#pieces from the rant folder

[wordsandrobots]

[The following is not an essay. It is the author's attempt to grapple with the despair at losing something important to him, presented in hopes someone in a similar situation may know such things are worth grappling with.]

Apropos of Doctor Who's triumphant return to having writing and direction I can actually care about again, I've been reflecting on how much casual 'Moffat-hate' irritates me.

Obviously, I need to unpack that a bit.

I'm talking about the reflexive antagonism towards Steven Moffat's era as show-runner, writing tics, writing in general, moment of centrality to British TV and so on that I am no doubt going to run into if I go anywhere near Doctor Who reviews and analysis again. A sneer about perceived sneering here, another repetition of a narrative-construction gripe there. The regurgitation of old arguments because there is a strong contingent of people who loathe that era and Moffat in general, who have every right to that opinion, and who can quite reasonably bring it up when talking about Russel T Davies' new, second era of running the show, however that shakes out.

The me-problem here is, I loved a lot of 'the Moffat era' of Doctor Who when it was being broadcast. For whatever reason, it hit lots of nice buttons in my head and I had a grand old time watching it unfold. The 11th and 12th Doctors provided some really excellent examples of the show doing its best at what it does best. Indeed, 'Listen' may be my favourite example of a story delving into what Doctor Who is all about, ever.

But there is a degree to which my enjoyment is now perpetually enmeshed in defensiveness. Because the fandom was/is wild tangle of very strong opinions, much of them to the contrary, and that isn't likely to change any time soon.

[And for me personally, my best friend hates that era, which threw into sharp relief a lot of hang-ups I have around needing to justify the things I like. Having an emotional breakdown kind of sharp relief. That's not the sort of thing you just shrug off, even after all this time.]

To be clear, I am not here to defend Steven Moffat. I do not give a rat's arse about Sherlock – it was enjoyable at the time but I can't say it registered beyond 'a thing it was fun to watch once' – and I actively despise Twice Upon A Time, the last 12th Doctor story, for pretty much the exact reasons I think most people rag on Moffat's other work. It is a story ostensibly in conversation with a piece of source material that instead only concerns itself with the refracted, pop-cultural version of said thing, for the sake of being constructed like a joke.

Which in general is an approach far better suited to Doctor Who – a series progressively layering 'canon' atop stories that could not be recalled as anything other than half-remembered versions of themselves for a very long time – than it would ever be for something like Sherlock Holmes. Even if I didn't like Twice Upon A Time, I can at least forgive it as a wider pattern and oh for goodness sake, I've started defending the man anyway, haven't I?

You see the problem. I can't make a critique with any teeth because I am braced for the whole to be dismissed even as I home in on the specific part I wish to unpack. Must I defend a writer in toto because I vibed with one piece of their corpus? I don't think I would for anyone else and yet here we are. This is probably why I count myself lucky to have never been deeply invested in Doctor Who fandom in the communal sense, online or off. This and the people who fawn over the racist giant rat story.

[Talons of Weng-Chiang is a Yellow Peril tale, straight up, nothing else. It also jobs Leela, rendering her forever 'the savage' despite the entire point of her introduction being a rejection of the superstitions imposed on her people and thereafter proving herself extremely capable in new and strange situations. It was also written in Britain in the 70s so this is almost self-explanatory. Just fucking own the fact you enjoy the production values and excellent cast while accepting it's indefensible to claim this is the best the classic series produced, you chronic dipsticks.]

See, I can do it with other examples of what I dislike, bare my teeth and go for the throat. But few people argue we should write off Robert Holmes' extensive contribution to the series because he did a massive racism on account of being a British writer in the 70s. Maybe they should. I don't know.

What I do know is, I understand why the 11th and 12th Doctor eras work for me. I am a white cis man who thought he was straight when they started airing and who is exactly the kind of Doctor Who fan who'd want to solve the regeneration limit with a Five Doctors reference. I never felt like Moffat's grand arcs were talking down to me because, I suspect, I was the kind of person most easily able to imagine I was in on the joke by the end. Then again, the writer who's done some of the most extensive analysis and defence of this era is a trans American woman, whose work did more for my appreciation of Doctor Who history than anyone else. So – yeah.

When I said 'irritate', I meant exactly that. This whole topic is a burr, making it difficult to revisit things I once enjoyed. Maybe this would be the case anyway. I have grown a lot since then. So did Steven Moffat, over the course of writing more Doctor Who than any other person ever. He gave us gender-flipping regeneration, tried colour-blind casting and when it failed to make a difference, specifically cast for a black lesbian. And he revisited Donna's ending with an eye on querying the moral failure of it long before RTD2 wrapped around to the same point. Why should I look kinder on his predecessor, who presided over the abusive shit-show that was the production of the 2005 revival season and yet gets to come back to save the programme again?

Oh, yes. The writing. But Russel T Davies annoys me just as much in some places as Moffat does other people. So it goes. Although I suppose Moffat did hire Toby Whithouse to write the central part of Bill's arc and it was a chauvinistic wet fart because it was Toby Whithouse. He also worked for ages with Mark Gattis, whose writing I could shred on similar grounds. And around and around we go, sniping and arguing which of the middle-aged British guys tried their best, or wrote the worst.

[I am still mourning what Chris Chibnall's era of Doctor Who turned out to be. I was so hyped for getting Jodi Whittaker as the Doctor and then we hit Kerblam! and the oldest, most foundational piece of my inner cultural map no longer felt like something I wanted to be a part of. So yeah, he's the worst, for allowing that story to go out, 'the system isn't the problem, it's the people' and all. That's my 'hot-take', years too late. The man wasted dozens of excellent, interesting, diverse writers and actors on what is ultimately, in my opinion, the most mediocre crap since the Saward Era and his big contribution to the series going forward is to fanwank in an explanation for the Morbius!Doctors that essentially makes the Doctor the specialest special whoever specialed.]

At least Moffat previously made some attempt to spork the god!Doctor approach, before deciding they should textually be the reason evil doesn't triumph in the universe. Sadly, that endpoint seems inevitable. We're long past the days of the Doctor being a university drop-out, bumbling around the universe, interfering from the edges. Pick your saccharine alternative, I guess.

What was I talking about before I dived into my own bitterness and angry fan-ranting? How much people deriding one sitcom writer for his faults and prominence within a particular era of big British TV that sparked vast swathes of internet discourse continues to be an aspect of Doctor Who meta? How that makes me feel? Hah. Who cares?

There's no widely applicable point here, just an emotional sore making me wonder if I'm ready to 'get back into' Doctor Who. Because yes, actively being revolted by the Chibnall Era is the real reason I fell out with the show. And yes, maybe I've just grown beyond the point where Doctor Who satisfies, full-stop (let's leave the political rant about The Zygon Inversion for another time; I'll only be repeating other people). But sitting here, being honestly, genuinely delighted by The Star Beast and Wild Blue Yonder in ways I'd frankly forgotten I could be by Doctor Who . . . there's a still part of me that doesn't want to risk going back and running into those same old arguments. I've seen them before. They're boring. They annoy me. I don't have the energy to deal with it. And I haven't yet worked out how to thicken my skin against them.

Someday, maybe, I will sort the love for Doctor Who I had since I was six and watching Peter Cushing romp around in glorious Technicolor from a factional fandom pissing match I didn't even play a part in. I never was someone who picked fights online over this or tried to make grand sweeping arguments about why X, Y or Z was better. I want to be mellow about differing tastes and just like what I like. I certainly don't want to be the kind of person who rags endlessly on things I didn't enjoy, which is why the emotional outburst above is about as far as I'm prepared to go in talking publicly about the 13th Doctor's run.

[I want to go back. I want to love Doctor Who again, flaws and all. I probably will regardless of this. I am not making a plea concerning fandom's nature. I am neither asking for grace nor extending it. The answer is undoubtedly to carry on along the sidelines, a skulking hermit-crab of a Whovian. Yet the burr remains, the grief sticks and the solid ground of a long-held interest remains cracked. Perhaps that is growth. Self-examination does not entitle one to set discoveries aside, job done, card stamped, and return to pleasures-as-were. Yet I can't deny the raw emotional urgh that comes of hearing the same punches struck over and over, about a portion of the show that at least tried.]

Ultimately, however, I like picking apart the things I enjoy and I enjoy watching others do likewise. And I don't get to do that here without cautiously curating my experience to avoid the ten billionth iteration of ten-year-old internet arguments.

I'll keep doing it, obviously.

But it is irritating.

[This post brought to you by listening to El Sandifer's podcast about The Star Beast. Eruditorum Press is a great site for fascinating media analysis and her TARDIS Eruditorum series is well worth a read if you're interested in the show's development.]

[aria0fgold]

I just realized something... my mhyk hyperfixation... might be strong enough to rival my inuyasha hyperfixation... orz and I'm not sure how to feel about that.

[aperrywilliams]

I'm Sorry I Couldn't be Here for You Sooner (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You have one of the worst days in a long time at work. When Spencer returns from an assignment to the BAU and sees your current state, he must do something.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Frustration/Hurt/Comfort. Just a self-indulgent rant. A lot of cuss words. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world.

A/N: I just need Spencer to hold me now.

-----

The clock ticks and ticks, but the time seems to stand still. Even if you don't know how long you have been looking at that piece of wood, plastic, and metal, it feels like an eternity.

In the distance, a voice keeps throwing out words and sentences to which you should pay attention. However, even if you tried, looking at the clock on the wall is still more interesting than hearing Hotch talking about new protocols for field agents.

Still lost in your head, you don't notice the meeting is over and people are starting to leave the room. Only when someone squeezes your forearm. It's JJ.

"Are you okay?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed. You look at her and blink a few times.

"Uh- yeah," you mumble. 

Are you okay? No, you're not. But why bother others with that?

On second thought, this may be a chance to spill what's on your mind. JJ is usually a forthcoming and wise person. 

"Well, actually-" you begin, but before saying anything else, JJ cuts you off.

"That's nice. Because I want to ask you if you can babysit Henry tomorrow night. Will invited me to a romantic dinner, and our babysitter is sick. Hope it doesn't make much trouble to you?" the blonde probes.

Okay, you didn't expect that.

Not in the mood to turn the subject back to you, you say yes, and after thanking you, JJ quickly leaves the conference room. Alone with your thoughts for a few seconds, you wonder if the tightness in your chest isn't an exaggeration. You decide to forget about it and go back to your desk.

Opening a folder with the information on the last case, you are ready to write your report. But not too so far on it, Emily approaches you.

"Hey, how are you?"

You have doubts about how to answer the question. A few minutes ago, when JJ asked, you lied to her, and she didn't even notice. Maybe it's good to be honest.

"Actually, not so good," you sigh. And Emily raises an eyebrow. 

"Yeah? What happened?"

"I just don't know, I don't feel good," you try to explain. But you're not sure how to do it either.

"I'm sure it's something you can manage," Emily muses. "Look, whatever it is, have a drink when you get home today, relax a little, and I bet you'll be as good as new tomorrow!"

You open and close your mouth several times, trying to get a word out, but nothing comes to mind. 

A drink and relax? Is that simple?

You let out a hum, and that's enough for a response to Emily.

After wishing you good luck, she heads down the hallway, presumably to Garcia's office.

It's clear that Emily didn't grasp your actual emotional state, but you don't blame her either.

The last case was hard for everyone, so there is no reason to take it personally.

Focusing on your report again, you expect the sour mood surrounding you to fade eventually.

To finish your paperwork, you need to make copies of the reports. So you get up and head to the copy machine. After carefully placing the papers in the tray, you press the start button. When you think it will start copying, the machine stops mid-scan. You frown, and after a few seconds of nothing, you press the 'start' button again. Nothing. You do it again. And again. It's not working, and you feel your blood running hot.

By pressing the button again and again, anger comes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you stupid fucking machine!"

It's not enough to swat with force the button panel; now you're kicking the machine out of pent-up frustration.

"Whoa, whoa, stop right there, pretty girl."

Morgan steps between you and the machine, putting distance with his palms. And that's when you realize your outburst. Panting and still with the heat of rage on your cheeks, you are not yet satisfied.

"What the fuck, Morgan. Now you're defending a fucking copy machine?!" You hiss. Derek narrows his eyes to assess your current state. He's seen you mad, but it usually goes away easily. You are not a dense person.

