#feat. greer

[mari-zuko]

IC TASK 006 - INTERROGATION when: december 13th

Previously, Mari had been summoned to sit with the agnets with her father. A formality, if that - as the dean's daughter, she needn't sit through all this. This time, however, she entered the room alone, only one chair sitting opposite the three now familiar agents.

She didn't know how to feel about it.

A hint of anxiety thrummed through her, the worry pulsing in her veins even as she offered a smile, three firm shakes of the hand, her posture straight as she smoothed her skirt underneath her to take a prim perch in the seat they indicated to. Ever unruffled; ever poised.

"Thanks so much for coming in today, Ms. Zuko."

"Of course," Mari said in response, her voice delicate, though she didn't allow it to shake - unlike the hands that were currently in her lap, hidden from view from the agents all staring at her. "Anything to help."

"We appreciate it." The agent spoke with a solemn tone, lips pressed together in a poor attempt at a comforting smile, though Mari nodded her head, her own lips responding as if it had worked. "Let's get right into it then - did you have any reason to suspect Greer Morrison was dead before this news came to light?”

The bubble of tension in the room popped, any impeccably put together poise of the dean's daughter fading from Mari, her arms instead crossing in front of her chest. She leaned back in her seat, the defiant position not looking entirely comfortable in comparison to her normally pristine posture as she looked at the agent with disbelief on her face, her lips parting slightly. "No?" she said incredulously. "I don’t tend to go around just assuming my friends are dead and not mention it to anyone.”

“Well, Ms. Zuko…unfortunately we have to reason to believe not everyone has been entirely honest with us.” The statement was offered on a platter, dangling in front of her for her to react to - to condemn herself with. Or perhaps for her to return to the version of her they had gotten previously.

She took it.

Her eyes just shifted up to meet the agent’s, the corners of her lips turning downward. “That’s unfortunate,” Mari murmured. “Horrible to think someone may have known something regarding an actual death and not mentioned it while your team was left in the dark.” 

Well, half took it.

After a brief pause, another one of the agents shifted forward, glancing over at their colleague before looking at Mari, pen poised over their notes. “What was your relationship with Greer again? And what about Penelope Klein?"

“Greer was a friend. One of my closest friends." Mari paused, her chin tucking towards her chest as she swallowed, shrugging her shoulders again. "And Penny and I worked closely together - student government and all. She met with my father frequently, from what I understand of her duties. We were…friendly, at least. Friends, maybe, even. But not…I don’t know. Not super close. We didn’t hang out all that often. I guess, yeah, I’d say friendly.” 

“Are you aware of any information about Greer that has come to light in the past year that you haven’t shared?“ 

Was she aware of anything about Greer that she hadn’t shared? Of course. An inordinate amount. But it hadn’t come to light in the past year. If anything, the past year had just revealed that the things Mari had known…might not have been true. That the person she thought she had known, that had been revealed to her in their secret moments in crowed rooms and whispers between their flesh hadn’t been the true Greer Morrison, reserved just for her. 

No, it hadn’t been real at all. 

It was just another performance. 

"No." The word was soft, though Mari's answer was firm. "I'm not."

"And what do you know about the nature of Greer’s relationship with Penelope Klein?”

Mari’s eyes flickered down to the table in front of her, her lips twisting to one side. “Not much. We all hung out a few times but I’m not sure how close they were independently.” There were secrets, of course. Things Mari couldn’t say. But they all had secrets. It didn’t mean it was related to this. 

"Well, thank you for sharing the information you do have." The agents paused, shuffling their papers, Mari angling her chin upwards, a practiced movement exposing her slender neck as she watched them, suspecting a shift in the direction of the questions were coming.

“Have you witnessed anything suspicious on campus over the past year and a half?”

"I'm not sure what you mean by that," she said, beginning with confusion, biting her lower lip as she thought for a moment. All practiced, calculated movements to look as she was actually considering, the furrow on her brow indicating just how hard. "I suppose, yeah..." The word trailed off, lingering in the space between them. "I mean, the fire, to start. Students dying. Power outages. It hasn't exactly been a normal few semesters, has it?" Her eyes met the agents, blinking between all three of them. "But if you mean anything besides any of that, anything personal or not publicly known....no."

And that was an outright lie. She had danced around the truth so often in her life, becoming a master at it. She could avoid it without outright ignoring it with the best - but that. That had been an outright lie.

“Of course. Besides all that, over the past year, have you gotten any anonymous messages? Any threatening ones? Or any with…leading information?”

Yes. Someone out there knew her secrets. Knew Greer's secrets. And Mari couldn't bring herself to say anything - couldn't help but think, if Greer really had died...maybe she'd rather be dead than have those secrets come out. "Some anonymous messages, yeah. Or ones from unknown senders, rather. But nothing with threats or information in them, no. Just...creeps, I'd gather."

"Would you mind sending those over to us?"

Mari shook her head, lips pressed together in a smile. "Of course not. I have my messages set to auto delete pretty quickly, but I'll send you what I still have."

"Great - we really appreciate that. Thank you so much, Mari. If we have any other questions, we'll reach out to you or your father to schedule another meeting."

[cara-mrrsn]

IC TASK 006 - INTERROGATION when: december 13th-ish

"Ms. Morrison - it's good to see you. We're incredibly sorry for your loss." 

Cara sauntered into the office the agents had commandeered with her sunglasses on, giving them a sideways glance as she dropped into the seat they were indicating for her. She didn't bother with any sort of greeting nor acknowledgement of Agent Brown's condolences. Please. If any of them were truly were sorry for her loss, she had quite a few suggestions for better ways to handle this to show that, but alas. All three of the agents all stared at her for a moment, as if waiting for her to say something - but hello, she wasn't the one hosting this interview. She just stared at them, her glasses still on, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"Right," Agent Murray muttered, flipping open the folder in front of her. Cara glanced towards it with the slightest bit of interest, aware that it must've been notes - notes on Greer, notes on her - though her expression stayed the same, even with the burning need to know what they had written about her. "Why don't we begin with going through your relationship with Greer again," the agent said.

Cara just looked at her, unimpressed as she quirked a single eyebrow up. “She was my sister. Surely you’re aware of that,” she said, not bothering to hide the snark that the question had earned. Perhaps they shouldn’t be asking such stupid questions if they wanted an actual answer. 

