

Let them escape, you thought, desperately. You panted as you lay in the dirt, the pain in your shoulder excruciating. Just let them escape.

And let me not have been shot anywhere too important.

***

It was nearly half an hour before the trucks returned to the yard. From the bleeping of radios and the lack of any audible struggle, you assumed that Logan and the others had well and truly gotten away. Your mouth curved into a grim smile.

“Get her up,” a familiar voice called, as a car door slammed and boots made their way towards you.

The two soldiers around you grabbed you beneath the arms and dragged you to a standing position, jostling your injured shoulder. It was all you could do to keep from crying out. Your hands were cuffed behind you, and one of them had tied a rag tightly around your shoulder to stem the bleeding. The bullet had passed straight through, apparently.

My lucky day.

You slowly raised your head, and glared as Pierce came to a halt before you.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, smiling. “That was a damn surprise, finding you here.”

He was as you remembered. His skin lightly tanned from the sun, his honey-blond hair tousled above his tinted sunglasses. Tall, charming, and infuriatingly smug.

“I should have known, of course,” he continued, approaching and putting a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. “All the most wanted muteys, cozying up together? Must have been like a real little family, huh?”

You jerked your chin from his hand. “What would you know about that?” You spat back, struggling against the soldiers holding you for a moment, before the pain in your shoulder grew to be too much. “Doesn’t seem like you have much work-life balance.”

Pierce gave you a knowing look, then smiled obligingly.

“Seems to me like you're the one without a family, sweetheart. The Wolverine and the others left you here, after all.”

You grimaced, and looked away.

“So why stay loyal to ‘em?” Pierce continued, walking a few paces away to gaze towards the road. “Must not care about you all that much.”

“Why stay loyal to them, when I could be loyal to you, you mean?” You asked. “For beating and kidnapping me? Tough choice.”

Pierce laughed, and turned back to you. “You know, I almost missed this," he sighed. "Glad to have you back, darlin’.”

You glared at him, as he turned to address the soldiers. “Put her in with the tracker."

The tracker. They’d captured Caliban, too?

You swore internally, as the soldiers pulled you away towards the factory.

“Ah, I almost forgot – ” Pierce called after you. “If any animal so much as looks at one of my men in a way they don’t like, we’ll be leaving Caliban out to watch the sunset.”

Your body flushed with cold as they pulled you away, at odds with the hot desert day around you.

Bad, to worse, a small voice echoed in your mind. This shit just went from bad, to worse.

***

Taglist:

@humongousgalaxycoffee @drowningnikki @mischiefmanaged71 @lostcause514 @capvengrs @forever-nerd @pancakesandlolliepops

#donald pierce x you #donald pierce #fanfic #donald pierce x reader #logan movie #mutants #wolverine #x men #boyd holbrook #x men comics #x men fanfiction #x men x reader #x men movies

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bright-and-burning · 2 months

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for your fic title ask game! gimme something texas hold em related. add some more fuel to this here fire.

(send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it)

ok this has been rotating in my mind w logan/alex for the last day and i kind of went insane bc why is this a thousand words of blather...

i went to a research university in like the north eastern part of the us right but there was this bar named after a city in the south that . ok i just googled it to double check and the home page calls it a "rockin country redneck tavern" lol. there were line dancing lessons in the evening that old people LOVED before the night hit and it became like fully a bar scene, lots of country music, a massive dance floor. so like . picture rustic raw wood walls, a big ass dance floor, a second floor overlooking half the dance floor, and a whoooole lot of college students.

in my mind this is like, college au. logan is a junior, alex is a senior or smthn. alex gets dragged to a frat party by idk lando who then immediately abandons him to play pong w martin... alex is feeling big lost just standing around, downing a solo cup of punch way too fast to feel busy. logan's like 'i got next!!' except his pong partner was oscar who disappeared so he's like fuckkkk and then lando volunteers alex for it, and logan's like sure you can keep up kind of vibes and alex drains the last of his drink and grins before grabbing another. so it's lando and martin vs logan and alex.

and alex is TRASH but it's ok bc martin and lando are mid and logan is good so it like all balances out. so they go back and forth the whole time, and logan and alex are teasing each other sooo bad oh my god. just like annoying to everyone else in the room levels of flirty mocking. (we played with water in the cups bc otherwise the balls get DISGUSTING, so you just move the cup to the side of the table when it's made. but if you get a ball in one of the side cups you have to dance? idk if this is a common rule but we called it dance cup lol. also an important rule: if you dont make a single cup you have to do a naked lap). alex is Struggling he is not making anything. he manages to get it into dance cup like three times tho. somehow it gets down to like lando and martin only need to make one more cup and logan and alex have two to go. alex Has to make it on this round or he's in grave danger of naked lap... idk some like logan giving tips etc. logan goes first on their turn and sinks it perfectly which leaves them 1-1... alex closes his eyes n takes a deep breath... shoots... nails it. he and logan lose their shit lol but martin and lando have a shot at redemption.. and they BOTH MISS! logan and alex W. some other duo is like we got winner but alex is like ok i'm done for the night lol i don't need any more chances at a naked lap. and logan also steps from the table so like lando and martin keep playing.

from there there's two directions i think it could go:

they go to a "rockin country redneck tavern" that night after logan is like oh i've got actual liquor up in my room if you want...