"Okay, what's wrong, pretty girl? Since when do you unleash your frustration with pretty boy on inanimate things?"

Pretty boy. Spencer. Your boyfriend. Today, your boyfriend is conducting a cognitive interview with a convict in a DC jail—Hotch's orders. You wish he were here.

Morgan knows you usually laugh at his jokes, and even when you are in a bad temper, they help to light the mood.

Not this time, though.

"Don't talk about Spencer or me like that!" You snarl. "He doesn't have to do with any of this!"

Morgan doesn't like you are talking to him. Folding his arms over his chest, he let out an unamused scoff.

"Come on, don't you think you're overreacting here? Was this whole outburst only for a joke? What, are you four years old?"

You want to keep yelling, but a lump forms in your throat that is making it difficult for you to speak or even breathe. Morgan doesn't even wait for you to say something.

"You know what?" Morgan continues. "If you cannot stand the pressure of this job right now, maybe you should go home."

With that said and shaking his head in disappointment, Dereks leaves you there.

Stumped. Frustrated. Broken.

All the anger from moments before turns into an almost uncontrollable urge to cry. What have you done to these people? They are supposed to be your friends, your family. They are supposed to understand you and support you when you need them. And now that it's the time, they've only ignored you, minimized your problems, and even questioned your worth. Maybe Derek is right, and you should go home.

Defeated, you're strolling to your desk when Hotch peaks out of his office and gestures you to come.

Great, just what you needed now.

When you walk into your boss's office, he is already sitting in his chair, sternly looking at you.

"I won't ask you what's wrong with you today because it's your private life. However, I must remind you we are all professionals on this team. If you need time off, you have the right to get it, but I will not tolerate disrespect, like when you are distracted as I give fundamental instructions. If you don't pay attention, it could affect your work in the field and even put the lives of innocent people at risk."

If you didn't feel trampled before, now you feel like a ton of dirt was dumped on you.

You know Hotch can be sharp with words, but his ultimate goal is always to look after the team. But why does it feel like you're not part of that team right now?

"Do I make myself clear?"

With no more energy left in your body, you just let out a 'yes, sir.' Without waiting for another response, he sends you back to your desk.

It's already noon when you resume your work. Your mind spins at a mile an hour, and although it's hard, you force yourself to concentrate enough to get your job done, so at least the salary they pay you is worth it. 

Like a mollusk in its shell, you close yourself in that bubble and stop paying attention to your surroundings. It's your safe place—only you. 

In the distance, you feel your coworkers come and go. Never do you look up. Time goes by, and your throat feels dry from not speaking for hours.

Before everyone starts planning lunch, you are already picking up your lunch bag.

Social interaction is out of the table, so you are secluded in the building roof where an improvisated garden has benches. You sit alone, and the breeze helps to steady your breathing. As you open your Tupperware, you tentatively plunge the fork into the almost-cold pasta.

Even so, you're better here than in the bullpen minutes ago.

-----

Spencer walks through the doors of the BAU. It's 2 in the afternoon, so hopefully, the team is still having lunch in the conference room. Slightly worried that he wouldn't be able to reach you when he wanted to let you know he was on his way, he assumed that you had a lot of work and that your phone was mute.

Arriving at the conference room, Spencer scans the place and immediately catches something odd. You are not there. JJ, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch are, though.

With an eyebrow furrowed, he asks, "Where is she?"

His teammates perk their heads up.

"Hello to you, pretty boy," Morgan teases.

"How was the interview?" JJ asks.

"Did you eat? You still can sit with us," Prentiss offers.

"Did you get the interview done?" Hotch asks with a raised eyebrow.

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling about what's going on. He knows you weren't feeling so okay this morning, and even if he tried to convince you to take a sick day, you didn't let him.

"Neither of you responded my question," Spencer points, voice harsher than when he asked first.

"(Y/N)? I thought she went home," Morgan muses.

"Why would she do that?" Spencer questions, alarmed. "Something bad happened?"

"She said she was okay when I asked earlier," JJ explains. "Maybe she has an errand to do."

"She was way distracted when we were at the meeting in the morning. She didn't listen a thing of what I said," Hotch adds.

"And you sent her home?" Spencer directs his question to Hotch.

"No, I didn't. She didn't ask it either when I called her to my office."

"You called her to your office? Did you reprimand her?" Spencer asks in disbelief.

"Of course, I did it, Reid. She did something disrespectful to the team," Hotch defends.

"And considering her rage moment directed to the copy machine, maybe it's better if she went home," Morgan supplies.

"Why are you being so dramatic, Reid?" Emily questions, very confused about why Spencer is so upset.

Spencer huffs, frustration running in his veins.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Did you ever realize she wasn't doing okay and nobody took her seriously? Yeah, sure, she said she was okay, but did you really check on her? Did you really ask her what was wrong? Did someone listen to her?"

The people in the room go silent after Spencer scolds them. 

Did they help in any way?

"You are unbelievable, and you call yourself profilers," Spencer huffs, turning to exit the room in search of you.

"What are you doing, Reid?" Hotch asks. No turning around to face his boss, and halfway out, Spencer replies.

"The thing you should have done in the first place. And I don't care if it doesn't fall protocol, I can give you my resignation letter tomorrow."

-----

When Spencer reaches the building roof and sees you sitting on one of the benches, he lets out a sigh of relief. He suspected you might be there, considering your things were still on your desk.

You can't see it since your back is turned. Your eyes look at the horizon without focusing on anything in particular.

The breeze is nice despite the November weather in Virginia.

Not wanting to scare you, Spencer slowly approaches you as he clears his throat. You turn around and see him standing a couple of meters away from you, but close enough to see your eyes red from crying.

You know he noticed it, and you avert his gaze.

You don't like the idea of ​​looking vulnerable right now. The morning was already catastrophic enough to explain your current state of mind to Spencer.

Spencer is a man of many words. He is known for his diatribes on any topic at hand. So you expect some kind of rant or even some statistical data about what could be happening to you.

But contradicting his very nature, he just silently approaches, takes your hand to get you up from the bench, and pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace.

And for the first time all day, you feel like you can actually breathe, and your chest isn't tight anymore. Words are not necessary; just being held like that is enough for now.

Spencer kisses the top of your head lovingly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here for you sooner. I'm sorry you had such a horrible morning," your boyfriend laments.

You shake your head, still buried in his chest.

Tears fight to come out from the corners of your eyes, and you no longer want to hold them back.

"Let it out, baby. Just let them out."

And that's what you do. For the first time all day, you allow yourself to cry without holding back. Spencer has you the entire time, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I don't know why I feel so bad, Spencer. I don't understand," you muffle your words into his embrace.

"It's okay, love. You don't have to explain to me, or anyone for that matter. There are days when we are not okay, and it's completely valid. Never think you don't have the right to."

Hearing Spencer say that relieves some of the pressure on your head, but you can't help but think about your teammates' words throughout the morning.

Separating yourself from Spencer to look at him, your eyes still denote your inner struggle.

"What if they are right? What if they are right when they say I shouldn't make so much fuzz and rather think about doing my job well?"

Spencer cups your cheeks so you can look at him.

"They are not. Okay? By any means, you are the most professional person I have ever met in my life. Not only that, you are also the most compassionate, selfless, and willing to help to the fullest extent of your capacity. Does JJ need help babysitting Henry? You don't think twice. Does García need assistance organizing a girls' night? You are the first one to be there. Does Hotch need to finish a stack of reports in one night? You offer to help him. Does Derek need a backup to kick his way into a place and catch the unsub? You're the first to watch his back."

You are indeed like that, and you do all that. But you've never seen it as something extraordinary. For you, being part of a team and a family means all that and more.

"And that doesn't even scratch the surface of what you have been to me.

My love, you have been the person who has entitled me to open my heart and love without reservation. You have taught me to trust and that asking for help when you feel bad is okay. You are the light of my life, and I swear I'll do everything in my power so you can see the wonderful person you are and that you deserve all the love and support in the world."

Without a doubt, Spencer has something with his words and eloquence. How can you not believe him? The veil of doubt indeed emerges from time to time, but having someone who is by your side showing you what is really important makes the doubts not cloud your path.

A shy smile appears on your face, your eyes filled with gratitude.

"There she is," Spencer whispers, stroking your cheek with love and never breaking eye contact.

"Maybe I should have listened to you this morning and called in sick," you sigh. Spencer kisses the top of your nose.

"I know you weren't going to do it anyway." 

You giggle because he's right. Spencer knows you too well.

"Lunchtime is almost over. We should come back to work," you remind him. Spencer pulls a face, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What was that?" You inquire.

Spencer laughs nervously. "It's just I may or may not have made a scene in the conference room earlier, and I may or may not have offered my letter of resignation to Hotch if he didn't allow me to come find you."

"You did what? Spencer, oh my God!" you start laughing. "Does that mean there's a chance we'll both get fired today?"

Spencer thinks about that for a second.

"Honestly? I don't think Hotch would risk losing his two best agents," he decides, winking at you.

"Hope you're right, Dr. Reid. Hope you're right," you voice, grabbing his hand in yours and making the way back to the sixth floor.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[libbyfandom]

Let’s take a look inside Modern!Mizu’s Camera Roll! Featuring Reader and BES Characters (Companion Piece)

Screenshot of an undercut with long hair.

Screenshot of a wolf cut.

Picture of her tv screen showing her new high score at a video game. (To rub it in Taigen’s face that she beat his)

Her hand cupping the back of a pretty neck covered in hickeys.

Akemi death-gripping a trash can with her face buried into it as she hurls. The rollercoaster Mizu forced her on is in the background.

Selfie of her and her adoptive father at a baseball game. (She couldn’t get him to smile. He only hummed, which made her laugh)

Video of you asleep on her, your head on her shoulder and your hand curled up on her chest. Her fingers are gently brushing the side of your face for a minute, before your eyebrows pinch in sleep. You make a soft, stressed noise unconsciously. Her lips press to your temple for a long moment. “Shh shh shh.” Your expression relaxes again, and she goes back to gently stroking your cheek.

The full moon.

A video of Ringo coming up silently behind you and Akemi while you're standing in line at a coffee shop. You two turn around and nearly jumps out of your skin when you sees him. (He's always so silent)

Screenshot of a quote “How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become? -Doc Lubel”.

Her torn up jeans and bloodied outer thigh as she sits in the grass along the road, her crashed motorcycle in the background.

A video of her holding your wrists down in bed, oh so slowly pressing kisses all over your chest where she yanked your top up to your collarbone. Every once in a while she bites into your skin without warning, gripping your wrists tighter when your body arches and tries to twitch away with broken whines. She waits each time for you to stop moving, staring intensely up at you with your skin between her teeth, before she licks at the bite to soothe it away and restarts the cycle.

Video of her sitting on her bed practicing knife flipping.

Her hand holding a book titled "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

A close up of the price tag of the book "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

Saved selfie Ringo sent of the two of them on a hike.

Screenshot of a dinner reservation confirmation for two at a new restaurant downtown.

Video of Akemi in the middle of some rant in Mizu and Ringo’s living room. The darkness outside the window suggests it’s very late into the night. She gestures wildly at something off camera. “-and Taigen pees in the fucking shower-!” Taigen’s voice comes from somewhere off camera, loud and offended. “I aim for the drain!” You sit in the background behind Akemi, looking disturbed and distressed.

Screenshot of piercings. (For the wish list people are asking for)

A gif of a character going “Some god damn peace and quiet”. (For the wish list people are asking for)

The ocean.

Saved video Ringo sent of you two at the beach bonfire. You’re cuddled up into each other while sitting against a log, your legs overlapping hers. You’re both staring into the fire, absentmindedly playing with each others fingers where you’re holding hands on your lap. She’s never looked more relaxed.

You and Akemi in the backseat asleep on the drive back from the beach.

Saved photo you sent her of her and her adoptive father playing chess. Her brows are furrowed as she thinks over her next move, sitting properly with her hands in her lap. This is instead of how she usually plays with one leg propped up on her chair and elbow leaning on her knee when she plays with Akemi.

The one nice photo of just her and Taigen, posing in a big mirror at a dark, more upscale restaurant wearing suits.

