squatted house


She ended up spending the night at his place.

Salim had suggested she stay, only if she were comfortable with the idea, so that she didn’t have to take the train all the way home at such a late hour. He’d promised her nothing would happen that she wasn’t comfortable with and even offered to sleep on the couch whilst Ryleigh took his bed. She’d fully intended to take him up on that offer but after he’d loaned her one of his shirts to sleep in, they‘d gotten to talking.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, hugging one of his pillows, Ryleigh finally told him everything. She explained how she’d come to live with her aunt, why she’d left her aunt’s house in favour of living on the streets, how she’d been squatting in a house for almost a year before she’d been forced to leave, how she’d come to San Myshuno with nothing more than the clothes on her back.

In the end, reliving the memories and the relief of finally letting it all out caused a flood of emotions she hadn’t been prepared for at all. Salim had wrapped his arms around her tightly and laid them both down on the bed. For hours he held her tightly and repeatedly assured her that she was safe, that he was there for her, and that everything would be alright, until she’d finally cried herself to sleep in the early hours of the morning.

Well, I wanted to write a Halloween fic, but life had a different October in store for me, soooooo. Here, have a ficlet I’m working on for one of my 1k giveaway winners, @locky70910, who requested I fill a prompt about kid orphan Hannibal in love with adult Will. Here’s the first part of that fic. It will be posted on AO3 in its entirety when finished

close your eyes and then you’ll know
PG this part, Explicit overall

Warning for serious age difference (Hannibal is 13, Will is 22), and while there is no slash yet, there is some questionable emotional stuff going on that shouldn’t be. No actual slash until part two (when Hannibal is 18+). Consider yourself warned!

Hannibal Lecter arrived at the group home on a snowy February afternoon. He’d been found squatting in an abandoned house by the cops, and no one knew what to do with him. Thirteen years old and not a word of English, they’d only known him as Hannibal, then. No records anyone could find on how he’d gotten to America, where his parents were, or who they’d even been. No idea how long he’d been on his own, surviving off the land, apparently.

Will had caught a glimpse of his red eyes as Jefferson led Hannibal through the halls on a tour of the home, and he’d know somehow in that moment, with an unshakeable certainty, that Hannibal’s arrival heralded a more destructive and irrevocable change than his father’s death. And Hannibal held his gaze, as if he knew the same thing, and intended to ensure that was the case.

For weeks, Will was careful never to be alone with Hannibal. There was no good reason behind it, being unsettled by thirteen year old’s eyes was ridiculous enough for a man in his twenties, let alone a police officer. Nonetheless, he was easy to avoid. Hannibal kept to himself, away from the other children. The social workers came and went and threw their hands in the air over him. No one knew what to do with him, so they just left him, let it be Jefferson and Gracie’s responsibility, and because they were good people, they accepted it.

But Will was aware of Hannibal watching him from afar. Tucked under the giant oak tree while Will led the kids in a game of baseball. Ensconced in the studyroom, angling himself just right to watch Will in the kitchen as he prepared lunch. Following his comings and goings from the window of his cottage. Unsettling, to say the least, that steady gaze in one so young.

“What do you know about that kid they found in the woods?” he’d press the desk sergeant. It really had nothing to do with him, as a beat cop fresh out of the academy, and everyone else had pretty much forgotten about Hannibal at that point, anyway.

The sergeant shrugged. “Guess they finally found someone to talk to him, but turns out it’s not any easier getting answers out of him in his own language as it is in English. Their freakin’ records are a mess.”

Given the state of the file room at the precinct, Will figured that meant they were pretty dire. He tried to look them over, maybe something would catch his eye. He had a decent grasp on Spanish and French, and there were usually enough cognates to give him an understanding of what he was reading in other languages, but he was at an utter loss with the Lithuanian.

On Sunday, a month after Hannibal arrived, Will decided he’d had enough of the spying routine and his own skittishness. He was taking apart the lawnmower which had stopped working the day previously, as the house’s resident handyman. Jefferson and Gracie hadn’t had to hire someone since he’d shown up, when the appliances broke down. Now Will had to fight them when they tried to pay him for his labour. It was the least he could do to repay them.

Hannibal was lurking around the side of the garage door in the most conspicuous way possible, and Will was surrounded by a sea of parts, some of them as small as a pencil eraser, and he needed a different size of ratchet.

“Hannibal!” Will called, and the kid jumped, then scowled. “Why don’t you get in here and help if you’ve got nothing better to do?”