"Yes, Ms. Morrison, we are aware," Agent Brown jumped back in from the seat he was settled in, a coffee in one hand as he watched Cara with a scrutinizing eye. "We were hoping to have you elaborate more on the nature of your relationship with your sister. Such as if you are aware of any information about Greer that has come to light in the past year that you haven’t shared. Or perhaps you could tell us about the nature of her relationship with Penelope Klein," he said.

"Listen, all I've learned in the past year is that I knew even less about Greer than I thought I did," Cara said, rolling her eyes behind her dark glasses. Even in the few ways she had thought that she and Greer were on the same level - she was wrong. Even the things she thought she had known turned out to be fake. She didn't know if the rift between them said more about her or Greer, but since she was the one still around, she supposed she'd be let wondering what it meant about Greer, never getting the missing piece of the puzzle to decode it all. "I didn’t even know she had a relationship with Penelope. But Greer kept her personal life far away from me, so that really doesn’t mean anything. We weren't that close, but that doesn't mean I'm hiding something from you." She let out a huff of air, the exhale following the rant of words that had spilled out without her entirely meaning to let them, the slightest flush rising on her cheeks.

The agents both just watched her for a moment, glancing at each other before Agent Murray looked back at the folder, reading something over before sliding it over towards Agent Choi. Cara figured the silence between them was purposeful - lingering and stretched to try and coax her to say something, admit to something. There was nothing to admit, but even if there was, if that's how they wanted to play it, she wouldn't out of stubbornness. "Alright. Over the past year, have you gotten any anonymous messages? Any threatening ones? Or any with…leading information?” Agent Choi asked, closing the folder in front of him. Like he had gotten what he needed from it.

It was burning Cara's insides, whatever was in there, whatever they had written down and said about her, now passed back and forth between them. Had they noted the things she had reported to her parents? Had they noted what other people had said about her and Greer? Had they noted rumors, gossip, falsities? Cara highly doubted whatever was written down was any aspect of the truth.

“Probably,” she said, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest, looking entirely nonplussed by the entire situation, despite the rising urges to simultaneously scream and rip that folder out of their grasps. “I mean, this shit has been all over every true crime aficionados tik tok. My number has leaked multiple times. Some people are real creeps, you know?” She paused, glancing down and adjusting the neckline of her shirt, the movement indication enough of what type of creeps Cara may have drawn over the past year plus. And as she lifted her eyes up to meet the Agent Choi's before glancing over towards Agent Brown, a smirk briefly flickering across her lips, it was clear she knew it - and knew she wouldn’t have to elaborate. She had them right where she wanted them. “So yeah, I’ve gotten a whole bunch of weird, anonymous, threatening messages. I delete 90% of what comes through my phone nowadays without even looking at it because I was previously told there was nothing to be done unless someone actually tried to harm me." Her voice lowered, Cara's eyes flashing with the anger that had accompanied the initial explanation that nothing could be done about stalking. Not unless the stalker made an actual threat. Until then.... "You know that you all are quite useless when it comes to stalkers - but by all means, let me know if you want me to start forwarding them all to you now.” 

All three agents avoided her eyes now - sipping from coffee, jotting down a note, fiddling with the files in front of them. Silence fell again, though this time it was at her bequest. And she, again, had no intention of breaking it. Instead, it was Agent Murray who cleared her throat, glancing over at Agent Choi before moving onto the next question - “Have you witnessed anything suspicious on campus over the past year and a half?”

Cara pursed her lips out, a deep furrow appearing in her brow as she deeply pondered the question. “You know…” she said slowly, shaking her head as she refocused in the agent before her. "Assuming you mean other than the murders, the fire, the blackout?" she said with a bitter laugh, utterly unaware that in a rare moment of twin telepathy, Edward had previously made nearly the same retort. "I have actually." 

Agent Murray leaned forward slightly, her eyebrows raised in mirrored expressions of interest as Cara hesitated, looking for all the world like she thought she could create some circle of trust between them. "I saw the craziest thing on one of my roommate's laptop. You'll never believe this video," she said, letting out a low laugh as she went to pull out her phone, sliding it towards Agent Murray with what could only be described as a wicked glint in her eye. "I know you have to recognize where that was filmed."

The silence that occurred during the first few seconds of the video was nearly enough for her to actually laugh, the small amount of amusement she was milking out of the situation enough for her, even as Agent Murray rapidly reached out to stop the video, nearly tossing Cara's phone back at her. The expressions of all three agents went through a nearly identical transition from intrigue to irritation, three pairs of eyes glaring at Cara for wasting their time. “I'm not sure how that is relevant." Cara just raised her eyebrows up, shrugging her shoulders, only furthering the tangible irritation in the room. "Ms. Morrison, if we didn’t know any better, we’d think you were purposefully being difficult. You are aware even if you don’t know anything regarding your sisters murder, you can be charged for hindering an investigation, yes?” 

Cara was on her feet before she even registered she was moving, hands slamming into the table. “I’m hindering an investigation?” she hissed through her teeth, leaning forward to stare down the FBI agents one by one, despite the alleged power imbalance in the room - Cara flipped it on its head in a blink of an eye. “Try again, officers,” she sneered. “You have been bumbling through this for a year and a half. You have made no progress. You are reduced to asking the same people the same questions because you just can’t admit you have no fucking idea what happened to Greer.” 

A deep breath heaved her chest up and down, Cara straightening up as she shook her head, voice rising in pitch and volume as she threw her hands out. “She was running circles around all of us, and you all are clueless," she said, waving a hand over the agents, stepping back and colliding with her chair with a loud clatter. "The flights to Portugal, the texts, the fucking letters."

She pushed the chair away from her with enough force that it tipped over, scraping against the floor with a clang - out of her way, at least, as was her intention. "If you have any other questions for me, contact my parents. I'm sure they've already assured you that I'm not the person to go to for any insights on my sister."

"Ms. Morrison, this interview is not over!" Agent Brown hollered, not attempting to keep his voice low in the slightest at this point. Cara, for her part, didn't give a fuck. She unceremoniously lifted a hand, flipping him off as she stormed from the office, lettng the door slam shut behind her.

