i have dreams like you - no really! @lucymeridian - Tumblr Blog

leemalkovich:—

“You have got to be shitting me.” Lee’s a statue on the driveway, staring at Lucy as though she’d just gone on and pissed on his grave. His tall figure is dark and red — the lights of the home he’d just walked out from still on, though the owner no longer needs it.

Morbid eyes pivot between girl, and smoking engine. A driver with no working car; it’d be hilarious, some other time. “You quite literally had one job, love.” To drive him home. Something about Pierre’s — or was it Sam’s? Val’s? — insistence on it. Last time he’d gone unchecked, a lone head rode as co-pilot.

“It’s a bloody treasure hunt in there — I hid a piece of the bloke in every room.” Meaning, “Standing on the front porch isn’t fucking ideal, is it now.”

—

She hates working with anyone other than Sam. Everyone other than him had the habit of making her skin crawl, which Sam had managed to fend off by being the biggest murder-nerd on the face of the planet. Unfortunately, Sam’s status had made her desirable, which meant car rides with people who just turned others into meat confetti. It was a toss up as to who she preferred when it came to Lee or Val.

“Note to self, come to the next job with a rental.” It’s a dry, sarcastic comment that she immediately regrets.

Lucy doesn’t look at him, instead keeping her eyes trained on the hood. She had to think fast mostly because she’s uncertain if he’d be willing to turn her into meat confetti along with the poor person that was strewn throughout the house. Her stomach hurt, riddled with anxiety and disgust, and finally she takes a deep breath. She’s smart, she can get out of this mess.

Lucy turns to Lee, but she isn’t looking at him, she’s looking towards the garage. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she says. “We steal the car, I get you to where-ever you’re going, and I’ll take the car to be destroyed.” Lucy glances back at her hunk of junk car, frowning. “And we’ll - I’ll get Bertha fixed and towed.” She finally looks at Lee. “Did you see where - um - the owner kept his keys? Or am I hot wiring it?”

#leemalkovich #lee;;#gore tw

location: ny suburbs time of day: evening, around 8:00pm, before the sun sets completely. open to: anyone

Her car broke down. There’s a joke somewhere in this situation, and Lucy is certain that sometime in the future, she would be in a good enough mood to laugh at it. Right now, though? She’s pissed. She has that whole angry at the world type shit going for her anyway, but now this is icing on the cake. Lucy can hear her mother in her head. Get AAA, they’ll pick you up anywhere if you break down. Oh, she was absolutely going to be rubbing this in her face later. Lucy just thanked whatever God that happened to be listening that she had finished her “errands” for the day already.

It’s a pitiful sight to be pulled over on the side of the road with a freshly steaming engine. Lucy is decent with cars, able to change her own oil and tire if the occasion called for it. Steaming engine, however? Not in her wheelhouse. At least, not in this life time. Some asshole drives by, laying on the horn as if she came to a full stop in the middle of the road. Lucy glares at the passing car, and is not amused when she finds a little old lady flipping her the bird as she speeds past her.

“Oh come on,” Lucy snarls, more to herself as she starts clacking away on her phone. Soemone has to be available to come save her. “This can’t get any worse.”

There’s a distant rumble of thunder and Lucy decides she just wants to go to her bed.

#wb.open #open;;

@hclygalvan

Her mother is old. Maybe old wasn’t the right word, but it was the best adjective she could come up with that didn’t make her feel worse than she already felt. Frail and depressed seemed so much more final than old. The priest doing house calls was a good man, even though whenever he dropped by she had to frantically remember what she was supposed to say and pray (ha) that he didn’t speak to her about anything other than sports teams or vague comments about the weather.

The weather. It’s pouring outside, the rain splattering against her poor little Toyota corolla. She wasn’t a monster, she wasn’t going to make a priest walk back home after doing her a favor. Still, it felt awkward. Lucy liked to think she managed the silence of driving people (or various substances) around, but that was only applicable to people of a less than favorable nature. Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “Really,” she says, finally. “Thank you for coming. My mom really appreciates it - I mean, I do too. Obviously.”

#hclygalvan #ambrosio;;

samburman:

@lucymeridian

It’s one of those days. The ones where Sam’s got some quick work to do — errands, all located within a specific space. A man likes to make and maintain connections, boost morale and make those who can’t be with them, feel like they are part of something. As if they’re in a club. It’s been twenty minutes of Enya Radio on Spotify, and he keeps skipping to her actual songs — all of which he is capable of belting. “This lady knew exactly what she was doing. Imagine being the mastermind that made an entire generation of listeners think they were ascending to nirvana one minute into a single song.” Beat. “If I just close my eyes, it’s strawberry fields forever.”

Fingers tap her steering wheel as Lucy looks at Sam out of the corner of her eye. “I was more of a Hannah Montana and Raven-Symoné girl myself,” she says, her tone laced a sarcastic-dryness her mother always scolds her for. When Lucy took on this role, she knew she would be exposed and involved in the ugliest part of her father’s life -- which also happened to be that largest. Unsurprisingly, she was right. Lucy didn’t expect, however, was to be exposed to... this. Whatever Sam was. “Ever hear of the Jonas Brothers?”