OR this is actually better i guess given how many more ideas i have abt this lol

alex actually leaves not long after the pong game for some reason (that i haven't decided on yet). but then the next weekend he gets dragged out to said country tavern by lando n george who are like dude we have to experience all of the bars here before we graduate and scatter to the winds!!!! (well. lando says that. george spent the last weekend + week frantically studying for an exam so he's like can we PLEASE go out and get shitfaced. PLEASE) anyways. alex doesnt really ask what this place is and they dont tell him so they get there and alex is like what the fuck is this. what.

they get drinks and sit down at a table for a bit, logan gets in w some friends and walks past and is like yoooo and chats w alex for a minute, except george and lando disappear to "get drinks" (with lots of eyebrow wiggles from behind logan). they r flirting obviously. lots of alex being like of Course you're here, all american boy vs logan being like and what country are we in right now, hot stuff? and then a line dance-y song comes on and the announcer is like 'last line dance of the night folks' (bc this bar switches over at abt 10pm to like. pop and rap etc.) and logan is like !!! and alex audibly groans but lets himself get dragged out bc logan is like you gotta have the full [i have not come up w a bar name that wont doxx me but pretend there's one here] experience. they do a silly line dance w alex just clumsily copying logan at first but by the end enjoying it laughing his ass off trying to mess logan up etc.

and then idk maybe the next song switches over as theyre like collapsing into each other dying laughing all breathless... and it's a very grind-y song (to stick w the beyonce theme... a la partition even tho that's not super 'realistic' im just struggling off the top of my head to come up w something better. fill in the blanks w ur imagination if u r smarter than me i guess) and they have this moment of like 'so are we doing this orrrr' and the dance floor gets hella crowded so theyre up on each other anyways so. they are in fact doing this. and then they dance for a While it's hot they get real sweaty lean in to each other's ears from time to time to point out funny things happening around them etc etc.

after a long while of that alex is like i need another drink. and logan is like yeah same so they go to the bar together. and alex buys their drinks. and then they just stand leaning on a wall for a bit, chatting and taking a breather. and logan is like 'cards on the table' and then tells alex he likes him. or is interested in him or whateverrrr and alex is like oh thank god. and then they go home and fuck nasty. basically!

#this got... long. LOLLLLLLLL #mine.fic #2302 #once more not actually fic but if i ever have any hopes of finding this again lol

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moleshow · 1 year

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Genuine question, is there anything about your city’s infrastructure/architecture that you particularly like (aside from it being where you live)?

here i assume you're referring to chicago. i will go to bat for this city. my complaints are largely a lot of inside baseball. i use sweeping complaints as shorthand--when i say something is ass it's because i want that thing to improve. if i really thought it was a lost cause i wouldn't talk about it. this is why i do not complain about schaumburg

continued below the cut

architecturally i think you could hardly do much better. there's a great blend of landmark-tier buildings from a range of eras. this is the thompson center, a really phenomenal train station/govt services building combo

but also some amazing residential buildings, like the commodore:

and i mean this is a stock photo from around the bryn mawr stop but i can confirm that it is this dope.

in terms of infrastructure, the thing is: it's good relative to the rest of the US. if we're talking about planning, about doing it RIGHT though we've got our priorities jumbled. see look

we put 8 lanes of high speed traffic between the city and the lakefront for most of its length. this is an idiotic choice to have made and it's frankly a huge waste of what could be really good land use.

urban highways

transit access west of western ave and south of 33rd is poor

the illinois dept. of transportation's standards mean that every road they control is a nightmare. this is slowly turning around though and legislation is moving ahead to allow cdot to have control over its own roads (in part i think because the IL courts are currently working through some cases regarding whether or not the city/state can be sued for fatalities resulting from poor road design)

good lird

but we DO have trains. now, because we've had poor leadership at the CTA reliability has suffered in a manner i can only describe as "bigly", particularly along the blue line. but we've had service cuts basically through the whole network

we also have lots of buses but we only just started to come around to the photo-enforced bus lanes idea. this is to say the problem is we let buses get stuck in traffic. generally the city's leadership has been keen to make it easier and cheaper to drive through the city. this is stupid for a variety of reasons that i won't get into here

i'm losing steam on this train of thought because it's fairly complex stuff and the north/south/west sides all have unique land use concerns. so without further questions i'll stop there.

one last thought

i don't like logan square because i think the people who live there are annoying podcaster instagram upcycled secondhand clothing types, the housing is expensive because it's trendy, and land use sucks ass west of the kennedy expressway

this is a train station and transfer point for a few major bus routes

#something something cities can't run on deficits something something tax revenue

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semper-legens · 1 year

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25. Now She Is Witch, by Kirsty Logan

