the seeds you'll sow

frank longbottom. 31. key required. oh promises, promises, promises...

[frxnklxng]

date: july 24th, 1925. location: union square park. status: open.

The moon was brighter, higher in the sky, than he would have cared for tonight. Hanging low, illuminating every blade of grass that he crunched beneath his boot while the smell of stale bread hung in the air. He checked his watch. Nearly two a.m. “God damnit,” he muttered beneath his breath, anger flaring at the thought of being ditched. They were supposed to meet him here at one. Not two. Not quarter to two. Not half past. Just one. Still, Frank leaned against a tree, cigarette hanging limply from his hand, appearing to be no more than a straggler--home after a late night of drinking, maybe the wife was still awake, kids asleep if he had’em--but Frank knew he couldn’t hang around much longer. 

The Longbottom didn’t make it a habit of disappearing very often. Not when he was needed. Not when there were more important things at stake. Still, prison had turned him into something of a ghost--often caught pacing like a ghost over grass and concrete and pavement until he wore his shoe print into the ground, deep into the earth, where even the worms couldn’t get to. A month was long. A month was what he needed. A month was his prescription and God forbid he get addicted because more than once he thought about taking his car West, farther than Appalachia, until the mountains of the Rockies loomed ahead and the water smelled crisp and the treachery of New York City was left in the exhaust of his muffler...

Frank heard the footsteps approaching, the figure outlined in shadows and starlight and secrecies. “You’re late,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette so the smoke would coat his lungs in a stinging glory. Frank kept his head down, eyes on his toes and the red scuff mark on the leather of his boot. “That’ll cost ya.”

[frxnklxng]

☠ ( from molly! )

☠: frank’s reaction to be told that molly is missing, and presumed dead. 

Icicles formed down his spine, clinging to tendons and vertebrae, freezing him slowly and cruelly from the inside out. He barely recognized the voice on the other end -- was it Alice, Lily, someone else he barely knew delivering this news? -- and it only made him feel small. The voice on the other end kept asking if he was there, kept asking if he was okay, kept apologizing, kept saying they would find her, but the receiver slipped through his fingers and crashed onto the floor. 

In an instant, Frank drove his fist into the wall, the plaster crunching like a paper cup beneath the force of his knuckles. Again and again he kept punching until the staunch smell of coppery blood mixed with the debris filling the air and his fist met the wood or metal or whatever it was on the inside holding up the building he just wished would collapse around him. 

Pain prickled through his wrist, up to his elbow, and it took every ounce of strength in him to not keep going. Not to not break himself into pieces because he failed to protect his family. How many times are you going to fail Frank? How many people are you going to let die on your watch? The voice thundered around in his skull, knocking into memories of her laughter and reminders, trapped in bubbles, of heartwarming comfort. 

The phone rang again, shrill and unrelenting. 

He let it ring.

And he let it ring.

When it finally ceased its alarm, Frank hastily wrote a note on a napkin -- Minnie, if you find this... -- before he grabbed his keys, grabbed his gun, and set off not only to find her, but whoever it was that dared to hurt his family once more. And he never once planned on returning home. 

[crownedglcry-blog]

takexshelter‌:

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR ANGST;

☔: my muses reaction to opening their front door and seeing yours drenched in rain

⚡: how my muse calms yours in a lightening storm while they’re pulled over on the side of the road

☆: my muse comforting yours while they get a tattoo

☏: my muse’s reaction to getting a phone call from the hospital about your muse

☯: what my muse says to yours after they haven’t spoken for five hours since a fight

✏: my muse’s letter to yours that they left after they passed away

⚰: my muse’s reaction to watching yours die from afar

✿: my muse’s reaction to leaving a cut on your muse’s body

♒: my muse’s reaction to finding your muse bruised and beaten on their doorstep

⚈: my muse’s reaction to finding drugs in your muse’s handbag

✺: my muse protecting yours from a sleaze at the club

☠: my muse’s reaction to being told that your muse is missing, and presumed dead

☺: my muse finding yours on the side of the road, hours away from home

✖: the last thing my muse says to yours before leaving for good

⌛: the voicemail my muse leaves on your phone when your muse hasn’t been heard from for the fifth night this week

☕: my muse comforting yours after the death of a loved one

⚱: my muse’s reaction to waking up to yours muse, beaten by mine, but my muse has no recollection of the night before