Screenshot of receipt for two concert tickets on your birthday.

Ringo laying head down on a pile of finals notes in defeat at the library.

Screenshot of a text you sent of a grocery list.

A video in her “Hidden” folder that is 37 minutes long and requires a password that only she and you know.

Screenshot of the word “Bitch” in Barbie pink font.

You curled up on the couch fast asleep, wearing Mizu’s oversized college sweatshirt.

Saved photo Ringo sent of Mizu standing in the bathtub making a peace sign with one gloved hand as the other holds Akemi’s newly dyed and wet burgundy hair while Akemi is seen leaning over the tub so Mizu can rinse out the excess dye.

A picture of her hand holding an engagement ring nestled inside a green velvet box. She wanted Akemi’s opinion. So she’ll stop having an anxiety attack over what she picked.

[jirsungs]

ep 13: my wonderwall, at least i hope so

word count: 1.5k words

It's already been two months and three weeks since you and Jisung started hanging out. That's also how long the overthinking thoughts of whether you really want to pursue this relationship or not have been torturing you as they're kept in a locked folder in the back of your mind. 

You knew you and Jisung had to have the talk at some point, but every time you tried, the timing was always a bit… off.

The first time you tried was two weeks ago, at another Rockway gig. It was getting on your nerves that a bunch of screaming girls came to that particular performance of theirs, especially when some of them were eyeing Jisung and losing their minds every time he looked over in their direction to play his typical drummer role of pleasing the audience correctly. Even though he caught their attention the whole night, you caught his, which is how you succeeded in pulling him aside after Rockway finished their performance.

“Jisung, can I talk to you for a moment?”

It wasn't the right time or place, sure, but you had to get this off your chest because your heart felt like it was on a ticking time bomb.

Jisung joins you in the corner after he frees himself away from the girls around him once Chenle gets his signal that he’s desperate for a way out. “What’s up? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to talk to you. I know this isn't a good time right now but I seriously need to say this.”

He only raises his brow, “Okay.” He's anxious, but he doesn't have time to dwell on how he's feeling when he's worried about you. The way you’re visibly stressing out has him putting the pieces together on why you called him over, but as Chenle and Jeno said, he was going to wait for your lead.

“I like—” 

You. I like you. That's what you were supposed to say, and so much more. Until some dumb overly excited girls came over and interrupted your private conversation. 

The squeals of “Jisung, you did soooo well tonight!”, “You were so hot up there!” and “Can I get your number?” sounded blurry in your head with how irritated you were getting.

Yeah… You ended up leaving Jisung and the party in general despite the sad protests from your friends on how “you needed to cheer yourself up.” But, you brushed them off by telling them that it was impossible to do that right now. 

So, you ended your night in your apartment alone with the accompaniment of a big bucket of cookie dough ice cream, multiple episodes of How I Met Your Mother, and no friends or Jisung by your side. 

You tried again the week after, but just like last time, it did not turn out so well.

You should've known that it wouldn't work because it was during a hangout with both of your friend groups, specifically hosted at Jisung and Jeno's apartment.

Jaemin, Haechan, Chenle, and Yeonjun were busy being loud as they screamed over one another during a game of Mario Kart 8 in the living room while Jeno helped Ning finish a two-thousand-piece puzzle downstairs. And, Mark and Renjun were nowhere to be found due to them both having different plans set for that day.

Which left you and Jisung in his room. Alone. He originally brought you up here to show off his new collectibles, so you weren't sure how you ended up watching a movie with him on his bed.

It seemed like the perfect time to tell him, it really did. But just as you were about to open your mouth, your phone rang, leaving you on the phone with Renjun for three whole hours while he ranted about someone who pissed him off at his group study session. And by the time your conversation with Renjun ended and you hung up, Jisung was already occupied by a game of Super Smash Bros with your friends in the living room. 

You're still mad at Renjun for ruining the moment.

And now, you're here, a few days after, in Jeno and Jisung’s apartment once again, but this time, sitting on their living room couch with him right next to you. 

Neither of you spoke during the movie you were currently watching, probably because you both wanted to ignore the awkward tension that's been spiraling around the two of you for the past few weeks. But to you, now seemed like the perfect time to break that. It was dark out and you were both left alone as Jeno had to leave to run errands. 

“Ji, can you pause the movie?”

Without asking, Jisung mutters “Sure.” before grabbing the remote control and pausing the movie.

With his attention on you, you sit up and fix your posture on the couch, which he mirrors. You thought fixing your appearance would help balance yourself from the overcoming emotions you knew you were going to have at this very moment. 

“Okay, well—”

But then, you get interrupted again. Not by Jeno walking in, or a random phone call from one of your friends, but by him.

“Wait! Before you tell me your thing, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

Despite the small annoyance that was creeping on you, you dismissed it and instead, anticipated what he was going to say. Most times, you didn’t mind how oblivious Jisung was, but right now, you really wish he could read the room and let you say what’s on your mind. You hope he’s going to say the same thing you were going to say, but he didn’t need to interrupt you for it…

Your silence cues him to continue, “You remember Oasis? You know, the band I told you about?” You nod. “Okay, um, there’s this one song by them, it’s actually one of my favorites. It’s called Wonderwall, it’s kinda like a love song but uh—I’m not saying we’re in love ‘cause obviously we’re not—”

“We’re not?”

Shit. That’s not what Jisung meant.

He panics, “No! I mean–yes? Fuck, I dunno, Y/N.” 

“Oh. Okay.”

The thing is, you know that he didn’t mean anything bad out of it, then how come you felt your heart break into two hearing how unsure he felt about you? Should you even confess right now? No, this doesn’t feel right.

The room is full of complete and uncomfortable silence with no other words said, and it annoys the hell out of you. You can tell it bothers Jisung just as much because you watch him mentally stress out in front of you, his face in his hands as he lets out an exasperated sigh. Both of your minds were pushing you to fix the problem, but you can’t. You don’t know how to. This is new for you both, and that’s the problem. 

Just as Jisung grasps a new idea in his head, he sees you physically pull farther away from him before you grab your bag from the side and stand up from your place on the couch. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, your voice coming out quavered, “I–um, I gotta go.”

Scared to see his reaction or hear his voice, you thought what was best. You escape. You rush out of his apartment, giving him no time to react at all. The last sounds Jisung heard were the slam of the door and the words Chase after her, don’t her go from the little voice in his head.

Jisung knew you were hiding yourself away from him again. He noticed it the first night you hung out and some moments after that, but he felt that it was insensitive to bring it up out of nowhere. Right now was one of those moments. 

When you’re outside of the apartment, you’re met with Jeno who’s looking at you, puzzled and worried. Even though it felt like your world was crashing down on you, the way he almost resembled a Samoyed dog and how you could imagine the cogs in his brain turning lightened your mood a little bit. But just like Jisung, you gave him no time to say anything. 

“Y/N!” You hear Jeno call after you after you quickly walk away. 

Just like he expected you to, you ignore him and he watches you rush down the stairs. Many scenarios were circling in his head right now, but he didn’t want to assume the worst before he asked Jisung himself.

Jeno inserts his assigned key into the key slot before turning it, the door unlocking right after. He walks in and sees no Jisung in the living room or kitchen. 

There’s no way that kid escaped. He thinks.

He’s about to let it pass him by until he notices Jisung’s door slightly cracked open. He walks over and gently pushes it to reveal the younger one sprawled on his bed. Though he knows it’s not the best moment, he snickers at the sight. Oh, Jisung's in love. 

Then, he hears a pouty “You know, I can hear you, Jeno.” come from Jisung before he watches him switch positions on his bed. His disheveled hair and the I fucked up expression he’s wearing tell Jeno all he needs to know. 

Already knowing he’s going to be here for a while, the said man opens the door more to give himself space to get comfortable. He rests his body against the doorframe, folds his arms then sighs, “Alright, what’d you do, kid?”

“I messed up.”

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

note: i had my considered "sad songs" on repeat the whole time i was writing this and i think i memorized every single song by the time i was done with it ☠️ also, new twt pfps 😱 (they made me feel better) but i am wishing our dms couple all the happiness in the world ☹️

🎫: @idkwhatursayinh @sunghoonsgfreal @multifandomania @nanaxwi @odxrilove @sourrpatched @hancafe @chaellaa @dojaejunging @jising-jisang-jisung @heheheeral @haechansbbg @renjunsversion @seunghancore @woshixinqgiu @jiiieun @pinknjm @mrshwang-park @neozon3nha @joyzluvr @aerivrs @nosungluv @haechology

[starzgaze]

ARCHIVED: annoyance [unfinished]

pairing: sjw/archivist!reader

unreliable synopsis: [y.name] tries to discreetly follow jinwoo but they fail so badly that jinwoo played them lmao

a/n: [y.name] whole job is from an oc so if you need a bit of context on how they work you can check my oc ophion because this is a self indulgent piece huhuhu.. also shit english and its unfinished so yeah erm

[y.name] stared down the intricately detailed paper in front of them. It honestly looked like something straight out of some fairytale but [y.name] knew better. It was a personal announcement stating where there's a bit of information that's incorrect or not processed correctly in their archives.

They sighed in irritation.

The archivist crumpled the piece of paper and then threw it aggressively to some wall, letting out an annoyed groan.

"AGH! This rarely happened before even in past timelines?? It only happened when he—" [y.name] ranted before shoving their face into their hands and let out an irritated groan again. They genuinely started to hate this job that was forcibly imposed on them.

And that job was being an archivist to archive everything that happened in this world for the purpose that their now dead boss, the absolute being, could look through the records [y.name] made if they got bored of the monarchs and rulers fighting and went off somewhere else. [y.name]'s job was supposed to made easier because information from the future and past would be forcibly injected into their head like some sort of epiphany because the movements of everything that the absolute being made was predictable. Which means they don't have to manually archive it.

That is until Sung Jin-woo came in.

That... man... almost drove [y.name] into insanity. Right after the dungeon incident, [y.name] ordinarily archived whatever happened to Sung Jin-woo in the dungeon and assumed he would have an average 'Second Awakening' and nothing more.

But when [y.name] archived it they were immediately greeted with an announcement that the information they archived was incorrect. [y.name] rose a brow at this.

They were rarely wrong so how can this be? The last time they archived something wrong was the time where Antares did something so out of character or Ashborn constantly doing decisions that even the existing predictions couldn't match his choices. [y.name] was definitely confused at this but they didn't pay that much mind to it.

They simply adjusted it and tweaked around until it approved the information [y.name] archived then after this [y.name] thought they'll never encounter this ever again for a while.

Until it repeated.

and repeated

repeated

repeated......

....aaanndd repeated......

...

"oh my god I think I'm gonna bald from stress" [y.name] whined as they gripped the folder in their hands and narrowed their eyes at the profile in the folder. The archivist gritted their teeth at the sight of the hunter.

S-rank hunter, Sung Jin-woo.

"Just how the hell did you become this strong?!!?"

The folder flew into the air as [y.name] threw it as they covered their face exasperatedly. The only thing that was haunting [y.name]'s days was Sung Jin-woo, the very reason of why they stay up at night and grovel at the thought of.

Ever since his sudden rise in the rankings in Korea, [y.name]'s work as an archivist doubled. They had to manually archive every little decision Jin-woo made in his life that'll affect the world or even the universe with how powerful he's getting. It was difficult for sure, especially when they're trying to not seem like a creep discreetly following the hunter around trying to jot down whatever Jin-woo is doing because now this magical force that helped them archive doesn't work on him.

"Eugghhh. How many days left before this guy is gonna figure out I've been following him for the past few months" [y.name] sighed as they turned their head over to where the folder fell. Their eyes hardened at thr sight of the folder, annoyance bubbling inside of them. Sung Jinwoo is seriously making their job harder than it should be.

Jin-woo can't miss how a figure would tail him whenever he was in public and most definitely whenever he's in a high ranking dungeon for some reason.

He would occasionally catch them at his peripheral vision but when he actually turn his head and try to see who it was they would magically disappear. Jin-woo could easily of course appear in their shadow but this figure hasn't posed a threat to him or to anyone he loved.