Owned: No, library Page count: 327 My summary: Lux’s mother is dead. She was burned as a witch, and Lux was expelled from the convent where she lived. Alone, with few skills but her knowledge of herbs and poisons, Lux meets a young woman called Else who promises to take her to the witches of the north - if Lux helps her with her revenge. So Lux and Else walk their unsteady path through the forest, looking for people like them. Looking for home. My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

Well, this is an interesting one. While I was reading it, I had absolutely no idea whether I liked it or not, and afterwards I find that this is still the case. On the one hand, my knowledge and dislike of popular tropes regarding real-life witch hunts and witch hysteria. On the other, my love for interesting historical women in fiction, and particularly women who aren't the most conventional or straightforwardly good. Enter Kirsty Logan. I've read her work before, and really enjoyed it - her lyrical, fairy tale prose is exactly my kind of storytelling, and definitely what I look for in fiction. And her short story collection, Things We Say In The Dark, was great enough that I near-immediately went out and bought a copy after reading it from the library. So, how does this book stack up?

Lux's world is interesting. It has all the hallmarks of Europe in the 14th century - the Black Death, flagellants, mummers, extreme Catholicism and religious abuse - though I know the witch hunts in England didn't begin until the 1600s. Then again, it's not as though people weren't persecuted as witches before that, both in England and across Europe, and more importantly this is decisively not any place in particular. There are no place names, and many characters don't even have personal names. Places are referred to in the generic (the north country, the south country, the stronghold, the village) and are given no other identifying features. I obviously can't know for sure, but I suspect that this was in order to make the setting more general and its ideas and themes more applicable, as well as taking this out of historical fiction and leaning it more towards the mythic. It's an interesting choice, and a well-executed one.

This book is largely about womanhood and witchcraft, or rather the perception of witchcraft, and the complex intersections of those two labels. One thing I have to give it points for - real witchcraft doesn't exist. Lux sells herbal cures and poisons, as well as things like poppets which she knows do nothing, but she says hold magic so they'll sell. She grows up hearing stories of the 'north witches', the supposed real witches who live in the north and have amazing powers, but they're not real either. It's just women doing what they can to make their way in the world, and the stories that are told to demonise them. And that's the push and pull here - the agency that Lux's ambiguous status as witch grants her versus the ways her life is in very real danger from that status. Lux spends most of her life under the thumb of her mother, then the church, then needing to survive. A common phrase is 'There's no use in a girl wanting'; because of the nature of the world in which she lives, she is denied agency and choice and desire. But taking her agency back and acting on her desires is dangerous. So many are killed for that, for speaking out or being different. And I really love how this book portrays different women - there are women who live within the framework of society and women who live outside of it, women who bury themselves in a desperate attempt to seem 'civil' and women who hide their misdeeds but still keep doing them, women who believe what they're told and women who question, and all of the grey areas in between. And all of this with a very select cast! It's a really cool view on history, especially within its framework of not by necessity depicting reality.

Okay, so here's what I meant about my dislike of certain popular witch tropes. I always frown on the historicity of some books about real-life witch hunts or fictionalised versions of the same, especially ones that try and claim that 1) the person persecuted as a witch was actually a witch in a neo-Pagan framework, 2) people labelled as witches were exclusively women, 3) 'the Burning Times' is a real thing that happened. This...wasn't that. As I've mentioned, this book's setting is highly ambiguous, so I can kind of look past the burning rather than hanging of witches as being a bit of fantasy worldbuilding. And while this book does have the female empowerment narrative of many witch novels, the fact remains that Lux isn't an anachronistically feminist character. You know the sort. "I'm a Strong Independent Woman who can kick a-- like the boys! I hate corsets for no real reason other than symbolism! I have ideas about women's rights that date to 2010 at the earliest!" That kind of character, a feminist ideal of a woman that doesn't engage with the actual lives of women in the time period the story reflects, or otherwise is grounded in 21st century ideas of women's empowerment rather than historical ones, really annoys me. But this isn't that. Lux just wants to have agency, to exist as a woman in the world without being labelled by others, without having her identity be based around one aspect of herself. She's called a witch, a servant, a sacrifice, a maiden. But in reality she is more than that. She has wants, and desires, and learns how to act on them and take what she can from the world. And that's a much more empowering character than the Strong Woman archetype.

Next up, a dark and grim portrait of a serial killer.