☉: my muse’s reaction to finding yours in a public bathroom, drugged and almost unconscious

SPECIFY WHICH MUSE ON MINE AND YOUR BEHALF

[frxnklxng]

date: may 14th, 1925. location: outside marlene’s apartment. status: closed for @marlenemckinno-n

How strange it felt to be at arms with both Molly and Fabian. How utterly alone Frank felt right now at a time where he expected to be surrounded by friends and family he loved and missed. But despite the animosities he held, the grief still buried inside of him, he found himself sauntering down the sidewalk until he came upon Marlene’s apartment building. No, he hadn’t seen her since the gala. No, he hadn’t gone out of his way to find her to continue what Molly told him to do. Having gotten the address from Molly’s books, Frank navigated through the narrow hallways until he found himself a few floors up and outside her door. 

Soft music filled the hallway, though he couldn’t determine whether it was coming from Marlene’s apartment or another. The lights were dim, a darkened orange, and his annoyance during the whole matter began to creep its way into his veins again. Biting his tongue, breathing in deep, Frank forced himself to remain calm. No matter how much he believed that Marlene had no business in this world, she wasn’t who he was angry at. Yet. Lifting his arm, Frank knocked on the door, the sound echoing up and down the hallway, and waited for her to appear.

[bwboysgallery-deactivated202007]

Henry Golding by Brad Torchia for GQ Magazine - September 2018

[frxnklxng]

tedsdefiance‌:

A flicker of a smile pulled at his lips, and he shook his head. “I think she would give ample warning before worrying herself into a river. A mother’s love for her son would be that loud.” 

He thought about the recent letter from his own mother. Stilted words portraying a woman withholding herself from being too demanding, too overwhelming. Of apologies unsaid for what she couldn’t do for him years ago; the ache for a son who couldn’t, who wouldn’t return for any reason. She worried, and he tried to quell that as best he could without compromising what he thought best. What would protect him from being hurt by the person who he thought would help him through the darkest time of his life. It was, and always would be, a difficult balance to maintain.

“I’m glad the time passed quickly. Luckily. I can only imagine what it was like.” He wouldn’t dare pretend to understand what prison was like; the only thing close to that would be his attempts to remain out of jail.  But this wasn’t the time to dwell on what he did. He finally smiled, nodding at Frank’s suggestion. “I can certainly do that. With conditions, though, I’m afraid. I’m not allowing you to swindle me out of everything in my wallet. And your choice where we get drinks; I don’t mind walking.”

Ted remained as a ghost from his past just now starting to take form into a person more solid than what Frank’s memories told him. Even with his reassuring words, Ted knew quite well that his mother wouldn’t speak to him. She hadn’t in the years leading up to his imprisonment, her silence even louder while he was behind bars, and now--with the cash she still returned, the letters unopened--grated his heart into shreds bit by bit. 

Of course, it wasn’t Ted’s fault. He did more than enough considering the years lacking communication between the two. But Ted and Minnie could only do so much in regards to helping Frank out with his mother. He was still apologizing, working to fix what he broke and hoped that it would all come together before it was too late. If anything, his mother’s estrangement from him only protected her further. Often he would tell himself that’s why she was doing this. That she didn’t actually loathe him. That she had forgiven him. That she was helping him the way mother’s helped their children--it only so happened that to help Frank she needed to block herself from him. He’d lost a father. Now a brother. Frank didn’t know if he could bear losing his mother. 

“Now you insult me,” Frank said in jest. “You should know better. That I’m not one to swindle my friends.” His smile remained, pleased that he had even managed to convince Ted to steal away a few moments to grab a drink and catch up with him. Though they stood outside Swish n Flick, there was something keeping him from walking past those doors. “As you wish then. Follow me,” he said, turning to walk back in the direction from which he came, his steps purposeful as his craving for a thick, delicious milkshake grew stronger. 

[frxnklxng]

n-arcissablack‌:

It was curiousity and concern that spurred her on, easy, practiced smiles and flirtatious glances all with a goal: information. But while Narcissa had the vaguest of ideas about the man seated next to her, she knew that it was five years outdated, that her gentle flattery may come to nothing more than a long evening sipping alcohol. Still, she was intent on acquiring it, unwilling to let the opportunity that was Frank Longbottom slip out of her grasp.