[silverjetsystm]

“Fun game. It’s almost as though we get along. Don’t let William see what I’ve crossed out, I’m not ready for a ‘what is kinky’ talk with him. Though, if you’d like to talk about that, I could set aside time.”

Are You the MK System's Type Bingo? | Accepting

"Almost?" She got him to smile -- the claws over most of the squares, the lipstick kiss in the middle. "We can make time, you and I, to discuss. That."

"Being a patient mom is important. William's a good kid. I don't blame you for running out of patience with everyone else." With him. Regret-ache about how he doesn't know Diatrice as well as he would like.

He returned to the page, laughing quietly. ME! "You are," he said with admiration. Different than how he considered himself a weapon.

Ah. The mask. A representation of their...Difficulties. He nods. Understanding is not the same thing as liking or accepting. He's trying.

Steven did scribble the finances thing; Marc wasn't worried. Avengers pension made life easier.

"Does this mean you still want to commune with me?"

[ginger-grimm]

OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 2024

Day 14: Musical AU

The Original The Outcasts Gang If They Sang In The Movies

The Wolf - Petra Müller

Never Neverland - Willa Darling

Butterfly - Greer Grimm

Secrets - Tee Wiley

My Prince - Minty Liddell

I'll Do It My Way - Tabby Andrews

A New Path - Falk White feat. Evie Grimhilde

Beauty Queen - June of Agrabah

x

Thank you to @come-along-pond for Minty's lyrics!

TAGLIST: @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @nikosasaki @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @stelstellakidd @andromedalestrange @far-shores @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe

[t3nets]

         ♱   𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗜 : 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗗 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗦 . 

  ❝   𝐢   𝐚𝐦   𝐧𝐨𝐭   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬   𝐢𝐯𝐞   𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞.  

                        𝐧𝐨𝐫   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬   𝐢   𝐚𝐦   𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭   𝐭𝐨   𝐝𝐨.   ❞

time.   𝗮   𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁   𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁   𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀   𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵   𝘁𝗵𝗲   𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲   𝗼𝗳   𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲   𝘄𝗵𝗼   𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗱   𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆   𝗵𝗮𝗱   𝘀𝗼   𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵   𝗼𝗳   𝗶𝘁.   a   polluted   belief.   one   forgets   they   don't   have   the   privilege.   the   freedom   to   pave   a   future   without   qualm  to the past that nips incessantly at your heels.   doomed   to   fulfill   a   prophecy,   and   worse   that   its   by   your   own   choosing.  desired again, again, and again  even   with   bated   breaths.   the burn of lungs with no air   isn't a   foreign   feeling   but   one   embraced   with   familiarity.   an   antique   sensation   shelved   in   order   to   bring   life   to   something   new,   something   untouched  by    one   who   knew  only  how   to   crush   brittle   things   in   his palms.   knowing nothing else,   learning   how   to   use   such a gift   under   the   eyes   of   a superior.   he's   felt   them   looming   behind   him   like   an   apparition,   a   dog   once frozen in   slumber   across   the   room,   waking   him   in   the   middle   of   the   night.    sweat   trailing   down   his   back   as   it   watches   him   from   the   foot   of   his   bed,   licking   serrated   teeth,   waiting   for   the   bite   of   the   century.   let   loose   and   do   what   it   was   born   to   do.   bite,   rip   and   feast   on   the   remains   hanging   from   rubbery   lips.   even   as   greer   grimaces   and   lets   out   a   guttural   shout   when   he   awakens,   frosted skin sliding against the groove of an uneven ribcage,   the   blue   tips   of   his   fingers   dragging   off   the   snow   that's   made   home   at   the   edge   of   his   brow;  needles   biting   into   his   face   and   ripping   bruised   skin   further apart.   a   necessary   sacrifice   to   see   what's   ahead, vision obscured.   a   sprinkle   of   ice   lands   gently   on dark   lashes,   a   symphony   of   light   drenching   his   cheeks   in   what   warmth   could   be   afforded.   clothes   spared   on   massive   frame   grip onto   his   upper body as he shifts his weight,   a   breath   out   in   a   cloud   of   vapor,   wheezing   with the rush of brisk air.   a   second.   two.   then   three.   greer   aatkani is   gathering the strength to get up. and attempts this perilous feat with a hoarse whine, body protesting with the wet squelch of a shirt caked in blood.   greer is kneeling  in  front   of   the   lake,   gripping  left   arm   with   a   shaking  right  palm,   peering   out   into   vast   water.   fighting.   another   lucky   day,   depending   on   your   definition   of   it.   though   he   was   smarter   than   to   believe   this   was   an   act   of   mercy,   an   act   of   accreditation   for   all   the   years   he   had   put   in.   this   was   a   last warning.   whoever   had   been   watching   him   so   closely.   exposing  what   he   truly   was.   what   he   always   would   be. 

the   poster,   the   glances,   the   voices once coated in admiration replaced with complete distrust,   the   people   he   had   stupidly   fucking   surrounded   himself   with.   the   people   who   cared,   the   people   who   dared   to   near   a man   so   visibly   reeking   of   malicious   upbringing   and   poor   intentions.   greer had wondered   most   days,   if   he   was   an   imposter,   luring   his  next   victim   to   the   inferno   of   his   emotional   fucking   turmoil.   waking   up   everyday   with   the   knowledge   that   what   he   had   was un - fucking - deserved.   the   babygirl   that   still   slept   beside   him   at   nine   years   old;   on nights   she'd   been awoken   by   her   own   little   nightmares.   who   let   him   wrap   her   up   in   his   arms   like   he   earned   it, like he was nothing to be afraid of.   it was unfair.   the  little   hands   that splayed   over   his   chin,    chest   rising   with the   small   breaths   that   kept   such   a   tiny   heart   pumping.   he   thanks   it   every   night — her heart, for keeping her alive.    whispering   a   prayer   to   god   for   granting   him   something like this.   a   gravelly timbre   whispering back   that this   wouldn't   be   forever.   forever   could   be   taken   away   the moment   he'd   fall   in   too   deep,  get  too   comfortable   with   being   comfortable.   but fuck,   he   wanted   it   so   bad.   he   wanted   it all   so  fucking bad.   greer   aatkani,   a   lover   of   life,   of   people,   of   everything   the   world   had   to   offer.  even   if   it   was   selfishly  taken.   