"My leige, they're tailing your trail again. Do you wish for me to dispose them?" Beru reported as he materialized behind Jin-woo. He raised his hand and waved it dismissively. "No need. Let them be"

In truth, Jin-woo recognized the figure. He was sure that the elusive stalker he has doesn't recognize them anymore but Jin-woo does.

[y.name], one of the few who didn't laughed behind Jin-woo's back but instead encouraged him and served as someone of inspiration for Jin-woo.

To be fair, Jin-woo used to have a small crush on [y.name] before but he forgotten about it when he was going through his grueling training of the system. This mostly became the reason why his feelings for [y.name] dwindled but it quickly resurfaced when they started trailing him around.

[thisismeracing]

more thoughts on boyfriend mick🥹pls (fluffy and maybe a bit spicy if you’re comfortable)

Y’all giving me the space to rant and you bet I’m gonna take it all 🫡 jajaja

Boyfriend!mick (part.2) - headcanon | MS47

Warnings: mentions of sex; not proofread.

Mick will definitely call you before going to bed and will most likely fall asleep while talking or listening to you because he’s exhausted and you’re completely fine because you were shit-talking to help him sleep.

He said once during media duties that he preferred calling over texting, but that doesn’t mean he won't text, bf Mick will send you good morning and good night texts EVERY.DAMN.DAY. He doesn’t forget, and starting your day with a cute and sometimes funny message from him has become a habit.

Will trust you to watch Angie while he travels and you love it because it can get lonely at times without him, so it’s heart-warming to have a reminder of Mick ecxitely waggling her tail at you every time you get home from work/school.

Mick strikes me as someone very competetive so I think dating him would bring that trait into your relationship as well, that means you guys will have game nights and whoever loses has to do something, sometimes just clean the dishes, sometimes funny stuff like pranking a friend in common. What you don’t know is that occasionally he lets you win because he loves the way you smile and celebrate afterward.

And a celebration it is when you play strip, whoever loses a round has to take off a piece of clothing. These nights are always a win-win, there’s never really a loser.

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS: Mick is a boob guy. Absolutely loves to play with your boobs while cuddling, sometimes it's not even sexual, he just keeps gripping and pinching your nipple without noticing until you whimper or point out. Will ask to put his head on your chest and your hands on his hair.

Mick’s a private guy, he doesn’t show off or brag about the things you do behind four walls, but jealous Mick??? Jealous Mick will go for a quickie in the bathroom during a party no questions asked, and he won't bat an eye if your friends are able to tell you were busy, Mick will keep his straight face or give one of his cute smiles and carry on talking about whatever subject is going on.

Will praise your body every chance he gets.

Probably has a private folder of suggestive pics you send him, and you love the idea that he uses it when he’s away. It feels powerful to know that only your picture sporting lingerie is able to bring him to the edge.

You have a Polaroid album of both of you over the year and yes there's a section dedicated only for suggestive pics as well.

Last but not least, I will only give a word: STAMINA!

[lu-lus-dicks]

rant about shipping asexuals

I can't with the discussion around shipping asexual characters anymore. You know what? As an asexual (or someone on the spectrum, haven't figured that part out yet) I give you permission to draw/write/create all shipping things you want to. Next time someone tells you "you can't do that, it's disrespectful to the asexuals" tell them lu-lus-duckies is ace and gave me permission to draw all the asexuals as sexy people doing hot gay sex.

Actually, tell them lu-lus-duckies told me to make this art, because I want you to. As an asexual who's not repulsed by sexual topics, give me all of your art! I want to scroll through my feed everyday and find the most beautiful, jaw-dropping, toe-curling pieces of art you can make.

I honestly don't see a problem as long as in canon, they remain asexual and don't go the whole "they found the right person" route because fan content will always be fan content and that shouldn't discourage people from making art. I love art. I love every kind of art. You don't even want to see my rule34 folder, the shit I have on there would make the kinkiest of you do a double take.

It's honestly more annoying seeing mischaracterization of asexuals than the actual shipping. My man alastor wouldn't be all head over heels, he'd be an ass, enemies to enemies with benifits, a "I'm going to be in a relationship with you because it benifits me and maybe you too".

Just please be mindful to who you send those to. I am perfectly fine with all of this, but someone might not be. As long as you aren't actively sending them things they are uncomfortable with, there is no problem. If your art that ships asexual characters shows up on their feed that's not your fault. The people who find that disturbing or uncomfortable can easily ignore/block that content and that'll be the best solution for everyone. Sure it's not perfect, but forcing people to stop making something they're passionate about isn't something I'd like to see at all.

I respect other aces wishes to not see aces depicted in ship art and i also expect that other asexuals respect my wish to want as much fan content of this asexual character, including ship art, as possible. At the end of the day, it won't happen in canon and people just like seeing their favourite ace character interract with another, so they make their own shit and that's badass.

And of course, it's all okay as long as it's fictional. Please don't go around telling ace people in real life they should go have sex with someone because they'd be cute together or something stupid like that.

Edit: this goes for the aromantic bit too. (I'm also definitely demiromantic, that I've figured out. so I'm not sure how much I have a say in this considering i do feel some form of romantic attraction, but i think the same can be said with aromantics.)

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Hey there—this is completely spontaneous on my part, but I just saw your post from a few hours ago about how good the SW fandom used to be, and, dunno, I just wanted to say that I appreciate you. Your SW analyses were always so interesting to me, especially when you got into a debate with someone, because of how you backed your arguments up with evidence. I wish I could write rhetoric like you do. Anyways, you're especially cool to me because you're French and I've got French citizenship from my mom (though I grew up in the States), and despite not being Jewish, you've been really, really kind to us. So thanks for everything—the lengthy, passionate, convincing SW posts that got me through the pandemic, the interesting religious takes (I vaguely remember you going off on someone who said that religion was irrelevant in the modern world, arguing about the impossible-to-understate role it has had in the history of humanity, including in the present day—which, to a history and IR fan who'd gotten used to the sight of anti-religious takes because it was rebellious and trendy and cute, was like a breath of fresh air), and even now, your words since October 7th. I don't know if I ever reblogged or even liked a post of yours, I'm more likely to take a screenshot and put it in a folder on my desktop, but I just wanted to let you know of the impact that you've had in my life. 💛

Awww, it's so cool to find out about people who liked my stuff even if they never said! Idk how to explain why it makes me so happy but it's like it adds more to the whole experience as I look back, it's one more piece of the full picture that I'll never have. Like finding a new detail in a familiar setting and going 'oh! that was there all along? :D'

What was it about my SW stuff that you liked? the constant ranting and raving about the Jedi or the fawning over Obi-Wan? xD (And yes, yes I *did* get into a row with antitheists because I vented about being frustrated with Richard Dawkins' worldview lol. I don't think it really went anywhere.)

I'm glad reading my posts was ever comforting to you. I constantly want to be saying more since October 7th, but I really think using the internet as a battleground would be spectacularly unwise in my case. I've always tried to only argue my opinions from a position of complete confidence and thorough knowledge of all the facts, and that's a lot easier to do with a nerdy fictional universe that's contained to easily accessible media vs complex current global events. I can be stubborn and arrogant and I always want to be right, so in order to not get sucked into propagating self-righteous misinformation and turning into exactly the type of ignorant know-it-all who'd preach to others about geopolitics they learned yesterday on twitter, I preferred to step back.

That said, there is one thing I can and always will say with utter confidence and full knowledge that it's right: the worldwide spike in antisemitism and the horrifying abuse all Jews have been subjected to for over a year both irl and online is appalling and must be called out. The Jewish people are very close to my heart because of my family history, my upbringing and my personal faith in God and my saviour. So from one ~vaguely Jewish~ Frenchie to a vaguely French Jewish person, שׁלום and salut! 💙

Also, telling me you've taken screenshots???? of my posts???? to SAVE THEM???? ON YOUR COMPUTER????? is genuinely one of the highest compliments you could ever give me wow thank youuuuu. I hope you can still have fun going back to them from time to time 😄

[cannibal-nightmares]

Coin Return: Phoenix

When you get bored in your rows, throw a brick into the mix.

A series of disconnected short stories, primarily of academy days Spirit and Stein, but also to include other characters in different points of time. Just a collection of tidbits to keep ideas sharp.

Soul Eater - Stein & Spirit // slice of life, short stories about nothing, absolutely nothing, they bicker like brothers [AO3 link]

Spirit took to the cafeteria in his usual stride, but felt out of place without the looming presence of his meister. It took some practice in getting Stein to attend lunch, but what had become consistent had become comfortable. Stein didn’t do comfortable. As the room filled with chatter and Spirit wandered to their usual place, he found an origami crane in his spot.

“KOMM UND SPIELE,” a wing read on it’s inside as the scythe picked it up to observe it closer. “COME AND FIND ME,” the other sprawled. Spirit looked up and around in a slight exacerbation, half rolling his eyes, half searching his mind on where to start.

Nothing can be simple with you, can it, Stein?

Spirit didn’t take much of a guess as he swung open one of the double doors to the chemistry lab, the room empty save one boy at a microscope along the edge of the wall, scratching something down on an adjacent piece of paper.

“Oh. Hey, Jaden. Have you seen Stein?”

His peer looked up from his thoughts and readjusted his eyes to Spirit’s presence. “Huh? Oh, Franken? He came by ranting about something, but he left to go to lunch.”

Spirit had met his side to note the classroom centrifuge was open, but he couldn’t tell from a glance what the samples were made up of. That was the beside the point.

“Did you happen to catch what he was ranting about?”

“Not enough of anything on this.” Jaden sat back from the slides and leaned on two legs of the stool, his iris-less eyes meeting Spirit’s in a chill. “Really, I don’t get this stuff like he does.”

“Jaden.”

He sighed, snapping the front feet of the chair down to the tile, but maintaining too-perfect eye contact. “Something, something, ‘microniche,’ microfiche… I’m not sure. You know how he gets.”

That, I do. Spirit thought. “Thanks.” He made polite before taking out to the hall again.

The school’s library was impressive, but as kids liked to explore the upper decks and look down to the floor below, what not many knew about was it’s basement. Through rows and rows of outdated encyclopedias and collections of reel-to-reel tape, at the back of the expanse was what looked like a closet with the door unmarked and always closed. Today, the entrance was ajar and a glowing emitted out from the gap.

Spirit touched the door open, a commanding cathode ray-looking monitor taking up what was most of the closet, disregarding the accompanying chair. Next to the machine was a postcard-sized manila folder with a sticky note that sprawled, “SPIRIT.”

“He has real faith I know how to use this thing…” Albarn muttered to himself. He flipped the envelope with ginger hands to find a black piece of film with rectangles of tiny illegible text. It wasn’t second nature to him, but he tried to recall Stein pulling out the glass tray from under the screen and slipping the slide under the optics, the lettering magnified to the monitor. He shifted the image to start at the first page: A headlining story on a warehouse that was demoed decades ago. Spirit recalled it had been an empty lot until it became possessed by the ghosts of appliances and trash and teens wanting to smoke pot.

The scrapyard? Surely this goose chase wasn’t about to tempt him out of school without means, but also it was certain not to go on for much longer, either. Spirit hesitated in his action, considering just where and how far the lot was—right at the edge of town before the actual cemeteries circumferenced the city. Was he really about to commit to this game?

“Did you put on the gloves I left you before you touched the slide?” A familiar voice called out from the heap. Around the labyrinth of junk did a silver-haired boy shuffle around a big white cube of scrap as though he was thinking to shift a side of a giant Rubix cube. The high-noon sun and bright blue sky highlighted Stein’s pallor like a bright dot in a field of muddied color.

Spirit scoffed. “You make a real show of things, you know that?”

He chuckled. “I’ll make it harder next time.” He dipped behind the hunk of dented metal, a creaking and tapping shrouded behind the wall of it’s size.

“What are you doing?”

Stein looked up blankly, his eyes hidden behind goggles. “I’m fixing this dryer.”

“Why?”

He was replied to only by a humming, the weapon’s curiosity luring him in to see around to the other side.

“Truancy’s going to catch up with you someday.”

Franken pushed back his hair with the safety glasses to focus. “Is it? I’m in the lab with Jaden.”

Spirit followed Stein around to front after he dusted off his hands to his pants, the mechanic clearing his throat and gesturing his partner to back off. With one, two, three yanks of a rip cord, a gasoline generator rumbled to attention, reverberating off the walls of baled cars and trash surrounding them. He tossed an old and cracked bike helmet into Spirit’s hands.