“You flatter me, Mr. Longbottom.” She blinked at him softly, lips curling into a smile. “I’ll concede the fact that with such charms, it’s difficult to imagine you in jail of all places.” As Narcissa reached for her glass, she brushed her fingers against his hand, a slight quirk to her lips as she sipped. “You must be so thrilled to be in the world again, I can’t imagine the horrors you must have seen.” Large eyes widened even further, and Narcissa shuddered, taking the opportunity to move the slightest bit closer.

Unsure of what it was about him that seemed to draw two of the three Black sisters to him, Frank felt his guards run up as Narcissa’s behavior changed ever so slightly. She was a gorgeous young woman. There was no doubt about it. Narcissa was known for her beauty and if he remained where he had come from, he highly doubted she would waste any of her time on a kid from the Bronx. But still, she batted her eyelashes at him, she curved her plump lips into an enticing smile, and her doe-eyes pulled him in--though not enough that he didn’t notice the way she moved closer to him.

Her knee grazed his, her perfume tiptoeing across the air between them in a way that made him want to place what was the scent she wore exactly. “Now it is you are flattering me, Ms. Black,” he replied kindly, a shiver chilling his spine as her fingers grazed the top of his hand as she reached for her beverage. “Yes, there are many horrors behind those prison walls. I hope you never have to bear witness to them. But in reality--” Frank leaned in close, his lips brushing ever so slightly against the curve of her ears as he whispered the next phrase into her ear with the same care one might handle a newborn baby, “--you can’t imagine the horrors I must have committed.” 

[frxnklxng]

sun-swallowedme‌:

This was part of why James liked Frank-why the two got along so well in the first place. There were limits, regardless of the subject, of what people were willing to share with one another. James and Frank, they got that, and they kept it simple, didn’t push. It worked for them, and was why they could sit here and have this conversation at all. “What, couldn’t make an exception for me? Thought we had something special, Frank, I’m hurt,” James’ tone was light, and there were crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he chuckled softly.

James snorted, “The Blacks have been running shit into the ground before Orion kicked the bucket, and you can quote me on that.” His disdain for the Black family hadn’t really existed prior to knowing Sirius, but between befriending him and trying to compete with the Blacks in the business, James found his patience with the family wearing thin. 

James was a good kid. An intelligent kid. One with a lot of potential and an ability to charm most everyone around him. If he wasn’t in this line of work, Frank would have bet he’d make a damn good politician--though it was obvious that was something the Potter didn’t think much about that sort of life. “Specialities can easily become boring,” Frank quipped back, tipping his glass toward James, but the smile on his face remained. “Or secret weapons,” he added. “Whichever you decide it to be, really.” 

“You’d do good to not underestimate them,” Frank urged. “I understand you have an insight to how they’ve run things, but no matter how badly they’ve fucked up the game for the rest of us, they’re powerful. And you don’t need to show it or even admit it to me, but a little bit of fear of them will keep you on your toes and in a position to block any attacks they might attempt.” A waiter carrying a tray passed by and Frank gave away his empty glass, nodding when asked if he wanted a refill. The mention of the Blacks forced his mind to Bella: their dance at the gala; their recent meetings; his momentary confusions. How she underestimates him. “They underestimate you. They underestimate me, even. Use it to your advantage. Milk it as long as you can.”

[frxnklxng]

syncopatedsongbird‌:

She couldn’t help but laugh as Frank flicked drops of his drink at her, briefly contemplating returning the favor, but she focused more on sending him a glare that was so obviously fake as she couldn’t bring herself to stop giggling at her friend’s antics.

The talk of loss, of having the rug pulled out from under you, brought Mary’s mind to her parents. She missed them, still, though the years had passed on and on. “Mourning isn’t linear, Frank, and there’s no right or wrong way to do it,” she commented, empathetic. to her friend’s sorrow. “People heal at different paces and in different ways. Molly’ll find her way back to you, and you’ll be able to look at Fabian one day. Needing to get out of the city and drive? There’s not to feel guilty if there. You gotta mourn the way that feels right to you.”

There was a light and a warmth wholly unique to Mary. It was something that could never be replicated, a feeling of comfort that he will never be able to find in another friend. His visit wasn’t supposed to take a turn toward the sorrow side of his emotions. His visit was meant to emulate happiness and hope and prosperity because not even prison could keep him down. But he had forgotten, momentarily, how easily his vulnerabilities could come about near the singer. She was effortless that way.