𝘪'𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶,

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦.

 there's   a   warmth   that   taps   his   chin   in   a   lulling   rhythm,   then   onto   the   pure   white   snow   below.   a   pool   of   blood   that   ebbs   from   his   skull   and   spills over   his   eye   sockets,   realizing   now   that   his   right   eye   served   him   no   purpose,   sealed   shut   by   the   bruise   that   swells   it.   no more running. no more hiding.   no amount of miles would   ever   be   enough.   he   would   never   be   enough.   another   body   in   the   snow,   another   number   lost   in   a   world   that   didn't   need   him   here.   except   her,   his   nour,   his   life.   a   beacon   of   light   and   hope,   a   sign   that   the   world   had   the chance   to   be   kind,   sweet,   and   as   soft   as   when   he   first   carried   her.   still, a stubborn child of a stubborn father. one who    refuses   to   go   silent   into   that   goodnight.   an  overachiever.   a   title   that  always made   his  wife   laugh, eye crinkling with pride.   an   echo pounding in his brain of   parents  that  would   urge   him   to   get   the   fuck   up.   continue for   the   one   person   that   needed   him   most.   a   selfish   act   of   succumbing   to   the   pain,   letting   the   plants   take   him,   fertilizing   themselves   with   a   rotting   corpse   that   amounted   to   nothing. 

𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙩𝙞𝙧���𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚,

𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚.

but   the   body   has   its   limits.   they   made  fucking  sure   of   that.   with   the   high   that   envelopes   the   fog   of   his   mind,   bleary   eyes   that   look   down   at   the   track   marks   on   the   inner   crease   of   his   elbow and  up   the   sporadic   trail   that ends   below   his   wrist,   a   painful   laugh   courses   through   his   system.   a   sadistic   play,   a   karmic   life   sentence   that   makes   greer   cough   up   the   ichor   that   leaks  from  his   innards.   has   half   a   mind   to   jump   into   the   freezing   water   ahead   and   let   it   cut off his lungs entirely.   fuck   it.   one   shot,   one   second   was   all   it'd   take.   a   narcissistic   prose   that   leaps   out   his   mind   as   soon   as   it   comes.   the crack   and   pop   of   a   singular   rib   bone   is   enough   to   have   him   curl   down   in   a  heavy   thump   of mass,   pain   shooting   so   quickly   through   his   veins   that   it   nearly sends   him into the unconscious. redcreek's  winter breeze  is  a  shrill cry  in  his  ears,  and   a  physical terror   to  the  flesh that's  bared  with  the  rise  of  his  shirt.  a beat. head tilted up toward the sky, lilting as spine molds into dirt. greer aatakni, just as he'd come into the world. and just as he was destined to leave it.

ALONE.

[potatoqueenpal]

I'm gonna suck Milo Greer's dick until it deflates like a balloon

[st4rg-zer]

Milo & Sweetheart Headcanons + the song i associate with them ( Aggro is mentioned dw )

- Milo can't read, like his attention span is too short for reading anything unless if it's texts

- Sweetheart can sleep and will sleep on a bus or in a highspeed car, no questions asked

- the day that they met, aggro wouldn't leave Sweetheart alone at all, like he was meowing, clawing, rubbing up against them, even hissing at Milo for getting too close

- We know that Sweetheart is taller, it's obvious, but sweetheart is only 5-9 inches taller

- Milo hates baking but cooks with a passion

- Milo gets sick easily

- Sweetheart got the flu once around Milo and he had it the next day

- Aggro has a favorite parent ( sweetheart )

- The first day that any of Milo's extended family met sweetheart, they all called them 'Mrs/Mr/Mx Greer', thinking they were married

- Milo is a slow dancing king but sweetheart is a lot more fast pacing and can line dance to save a life

- Neither of them like flying in planes because of the stuff sweetheart works with

[thecascast]

This week on the pod it's our season 6 wrap up episode featuring our beloved Jeremy Greer from @monsteroftheweekpodcast ! Thanks to our awesome listeners for all the questions 💙 We* love you! (not including Jeremy, he has integrity)

[agirlandherquill]

the calendar project - day 1

day 1 has arrived, this is the start of something new and i'm very excited to share it with you all,

daily page count: 4 (i got invested, some may say carried away, but it was too good to stop till i wrote that final line)

time spent: 58 mins

so without further ado, here it is! the very first pages of the calendar project, and for simplicity's sake i'll stick them under the cut,

To some, Cindere was nothing more than a far-away place, a speck upon a map, permanently out of reach from the rest of the world. To her, Cindere was a living, breathing thing. To her, it was home. To her, it was death and everything else in-between. Shrouded by an eternal winter, the Kingdom resided in the midst of a mountainous valley, shielded by stone walls and mountains with snow-tipped peaks that stabbed at the heavens - Cindere was the jewel countries could only dream of, and nothing could compare. Splendour seeped out of every nook and cranny, it was unavoidable, it was everywhere.

The trouble with splendour is that a gilded cloak only hides so much, raises too many questions, and frustratingly, some more than others sought to make her thoughts a misery at every possible inconvenience.

Is Cindere an empire built upon feigned competence and bittersweet smiles, or is a prison of our own creation?

Time and time again the answer eluded her. If I could get away from all the fake smiles I just might find it, but until such a miracle comes my way I’m stuck here, the same as all of them. Appearance, worth, standing all aside, when it came down to it everyone was all equal in circumstance. Equal in that every single citizen was trapped. 

Trapped of their own volition. Trapped because of each other. But above all, trapped because of power.

Power. The word set off an itch in her mind she could never hope to scratch. It was a whisper, a curse, a futile thing. Those who had it did whatever it took to keep it. Those without were just as callous, just as capable of anything, and almost, if not more dangerous. Of that fact she lacked in proof, but she more than made up for it with observation. Of those, she had plenty.

Her observations were silent, powerful secrets tucked away in the crevices of her mind, a library of her own making, one never to be shared. 

Some words are safer to never utter aloud, that’s what this world has taught me, and I follow along. I play my hand, I abide by the unspoken rules of society and I survive. 

That in itself was an impressive feat. Social suicide was only a false step away, death was a hairsbreadth from sight outside of the castle walls, allegiances were wielded like blades, some painfully sharp. And for her, perhaps the one person in the Kingdom without, it meant survival, and life itself, was tricky. But she had learned, she had adapted, and still, she survived.