“Put that on.”

“What? Did you pull this out of the garbage? You don’t know where this has been.”

“It’s been in the heap. Just…” Stein waved his hand and returned his intention to the metal corpse before them. He let out a deep and focused exhale, turning a dial and pressing the centered green button. The machine rumbled to life.

“Yes!” Stein exclaimed, stumbling back on his feet, pumping his fist at the re-animated creature. Then, he pried open the door with eager fingers, the components still spinning and whirring as he opened and closed and opened the door cartoonishly amused. He paced over to his friend, not first without stepping to pick up two bricks that had been cast aside.

Stein brought his goggles down from his head. “You ready?”

“Ready for what? Why are you wearing--”

The meister flipped the brick in his palm and reeled back his arm, chucking it into the front of the dryer, the concrete bouncing off and hitting the earth with a deadened thud. He giggled something delirious.

“Try it, try it, give it your best shot! Throw it into the hull!”

Stein’s out of character enthusiasm was intoxicating, sparking a smirk to Spirit’s lips and pulled his arm back, launching the brick right into the drum.

“Holy shit,” Stein laughed wildly under his breath, immediately grabbing his partner’s shoulder hard to pull him out of the way, ducking and dragging him behind the cover of some old oil barrels as the machine started to violently shake, walking towards them with a living vengeance. It’s tremors turned to spasms turned to a collapse, the thudding like bullets from the world’s most disorganized twenty-one-gun salute, the walls of the unit rattling apart from it’s skeleton until the scraping metal clanked into silence, landing flat on it’s face. After the calamity, the generator seemed like it was merely purring.

Spirit couldn’t help a misplaced giggle in his throat, peeking out further from the barrier. He huffed, doing a double-take to Stein, trying to fight the boyish excitement that overcame him.

“What was that for?”

“Now is the fun part!” Stein sang, marching triumphantly to the wreckage. He mindlessly kicked a scrap to the side and clanged a heavy wrench to the dryer, leaning to switch off the engine. “Now we rebuild it!”

Albarn couldn’t believe what he was hearing and thought to leave his questions to the breeze.

“How many times have you rebuilt this thing?”

Franken paused, but shook away doubt. “Twice now.” He crouched low to heave the body upright, the soles of his sand shoes sliding out from under him across the dirt; Spirit scrambled to his side to help at the other corner, bringing it to rest at it’s base.

“Theoretical teleportation only exists in the idea that atoms are completely destroyed in one place and recreated in another, but, then begs the question: What becomes of consciousness? The ego?” Stein rambled to the machine, then to his friend. “When a building burns down and it is rebuilt, where is it’s soul?”

It was all nonsense, but Spirit reflected the wonder. “You’re asking if this is the same machine it was before?”

“And what is to be said about the phoenix?”

Spirit stood blank, watching, analyzing the boy’s electric wavelength like that of a honed laser to a shattered mirror. Or perhaps something reversed. He wasn’t sure. The arrow in Stein’s mind was steadfast, that he was certain. Where it went, he could never predict. The mad scientist peeled away in an elliptical orbit to the thick woods of the junkyard.

“Come! Help me find some bolts.”

[tmwcs]

Hey! Its my first time sending an ask hehe~ I just wanted to say that you’re such an amazing writer and your series are just sooooo good!!! 😍😍😍 I started getting into your account when I came across the smau for MRE and HHP and I gotta say, you got me hooked so bad onto Heethan that I end up loving all your Hee-leads so far! I’m so invested in HHP, SE7EN, DT and now TO! I’m honestly so excited to read a new chapter everytime you post hahaha! 🤭🤭

The main reason I wanted to send you this is cuz I’ve been having super stressful and bad days these past few days and its mainly cuz its my final year in college, final semester and final week actually 😅 and there’s just like sooo many final preparations needed to be done for my big final year project (having my big presentation today! soooo nervous) and its just been too much and too overwhelming for me and I didn’t wanna bother anyone with my anxiousness so I’ve been keeping it all to myself and having slight panic attacks and just started having random breakdowns as I complete my assignments. Reading your series, whether its new chapters or just rereading older ones have given me comfort, like I really felt alone but its like Heethan, Heelel and the Heebros have become my comfort characters. It’s just been so overwhelming for me and I didn’t wanna bother my family with it, I only have one other friend that I trust with my whole life but rarely see her, we’re all busy and I just felt like I’m falling behind in everything. Even though the Hee-leads might be like crazy obsessed with the reader, its like I really needed them in my life just to have someone to drop everything just to hold and comfort me anytime life becomes too much for me. I’m actually crying while writing this to you hahaha… it just feels like everyone around me is moving so fast and I’m stuck at the back picking myself up just because I feel so overwhelmed and anxious easily. Turning 20 this year is another thing that has me feeling afraid of adulthood, my mum is pressuring me into getting a job immediately once I graduate but I just feel like I’m not ready, or I’m just not ready to give up my teenage freedom and socialise professionally. Being such an introvert and shy and always thinking I’m just dumb and cant do work without help has been holding me back from wanting to grow and enjoy this new chapter in life.

So sorry for this long ass rant but i just really needed to let you know how much your stories, your Hee-leads have been keeping me going. Excited for the next chapters of your series! Hope you’re having a great day❣️

Omg so....I LOVE THIS.....this is so heartwarming and thank you for sharing it with me. Also, thank you for discovering my blog so you can write this to me, bc as you may have figured, receiving asks are just....its so nice. its a nice and wonderful surprise to hear from readers interesting in my work, wanting to know more about the characters and so forth. I am just beyond touched that heethan, heelel, and heebrows have made their way into your heart and to provide you comfort. in fact, reading your message had reminded me of a piece that i had started to draft (it was originally supposed to be a part of one of the HHP chapters but i never went through with it) but i still had it in my folders so after i finished reading your message, I decided to go back and actually finish it and format it specifically for you as y/n. I hope you like it. <3

Heeseung's Message.....

MDNI18+ content below the line.

Warnings: mentions of losing loved ones, fears and worries about the future, smut, car smut, unprotected smut, some....just some sadness....its a very heartwarming and touching piece.

"What's wrong baby?"

Noting how silent you were in the car, right after he picked you up, Heeseung rubbed your thigh, gently shifting your skirt upwards as he softly slid his hand up and down, enveloping you with warmth and comfort. "Something on your mind pretty baby?"

Placing your hand on his, you grabbed hold semi-tightly, keeping your gaze out at the window. You were hesitant at first, noting that Heeseung had a busy schedule of his own, was on his way of finishing his last year in college, aiding his professors, and of course, there was you....picking you up from classes, dropping you off every morning, taking you wherever you needed to go. You appreciated it but the man had completely devoted his time to everything else, you felt it selfish to bring any matters up to him....feeling that whatever time he did have left within the evening, he should at least have it for himself.

"It's nothing." You sighed out.

Glancing over to you, he furrowed his brows and quickly shifted the wheel, stirring the car over to a nearby parking lot on one of the campus buildings.

"What are you....?" raising up in your seat, you looked around before turning your gaze over to Heeseung, who steered the wheel with one hand and in a smooth motion, parked the car. Unbuckling his seatbelt, his gaze meets with yours before he reaches up and places his hand behind your head, softly grabbing onto your hair as he leans in and rests his forehead against yours.

"Whats wrong? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? I wanna know. Tell me, y/n."

His eyes were wide and his expression was fierce with rage, however, before he further ventured off into a spiraling path of unhinged presumptions, you reached up and latched your fingers onto his collar, placing a dainty kiss on his lips. "Its not that....I promise nothing like that happened."

Raising his brows and tilting his head, he releases the gentle grip he had on your hair, and replaced it with a soft, petting motion. "Then why are you being so quiet? You seem upset, what is it?"

Looking down at the console for just a second, you raise your sights once more to meet his and began talking.

".....Are you ever scared about the future, Heeseung?"

His face was taken slightly aback as he raised both brows and looked at you with an intent look.

"Is that what this is about? Are you feeling overwhelmed about moving?"

Shaking your head, you looked down once more as you shyly clarified. "Nooo.....its not just that....its more..."

"Like what baby?"

"Like....after the moving.....finishing college, being in an unfamiliar country, not knowing anybody, making new friends, meeting your family, being apart from mine, learning a new language, finding a job after college, and what if I have to do more college? Or ...." pausing, you caught yourself drifting in verbal thought.

"Or....?" He draws out as he bids you to finish your statement.

"Or........what if....what if something happens and we........you know.....what if we just...."

Squinting his eyes slightly, his expression looked a little irked as he rolled his tongue in his mouth. "That's never going to happen y/n. You know that."

"Yeah but....."

"But what?" Slightly annoyed, he closed his eyes for a second, tilted his chin down, and lifted his lids to expose a rather stern and rather angry look. Yet the moment he saw that your eyes began to glisten, shining like diamonds as the tears started to build up, you looked down once more, unable to look him square in the eye as you felt the first tear break free and drip down on the leather padding of the console.

Watching as you faintly sobbed, he nearly felt his heart break into two. He gasped out a faint breath as he reached over with his other hand and cupped your face, no longer expressing a look of annoyance.

"Hey......why? What's making you think that way? Am I not showing you enough love? You know whatever it is you want, all you have to do is tell me and I'll make it happen."

"Its not that i just........there's just some things we can't predict about the future Heeseung......what if some day......what if you stop loving me......or worse.....what if something happens and I no longer have you? What if....just.......you never know.....is it wrong for me to hope for the best, but expect the worse? Because...you know that life can be so unfair some times....and I....I....I'm scared because....I dont even know....what I'm scared of sometimes. I wake up every single morning not even knowing how to live life because there's so many things that I think about....so many things that are thrown at me all at once and I just.....I feel like sometimes......I might fail......I feel like sometimes.....I will let you down.......I feel like its not the world, its me.........its me that's broken, not you or anyone else."

You gasped out tears and soft cries as you spoke straight from the heart. For the first time, Heeseung had sincerely considered if going to Korea was the best option, at least just for a second before he reminded himself of the future that he had waiting for him.....a future that would allow him to continue to keep you....safe....and with him.

Shifting his sights around on the floor bed of the car, his thumbs stroke your cheeks, wiping away the continuous flow of tears that were now coming down harder than before. Gulping down a hard swallow, he turns back to face you.

"Baby.........look at me....please look at me."

Looking up into his gaze, your eyes red, swollen, with eyelashes drenched and your face stained with wet trails of all your fears leaving their mark. With a soft smile, he calmly speaks.

"You're right.....that is tough. There's a lot that we can't control in the future....its precarious, and we're literally just pawns on the board of this silly game called life, where God and the universe are taking turns making each move. It can be cruel, unfair, and tormenting. Its something that we can either overcome with great strife and hard work."

"But what happens if we work so hard and it.....it just doesnt work out? What if everything just falls apart Heeseung?"

"We wont know unless it happens y/n......the thing about the future, as much as we want it here in the present, so we can see and view what it has in store for us, thats....just not the way it works. That's not the way we work....we're not designed to know those things. We didn't become strong because we cheated, we became strong and survived because we, as humans, learned....the hard way."

Looking into his eyes, your vision started to become blurry all over as the next set of tears built up. Smiling as he continued to wipe your tears away, he continues.

"Y/n....for thousands of years, people have fallen, lost, and suffered at the creativity of the universe. Yet we never gave up......people had an urge to survive. Which is why at times, even when the entire world was on fire, times where a soldier never comes home, a woman loses her child, or when a doctor just doesnt have a cure.....we keep moving....we get back up and learn how to walk again. I can't sit here and tell you that I know that everything is going to be great.....I dont know. But what I do know.....is this...."

Shifting his hands down to your waist, he lifts you with his core strength as his abdominal muscles flexed under his shirt. Bringing you over onto his lap, he sat you down in a princess style as he cradled you against his chest.

"No matter what happens....I'm going to be there. I'm going to be there and I'm going to help you, just like you're going to help me. I'll never let anything happen to you....and.....you never have to worry about me not loving you .....noooooooo pretty baby......that's never going to happen, not loving you would be the worst offense against Heaven and humanity. As far as if anything were to happen to me...."