#Now She Is Witch #Kirsty Logan #bookblr #book blog #book blogging #4

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flow828 · 2 years

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Congratulations to these young men, Hawaii’s Little League World Series 2022 Champions! Hawaii is so very proud of you all!! Keep being phenomenal!! ••••• I almost missed the parade held in their honor this afternoon. It went along parts of North & South King Streets as I only managed to catch a distant glimpse of a portion of a marching band passing through the nearby intersection while on a patrol at work. So grateful I work close enough to walk to Honolulu Hale (our City Hall) on my lunch break. It was a bit hot out but worth the walk on this beautiful sunny Thursday. I got to see some familiar people and say Hi to a few while enjoying ice cream & a small plate of kalua pig & cabbage with rice! I even saw & greeted the new Honolulu Police Chief, Arthur “Joe” Logan, who seemed to have an odd look in response. 🤔 I couldn’t tell if he might have been thrown off by my white AUS Services uniform, or my phenomenal enthusiasm & excitement in just seeing him in real life. 🤷🏽‍♀️ I believe that was Deputy Chief Keith Horikawa with him, too. •• #ThankYou •• Mahalo to @meadowgoldhawaii for the ice cream. Mahalo to those who provided & served the kalua pig and cabbage. Mahalo to the local band from Molokai who performed live music on stage - in the hot sun. (I 🙏🏼 you guys are okay after that much direct sun 😳🥴🙏🏼 sorry that by time I returned to work, I forgot your band’s name.😔) Mahalo to so many who helped come together in support of the young men’s success. So grateful for the show of support within our community for their phenomenal accomplishment. I pray we will see & strive to celebrate more great moments in our neighborhoods. Let’s continue to lift others up! • #LLWS2022 #LLWS #LittleLeagueWorldSeries #LittleLeagueWorldSeries2022 #LLWSchampions #LLWSchamps #LLWSchampions2022 #CityParade • @honolulupd @mayorrickhnl • #HonoluluHale #CityHall #cchnl #CityAndCountyOfHonolulu #HonoluluPD #HPDchief #Honolulu #HonoluluHawaii #NorthKingStreet #SouthKingStreet #Chinatown #DowntownHonolulu #SecurityOfficer #AlliedUniversal #ThereForYou #BePhenomenal #BackTheBlue #AieaNB20 #MeadowGoldHawaii #HawaiisFinest September 08, 2022 #20220908 (at Honolulu Hale) https://www.instagram.com/p/CiSD1EauS1q/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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the-unspeakable-tsar · 7 months

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X-Manson - Chapter 3 by Doctor Benway - Annotated by Tsar

Here, we meet all the X-men that everyone loves. We'll meet Logan, Kitty Pryde, The New Mutants, and even Emma Frost. Absolutely none of them will have a good time.

Two bags of chips and a tub of chip dip sit empty on the floor. As the commercial asking her to buy Blue ends, she starts in on the chocolate chip cookies. They are the cheap kind made in Ontario, and the chips taste more like wax than like chocolate. When she finishes these, there will still be two litres of ice cream, another four pounds of cookies, three more bags of chips with another tub of dip, and two large jars of peanut butter waiting for her.

*weird dig at Ontario.

----

[Shot of a woman sitting in a rattan chair in a nicely appointed but small living room in one of those beautifully built bungalows from the 1920s, once meant for factory workers but now only affordable by doctors and lawyers. She has blonde, almost white hair and a perfect complexion. She would be strikingly beautiful were her head not so lopsided from reconstructive surgery and her eyes not so cold.]

[Caption: Emma Frost, former headmistress, Massachusetts Academy, Lowell MA]

EF: The Massachusetts Academy was one of the first schools in the country to encourage education of mutant children in a fully integrated environment. I have always believed that segregation would only encourage the further spread of anti-mutant hatred.

Int: This was based on your own experiences?

EF: Not directly. I myself had a very sheltered childhood. My psi-abilities manifested very early and I was diagnosed as a schizophrenic and threatened with institutionalization at the age of four. My father refused to believe the diagnosis and spent over half his fortune to research my condition. The result was the development of the protocols that are now used in the care of all potentially psi-sensitive children. It was most unfortunate that they had not been available when Charles Xavier was a child.

Winston Frost is a better man in this au than he is typically.

Int: They might have changed him?

EF: To develop psi abilities in isolation is terrifying. There are no boundaries between you and those closest to you. Every aspect of the personality that a parent might choose to hide from a child is there and the child must interpret these things, sometimes before they can even speak. The strain of this can negatively reinforce other personality and cognitive deficits in a young mind. Tendencies towards sociopathy or psychopathy can be emphasized, or in the worst case the mind can become completely unable to construct a proper interface with reality. I cannot imagine what Xavier's or Cable's childhoods might have been like, to make them into what they became.

*a Direct reference to Cable and Xavier, but I also think this might be a reference to Empath of The Hellions.

Int: How did you come to be headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy?

EF: In the early 60s, my father saw that much civil rights activism had a very narrow focus. While the advances made by African-Americans were necessary and of great benefit to us all, many other foci of hatred had been completely overlooked. Those who sought to live homosexual lifestyles, women who sought to take on traditionally male roles, and of course mutants who wished to live in open society were often ignored in the quest to bring the 20th century to the South, or for that matter to the North. Busing in Boston produced riots, and not riots in favour of the practice. When I finished at Radcliffe, I had a meeting at our home at which I proposed to several of my father's friends the idea of a school that would turn the notion of a private educational institution upside down. Instead of educating the children of the privileged in conformist isolation, we would seek to build a school that brought everyone together, that would reflect the society as a whole, and would provide the best facilities and the latest advances in educational techniques. We took over the Massachusetts Academy, a failing school that had a reputation for training the stupider sons of the American aristocracy to read, and we turned it into a haven.