For a minute, Hannibal didn’t move, just staring like he didn’t understand. Will had his doubts about that, but he was willing to indulge him for the time being. Pointing across the garage to the tool wall. “I need the ratchet with the ⅜ on it.” Will held up his socket wrench and popped off the ratchet head, then showed the numbers on his fingers to illustrate.

Hesitantly, almost petulantly, Hannibal made his way across the room. Will half-expected him to bring back the wrong tool on purpose, but no. No that wasn’t quite right. It was hard to read the kid, but Hannibal wasn’t stupid and he didn’t want anyone else to think he was. There was too much pride in how he carried himself. An almost haughty tilt of his chin when he walked. He grabbed the ⅜ head and dropped it in Will’s outstretched palm.

Will gave him a cheerful smile. “Thanks.” He swapped the ratchet and got the bolt loosened with a grunt of satisfaction. “Wanna see what I’m doing?”

There was more of that hesitance, Hannibal’s gaze sweeping over the floor covered in dirt and dust and other detritus, dried out grass and grease in amongst the screws and bolts and bits of hosing. The whole garage smelled of gasoline from where Will had drained the fuel line. Hannibal sat down daintily at Will’s side, and there was no covering his interest, even mingled with his disdain, leaning in to get a better look at the engine.

“So this little sucker here is what’s causing the problem.” Will finally got the bolt out and held up the little cup of the carburetor. “This little rubber ring here is starting to fall apart, it lets debris get in and clog the line.” He pried the ring loose and held it up triumphantly. It was always satisfying, diagnosing the problem. Hannibal’s nose wrinkled in distaste; Will’s hands were covered in oil and glistening with fuel. “Too messy for ya?” Will asked, wiggling his fingers with a sly smile.

Hannibal snorted, and it was the first sign of humour, of any sort of positive emotion that he’d seen in Hannibal since his arrival, that Will was taken aback for a minute. “I guess living in the woods by yourself you probably got used to the mess,” he said.

There was no response, not that Will was really expecting one. But Hannibal looked away from him, across the materials assembled on the floor and spotted the package of replacement seals. He passed it over to Will with an arched brow and a wry curve of his lips. Will purposefully brushed their hands together in taking it, just for the widened eyes and sound of displeasure when oil smeared over Hannibal’s fingers. Teenagers, man. They were too easy.

“Thanks for your help!” Will called after him, when Hannibal levered himself up, tossing a dirty look over his shoulder on his way to the sink.

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Day in a Nutshell 2/2/17

My morning started out with my boyfriend and I dopesick as fuck struggling to get well laying on the floor of the squat house we’re staying at.

Then we traded a four person tent to one of the other people staying in the squat house for 0.10 of heroin, which was barely enough to take the edge off of the sickness for both of us since we had to split a fucking point.

Then we ended up helping someone from here on Tumblr out with picking up some dope and they threw some our way for helping them out.

Then we ended up busing to the U District to sell some used 2014 college text books we found in a dumpster to a half price book store and we got some cash for those.

We also FINALLY stopped by the needle exchange up here after reusing our same dirty needles for three days in a fucking row! They gave us like 600 cleans, no joke. (Note, DON’T do this. ALWAYS use clean needles, and if you don’t have clean needles ONLY reuse YOUR OWN DIRTIES like we did. NEVER USE SOMEONE ELSE’S DIRTY NEEDLES! I can’t stress this enough. If you need help getting clean needles or narcan for free or have any more questions about harm reduction or IV drug use feel free to message me! ) Like I had used these needles so much that they hurt my arms when the point was going in, especially with all my scar tissue I have to push through.

Now my boyfriend, P, and I just bused back to Capitol Hill from the U District and we’re waiting for our main dealer to come through so we can do our like 5th or 6th shot of the day. Also, P’s friend Kenny came up to us and randomly started chatting us up and gave us a free 0.2 of clear (meth) that we’re probably also going to trade to our dealer for more heroin.

Thank you Junkie Gods for coming through for us today. We truly needed it.

birthday cake and cuteness

anon request: either you or 10ks birthday

i did it as a before you and 10k are actually a thing, but youre getting close 

i love boyfriend!10k

You sleep later than you have in years. When you wake up, the house youre squatting in is warm. Addy must have figured out the heat. You get dressed, and make your way downstairs. When you get to the living room, Warren, Murphy, and Doc are sitting on the couches. Cassandra, Mack, and Addy are on the back porch, sitting on the fence.

“Breakfast is in the kitchen.” Warren says.