“People, people, gather round! It is a joy to see you all this glorious night!” The loudest voice she had ever known drew her from her daydreaming. She angled herself away from her carefully chosen spot, a window that isolated her from the rest of the crowd, and cast her sights upon a stage that had been erected at the far end of the room. Upon it, a man waved a tankard, somehow managing not to spill its contents everywhere. One of the strange talents of being King I suppose, just like his speeches. One of which was about to commence. 

There were very few things in the world that she disliked, but a speech was one of them. So, while the most important person in Cindere began to talk, she allowed her attention to drift once again. 

Her eyes roved over the crowd of courtiers. Lady Greer, I don’t recall a bird’s nest in one’s hair being in fashion, nor having real birds either. Lord Danvers - Will he stop staring at me? To fight a scowl she turned her face away, careful as ever, not to be noticeable. She had turned the act of observation into an art form.

Observation made her an artist, an excellent one.

She carried on her sweep of the room, only to lock eyes with someone other than Lord Danvers. She had been caught staring. And worse, her stare was returned. She was thankful for the lack of masks that night, it meant she recognised everyone in attendance, all save for him, her onlooker. Did he catch me, or was he staring first? 

The man was a stranger. 

We hardly ever get newcomers at the castle, or any court event, so the presence of this man is intriguing, no… It’s odd.

Odd, because like her, he did not appear to fit in.

Ironic, because from the state of his clothes he was one of them, but he wore the wrong thing.

Peculiar, because he could fit in, even dressed like that, but he appeared to choose not to.

All because of one thing that set him apart from the crowd, one thing that all the other guests had abandoned at the castle doors.

A coat. 

The long garment reached past his knees, woven of a sturdy, expensive navy fabric - the craftsmanship drew her in, but it was another detail that held her focus. Something jutted from just above his hip, disturbing the form of his coat. No, surely not. The longer she paid attention to it the more obvious it came to be. He’s carrying a sword. 

The stranger knew that she knew, but made no move to conceal it. She directed her observation upward, paying attention to his face - unlike the rest of the room he wore no smile, nor a powdered mask, his complexion was his own, where others had been powdered like the snow his skin held a glow to it that the light of the chandelier made golden. His hair was similar to that of straw, and equally unruly, strands fell from a central parting in unequal lengths, the longest only just brushed the edges of his jawline. During her observation his eyes hadn’t flinched, not once. They continued watching her. Even from a distance of what she judged to be around twenty paces she could make out the colour of his eyes, they were as green as the blades of grass that bloomed in spring and defied the lingering clutches of winter.

And the harsh green was fixed solely upon her. 

The intensity of his gaze tempted her to shy away, but she stood her ground, she held his stare for longer. At least someone here might be worth talking to. 

She had hardly made a motion to step away from the window when the stranger was already moving, as ignorant to the King’s words as she was, and even more ignorant of the quiet disapproving sighs that followed him as he moved through the crowd. 

She decided to be wary of the people closest to her and finally drew her eyes away, once more looking out of the window and into the night sky that glimmered with stars. Scarcely a heartbeat later, the stranger had reached her, she knew it only from the breeze his movement carried. There was a long, quiet moment before he decided to speak.

“And who might you be?” Every word was pronounced with purpose, this was not a man who toyed with words, he was straight to the point, abrupt, and it made him all the more interesting.

“Someone not in the habit of giving her name to strangers.” 

“Very wise.” She did not see it but she could hear something resembling a smile in his voice. “Dare I ask why you haven’t signalled a guard?” Her eyes lowered, turning her head just enough to catch a glimpse of his hilt peeking out from beneath his coat. It was a wise question, she could have done so easily, there were thirty men stationed along the outer walls, the closest only ten paces away. She could have alerted them, but she hadn’t.

“Why should I? You’re hardly going to point it at me.” She met his eyes, they glinted with amusement. “Aren’t I?”

She swallowed back a scoff. “You’re not here for me, that much is clear, so why come over here?”

“You don’t know who I am?” His brows raised. She shrugged almost imperceptibly. “I don’t need to, it’s none of my business.”

“And yet you’ve been staring at me.” His bluntness was refreshing, if only a little irritating. It was her turn to raise a brow. “For all I know you were the one watching me to begin with.”

“Before I say something that may prompt you to summon a guard, what’s so interesting about this window?” 

“Wise move.” She murmured, reaching to tap the window-frame. She nearly smiled, it stunned her. It had been a very long time since she had had a reason to smile while surrounded by the court. “The window?” In the reflection of the glass she saw him nod. His gaze was keen, he was interested in what she had to say.

“It’s what’s beyond it. The vastness. More than the sky. A single breath is nothing in comparison, up there, in the dark, there’s nothing. Nothing significant. Nothing that matters. It is everything and nothing all at once. It has no worries, no burdens, no hopes or dreams - nothing at all like humanity.” 

She expected ridicule when she looked at his reflection in the window, but what she found instead was a sad smile.

“For someone so reserved, you give away powerful words as though they’re nothing.”

“How so?” 

“I’ve never heard someone make the night sky sound lonely.” He reached out and pressed his palm to the window. “Can’t you see them, those lights in the dark? So far away and yet still so close? They’re all over. Those lights are purpose, direction, company, whatever you need them to be.” He seemed drawn in by the night too, pausing only to look at her, “The night isn’t lonely, not at all. You need only to look at a star to see it.”

[cervezaa]

Curren$y ft. Mac Miller - Money Shot

[mari-zuko]

IC TASK 003 : TIME CAPSULE

when: over thanksgiving break, late one evening where: mari’s room at her family home

“Have you done your time capsule recording yet?” 

The question came after silence had been sitting around Mari and her father for more than a few minutes, a comfortable quiet on his end, she was sure, though Mari felt quite differently - as she always did around him. It was best for her to just keep her mouth shut, let him lead the conversation and topics. She glanced over to see Dean peering over the top of his glasses at her, Mari pasting a small smile across her cheeks as she gave a delicate shake of her head. 

“Ah, no. Not yet,” she replied, a hint of a flush coming to her cheeks, a sense of guilt, of shame, of his disappointment already rising in her stomach. 