The moment Heeseung touched on that part of the subject, you sobbed uncontrollably against his neck.

"Heeeeeey, come on now. Nothing's even happen, why are you acting like that's a for sure thing?" he chuckles out as he kisses your forehead. "Listen..." Taking your hand in his, he continues.

"I'm not going anywhere......I'm not. I know this because I know what is living for me......you. I will never abandon you. Even if something did happen, you know i'm always going to be with you. You know how?"

Shaking your head, he brushes your hair away from your face.

"Moments like this baby. Every time we talk, touch, feel each other, love, eat, sleep, kiss, and when I fuck your brains out...." gripping onto your waist tightly, he presses his forehead against your own once more. "All the things we do, they never leave. So.......if there is ever a time where I am not physically here......you're always going to remember how i feel..." gliding his hand from your waist, he reaches down and gently trails it upwards under your skirt, his fingers reaching into your panties.

"You're going to remember my touch..." kissing your neck, he latches his mouth onto your soft spot under your ear, and rings the tip of his tongue around in slow circular motions.

"You're going to remember my scent...." with his free hand, he reaches behind your head and gently pushes your face inward, causing your nose to become burrowed in his thatch of dark long, shaggy hair, inhaling the scent of his cool-mint cologne and his shampoo.

"You'll also remember what I taste like...." placing a soft peck on the spot he was sucking on, he tilts his head up slightly and brings your head down to kiss him.

"And best of all......pretty baby.......you're going to remember what it feels like when I fuck you......when I love you." Shifting your body to face forward, your back completely spooned by his chest and groin as you both remained seated in the drivers side, he spreads your legs open by pushing our inner thighs apart. You were so caught up with the sensual four play, you hadn't realized that he tore off your panties. Unbuttoning your blouse, exposing your breasts, he shifts you up as he levels his length to align with your slit, before proceeding to enter inside you. Feeling full of his flesh, you moaned out as the overwhelming sense of pleasure hits you........taking you away from the abysmal depths of your fears and worries.

Steadying you in a reverse cowgirl position, filing you, his cock melts inside you as he begins thrusting slow and steady, picking up the pace as your walls become more moist.

"You feel me pretty baby?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yeah? You gonna remember me forever?"

"Y-yes...yes! He-Heeseung!"

"You gonna remember what this feels like?"

"Yes!"

"What does it feel like baby? Tell me."

"F-f......fe-feels......ssss......goood......soo....soo.goood....ugh!"

"Harder or faster baby?"

"ugh! both! please both!"

Thrusting repeatedly, your body falls limp as he holds you upright, with one arm wrapped around your waist, and his other hand shifting a grip between your neck and your exposed breast, he muffles your moans and screams with his mouth as he swallows every single bit of your precious tones.

"Gonna cum for me?"

"Y-ye.....yes!...yes.......ugh! He-Heeseung!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum because you're a good girl?"

"Mmm!mmmmmm....mmmhmmm!....ugh!"

"You my good girl?"

"Y....yes!!"

"Yeah you are.......now fucking cum on me. Let me feel it."

Adding more depth to each thrust, you gasped out your screams of pleasure as he rams his cock deep inside, separating new found walls and extracting the moisture out of your body. Reaching orgasm and releasing all over his member, your thighs shake relentlessly.

"Good girl.....my turn."

Cupping your lower tummy, he pushes in and feels his thick length as it slides in and out, he found it amusing how your sensitive body could take him like this, especially feeling it inside you as he was doing right now. Jacking his member deep inside you at a rapid and hard momentum, he finally reaches his moment and with one last punctured thrust, he bucks his hips upward as he shoves you down, mashing your bodies together as he releases inside and fills your body up.

Pulling your head back as he latches his mouth on your neck yet again, suckling as your body bounces rigorously from the tenacity of his performance.

Feeling the pleasure of his tainted love, you somehow were to understand his message clearly, all due to Heeseung extracting you from your fears......which he had done before, back when Samuel sent you his email......back when you and Heeseung came together for the first time.....the start of your guys story. Just as he did back then, he helped you to understand, that the reality of what life gives, is never necessarily the ending to your story. The more he kept pumping into you, the more you were reminded of that clarity. Yea sure, you still felt scared, but knowing that if at first you dont succeed....reach happiness.....or if things just dont work out, you can and should always, try-try again. A lesson you were always reminded of, all thanks to Heethan.

Authors note: Lol, sooooooo...yeah this original draft did have some smut....and i was going to take it out but it was too crucial for me to do so. I hope you dont mind that. But, this chapter was originally drafted, back a few months ago. I had this thought in my head, since I have only taken a few college courses, and am about to start back up on it, I was feeling so dreadful and felt too nervous about doing well. I want to succeed in reaching my educational goals....but what also kind of bugged me was....will i still find time to write? I love writing, truly do. Mainly because it brings other people joy and brings out their most inner feelings. I had so much on my mind that time that i had began drafting this, but as i was writing it, i left it unfinished bc honestly, when i drafted heethan's message.....literally its like his voice was telling me what to write....i felt better. like it was a nice little reminder....realistic...very rational....and honest...but still positive and holds truth. there's a lot of things we can't control, but we should never give up. Its okay to be scared and to worry, that's natural, and that is exactly why people such as myself are here, writing these chapters and stories for you all because i know that there is such a thing called 'life' and sometimes....we just need a break from it to refresh ourselves. I know you have alot on your plate, but dont worry because everything will be more than fine. We have to pace ourselves, work hard, but also rest, and play from time to time. Eat and drink well, and finish strong. finish college, work with your mother and teach her to work with you, if you dont get the job you really want, no big deal. no matter what job you get, if its one you dont want, nothing lasts forever. just think that whatever you do now, it is only making you more marketable for the dream goal you have. I hope you continue strong because while you do have alot on your plate, you've been slaying....you've been killing it! and that's a major accomplishment in itself, last of year of college? woohoo! finish strong!

So now i should apologize for responding with the longest post ever lol. but i really hope this makes you feel better. Reading your message had reminded me of this piece and i am so glad you sent it to me because....looking at it now...and actually finishing it......this was something that was meant to be published and shared. bc it holds an important message for all of us. <3

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[lavender-long-stories]

Like Mother Like Son

Sasuke x Hinata | Abandon from my WIP Folder

“The truth is. Dad didn’t send me here. I wanted to come. It never felt right. I want to know… who my real mother was.” Hiro confessed, his eyes locked on his hands, just like she would have. Hinata closed her eyes and covered her face. What was she meant to do? “I don’t care why you gave me up. I just wanted to know why dad loved you so much.” Hiro hiccuped. “Hiro, doesn’t your father even know where you are?” Hinata asked. Hiro shook his head. “No, I had a fight with mom and packed a bag.” “Wait, you mean you have been missing all this time?!” Hinata snapped up.

“I’m an adult.” Hiro excused. “Hiro, your parents must be worried sick. I need to call your father. Give me his number.” Hinata held her hand out.

Hiro shrank but obeyed, scribbling down a number and handing it to her. “I just wanted to meet you,” He whispered. “I wanted to know where I got my stutter and my laugh.” Hinata sighed, rounding her desk to lean on it. “Your father was not supposed to tell you about me. How long have you known?” Hiro licked his lips, not answering. “I just want to know how much you know before confronting your father.” She clarified, crossing her arms. “I understand how you reacted to finding out.” “You were a bedtime story…” Hiro explained. “I always knew my mother wasn’t my mother, but mom wouldn’t let dad talk about you. So when he would put me to bed, he would tell me stories.” Hinata understood where Hiro got all his ideas now. He was trying to make her remember. “They are at the end of a nasty divorce. They didn’t tell me until the papers were signed. I think they had some deal to stay together until I was eighteen.” Hiro rubbed his hands together. “Mom wanted me to leave with her, but when I didn’t want to, she went on a rant about you. And that is where I got your name.” The pieces fit together now. “And I wanted to take the chance.” Hiro looked up at her desperately. “That my real mom could see me and be proud of me.” Hinata was conflicted. “Hiro… I did give birth to you, but on paper, I am not your mother.” She moved to his chair, leaning on the arm, looking down with the feeling of heartbreak on her face. “I didn’t raise you. I didn’t send you off to school. I didn’t tuck you in after nightmares.” Hiro sniffed. “But despite this all being a dumb idea. I am proud of you. You’ve grown up to be a smart young man, and I am happy Sasuke-san was able to give you the life I couldn’t.” She set her hand on his shoulder. Sasuke captured her hand, holding it desperately in its place. “Then why did you leave?” “He never told you?” Hinata asked. Hiro shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. I thought he might tell me when I became an adult, but he had the divorce going on, and I didn’t want to push it.” Hinata sighed. It was her story to tell. “Well, we didn’t have much choice. Being from influential clans, we had to keep appearances. We shouldn’t have even started dating in the first place, but we fell in love, and we thought we could keep it a secret because we were young and stupid.” She sighed. “And then I fell pregnant, and there wasn’t any hiding it anymore.” Hiro wore his emotions on his face, tightening his grip over her hand. “Your father tried to take responsibility for me, but the two clans thought it was too much. I either got an abortion, or I had the baby in secret, and I gave you up to Sasuke-san, never to see you again. And I knew how happy he was when we first found out, so you were my parting gift to him. I knew you were going to make him happy.” She leaned down to look him in the face. “And here you are. All these years later, looking just like him.” Hiro gave her a sad smile. “But I still need to call your father. He’s probably put out a missing person report at this rate.” Hinata slipped her hands away and ghosted his hair on her way. Hiro nodded as she left the room with her phone.

--**-- Sasuke looked at the number he didn’t recognize and immediately answered it. He had answered anything that had come directly to his personal line in case it might be his son. “Sasuke?” A voice asked on the other end. “Yes? Whose is this?” Sasuke wondered. “Hinata Hyuga.” Sasuke’s heart all but stopped. Deep pain in his chest heated up and roasted his ribs. He had an idea of what had happened. “Is Hiro with you?”

“Yes, he has been for the last couple of weeks,” Hinata explained quietly. The softness in her voice told him she was feeling just as burned by this old flame. “He lied to me. Said you were unreachable, and you sent him for an internship.” Sasuke scoffed. “Of course he did.” “He looks just like you,” Hinata whispered. “I only saw you in him.” Sasuke felt the pain ripple in his chest as he rested back in his chair. “How is he doing?” “He’s a good intern and liar, but I think he’s a little hurt at the moment,” Hinata told him on the other end. Sasuke ruffled his hair. “He just got up and left one day without so much as a note. I thought it was just he’d show up after he cools off, but it's been weeks.” “I understand that you'd be worried about why I called,” Hinata told him. “Are you still in the old Hyuga headquarters?” Sasuke got up and gathered his keys. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, just…” Hinata hesitated. “Don’t be too upset with him.” Sasuke paused. “We’ll talk about it when I get there.” Hinata hummed a goodbye, and he looked at the number as the call ended. He did recognize it. She never changed it. She would have had to transfer it… for eighteen years. Sasuke rubbed his face. She was going to be the end of him all over again. --**--

Hiro reached for Hinata’s hand under the meeting table as he waited for his father. Hinata pressed her lips together. She didn’t know if she should be encouraging his clear desire to be closer to her, but she didn’t have the heart to force her hand out of his. Her son was reaching out to her for comfort. How could she reject it? Sasuke soon appeared at the door, and Hiro’s head shrank into his shoulders. “Hiro.” Sasuke breathed. Hiro let go of her hand and stood up to hug him. Hinata looked away. Her heart hurt just looking at them. “Hinata.” Sasuke made her turn her head. He bowed his head. “Thank you for taking care of him.” Hiro pressed his lips together. “I’m going to order lunch.” “Hiro.” Hinata huffed as he fled.

Sasuke watched him leave and rubbed his face. “He’s got an agenda.” “It would seem.” Hinata collected her hand in front of her.

