#and i did some extra research when i saw the post to confirm that there wasnt a consequence ever given. and a lot of ppl said there wasnt

[marklikely]

a LOT of people on that "why doesnt sisyphus just stop' post are saying that the furies attack him if he stops rolling the boulder.... quick question but did you guys ever play hades game.

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 7 Minagoroshi pt. 31

My favorite arc/chapter/whatever term your prefer of Umineko is Chapter Seven. It featured a great amount of revelations in regards to the overall plot, and it featured some of the best, gut-wrenching writing I had seen in the Chapter 7 Tea Party. The main chapter itself ended on a wonderful note, a great blend of sadness, but optimism, only for the Tea Party to come along and just absolutely wreck the previously optimistic tone. It was, without exaggeration, so well written that I felt it absolutely made the entirety of that series worth reading just for that section alone. Which is remarkable to me, as with some of the earlier sections of Higurashi, I came perilously close to abandoning Umineko as well due to an intense dislike of portions of the narrative. I wish the tumblr search function was a more reliable device because there was a quote I saw regarding visual novels that summed up my experiences very well.

This will have to do. Basically the quote I’m thinking of describes VNs as a 40/60 mix of enjoyment to torture. Or something along those lines.

After the credits this comes up. Perhaps it says something about me, but I genuinely enjoy reading fictional documents like this in games and so on. Just little extra world-building minutiae of the day to day about people in the fictional universe. You won't see me passing up files in a survival horror on my first playthrough, oh no.

While this doesn’t outright confirm that Irie is dead, I feel it’s reasonable to assume that Irie “committed suicide” shortly before the gaming club got taken out by Takano and the Mountain Dogs. I feel it’s safe to assume Irie was the Institute Director, and Takano is the chief officer. And given what’s about to occur I really don’t think Irie would sign off on it. Also, everything from Emergency Manual 34 is in red text when it’s going line by line. As with Tsumihoroboshi the log just keeps it white on gray.

Could you imagine being part of this government kill squad, enacting your orders to kill the potential civilians in the telephone company building only to get killed by a different branch of the government kill squad? It’s like that scene at the beginning of the Dark Knight when the bank robbers are killing each other off as they do their job for the heist. Also, I could swear that they mention this quarry at some point earlier on in the series, but looking over my notes and screenshots I couldn’t actually find anything. So it may be I’m remembering something from a manga synopsis? Earlier than the post-game TIP at the end of Tsumihoroboshi I mean. Also, I might be jumping the gun here, but if your grand conspiracy is going to involve killing the entirety of Hinamizawa wouldn’t you burn the bodies afterward? They won’t find gunshot wounds in a pile of ash is all I’m saying.

I just love this little piece of the document. It seems to imply there actually is a giant Resident Evil laboratory filled with H173 and various other deadly diseases related to Hinamizawa Syndrome. So it seems that even though she was going insane with paranoia Rena was actually on to something when she said the secret research facility is located in the Irie Clinic. Someone should make a mod for Resident Evil 4 (original or remake) that replaces Leon with a Rena model. It would give me an excuse to play Resident Evil 4 for the thousandth time.

So, since Keiichi was taken in by the Secrecy Preservation Unit at the end of Tatarigoroshi why did they let him live for as long as he had? Was it because he was well and truly insane, thinking he had the powers of Oyashiro, so they let him live? Was it because this came out years after chapter three had been written, and therefore not really thought about back then? Or do you think he was found by the disaster recovery team instead?

Also this doesn’t have anything really to do with anything, but reading the emergency manual here reminded me of an old 1970s horror movie called The Crazies. It’s about an outbreak of a chemical that drives people insane and murderous in a small Pennsylvania town. And our protagonists have to escape from the military who was sent to contain the outbreak, and the titular crazies, who are sort of proto-zombies. There was a remake in 2010 or so, but I don’t remember that one being very good. Of course it’s been nearly twenty years since I saw the original, so maybe that doesn’t hold up either. It’s got a good poster if nothing else.