*And they hated them for it.

Int: I understand that you had some difficulties in the beginning.

EF: Not all of the latest educational advances proved to be advances toward greater wisdom. We had all the doors back on the classrooms within a month, and we certainly found that television in the classroom was anything but educational. Nonetheless, we made it work. Our graduates went on to Ivy League schools at rates far greater than those of other private schools and in time we had a waiting list of over ten thousand for the one hundred places in the annual entering class.

Int: Were there problems with the mutant students?

EF: Yes, there were problems. Some of the mutant students were not visibly different from the non-mutant students and, when their abilities were innocuous, there were no difficulties. In other cases, I would have to intervene with my own power to block them from acting as children would and using their abilities in harmful ways.

*I think this is another reference to Empath.

Int: Could you give an example?

EF: I would prefer to respect the privacy of my students and not discuss particular cases. All I will say is that if you treat a child as if they are human, they will stand an excellent chance of becoming a good adult human being. If you treat a child as if it were a monster or as refuse, then you should not be surprised at what it grows into, and you must accept full responsibility for the result of your brutality.

Int: But you had many successes.

EF: We certainly did. I have many students that I am very proud of, among whom are the ones that you have chosen to interview.

[Shot of a couple sitting on a sofa in a windowless room with concrete ceilings and walls. It has something of a bunker-like feel to it. The man is boyishly handsome, blond with striking blue eyes and a golden halo floating above his head. The halo is the most sophisticated anti-psi shield in existence, and costs about as much as a small yacht. He's also very twitchy, like a smoker who hasn't been allowed to light up, even though it's clear that he doesn't smoke. A slender and very attractive woman, attractive in the way that French women who eat only small pots of yogurt during daylight hours are attractive, sits beside him, barely disguising discomfort. He plainly wants to talk. She plainly wants the interviewer to go away.]

*more Au world building, sci-fi technology to protect from psychics.

[Caption: Douglas and Marie-Ange Ramsey, East Hampton, NY]

*Doug Ramsey, Cypher of The New Mutants

*Marie-Ange Colbert, Tarot of The Hellions.

An adorable couple, for sure, but not my first thought when i go to for couples between the two groups.

DR: I first met the woman I'll call Ariel on the net. We were both in gifted programs at universities when the net was only e-mail. I was 12, she must have been about the same age but I didn't know that then. I was still living at home, in Brewster.

*Kitty Pryde.

Int: You had no idea you were a mutant?

DR: Not a clue. Neither did she, as far as I knew. Emma approached me first with a scholarship after I hacked into the mainframe at the Academy.

*Just like comics Doug.

Int: You were also approached by Charles Xavier?

*That's different. In the regular continuity Xavier never approached Doug.

DR: Yeah. His school was only a half hour's drive from where we lived, so my Dad sent me there to have a look.

Int: By yourself?

DR: Yeah. Seemed kind of odd at the time. I thought he was showing me how grown up he thought I was. Turned out he wasn't resistant and I was. Only, I didn't know that at the time.

Int: But you didn't go alone.

DR: No, not at all. As it turned out, he had some other kids in that weekend.

#marvel #x men comics #charles xavier #Doug Ramsey #Marie-Ange Colbert #New Mutants #Emma Frost #Annotated Fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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testormblog · 9 months

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The Cruel River

The Logan River also influenced my family’s life, albeit indirectly. Although our house wasn’t built near the river, we still fervidly feared it. Even I, when I was older, wasn’t tempted to loiter in its vicinity.

The river was named after its discoverer, Captain Patrick Logan. This English man was also the first commandant of the Moreton Bay convict settlement. Eventually, his name would become synonymous with our local area. This was ironic given that the English didn’t settle it. In addition, the man and the river shared a reputation for cruelty.

The Logan River wasn’t picturesque nor its waters fresh. In fact, it was ugly and they brackish. Its dirty brown waters flowed between its steep, muddy banks. They rose and fell with the tide. Nobody knew its depth; but it was deep. Its width back then was about forty metres. People didn’t swim in it. Most feared they’d drown. A few local men caught mullet in its shallows with a rifle or a spear. Others rowed up and down the river with lights at night to encourage these fish to jump into their boats. Some set rudimentary wire pots in the river to trap mud crabs. They fished and crabbed to fill their bellies though not for recreation or commercial purposes. However, livestock generally kept away from its banks, content to drink from surrounding creeks instead.

Nevertheless, it exercised an almost deity like power over the Waterford and Bethania communities in which my people lived. It both sustained and consumed life. It also insulated these communities from the outside world by carving the agricultural area into a distinct territory with its own identity. It flowed in a sweeping loop from the south to the north then east and looping back. The town of Beenleigh, about eight kilometres distant to the south, set the other boundary. Two bridges, one for the railway and the other for the road, crossed this stretch of the river. They were about three kilometres apart and approximately a kilometre and a half each from my home.