He was comfortable that way. “Mourning is prohibiting me from doing my job,” Frank acknowledged before knocking back half of his drink. It slid down easily, like licorice candy, and he worried for himself. “Life doesn’t wait for grief. Nor does crime. Unfortunately, I think I’ve run out of time to grieve the way I wish I could,” Frank sighed. “Which is why I’m here. To hear your beautiful songs and drown in your beauty,” he said, reaching forward and giving her hand a squeeze. “A good friend you are, Mary.”

[frxnklxng]

ofbellablack‌:

Bellatrix wasn’t surprised at Frank’s accusation, but her expression turned disappointed. Not angry, but disappointed. It was jarring to force herself to look such a way considering she was in her kingdom now but she knew that was the look that would really sell it. “I suppose you’re right. Seeing you and knowing what… you must be going through reminded me of my loss. Surely you know my reputation well enough to know I’m not the type to allow myself to grieve properly. I suppose I was living vicariously.” It wasn’t just Orion, but her father as well. Two men who influenced her entire livelihood, and while there weren’t any warmth towards them, there was a truth in her words.

Despite Molly’s aggression, despite the fact she would win this war, Bellatrix wouldn’t kill Gideon. Well, not just Gideon. If she was planning a strike, it’d be on the whole family. That’s what she’d want for herself at least. If someone succeeded in killing any of her sisters, they’d better succeed with her too. A dark though crossed her mind, her face impassive yet her knuckles clenched white. What if that dratted Molly went after her family? After little Cissy or sweet Andi? Well, Molly knew her well enough to take her out as well then, she supposed.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, however. Even if it was only because I was the first.” And first times couldn’t possibly be that good. She almost smirked, her eyes staring thoughtfully at Frank. Ladies would be sure to lap him up, and she expected him to go and get a taste. But Bellatrix was certainly the most forbidden fruit. As disgusting as the analogy seemed to her, Frank would be dying to get a bite by the time she was done with him. “So I’m suspecting the acceptance of my invitation was more of a spying act than one of curiosity.” She raised an eyebrow, slightly challenging him as well.

“Believe me, Frank. If there was something I wanted, I’d have gotten it by now.” She chuckled, sitting back with a soft smile on her face. She had dressed up, slightly. Her blouse was unbuttoned two more extra buttons, a purposeful choice yet she wore it as if she normally would wear a shirt like that. Even her softer makeup was to entice, with the soft pink shade the same color as the blush on her cheeks that she indulged herself in. “It’s been… awhile for me since I’ve felt a connection. I suppose I wanted to explore that. But, if I may be so forward, you were as well, no?” There wasn’t the haughty tone in her voice she usually would’ve had but instead a hopeful and unsure shake in her voice. 

Someone should give her an award.

Oftentimes, or as often as one could get in only a couple of months, Frank found himself longing for the walls of the prison. There was much to hate about that stone cold building and much to forget, but there was also a comfort in it. A routine. A knowing of where everything was going to go and where it needed to be. Even on the days when Frank fought for his life against shivs and bloodied fists, even on the day when he drove his fist so hard into a man’s face his eyeball burst and he was thrown in solitary for so long his beard grew long and thick and dirty, Frank knew what to expect out of his every action. He knew the guards. The warden. His fellow prisoners. Nothing came as a surprise. 

He missed that. Sometimes. Ever since his release, life felt like a car spinning out of control and he couldn’t get the steering wheel to stabilize in time before he ran himself off a bridge or into a tree, drowned in the river and impaled by a long branch. Everything came as a surprise out here. Even an enemy he was sure to have known and understood and remained wary of slithered her way past his defenses just enough to get him sitting across from her in an establishment that could certainly finish him off. Maybe then he’d get to say goodbye to Gideon and his father--or, rather, a hello. 

“To me, a reputation is only a persona,” Frank began, voice soft as he stared back at her, refusing to look away, refusing to show weakness. “It precedes you. But it isn’t you.” Did that mean he wanted to get know who the real Bellatrix was? Not necessarily. He wasn’t certain about any of his wants, not anymore. But he knew better than to believe everything he heard. To trust a reputation was as simple as trusting smoke and believing it came from a fire when it reality it was birthed from a gun. Ignoring the sly tone in her voice as she spoke, undertones of hubris melting into her words, and doing his best to look away from how her back arched against the booth, from how the curves of her body pressed against the fabric of her shirt just enough, Frank found all he could do was look at her eyes. 