Her father frowned from the chair he was sitting in, eyes staying on Mari for a few long moments, his youngest daughter shifting underneath the weight of his gaze. “Let’s do it now,” he suggested, in that tone that showed it wasn’t much of a suggestion at all. 

Mari gaped, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she stared up at her father, before giving a rapid shake of her head. “I’m not recording it in front of you,” she said abruptly, chin pulling in to her chest. 

“I’ll do it tonight. I promise,” she said a moment later, tone firm, eyes on her father’s. She knew there would be consequences if he didn’t hear she had turned it in from the team managing it the next day - she had no choice but to get her shit together, figure out what she could possibly even say, what was worth recording for the students of Ogden College fifty years in the future.

- 

Standing in front of her phone several hours later, Mari took a deep breath, eyes on her own face in the screen, a frown settling onto her lips as she took in the image. Wrinkling her nose up, Mari fiddled with it, adjusting the ring light, the set up of the phone, until she was sitting in front of it, the phone recording, silent as she still had no idea what to say. 

Another slow inhale. 

Audible exhale.  

And action - Mari Zuko, daughter of the dean, shining example of the perfect Ogden student, sorority president was ready to go.

“Hi, Ogden students of 2072,” she said, her smile bright. “I’m probably supposed to give you advice. Tell you what you should do. How to make your four years the best they can possibly be...” she spoke with a lilting charm to her words, the same way she did when her father required her to speak to donors, the same way she did during sorority recruitment. The person she pretended to be when she needed to impress. 

“In 2022....we’re all lucky to be students at Ogden. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. And considering everything, I have to assume it’s the same, even fifty years in the future.” 

Mari fell silent, blinking into the camera, her smile slowly fading off her face. “Honestly, though? I don’t think I should be the one telling you what to do, or giving any advice. I....I’m pretty lost, myself.” 

 A nod, Mari’s gaze shifting down towards her lap, her fingers interlacing, tugging on each other. “They’ll probably edit out any mentions of Greer,” she said, the words under her breath, as if...trying to psych her self up. Give herself courage.

“One of...my friends is missing. She ran away. Allegedly. From here. From Ogden. She was....what all of us revolved around,” she said, still looking into her lap, though she eventually glanced back up towards the camera. “And I thought I knew her. I thought I loved her, even. And that she loved me. But now I’ve just realized I didn’t know her at all. That she purposefully made sure I didn’t. And I thought she was one of the few people who actually knew me. 

“But she wasn’t. And I can’t even hold that against her, because the longer it goes on without us knowing where she is, I just...am realizing how little I know myself. And I’m 20 years old. I’m a junior in college. I’m not supposed to, am I? But there’s a lot of pressure. A lot of...external forces. And I was relying on Greer to keep me moored. Which isn’t very fair, is it?” 

Her voice returned slowly to its sweet, clear tone, her chin angling upwards, her neck lengthened as she stretched it just right, not even needing to see herself in the recording to know what her good angles were. “Anyways. All that is to say...if nobody else has told you, it’s okay if you don’t know who you are yet. Or what you want. If you’re scared of it.” 

She couldn’t say anymore. She couldn’t admit that the reason she was scared was because of her family, her father - the dean of the school. The reason she didn’t know who she was was because she had been told who she had to be her entire life, and she had long since been aware of how poorly she fit into the space that had been carved out for her. But she could maybe make someone fifty years in the future feel a little less lonely. Extend a hand out that she so desperately needed - a hand she thought Greer had provided, only to realized as she went to use it that it had been ripped away, leaving her rapidly over-correcting as she tried to regain the flimsy balance she had previously relied upon. 

“College is great for so many things. They’re, like...supposedly the most formative four years of our lives for a reason, right? And Ogden...it’s the most amazing opportunity. Cherish it,” she said, her expression tightening, doing her best to become more earnest as she spewed out the propaganda that had long since been drilled into her. “And good luck.” 

[punksongoftheday]

people ask me if i am a drag queen i tell em that i've never been into royalty that's why i'm up in the pub yellin fuck an MP brits out of ireland, palestine free if i had to choose i'd be a drag peasant organizing a rebellion no time like the present i got glitter in my hair, pitchfork in the air comin for those mainstream fuckers i swear

[lesterplatt]

KIA from TOBY MORRIS on Vimeo.

Kia Seltos (Director's Cut)

Director: Toby Morris

Agency/Production Co: Elastic Studios CD: Simon Thomas EP: Briana Miller Producer: Avril Dunn DOP: Gregoire Liere, Ziga Zupancic Production Manager: Nicolanne Cox Production Coordinator: David Bedelis 1st AD: Darin Berlin 2nd AD: Davis Jensen, Frankie Noble-Shelton 1st AC: Steivan Hasler, Rhys Nicholson 2nd AC: Sam Connelly, Claudia Butters Steadicam: Jason Rodrigues Robot Arm Opp: Daniel Miller Gaffer: Jay MacNeill, Yoshi Kwon Best Boy: Felix Maude LX Assists: Balint Major, Aeasitya Sani, Craig Knight, Robert Gray Grip: Kris Wallis Grip Assist: Rob Birtles Production Design: Jamie Morris Art Assist: Pete Tslepi Wardrobe: Caitlin Murray feat. Paul McCann Wardrobe Assist: Libby Spring Hair Stylist: Daren Borthwick, Sophie Roberts Makeup Artist: Linda Jeffries, Jo Cotter Location Manager: Noel Mclaughlin Production Assist: Greer Lindsay Additional Photography: Matty Owers, Thomaz Labanca BTS: Andre Hoo

Edit: Cameron Drew 2D VFX: Tim Eddy, Josh Regoli 3D VFX: James Choe Grade: Matt Campbell

Audio: Sonar Music

[inesosorino]

— people like to tell you what you're gonna be

{ ZION MORENO, 21, TRANS WOMAN, SHE/HER } Is that INÉS OSORIO? A JUNIOR originally from SAN DIEGO, CA, they decided to come to Ogden College to study PRE-LAW on a FINANCIAL SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE PRODIGY on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

CHARACTER STATS. 