Most families living in the area, including mine, had descended from the original German free settlers. They had intermarried and followed the Christian faith of their forebears. Consequently, everyone knew everybody else well. They were heavily reliant on each other too. They largely lived within their isolated and closed communities and mostly didn’t venture across the river until the bridges were built. They were also wary of people living on its other side and rarely spoke of anything that happened over there.

The river flooded multiple times every summer. This left the communities completely inaccessible. Nobody dared to cross its raging torrents. The annual floods were both a curse and a blessing dependent on when these arrived. The floods covered the farms on the river flats in their deluge. The farmers lost crops some years but the river always rewarded them with silt. Their land was thus very fertile and its soil some of the best in a hundred kilometre radius. However, the flood rains washed away the higher land’s fertility. Predecessor farmers, allotted these blocks by government ballot, had ended up with broken hearts and emptied wallets.

The Great Flood of 1947 came when I was four years old. I sat beside Pop on his veranda high above the river watching its floodwaters surge. Usually, these were constrained within the river’s high banks. This year however, they rose above the banks, spread out across the adjoining plain and consumed everything in its path. Ants swarming on cow pats floated by amongst the purple flowered hyacinth. The bloated, drowned livestock brought a grim look to Pop’s face. Somebody had lost their livelihood or their milking cow.

Many local families suffered badly with their homes flooded and their crops ruined. The flood washed away the general store where everybody bought their grocery staples. The wagon width wide concrete bridge at Waterford collapsed into the river’s angry swell. This was the area’s sole thoroughfare by road. People on both sides of the river were cut off from each other. The Waterford and Bethania communities rallied together to overcome the devastation. The general store was relocated temporarily until a new building could be erected. The government installed a ferry. This enabled children to attend school and farmers’ daily milk and cream deliveries to be transported to the butter factory. Fortunately, the rail bridge survived intact.

The Logan River continued to menace the local population. A respected, older man with a farm near the crossing, took up running the ferry. Soon after, he disappeared without reason into the river at the crossing. His neighbour, a popular young man, took over responsibility for the ferry. So, nobody saw any reason for foul play to find him either. However, the river sucked him into its muddy depths too, spitting him out days later. People began to fear the river and to avoid it at all costs. Eventually, sufficient political pressure mounted in the communities for another bridge to be built. A low level concrete structure was constructed. This had no side barriers only wire cable guardrails running along its length either side. The premise was that floodwaters would flow over the bridge and carry the flood’s debris away; thus, not threaten the structure as the 1947 flood had. The communities celebrated the bridge’s opening and the end of their isolation with a grandiose ceremony in 1954, seven years after the Great Flood.

The river, though, wasn’t finished its feud against its human neighbours, who had disrupted its peaceful existence for the preceding millennia. It still harboured vengeance against its other neighbour, the third family on its north east bank. This family had two daughters a few years younger than me. One summer evening, Nola and Marilyn were riding their bicycles across the new bridge to the rebuilt general store when Nola hit the bridge’s low kerb with her bicycle wheel. She flew over the top of her bicycle and the cable guiderail into the fast moving water below. Everybody including me searched along the riverbanks for her. Sadly, Nola nor her body were never found.

The locals remained wary of and respected the river. However, outsiders weren’t so cautious. Later when I was a young man ready to begin my life in the bigger world, a similar young man from Beenleigh had his car break down at the crossing. He had been dancing with the local lasses at the Waterford Hall. In the darkness, he pushed the vehicle off the road to the riverbank and attempted to fix it. Afterwards, when he stooped to wash his hands, the river sucked him into its swirling depths too.

I am no longer superstitious of the Logan River. However, I realise the superstitions I was raised with, kept my people alive. Few of us could swim to save ourselves.

#The Cruel River #Logan River #Logan Queensland #Bethania #Waterford #Waterford Bridge #1947 flood

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safereturndoubtful · 9 months

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The Ness of Burravoe and Ladies Hole

Monday 31st July

40 days up in Shetland and I’ve been on an unintended healthier diet. That’s because I’m conserving gas. There are no LPG pumps in Shetland, so what I came up here with needs to last me until I’m back on the Scottish mainland. I do have a camping stove also, which would do to heat food and water up, but it would need to be used outdoors, so a less attractive option.

Therefore it’s been a ‘one pot’ menu, such things as noodles with veg, fried rice with veg, pasta with veg, omelettes, lentils with peppers or chicken, and I’ve some Auvergne dried sausage I throw in occasionally also. Nothing takes longer than 15 minutes. I use the gas also for a couple of coffees in the mornings and teas in the afternoon, so that’s about 10 litres of LPG, at a cost of about £6, which I am hoping will last 8 weeks. It’s done about that length of time before, so here’s hoping..