Unnervingly so.  

“Paranoia is a wicked game to play,” he assured. “In our world, perhaps its mandatory, but every opportunity we are together is an opportunity for one of us to spy.” His emphasis on the last word startled him, though he didn’t show it. Was he offended that she believed him to be so low as to come and spy so openly? Or was he implying, yet again, that this was all just a ploy to get him back into a corner? Bellatrix underestimated Frank. Many people did. Most everyone did, save for Molly, Fabian, and Gideon. Bellatrix saw Frank as weak. Knocked down by grief and discombobulated from prison release. And it was better that way. She felt she could take advantage of him? So be it.

His eyes fell to her open blouse and with an eyebrow raised said, “If I didn’t know better, Bella, I’d believe you were trying to seduce me.” His gaze was soft when it fell back on her face. “You needn’t go to such lengths for me,” he said, allowing some tremble to shake his words. “My connection to you came about from your mind. Your words. Not your body.” Though it is quite exquisite, the devil on his shoulder piped up and Frank shooed him away. “I’m flattered, regardless, but you play a dangerous game.” A game he wanted to decline, but the phrase refused to form on his tongue. “And I’m not worth the risk.” 

[frxnklxng]

mprxwett‌:

There was a certain amount of guilt that went along with thinking about Frank. He’d taken the fall for her brothers, something that she couldn’t repay him for, but so much had changed in the years he’d been locked up in prison. Gideon was gone- it was a pain she was still feeling. Frank had been so incredibly close with her brothers that he practically became another brother to them. She knew he cared… she knew he did, and she knew what it was like to lose a person and not be able to say goodbye. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. Every time he was around, she found something else to do, somewhere else to be, someone else to talk to. It was wrong, she knew, but it was easier. 

Now, on that sticky April afternoon, she was confronted with a month’s worth of avoidance. Molly let go of a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her eyes following Frank’s gaze towards the shelves just to avoid the discomfort. “I don’t know,” She replied, meaning it for once in her life. Usually Molly felt like she had all the answers. Since Gideon died, it felt like she was the dumbest person in the room. “How much longer are you going to stay angry at me?”

“Allowing my anger towards you to influence your desire to hide from me is just cowardice,” Frank let out in a gruff. The bartender approached him, nodding his head in a signal that caused Frank’s stomach to grumble, to yearn for the amber liquid that kept him warm so often at night with such tenderness. But sitting there, with Molly, accosted with such emotion, it didn’t feel right. No matter what. He would just drink it later. Scotch. Rum. Whiskey. Whatever it was he could find or get his hands on. Just something to take the edge off, he told himself. Nothing grand. 

Leaning forward, Frank placed his arms on the bar, keeping his eyes trained on the Molly reflected in the mirror behind it rather than the living, breathing version beside him. “I never took you as a coward. Especially not when it comes to family,” Frank continued, keeping his voice low and gentle, but sharp regardless. Capable of drawing blood, but remaining sheathed for now. “You stopped coming. You stopped writing. You and Fabian both refused to let me know--to let me grieve, even. Because I can’t grieve now. You know that. I know that. Not with all this shit happening around us and the child you’ve pawned off on me to train and the focus I need to have to make sure nothing happens to you or Fabian or Arthur or any of them like it happened to me and Gid.” The words felt as though as they came out in a rush, but as they fell on his own ears he could hear the careful measure of rhythm he imbued. 

“I needed you, Molly,” the man confessed. “And you weren’t there.”

[frxnklxng]

date: may 9th 1925. location: the Bronx. status: closed for @lionhevrted

Loitering. He knew he was loitering. The way he’d walked up and down the street multiple times already. Smoked three cigarettes and even sat on the stoop pretending to tie his shoe. Everything he did, he just wanted it to seem like he would run into his mother accidentally. If she wasn’t going to return her phone calls, if she was always going to return some of the money, if she was worrying about him to Ted, then Frank had to get creative. Which meant setting up multiple scenarios where it seemed like he would run into his mother accidentally. But he’d been out here for an hour already--the Bronx a decent ways away from where he currently resided--and his mother hadn’t appeared once, despite it being Thursday at ten in the morning when she should have been returning from mass. 