“Breakfast? As in, the meal?” You ask incredulously. Doc snorts.

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So at 5 am my boyfriend and I rinsed all our cookers/cottons out from yesterday’s shots, and after we rinsed all 7 cottons we ended up with a rinse shot so good that it felt like a super bomb dope shot. Also when we got back to the squat house one of our roommates gave us like 0.3 or 0.4 of clear that we plan on either selling or trading to our dealer later on today. Also this girl that lives here gave me a brand new bottle of that Victoria’s Secret perfume, Tease. I’m so happy about it. I’ve wanted that perfume for so long, man! Note this is the second time in the last 24 hours someone has given us free clear. My boyfriend accidentally put all the liquid from the rinses in his rig that had a point of meth in it before we divided the shot, so I ended up having to do a goofball (a shot with heroin and meth in it.) even though I hate meth. It was either that or be dopesick, so I just sucked it up and did it. I swear every time I do a goofball the clear hits me so hard since I don’t ever do clear. It’s now 10:06 am here and I’ve been playing this Jewel puzzle game on my phone for like 4 hours now and my teeth are probably chipping away from how much I’m playing around with one of my lip rings. Anyways My boyfriend calls this picture our “rinse flower”. Hahaha. 🌸💉🌺💉🌻💉🌼

  • Boyfriend: Hey babe, whatchya thinking about?
  • Me: [Where does the Hale's money come from? It must've been insurance money or money put away for the children, but was the house really worth enough to pay for Peter's long term care, Cora's relocation, and Derek's expensive car, clothing taste and large apartment? What jobs did Derek's parents have that they earned enough to insure their house and themselves enough that their children would be set for life should something happen to them? Or is the money Derek spends all his own? Did he have a job in the years before coming back to Beacon Hills? Where did he live? Was it just him and Laura in their pack or did they try to recruit others? They were still in high school when the fire happened so why they weren't put into foster care? Was Laura over eighteen? Did she legally become the guardian of her younger brother? Also, was Derek squatting in the Hale house, or does he have ownership? Did his parents have a will and if so how was the money divided? Considering the cirumstances how can you honor a will when majority of the people in it are dead as well? Did Derek and Laura get out of town immediately after the fire or did they stick around? Did they know they might still be in danger?]
  • Me: Oh, nothing.

Last night you squatted in a house on the edge of town.
Sam dropped you off and went back to get food
Dean picked the lock in 30 seconds and you hauled in the bags and looked around
no furniture, but a den with a thick carpet that would do for sleeping
some kid’s toys abandoned upstairs
and a guitar, lying on the floor in what must have been the dining room
fucking weird, said Dean, and picked it up, sat cross-legged on the floor and tuned it in the fading light from the windows
you sat with your back against the wall 
(wallpaper with giant floral borders, very 1987 Country Kitchen) 
and listened while he tentatively picked out a song you didn’t know
what’s that? you said, and he glanced up and smiled, shy or a little embarrassed
One Tin Soldier, he said, dad used to have it on 8-track
you sat there and watched him bent a little over the guitar, fingers a little uncertain but somehow both quick and deliberate
and a look on his face so different from the one you were used to that it made your chest cave in a little
when he heard the Impala he got up a little stiffly, brushed your head with his knuckles as he went by and said yeah baby grub time
you didn’t say anything about it to Sam
and neither did Dean

originally posted here for the selfie game


     Bucky knew that eventually HYDRA would catch up to him, and they’d likely send Rumlow to round him up again. With more and more memories popping up everyday, he knew this wasn’t the first time he’d woken up from the brainwashing.

      He also knew that Steve was now looking as well, and that couldn’t be allowed. HYDRA would only use him against Steve again, they’d never let him go. Thankfully the events following the rise and fall of Ultron distracted his best friend.

     So he ran, he took jobs that no one else would since they didn’t ask questions. He squatted in houses to live off the grid. And he never stayed in one place twice, or too long. He’d even taken to carrying around an ipod and a pair of earbuds, figuring if he couldn’t hear the words he might have a chance to escape.

     Eventually Rumlow caught up with him, and the ipod turned out to be a good idea. Bucky tried not to fight him, he did his best to escape but ended up taking several bullets. One through his right shoulder, the other two still stuck somewhere in his ribs near his upper back.

     While scrambling across a rooftop dodging bullet fire Bucky literally landed on top of the avengers quinjet. While the entrance had perfect timing, now both of the people he was running from had found him. At least he knew who to side with, but getting away from Steve later would be a bitch.