“How has he been? Has he been in trouble?” Sasuke asked. “He’s been trouble at every corner. He’s made me worry at every turn.” Hinata swallowed the lump in her throat. “He got what he wanted. I was treating him like a mother would. It seemed to be his goal the whole time.” Sasuke frowned and leaned on the table next to her chair. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. You are his mother.” “I gave birth to him. I am not a mother.” Hinata replied firmly. Sasuke crossed his arms. “Are you sure he sees it that way?” “Why would you tell him about me?” Hinata’s tone turned more hostile. “He wasn’t supposed to know.” Sasuke set his jaw. “I was alone with my guilt. And I couldn’t lie to him when he asked for love stories.” “But look what you have done with him. He can’t stay here.” Hinata breathed. “Why can’t I?” Hiro squeaked from the door. Both turned toward the door. “Hiro,” Hinata whispered, regretting saying it out loud. “You don’t want me either?” Hiro hiccuped. “Hiro, that’s not what I meant. You’re not mine to keep,” Hinata explained. “It was my fault you got separated.” Sasuke sighed. “Don’t.” Hinata waved her hand. “Just…” The look on Hiro's face broke her heart. “You belong to your father. The Hyuga have no record of you. I can hire you, but I can not claim you. I don’t have that right. It doesn’t matter if I wanted to, I can’t.” She felt her heart bubble over, and she looked away to hide her stinging eyes. Sasuke’s face became solemn.

Hiro’s lips quivered. Hinata lowered her eyes to the floor and was engulfed. Hinata stumbled as a head was mashed into her shoulder, and she was squeezed. Hinata hesitated, looking at Sasuke. He watched his broken heart in his eyes. Was she even allowed to her embrace her son? Her hand shook as she placed it on the back of his head, patting down his incredibly straight hair.

“I just want you to be my mom.” Hiro whimpered.

Hinata pinched her lips together to keep her own lip from quivering. “I know.” Her voice cracked.

Sasuke set a hand on his son's shoulder. “We will… figure this out.”

Hinata looked at Sasuke, and years passed between their eyes. What did they do now? This was never meant to happen.

This would have been toward the end of this story where Sasuke and Hinata had a child and were forcibly separated and Sasuke was forced to marry and raise their son without Hinata.

Their son grows up and shows up at Hyuga, where Hinata is now CEO and colder with age, claiming that he was sent by his father, who is conveniently out of communication and will be for a while.

Hinata tries to keep her distance from him, but he keeps tricking her into situations that bring back old memories, and her heart starts to warm back up.

Eventually, Hinata finds out the truth and knows the right thing to do is to send him home, even if it will break her heart.

You all know me. It would have had a happy ending. They are older now, and Hinata has more leverage. They would have gotten around it, as always. <3

I love this idea, but I can't bring myself to write a story with an OC.

Edit: I wasn't expecting this to be so popular. This was just supposed to be me abandoning it. I guess if this keeps getting attention. I will look into doing it.

[sapphiresandgold]

I want to see a snippet of Fire in the Sunrise!

That is a good pick I’d say and I really need to come back to this after finishing Flight Risk. Here’s your snippet from the sequel to my first Elucien one shot Love ain’t some magical thing:

While the afternoon has felt like a perfect summer day, this evening turns more and more into a freezing winter night. At least, that is how Elain feels sitting between her sisters at a round table at a local restaurant. It is a nice table in a secluded alcove in the back of the room right next to the wide double doors opening towards the terrace—all thanks to Feyre being their High Lady and obviously getting the best table at every establishment in Velaris—but it doesn’t help to diminish the feeling of living in a fishbowl right now.

The air is still warm outside and even thicker inside the restaurant. It is too warm to wear a stole draped over her shoulders and part of her neck. Elain knows that very well. And so does Nesta, if the cold, calculating look in her sister’s blue-gray eyes is anything to go by. But neither of them said a word—for now, they both let Feyre rant about enjoying a few hours away from Nyx. About feeling like herself again.

Elain won’t destroy that little piece of a safe haven, that sanctuary her sister so desperately needs to not drown in all the new responsibilities of being a mother. Of all the expectations everyone else has of her because of that new role. She can tell by looking at the shadows underneath her eyes, by the smile not reaching them, that Feyre needs this time with just her sisters to decompress. To get back to herself.

And Nesta could probably tell as well. Otherwise, she would have demanded to know what the stupid shawl is about by now. Elain is sure about this.

WIP FOLDER GAME

[rainbowcarousels]

remembering when you said nicki was more of a proto-daniel to armand rather an proto-louis and now i'm upset because it makes sense like lestat never saw nicki at his worst but armand did!! lestat doesn't know what a mentally ill vampire looks like when he meets louis 😭 (and oh boy is that an oxymoron because they're all fucked up but there's degrees)

and now i'm sad <3

So I tried to be thoughtful about this and make it detailed but...then I ended up writing you a fic in response instead. You played with my emotions and now this is what you get. I hope that's okay!

Whatever Louis said, Lestat was not stalking Armand. If anything, historically speaking, Armand had the tendency to stalk him! Even as far back as Paris, before they’d been formally introduced, Armand had stalked him through the theatre and watched his every step.

So if anyone was going to be prone to such an action, surely Louis should be aiming his accusations at their sometimes resident/occasional antagonist/often lover and not at Lestat. Lestat was out here minding his own business and his own business was everything that went on here, so him taking a casual stroll or three through the streets was not considered entirely unusual.

It was more unusual for Armand. 

If anyone was acting in a way that you could call peculiar, look no further than his wanderings lately.

Was Louis rubbing off on him? Was he about to meandering about his eternal life now instead of building his fortresses in an illusion of safety? It’s not as if Lestat could say much about that now either. This place, this – what had Daniel called it, a Disney with fangs meets Colonial Williamsburg, this was supposed to be a place to make decisions, to keep safe the core of their ongoing immortality and it was supposed to mean something. A place to come to that felt safe.

Lestat huffed to himself.

In the end, that was all any of them really did, this building of safe havens and places to escape to. 

Maybe for Armand, this was not unlike him watching Lestat at that theatre or ransacking the apartment. If he was out here gathering information, filing it away behind those intense eyes as if he were trying to make a mental folder all about him. Lestat wasn’t ruling it out. Lots of people had folders about him.

That was what happened when you ended up as the sparkling example of modern vampirism, fall apart and then try to put your pieces back together as if you’re collecting puzzle pieces. People watched you. People wondered about your decisions and considered the choices you made, even if Lestat often felt more like an oversized mascot than a Prince.

And secretly, or perhaps not so secretly by this point, that was how he’d prefer it. To be loud and wild and without the heaviness of a crown he took for the greater good but knowing it was being handled by people he could trust. As much as you could trust anyone with that kind of thing. As long as Armand and Louis never got up in arms at him at the same time, as long as Gabrielle didn’t join the rant, it was probably all running as best it can with egos larger than even his all stuffed into a little ruling party.

So if Lestat came out for a constitutional now and then, mostly now, then it was not out of character for him. It didn't mean he was stalking anyone, thank you very much.

“You’ve also established it isn’t odd for me either.” 

Of course Armand was aware of him. Lestat hadn’t been trying to hide. They didn’t hide from each other, not anymore. Why should they?

“You don’t wander aimlessly.” They’d come to a stop outside the Inn, but the streets were quiet. Everything was stunningly quiet. “Since you don’t grant me access to your mind often, I must resort to more mundane methods to sniff out the mystery.”

“Louis doesn’t walk aimlessly either,” Armand deflected. “He enjoys it. That is the aim.”

“Louis doing something simply for the joy of doing it,” Lestat said, looking away from Armand and back around the streets. Doubtless people were watching him from somewhere, but he couldn’t tell exactly where from at this moment. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Joy is not spontaneous to everyone,” Armand replied evenly. “Even for you, sometimes you have to reach for it.”

“Are you reaching for it?” Lestat asked.

“I hope so,” Armand said, his expression changing from the impassive to something a little softer, something that suited those little cherubic cheeks a lot better.

This was closer to how he’d looked when he’d arrived, fledgling in tow, well over a week ago now. Something burning in veins far more potent than blood, anticipation for a reunion of their little family, perhaps? 

It had only been a few nights ago that this melancholy wandering had set in. Lestat had wracked his mind to find the cause of it. 

There were the complications of their relationship, but they’d embraced as lovers long apart do and he’d felt the warmth of him in his heart. No, Armand had been as happy to see him as he’d been to have him there.

Louis had been quiet, but Louis was often quiet and the court was very social. Armand of all people knew that Louis liked his little corners to disappear in so he didn’t think being ignored was the issue.

There was Marius and the inevitable difficulties of their relationship, but he’d greeted him with more warmth than usual.

There was also Daniel, but he’d arrived with Daniel in good spirits and whatever they had been working out together, it seemed to be a source of something beautiful and not something that would cause him to wander about like a lost child.

Who else was there that could cause such a response in him?

It was embarrassing that it took more than another few nights before Lestat realised where Armand tended to end up. It was a route he walked himself on occasion, when he was longing for someone else, someone that they’d shared a very long time ago without ever truly sharing him. Eleni had once told him that Armand had taken Nicolas’s death almost as well as Lestat had – so was this why he wandered by the places he had to know clung to his spirit?

Not literally, Nicolas had never shown up as others had in ghostly form, but there was an imprint of him at the places they wandered past - his fathers shop with the open window, the inn, the square, even Lestat’s rooms.

Had Lestat simply not realised that Armand had found some way to grieve another old loss, not unlike Lestat himself had been trying to do?

Eventually, he found Armand in one of the larger rooms that had been turned into something of a crafting studio by the more creative of among them. Armand had sat himself in the corner, letting two dead former lovers talk wildly about plans for some project with such an intense passion that suddenly, in his mind, something clicked into place. 

When he had left Nicolas with Armand, it had been because he thought that Armand needed a guide to the then modern world. Daniel had been the same thing two centuries later. Both were sarcastic, brash, passionate about their respective arts and both had fallen into an obsessive madness before their very eyes.

“Before my eyes.” Armand’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Be thankful you didn’t see the worst of it.”

Lestat met his eye and couldn’t help but grimace. “I still wish I had,” he said.It didn’t matter that all logic said he was making things worse by staying, that their relationship had been destroyed the moment he was pulled through that window and it had been cruel to keep hanging on after that.  “If only for more time. He had always wanted more time to become whoever he was supposed to be.”

“Instead, the infinity of time was the problem.” Armand wasn’t looking at him at all. Maybe it was too hard to do so. “Did you really think it would end any other way?”

Lestat could think of no rebuttal to that. Maybe before he’d drank so deeply, seen such desolation and misery, then yes, he believed they could get past it. It may have taken a while, but there would be time. It was all Nicolas had ever wanted, the time to study, the time to become the musician he wanted to be and maybe it was Lestat’s own foolishness to think that may have made him happy.

“Giving someone what they think want can cause more problems than it solves,” Armand said. 

It was only then that Lestat understood, that the reason he wasn’t looking at Lestat wasn’t because he was overcome with some old emotion but rather that he was looking at another child that should never have to pass: his own.

Daniel had been exactly what Lestat had hoped Nicolas would be for Armand, his link to the world, a teacher of how to be a person from the most self possessed person he knew and yet, shortly after coming into the blood, their relationship had been ripped to shreds too. Daniel had slipped into obsession while Armand had slipped into despair.

But they had recovered. Armand had founded Trinity Gate with Louis, he had kept the children safe and he had begun to connect with old lovers and lovers that should have been. From his understanding, Daniel had slowly found his way back to the world under Marius’ care and his patience, something Armand confessed he didn’t know he could give another of his blood.  They had found new life in themselves before finding each other again.

If Nicolas had the time, if they had all known what they know now, could he have recovered from his fevered mind?

Could he have found himself in the rubble and as stubbornly as he had cursed him out, as creatively as he had written his music, as persistently as he had practiced his craft, begun to see the world as something that could be beautiful? No, not beautiful, beautiful wouldn’t have been enough, but as something interesting, something thought provoking, something that could have kept his mind from slipping down into the wailing waves of his own internal agonies? 

“I did what I thought would help.” Armand’s voice was tight now. “Clearly Marius knows something I don’t.”

“And if you’re not careful, he’ll give you an extensive yet largely uninformative lecture on what it is.” Lestat reached for his hands, cupping them in his own. They were fever hot and it warmed something within him to do it. “I am not casting blame on you. I know that you did everything you could, and you always do. I’m not blind to what you did for Louis. I’m not blind to what you do for me either. I’m just a little sad to think of what we could have had.”