Every so often, he’d nod his head at people passing by, pretending he was waiting on someone in a more normal fashion, rather than a later one, but didn’t expect to see this particular face approaching the stoop of the apartment building--at least not on a Thursday. “Oh come on,” Frank muttered to himself as she drew nearer. “I swear you’ve put some tracker on me or have a sensor on you that lights up whenever I’m in the neighborhood,” Frank said to Minnie in a rather stern voice, though the twinkle in his eye said the opposite. 

[frxnklxng]

syncopatedsongbird‌:

“That long and this is the first time you’re coming to see me?” Her tone playful, she continued to tease him, “I’m hurt, Frank, truly. I thought we were friends.” The exaggerated pout she was sporting only served to further the gentle ribbing. 

Her pout slipped away, a small frown tugging on her lips in its place as Frank talked of processing. Mary was sure the last few years, being away from everyone, had been rough on her friend, that the reminder of the loss of time and of loved ones was more prominent outside of jail than it had been in it. She reached her hand out, placing it on his shoulder in an act of comfort. “You’re supposed to live, Frank. That’s it. You gotta find what brings you happiness and you gotta hold on to it with everything you got. It’s what you deserve.”

Even as she continued to poke her fun at him, all Frank could do was sit back and take it. Being around Mary was no more than breathing fresh air for the first time or having a hot meal after a long, cold day. He dipped his fingers in his drink, just slightly so, and flicked the small droplets toward her. “The worst of friends,” he teased right back. 

You’re supposed to live. The words fell from her tongue easily enough, blanketing him in a scratchy comfort that one might get from an old, woolen blanket from childhood. Her hand, warm and soft on his shoulder, felt as if it was the patch keeping his bleeding wound from spilling out completely, but Mary’s sunshine couldn’t always penetrate the darkest of storm clouds. “There’s been a lot of loss. A lot of confusion. A lot of rugs pulled out from under me. I’m just now getting my feet back on the ground and yet Molly’s avoiding me. I can’t look at Fabian without wanting to punch him...” Frank trailed off with a sigh. “So I just keep driving until the guilt forces me to turn around and come back to New York.”

[just-bellerose]

[frxnklxng]

officerrevans‌:

With every smile and word that left his mouth, Lily could feel herself sinking a bit further into his charms. It was easy to, and almost felt comfortable. Frank had a way of making others around him feel safe in his presence, and it was that very feeling that had Lily more and more on edge. She told herself to focus on the task she had given herself in coming here today. If she was to get to the bottom of the investigation before the rest of the police could, she couldn’t leave a single stone unturned. 

“Of course,” Lily took the drink, settling into a seat beside him. “You deserve that. I wouldn’t mean to take that from you.” If I had been in prison, was on the tip of her tongue, but the better part of her filter allowed her to leave it out. I would want to spend time with my family too. 

“I’ve heard you are close to the Prewetts,” Lily bravely began, looking down at her drink. They’d been a part of his investigation, of his legal team, and his release. If it wasn’t obvious from that, it would be from word of mouth, and every slip of paper on him that she’d seen in the precinct. To her, it made him all the more suspicious of the break-in. He’d been away for years, and came home to find that someone he was close to was gone. Lily knew that if she were in that situation, she might do something rash too to get the bottom of the truth that no one seemed to have. “If that’s true, I’d like to extend my condolences. It can be hard to lose a friend. Especially when you’re away and it feels like there’s nothing you could have done to help. Or maybe there could have been something if you were there. I don’t know. I… know what that’s like. Believe me.” 

Already, her nerves had her on the wrong train of thought, rambling off to something else. Coming here was a mistake. It was all a mistake, it seemed. Maybe she should have just stayed off to the side of the investigation like everyone told her to do. 

Every day, Frank’s point seemed to be proven. The people who came to speak to him--whether it was for trickery or manipulation or interrogation--belonged to families that were not his own. He did not know the redhead. He had never been honored with her beauty, even if those green eyes often looked at him with suspicions beyond his control. But she knew him. She knew him well enough to know that Frank would not simply let himself be steam rolled over. For now, though, mostly for his own amusement, he would give her the benefit of the doubt.

“You have nothing to apologize for, miss,” Frank assured her. “I fear as though we were never properly introduced, though it does seem like you know who I am. Still. My father taught me first impressions were contradictions in themselves, but to still treat them as singularities. I’m not quite sure what he meant, entirely, but all of that is to say, hello. I’m Frank Longbottom,” and he held out his hand. 