FULL NAME: inés yesenia osorio cruz GENDER IDENTITY & PRONOUNS: trans woman & she/her BIRTHDATE: september 5th, 2001 (virgo sun, leo moon, sagittarius rising) BIRTHPLACE: mérida, mexico NATIONALITY: mexican-american RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: athiest LANGUAGES: spanish (fluent), english (fluent), latin (fluent), can speak the other romance languages conversationally, currently studying cantonese

MORAL ALIGNMENT: true evil neutral MYERS-BRIGGS: estj TEMPERAMENT: melancholic VICES: icy, egotistical, self serving, workaholic, controlling VIRTUES: confident, poised, resourceful, studious, sharp SKILLS: hand sewing, knows how to interpret and use body language, public speaking CHARACTER INSPIRATION: michaela pratt (how to get away with murder), lydia martin (teen wolf), harper spiller (white lotus), spencer hastings (pretty little liars), drea torres (do revenge)

PERSONALITY. 

inés is a type a personality through and through. not only is she academically gifted, she’s quick witted, accomplished, capable, and not to mention incredibly humble. it’s hard to let go of a massive ego when you’ve been told all your life how much you’re going to achieve. while such praise may have caused others to burn out, her drive became her super power. no feat was too large for inés osorio to face. it just come from being conceited however, ever since she was a child she has had to fight for the things she wants and she’s carried that spirit with her into adulthood. she’s had to bare her teeth a few times to have her way and she’ll do it again. while that may make her come across as intense and overly zealous when it comes to her studies she believes if you can’t keep up then you can get out of the way. she’s earned her right to be at the table and she won’t apologize for the things she’s had to do to get there. there is more to inés than her over achieving mean girl persona though. she’s introspective and curious and enjoys to have deep conversations. bonus points if you can actually challenge her as she is prone to growing bored rather quickly. in spite of herself the glitz and glamor of the upper class still impress her and it can be charming if she’s caught letting her guard down. still, she has high standards for herself and those she keeps around her so don’t be too shocked if she’s quick to write you off. 

THE PAST. 

inés's parents had married young after her mother had become pregnant. truth be told their relationship was fresh and they didn't know each other that well but they shared the same dreams and that had to count for something, right? he played piano and wrote songs while she was a singer. and so, ximena and mateo moved their small family to sunny california from mexico. inés was too young to remember their time in their home country but she thinks about the cramped apartment in san diego's downtown more than she would like to. it was fine, at first. mateo worked two jobs to keep the household afloat while ximena took care of the baby. she would come home from school to her mother cooking and sundays after morning mass were full of laughter and music. the osorio household was a place for love and light.

except ximena was never able get past an audition and mateo never caught his big break. after years and years of waiting to be recognized for their talents, reality began to sink in for the couple. tensions rose as ximena refused to work but insisted they sent money to her family in mexico and mateo had to put his foot down as they barely had enough for themselves. the two fought often. they would do their best to have their arguments when inés was asleep but children pick up on more than their parent’s think. eventually they stopped hiding it. the two never left each other and inés always wondered if it was their own way of punishing the other.

when she began school, her teachers noticed how much more excelled in class than her peers. inés had an impressive memory and was incredibly well spoken for a child. her english was far more advanced than any other children her age who learned it as a second language. after her parents made the discovery they were raising a tiny genius, ximena went crazy. she pulled inés out of the public school she had been attending and used the rest of their family’s money to enroll her in a private one on the other side of town without consulting mateo. he was justifiably upset with her new treatment of their only child and ximena told him exactly where to stick it because inés was special and, more importantly, a chance out of this life they were in.

while inés’s parents were initially upset that their prodigal child was more interested in being a girl than kissing one (she would realize a few years later she didn’t mind doing that either though), they were ultimately accepting. her accomplishments in school had brought them so many gifts even if they were still making ends meet. ximena would push inés. if she failed, affection would be withdrawn to show there was no room for anything less than perfection. her daughter was going to be someone whether she wanted to or not. inés didn’t mind. she liked being the best. she liked the power that it gave her and she learned how to harness it. she was just as good as her peers who lived in big mansions— no, she was better. 

mateo left to move back to mexico inés’s sophomore year of high school. he had been talking to a woman his family had found and decided would be a “more suitable” wife and the two developed feelings for each other. ximena didn’t even look at him as he left, but later that night she crawled into bed with her daughter. instead, she focuses all of her time and energy into her daughter. she becomes overtly critical of anything inés did from what she wore to what she ate to who she spent her time with. her study sessions become longer and she signs up for more activities to excel at. there isn’t room for failure or burnout. inés to this day considers ximena to be tough but fair although from an outside perspective her parenting methods are definitely questionable. she stressed how vital it was for inés to succeed and to get a good job so the two of them could have the life “they” deserve.

THE PRESENT. 

inés settled into ogden university with ease. not long after her interview she was offered a full ride and she knew she would be a fool to turn it down. the undergraduate program was a walk in the park. she wanted to focus on buffing up her resumé before going to harvard, anyway. befriending greer and her group of friends was an added bonus. it can be hard to tell what inés’s true intentions are but she proved herself to be loyal to the golden girl so it didn’t matter what the rest of them thought. with her dear friend gone, inés stays skeptical as things are most definitely not what they seem. she can’t stop the world from turning though and even if she could she wouldn’t want it to. 

HEADCANONS.

extracurricular activities (oh boy): captain of the rowing team and currently filling in as coxswain, cheerleading team (co captain), undergraduate student council, pre law association, and mock trial.

cw: drugs. the type to say no to a cigarette because smoking is bad for you then immediately do a line of coke.

hates animals!! dogs have too much energy and she’s allergic to cats and she isn’t fond of anything with scales. if she isn’t interacting with something that is bipedal and can talk she’s getting out of there as soon as possible.

it isn’t that inés doesn’t appreciate the arts, it’s more after watching her mother and father’s lives fall apart due to the dream they were chasing she feels contempt for them. she learned from a young age only certain people were allowed to succeed in the field.

she’s the kind of person you would want around during a crisis. inés is very good at remaining calm and talking people down before any hysteria hits. 

was very much a regina george type in high school. prom queen, top of her class, and casually cruel. that hasn’t changed much. 

inés doesn’t actually like rich people but she likes and believes she deserves their lifestyle. after being surrounded by them for much of her life she’s come to the conclusion they’re not very bright and most of the time not worthy of her respect.

EXTRA. 

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[ollieinoue]

IN CHARACTER TASK 004: INTERROGATIONS

feat: Ollie, Greer's investigation team (Mostly Agent Choi), and surprise G texts!