Burravoe residents are hugely proud of their pier (above). One the committee who maintain it told me how they run it as a business, charging for moorings, and services for boats, such as water, diesel, showers, and kitchen. On Sunday morning a small cruise ship stopped and smaller boats ferried their guests to the pier to see the local Haa museum and cafe. They also offer services for campervans, with hook-up electric and toilets and showers. With Uyeasound a close second, with its spectacular it’s the best such place to use in the islands. I parked away from the places used by motorhomes and other vans, not requiring any of the services.

The attraction for me here was the hike around the peninsula that is the Ness of Burravoe, with its hugely contrasting coastlines, the extremely calm leeward side, which is the reason the bay and pier are so popular, and the wild North Atlantic side. Storms from the east hot Shetland just as hard as from the west. The sheltered side is preferred by the otters, whereas the seals like the rocky inlets of the wild side. Orcas are around also, I keep an eye on the Facebook spotters sight in the hope I might be in the right place at the right time, but no luck yet.

Once done with the Ness the north bit of coastline is much higher and with spectacular cliffs, the first of such has the sort of name I used to collect when visiting, Ladies Hole (along with Twatt on Shetland mainland, Willies in Belgium, and Herbigunes in northern France). I must admit, they still amuse me these days even..

Ladies Hole is incorrectly named these days. It was once a vast hole like others around the islands, but now the ocean side of the hole has eroded and collapsed, so it’s more or a gash. Names stick though, and I can’t see it being changed any time soon. Some views of it below.

On my first hike of the three days, I walked up above it to a trigg point at the Heights of Ramnageo. A wizened local saw me and warned me that the cliff wasn’t fenced. Good of him, especially if it was my first such walk up here, but by now, Roja and I are quite used to it, and stay respectfully distant from any edge.

Further north from here are stacks which include the renowned Stack of the Horse, whose claim to fame is that it is still linked to the headland by a natural grassy bridge, of about a metre in width, with a 30 metre drop either side. Here I draw the line, not for me. Also below it is a natural arch, which under certain calm conditions a boat can be taken through.

We had great weather the four days I was at Burravoe, though on Sunday when I arrived the mist had set in. As it cleared on Monday morning, the views were tremendous. I will enlarge on what I mean by great weather, partly cloudy, usually more sun in the early morning and late evening, and a temperature hovering between about 12 and 15C.

A few visitors called in and chatted. There are a few cyclists of the North Sea Cycle Route who continue to Norway with a flight from Sumburgh in the south of Shetland (to Bergen with Logan Air). The old way to do it, until 2008, was with the ferry to Denmark, then continue north; these days, it’s Bergen and south. Most riders are north Europeans, and of course, the ride, with its wind and unanticipated hills, is far harder than they originally thought. There really are very few other tourists though.

The guy from the Manor House introduced himself. He lives in the rather grand, and huge, building alone, pictured below. It used to be occupied by the Laird, and therefore, with the Clearances and slavery, has a rather dodgy past. He is a reclusive wealthy guy who used to work in the City. A few other locals warned by about his lack of communication, but the couple of times he past, he stopped for a chat. It perhaps helped he was a cricket enthusiast, as I had the Test Match on the radio or TV both times.

This morning after another wander around the Ness, we filled up with water, took out the trash, and left for the ferry to the Mainland. At Brae I took the advantage of a decent sized supermarket, a Co-Op, about the same size as the one in Shap, then drove another twenty minutes to the Lunna peninsula. More on the that in a day or two..

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caitlin666 · 1 year

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Mates, Dates by Cathy Hopkins: feminist empowerment novels or anti-feminist male-gaze novels?

-Part one of this post is in my "Sleepover Secrets, one of the worst books I've ever read" post

-But today I wanted to talk about the series as a whole.

THE GENERAL PREMISE

-This series consists of twelve books and follows four main characters, who are all teenage girls living in North London (The suburban parts of London, not the main city). They navigate friendships, romantic relationships, bullying by other students, general insecurities, growing up, discovering new hobbies, and more. The series starts off with them being fourteen and finished when they are sixteen

-MATES meaning friends, and DATES meaning romance

MAIN CHARACTERS

-Lucy, an artsy blonde girl who's short and skinny and loves fashion. She wants to be a fashion designer when she's older

-Izzie, a redheaded girl who's curvy and loves witchcraft and hiking and rock music. She's in a rock band with some of her guy friends

-Nesta, a mixed black/white girl who's tall and skinny and loves fashion. Guys stare at her EVERYWHERE she goes, she's also the prettiest girl at school. She wants to be an actress when she's older. She's the girliest of the group.

-T.J, a brunette girl with blue eyes who's tall and sporty (She play's soccer, tennis, and karate). She also loves reading and writing. She's the most tomboyish of the group.