“Close would be an understatement,” Frank replied, keeping his voice leveled. Yes. This phoenix certainly understood exactly who he was and where he came from. Whether or not her sympathy was as true and honest as it appeared to be, Frank was coming to realize he would not tolerate it. Not anymore. Not from these people. “I appreciate the condolences, but I believe this conversation would go along far better if we stayed away from that subject. Otherwise I have no business sitting here and talking to you if that is all that you’re interested in.” Frank let his eyes rest on hers, his shoulders relaxed, his smile light, and hoped he appeared as affable as he wanted to. “Family is a sensitive topic for most people, after all.”

He signaled two fingers to the bartender, nodding his head toward the woman so that the bartender would get her whatever she pleased. “Thank you, though,” Frank added. “You’re a kind woman.”

[frxnklxng]

sun-swallowedme‌:

James chuckled at Frank’s words, getting comfortable in the seat next to him as he sipped at his drink. “I had a business opportunity I couldn’t pass up,” he admitted, keeping the tone light so not to allow the conversation to turn towards the specifics. “Besides, Frank, it’s not like you were here for long-out a few days and then you take off for a few weeks. You’re a hard man to track down,” James teased, smirking at the man.

Placing his drink down in front of him, he angled his body to be more directly facing Frank. Mary’s voice could still be heard, the prominent sound in the room, and James’s voice was quiet as he admitted, “It’s good to see you, Frank.”

“Business... I see.” Frank didn’t let his curiosities stretch too far, knowing better than to pry into business that wasn’t his own, and especially not with a Marauder. Frank didn’t doubt the group nearly as much as other people did. Sure, they were young and they were new, possibly green, but underestimating the opponent--even if they weren’t completely the enemy--would be one of the dumbest things anyone in this business would do. “Life is easier when it’s on your own terms,” Frank advised, giving James a wink. “And I make my living off of being hard to track down.” 

Mary’s song titled over them and the melody of her voice filled the room with boisterous energy. Even when she sang her ballads, there was an electric energy in the air. “It’s good to see you too, James. Good to see anyone, really, without being on guard that they’ll have a shiv hidden up their sleeve... Though, with the way the Black’s are running things around here, you can never be too certain.” 

[frxnklxng]

marlenemckinno-n‌:

Marlene watched as he rolled up his sleeves, her hands falling on the bruising on his knuckles. Hadn’t he just been released from prison? Who had he fought already? Or was it just another fact of life behind bars, something she hoped she would never have to learn? There was a part of her that was scared, not of Frank, but of the realities of her actions standing in front of her. Of course, she had taken the offer from the Prewetts knowing that whatever she would be doing would be illegal, but she was unsure if she really thought about the consequences. After all, wasn’t that what made every mission exciting?

“’m not sure why I thought you would answer any of my questions, anyway,” she said, her voice filled with a certain bite. She wanted the lessons she was promised, yes, but she didn’t need to be snapped at when she hadn’t done anything of much worth yet. “Or thrown in jail?” she asked as she looked back up at him, deciding to not comment on whether or not she trusted him. Of course she did, everyone was telling her she should. She just wasn’t sure if the man was exactly what she expected, if the stories passed through the ranks were truthful. 

She was headstrong. Reminded him of Molly in that. The way her eyes flickered over his body, taking in the details he wore proudly to hide the ones he never wanted anyone to know, reminded him of his mother. Back when the two of them still spoke to one another. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that irritated him so much. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how green she was or how out of her league she was or if he just needed to be angry at someone and she ended up being in the perfect position for him to lash out. She didn’t deserve it.... But Frank couldn’t convince himself to stop, to quell his anger, and just let her breathe. 

“Because your questions aren’t important right now, Marlene,” Frank grumbled. “Not when the Death Eaters’ ranks keep rising and Gideon is dead and the cops are crawling around just looking for the gun that won’t stop smoking.” Frank sat himself down on the edge of the fountain, keeping his eyes trained on Marlene--his gaze boring into her irises made of liquid chocolate. “I don’t want to see anyone else dead or in jail,” he replied with equal bite. “Even you.” Marlene was family now, Frank told himself, and whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t just going to let his family be without protection--even at their own hand. “But I will let you know right now, there will be no talk about prison or my time in prison, understood? Anything that happened before your pretty little nose sniffed out Molly is moot.”