Any time Ollie found himself sitting in a room with the police was never a good time. And these weren't even police, they were detectives. Like FBI and shit. As long as he kept a level head, more of one than he kept in his first interrogation, that everything would be fine. So, Ollie sat there quietly, and politely thanked the officer that placed the glass of water in front of him, picking up to take a drink before they asked their first question.

“Had you ever heard of anything regarding THE NAIVE NEWCOMER using steroids?”

Ollie took a sharp breath, the water getting sucked down into the wrong pipe which caused him to gag and start choking, doubling over in his seat his hand over his face as he coughed up the water. One of the very kind agents, Agent Choi, apparently, to pat him on his back. Eventually Ollie sat back up, eyes watering and face red as he panted for breath. "What?" He said, in disbelief, "Wha-? He was juicing? No fucking way. You guys are bullshitting me."

"Afraid not, Ollie," Agent Choi said.

"No way..."

"Yes way."

Ollie leaned back in his seat, his mouth half open gazing off into the distance, clearly very surprised by this information. "Damn... I mean, no I didn't know, he seemed so fucking clean, y'know..." he said, blinking a few times and shaking his head. Apparently that was believable enough (it should fucking be because he was shocked), and they moved on to their next question.

“Had Greer brought up breaking up with him ever? Or anything of the sort, like she did in her video?”

Taking another tentative drink to soothe the burning in his throat, Ollie looked over the top of the cup, shaking his head. "No, we didn't really talk about our romantic relationships much. But I guess it's not surprising. She wasn't exactly too loyal to him was she? She always seemed like she was destined to meet some uber famous billionaire who would whisk her away to some private island where they would live the rest of their lives on some fabulous mega yacht or something."

"Speaking of the videos," Agent Choi lead, "were you aware that Greer Morrison had submitted a video at the end of last year?”

"No," Ollie said, his eyebrows furrowing, glancing down at the table, "I mean none of the video was great to see so that was kind of like the surprise cherry on top of the whole shit sundae... It was kinda painful, actually..." He said with a very unhumorous laugh.

"Can you talk about your time capsule video? Give us some context for the clip that was leaked?”

Please can we fucking not? His video very clearly had nothing to do with anything, so he could probably just say, no and there was nothing to it. However... Ollie looked up from where he was staring at the table towards Agent Choi, than around at the others in the room, frowning at them. Well... If he'd learned anything in his very long nineteen years of life it was that over sharing about something that didn't matter much, was a good way of throwing people off the scent. Not that Ollie really thought there was much of a scent on him in the first place, but... just to make very sure. "I mean... What do you want me to say? That I'm in love with my best friend? Apparently everyone already fucking knows. I just fucking realized a few weeks ago, but everyone else already knew I guess. Like name a stupider gay stereotype, I'm so fucking pathetic."

"You sound like you're being hard on yourself," Agent Choi said, placing his hand on Ollie's shoulder, who pouted up at him. "And this friend is... Monty Richler?"

That made Ollie hesitate a moment, not exactly wanting to speak about others in this interrogation, but he carefully gave a very subtle nod, and was relieved when the officers moved on to another question.

“Do you have any reason to believe THE GOLDEN GIRL would want to leave Ogden College?”

His nod turned into a shake of his head, "no," Ollie said. He was content to leave it there but he opened his mouth to speak again, "I mean she sounded lonely in her video. It's hard to be around people when you feel like you don't have anyone you really connect with that you can talk to."

"Were you at the party on June 4th in the Hamptons that Greer is pictured attending on Riley Vanderford’s social media?"

If Ollie was drinking more of the water he probably would have done another spit take as he snorted. "Do I seem like the kind of person who would ever go to the Hamptons? No, I was back home in the Heights by then."

"What do you know a student named Rhiannon Falla?"

"Rhia?" Was Ollie's automatic surprised reaction, though he immediately regretted it, clearly giving away that he did in fact know Rhia. "I mean, we're friends. She's really sweet. We vibe. It's hard not to be friends with Rhia..."

"And her relationship with Greer?"

"They were friends too?" Ollie said slowly, and gave a shrug of his shoulders. Clearly content on keeping it at that pretty much, though he added, "like I said it's hard not to be friends with Rhia." If Ollie had seen the next question coming perhaps he would have preferred to keep talking about Rhia and how great he actually did think she was. Though a worse subject was brought up after that.

"How about Milo Navarro? His relationship with Greer?"

Ollie let out a harsh breath, biting down on his bottom lip, looking back down at the table. "I-- Uh..."

"Ollie," Agent Choi said, putting a hand on his shoulder again, Ollie looked back up at him with a frown, "if you know something, you can tell us."

Yeah, he certainly could. But despite how angry he was at Milo, he wasn’t going to be a fucking rat to the cops, no matter what. "We were hooking up, and he just said some really mean things to me. Personal things that don't really have anything to do with this," Ollie said, shaking his head, "a lot of sex things if you want me to describe my sex life to you."

"That won't be necessary," Agent Choi said, "but about Greer...?"

"They were friends, and tennis partners. They were a pretty big deal when it came to tennis too, apparently. They were around each other a lot, Greer is the one that introduced me to Milo. So, yeah they were close." That much was public knowledge, so he was fine with saying as much, and hoped that it was enough to satisfy the detectives. There was a look between Agent Choi, and another of the detectives- the guy in charge Ollie suspected, then he turned back to Ollie and smiled.

"Thank you for your cooperation Ollie," He said, "you were very helpful. You can go."

He practically ran from the room after giving his thanks to the agents, and was out on the quad when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out his eyebrows pulling together as he read the texts.

g: well, it looks like the cops sure trust you. let’s not get into the merits of whether or not they should, and instead let’s figure if i should. or if greer morrison should. g: did greer ever mention wanting to go to the cops over anything? g: think...stalkers, fights, issues with drugs. anything like that ring a bell? g: think about it. even try to figure it out. what you do with that info? well, i guess that’ll let us know if the cops were right for believing what you said.

Ollie paused where he was walking along the pathway, finding it a bit rich that they  thought he should are if they could trust him when he knew very well he could not trust them. He hesitated a moment before typing out a quick messages and sending it back, and continuing back to his room.

TXT  →  suck my fucking dick

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