STUFF ABOUT THE SERIES I HATED

-How male gazey it could sometimes be. Lucy and TJ sometimes feel like they blend into the background compared to Nesta and Izzie (especially Nesta!). All four main characters love it when they have moments where guys stare at them as if that somehow proves their worth. Lucy and TJ both have makeovers, with Lucy cutting her hair shorter and changing up her style a bit, but overall this makeover wasn't extremely drastic, and she only did it for herself, so she could feel more grown up, so I didn't have any MAJOR problems with it. TJ's makeover, however, was extreme. When TJ joins the group after her only friend Hannah leaves to go to South Africa, Nesta insists she have a makeover. TJ goes from t shirts and jeans and sneakers and zero makeup, to skintight skimpy dresses and sky high heels and tons of makeup. And this is all to get a guy's attention, a guy who initially only sees her as a friend before the makeover. TJ eventually realises that this guy isn't worth her time and realises that there's another new guy friend who likes her just the way she is (and TJ finds her own personal style that works for her) but this makeover storyline in particular REALLY makes me cringe

-Adding onto the last point, there are constant moments in the books where the message seems to be "dress and look ultra girly or guys won't like you!" Has the author ever thought that guys have different tastes and not all of them have the same type? Also some girls don't dress for guys, if that wasn't already glaringly obvious. But then again there seems to be the message of "you have to be pretty and intelligent and charming and flirty, and this, and that, and practically perfect, or guys won't like you!" It really annoys me. Some girls don't live their lives to please guys.

-Most of the love interest characters! We have Scott, who only likes TJ for her looks and that's all he likes her for. Scott constantly objectifies women and sees them as objects to look at and make out with. He only dates girls who look like supermodels and that's it, even if they are airheads. We have another guy (I can't even remember his name, I'll call him Logan). Logan and Izzie date for a bit and Logan pressures Izzie to drink, smoke and party. Then we have Tony, who dates Lucy on and off and is a notorious player who goes through girls as fast as a bus goes through stops. Then we have Luke. Luke dates Nesta but then when TJ is dating Steve (probably the only decent love interest in the whole series) Luke cheats on Nesta with TJ! Then TJ dumps Steve through email! Then we have Daniel who Lucy briefly dates, and he is possessive and controlling. There's probably like two more i forgot, but these are the main guys I hated.

-Nesta. Oh my god, I hated reading her POV. If you didn't know, each book follows one of the girls POV. She was extremely shallow and basically was a clone of Regina George (pretty, smart, charming, an airhead, and sorta bitchy at times). In fact Lucy states "if Nesta could have it her way, every girl in the world would be an ultra girly girl." All I could think was, the world be so boring if that was the case! The beautiful thing about humanity is our uniqueness and differences. Nesta only has a few main interests, makeup, boys, fashion, and, oh yeah, boys. As a FOURTEEN YEAR OLD she has kissed eight boys and when she's sixteen it's something like fifteen boys. The only good things about her arc was when she got braces because she became more humble and not as focused on her appearance, and at the end of the series when she went into charity work, initally to meet boys, but then she really enjoys it after a while.

-The series has such an underwhelming ending, with TJ stuck between two guys, Ollie a rocker guy, and Luke, the guy that two timed (cheated on) her friend with her. Before this book, she breaks up with him, but now she gets back together with him??? WHY??? Literally the worst ending. TJ was (mostly) smart throughout the series, but in this book she acts really stupidly.

STUFF I LIKED

-How (for the most part) the four girls were all there for each other and helped each other through their problems. I felt like it was empowering in that aspect. I liked how throughout the series Izzie/Lucy/TJ got more confident and Nesta got more humble, all arcs I felt were needed.

-Steve! TJ's love interest for around half the series. He was so sweet and down to earth and nice and and smart and wholesome. He wasn't a player or a cheater or rude. I felt SO BAD for him when TJ broke up with him through email, even though they both live in the same town, so she didn't need to resort to that.

-How (most girls) can relate to at least one of the main four characters. Each girl has different hobbies and interests (Lucy: fashion design, Nesta: acting, TJ: sports and writing, Izzie: singing and playing guitar) and personal fashion styles (Lucy: cutesy, Nesta: glam, TJ: sporty/casual, Izzie: emo/goth/rocker)

OVERALL

I can't tell whether I love or hate this series, it's such a weird guilty pleasure for me, like a love-hate relationship, or books I love to hate. I think one of the key reasons I was initally drawn to the series is because it reminded me of a teen version of Sex And The City, four women with vastly different styles, interests, and personalities navigating friendships, family, relationships, growing up, and more. I'm still unsure what to think about the series as a whole, but it did give me insecurites and self esteem issues growing up, especially as a fourteen year old, because I wasn't dating guys and I had a period of time (As a fourteen/fifteen year old) where I felt like I had to wear skimpy clothes and heels to attract guys. Newsflash, didn't work, i'm still single four years later. Let me know what you think of this series in the comments.

#mates #dates #matesdates #cathy hopkins #teen #chicklit #analysis #mates dates #girl #girly

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insurewebsites135 · 2 years

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spacemancharisma · 5 years

Text

I am currently exactly 560 miles from each of my boyfriends, in opposite directions

#which is kinda cool #wes to my south logan to my north #wes tag #logan tag #personal

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food.

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others?

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night. That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

#warnings: brief mention of drugs and past abuse and death of a father #relic keel #lumosinlove #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #saint #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #lelo #Logan Tremblay x Leo knut #o'knutzy

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