“He would have liked that,” Armand said, eyes flickering to Lestat’s own. There was the briefest hint of an affectionate smile, but if it was for how Nicolas seemed to make despair and darkness into something to be loved or for Lestat then or Lestat now, who knows? “Any idiot can make you smile, but this deep sense of grief, a sweet misery, I think he would have liked to be remembered as having caused that.”

“You’re right,” Lestat agreed. Any idiot could be happy, he’d often said, in fact idiots were often happier because they didn’t know any differently. This mix of grief, nostalgia, pain and pleasure tied into a memory, it would be how his Nicki would want to be remembered. “And things didn’t turn out so badly in the end, did they?”

“He was right about one thing,” Armand said, rolling his eyes. “You are irrepressibly optimistic.”

“It’s part of my charm,” Lestat said, bringing Armand’s hands to his lips and kissing them, taking care to brush a fang over the skin just to feel the reaction. “And I am terribly charming, aren’t I?”

“You’re definitely terrible.” 

It lost some of its heat by the way his face could still go the softest shade of red, but Lestat would take it.

[visualnovelzombie]

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 11 SPOILERS

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER discussion post for “Echo - Leo’s Thursday and Friday”

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Free Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

We start Thursday with Chase and Leo driving down the road, the two finally learning what happened to Carl. The ram was in the crawlspace left to wander about without Chase spending the night with him. Chase and Leo discuss Chase’s project, the two chiding to each other the merit of college in the process.

RANT: If you think Leo is a hard-line Republican/Trumper and use this part ‘evidence’, you can’t fucking read. Even without Howly’s Trump statement re:Leo retraction, that’s a VERY fucking different thing in 2016 and has a LOT of context. This liberal thing is literally Leo lashing out at his own failings/fall to pressure from his father, as well as his irrational anger over Pueblo ‘stealing’ Chase from him. This is the second time Leo expressed interest in College in someway, and is regurgitating hate/ignorant speech as a coping mechanism. Please learn to read and not just fucking meme.

They plan to meet with TJ later to make up for bailing on him Tuesday, and discuss filming out the rail-yard in the meantime. The scene changes to the rail-yard, the track ‘Oldwinds’ playing, a rustic American Western piece.

Insane Posting: Okay add this to my Samuel x Chase ship folder, lets go people lets go!

Chase films the rail-yard while Leo fetches water bottles, until eventually the rustling of grass startles Chase.

Okay now this is interesting in a ‘meta’ lore sense. So this is obviously some kind of supernatural being. Something fucking with Chase. I don’t think there’s enough evidence to say what yet, even Socketman right here and right now doesn’t track to much. But more importantly it’s described as dragging, similar to the ‘slithering’. I think this gives more credence that the entity that chases after Carl and Chase in Carl’s route isn’t necessarily the entity that stalks Sam and Chase in the Murder Pitt. Maybe it’s just how some/all of the entities move on a physical space.

While trying to find the source of the sound, Leo arrives on the scene, scaring Chase.

Everyone bullies my poor otter boy... and that makes him kinnie

Come Over begins to play as Chase asks Leo how he made the dragging noise, to which Leo acts completely clueless to. Distracted by Chase’s stomach, the two end up flirting with each other, rubbing and admiring each other’s body.

Another reference to Route 65, the two sharing another moment together in this place that means... everything to them. They’re begging, end... and beginning of the end. Chase’s ‘Sunset Station’ if you will.

They kiss gently… at first. The sudden shock encouraging them to make out more fully. Before the two can continue, Kudzu shows up, catching the two in their PDA. The track changes to Neutral as the conversation shifts. The raccoon teases the pair but otherwise partakes in casual conversion with them afterwards. Leo thanks the raccoon for helping the two last night, the track Quiet playing as the conversation shifts. Kudzu warns Leo that Clint is being more violent and the pair should avoid him. Leo becomes more and more agitated at the insinuation that Clint threatened Chase.

Sidenote: AWOOGA. Thank you Howly, Based God, for including full muzzle wolf kisses in Latino Wolf simulator route. Truly a visionary ahead of his time.

Chase changes the conversation topic, inviting Kudzu to the park with the pair and TJ. The group pick up TJ off screen and on route to a park in Payton, we learn that Chase isn’t a good swimmer when compared to other otters. Closer to the park itself, Chase and TJ talk in the backseat, the lynx admitting to Chase that he felt like the trip was a mistake, and he felt like he shouldn’t have come. 

Chase very literally ignoring everyone for his and Leo’s sake again. Also more of the coldness Chase generally has towards TJ... more ‘evidence’ the Chase we see on that Route isn’t fully him IMO. This definitely calls into question how good of a friend Chase is, and if anything how Leo and Chase treat everyone else when they’re together is the most outright toxic and rude thing they do with each other that is probably harder to ‘fix’ than most things.

…Before the mood can shit to much the group arrives at the field, dividing the teams for a match of soccer.

TJ completely dominates the game and the group laugh about the imbalance in players. As the group prepare to leave, Chase and Kudzu have a moment to themselves to talk. Chase apologies for being racist and the conversation turns cold, with Kudzu hinting at something heavy happening to the him whilst in Payton.

The scene cuts to later, with Chase returning to the rail-yard for more footage.

Two important things here that are back to back. Chase literally goes out of his way to make the town look WORSE than it already his. His mind is so poisoned and made up about the place, that he’ll make sure everyone else feels the same way. Poising his own-well and all that.

As Leo’s motif/time of day is the setting sun, this is also a ‘foreshadow’ or hint towards what’s coming. No matter what happens with Leo... it has to end. They’re to far gone in their delusion and lack of communication to fix things. The Sun WILL set on the two... Bittersweet and all.

Clint wanders into the rail-yard while on a walk, eventually noticing Chase. He’s high on something and doesn’t remember the night before. Chase notices he has a gun in his pocket and tries to keep him calm..Clint talks to Chase, ignorant but not completely hateful… at least to being gay itself. and gives his perspective on Leo.

We get more of Leo’s anger and rage here. Leo took out his feelings, and continues to do so, by bullying those weaker than him. Clint not having a place to relax or be himself, with his home life dominated by his abusive father, and social life dominated by Leo... the ringtail ended up ‘worse’ arguably because of Leo. While child-selfishness and anger and Echo’s general ability to ramp up negative emotions, even outside of the Hysteria, is definitely call to ‘shield’ Leo, Chase and the audience is finally starting to learn that there’s an anger and darkness deeper down that we’ve been shown so far.

Clint seemingly threatens Chase with a gun, demanding to know why he’s out here. Chase calms him down by referencing his camera, and Clint tells Chase a story about someone dying the in 50’s hopping trains. Clint reveals his father would always tell him that story, and that sometimes he sees the man in it, even purposely coming to the rail-yard to see him at times. Clint walks off afterwards and Chase hurries back to Leo’s house.

When Chase arrives, Leo is eating a TV Dinner, having ‘cooked’ one for Chase as well. Chase asks Leo if the wolf ‘bullied’ Clint, and Leo almost admits to it… before the cheapness of the TV dinner causes the two to jokingly tease each other back and forth it with, the two man-handling each other on the couch as a result.

Insane Posting: Hi, my local goon cave called and they requested both of these go up on the wall, framed and blown up to 5x6 feet each... But more seriously Howly’s... ‘interest’ in Latino men (Looking at Leo and Devon) is on full blast here... and by god am I looking.

Two two fall asleep on the couch together, both exhausted from the day

Insane Posting: Chase’s musky ass didn’t shower and Leo was fucking smooshing him into that couch... Hot

Friday opens with the two at the library, Chase actually working on his project doing some research. Chase learns that the man in the story was real, and that he reported being saved by some creature.

HOWLY PLEASE. Literally learning the cost of staying with him like this. Not learning or changing, but literally dangling his legs into the abyss.

Leo bugs Chase to grab dinner and the two make plans on where to eat.

This is such a dark and twisted view into Leo. Up until now, beyond anger issues, he’s been relatively ‘okay’. But this is where thing turn manipulative and truly concerning. Not only for what he’s doing, but for outright lying to Chase. Leo’s a troubled man, and this turn to outright manipulation and control to get what he wants is dark and fascinating... It isn’t enough for me to ‘cancel’ him myself, or completely disavow the two (as highlighted later), but it’s definitely one of the very much actual ‘red flags’ Leo displays. This is where he’s at his lowest point in my opinion. There’s a difference between coddling and ignoring the situation he’s manipulating (Agreeing with Chase with the music, only pulling strings) to OUTRIGHT lying, bringing it up to put others down... to lessen them to Chase. One of the more intense things Leo does in the whole novel.

The two eat at a steakhouse, Leo insisting he buys, and on the way back they take a detour to Payton High, the pair’s old school. They reminiscence about school, Intimate begins to play. Chase mentions he would repeat high-school to fix mistakes, while Leo wants to relive it for its own sake. Chase learns that Leo is deeply tied to his past, upset he doesn’t feel the same anymore. 

This is their doomed fate I love so much. They share interests, mutual body attractiveness, displays of affection, and bond and find comfort in each other... but fundamentally they want or need different things. Echo bound them together, anchoring each other to the rocks of the craggy shore... And in that web of mistrusts and falsehoods and circumstance... love bloomed. Leo and Chase truly care for each other, they truly want each other to be happy, and both WANT to be happy with the other. But their rock, their flag in the sand, their Rubicon... IS Echo. It IS the game. It IS the point. The point isn’t that they’re toxic and abusive and hate each other deep down. It’s that they’ve built themselves up and torn themselves down on the idea of the past, both positive and negative. Of Echo, of the Town itself, of The Entity and the Player and of Sam, of the things that make up the ugly and good: together. It’s tied together fused forcibly and neither of them are able to TRULY dissect and separate themselves from it (Insert Micha in Brian’s trailer) from it. Sure Chase agrees to try Echo again... but only for Leo himself, not because he’s okay with the idea, or receptive to loving or even just living in the town. It’s all at a cost to himself, to his freedom, and to each other. The two can’t move on or find happiness when neither of them is truly willing to compromise... and that’s why they’ll be each other’s Sunset. That’s why they can’t work... because just like this town, they’re only moving in circles...

Chase comforts the wolf, the two embracing on the stadium stand.

This is where my main ‘defense’ of Leo comes from. He’s a troubled man but he’s willing to try and learn. He’s willing to make himself better, to make his partner happy. Deep down all he wants is TO love, to provide and be with someone who makes him happy. His motives are good... his actions aren’t the smartest.

Leo pours his heart out to Chase, begging him to stay. Chase is hesitant, not wanting to stay tied to the town. Leo tells Chase to try again after school, even if it’s just for awhile. So that they’ll know for sure.

And the crux of it all.. Leo wants closure. Three years ago Chase just didn’t break his heart, but left the wolf in state of chaos. He couldn’t move on, couldn’t accept the hand fate dealt him. Leo wants that chance. He truly believes that Chase and him CAN work, that the two deserve to TRY. Leo wants to give what’s in his heart to someone else... He doesn’t take the best actions, hell he probably doens’t know HOW to. But the wolf is trying... trying to fight for what he wants. The fact its wrong and sick makes it even more compelling...

Damn Chase... what else is going to STRIKE you.... But more seriously, the author is reminding/foreshadowing that ignoring everything comes at a cost...

The track Bittwerseet begins to play when Chase chooses Leo. 

...

The two embrace and kiss passionately on the stadium steps, the two feeling each other’s love.

The scene switches to the two on Leo’s bed, the two doing a bit more than ‘fooling around’. The scene cuts to afterwards, Leo singing in the shower with Chase on the bed. Leo’s phone wakes up the groggy otter and we’re met with a Choice…

And that’s where we’ll cut it for here. This part was EXTREMELY emotionally taxing (positive) so I wanted it to be a bit shorter, and this next part needed to be cut in half for the Spoiler Free version. Feel free to choose either option and read until the next choice (this screen):

Sidenote: I love this visual bug when fast forwarding to this screen LMAO.

For next Week, Spoiler will be in one post and you can read as normal, but Spoiler Free will be separated into two separate posts. I would recommend waiting until the end of the Route to read the ‘other’ side, but this changes will reconvene after the choice that leads to the next day.

Thank you again everyone, and especially listen to me rant about Leo Alvarez for forever ~

[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.