It’s interesting how this note portrays Hinamizawa Syndrome as a parasite infection disease as well as being a lifelong ailment that shows physical signs of the disease within ten minutes of infection. Maybe that’s to do with the version of the syndrome that was observed during the war? Which especially doesn’t add up because there was all that prior information of the disease more or less being eradicated at the time.

Now, when I read this last line something about this struck me as incorrect. The population of Hinamizawa had always been shown to be right around one thousand.

Here are screenshots from Himatsubushi and Tatarigoroshi where they talk about the death toll of the Great Hinamizawa Disaster. It’s not exactly the end of the world that this inconsistency exists, but it was just something that rubbed me wrongly when I read it. I don’t know when the population of Hinamizawa doubled, but there it is. I wonder if it’s a situation similar to the Ohagi translation issue in Onikakushi where they just said the wrong thing initially, and this version of the translation is the correct one. Like I said, it’s not the biggest issue in the world, just something that bugged me. Basically what I’m saying is we should string up MangaGamer by the short and curlies to make them pay penance for such a grievous oversight. Made the series completely unreadable it did.

You can tell this was translated within the last decade because of the use of “it’s current year!”

Without getting too far ahead of it, I don’t entirely understand how the Great Hinamizawa Disaster/Operation Doomsday will ascend Takano to godhood. Either of them really.

[lestis]

You were the only gentile who reblogged that post. Why would you reblog it and then delete it. Why Why Why Why Why. What the fuck is going on right now. Why don't any of you care that people are chanting Heil Hitler.

hey. letting you know that i didn’t delete it, but i did private it momentarily while i did some more research

as for why, i can’t confirm on what they’re saying with my hearing or lack thereof. i will not excuse behavior like that. even if that isn’t what they’re saying, there are people who are taking to this chance to truly speak those words on twitter in response to people posting about this - ive already reported several.

there has undeniably been a rise of antisemitism in the pro-palestine movement.

the reason i specifically privated it while i looked into this is because there were debunked videos of misinformation campaigns not long ago presumably meant to incite further distress

there also is an actual precedent for the motion. this does not make them innocent - it’s also VERY possible that they used knowledge of that olympic salute to deliberately make it unclear what their intentions were. i will acknowledge that. i needed to look into those claims further

the reason i’m being extra careful - i’ve witnessed a protest in real time be mischaracterized by the media, where chants were said to be something else, when i was there present and knew that was not what they were saying. and in that particular case, i could guess that it was not an intentional mistake but the case of an auditory illusion, where if you’re expecting certain words you hear them. i then saw that message be spread onto major news outlets whose sources were merely that video where the sound quality wasn’t good.

watching the video that wasn’t what i heard. but i also didn’t hear something else, which became another reason for me to delve into it further. this also being the age of sound editing and it not being on any livestreams made me want to confirm if there were any other perspectives / videos from other angles.

this is why i temporarily hid the post. it is not because i do not think it plausible — unfortunately, it’s very plausible. UNDENIABLY antisemitism is rising, including and especially in the pro-palestine movement. i do not mean to imply in any way that you are paranoid or anything like that - your response is justified. i’m just very cautious because of my own experience with accidental misinformation and manipulated media that i have experienced happen in real-time.

[asachuu]

Hm…even without many details, this is quite personal, but it’s not like that really matters at this point, so I suppose I could chuck it to the wolves here. Non-fandom, and I swear I’ll draw something this decade, but only after rambling at 3AM.

I was just scrolling through my socials and I stumbled upon a post, under which someone in the comments described a seemingly very rare symptom/experience(?) of a disorder I most likely have almost perfectly, and to my relief (…as relieved as I can be when said symptom is…not fun whatsoever), I saw a few other people sharing their own experiences that all seemed as though they were in the exact same boat as me, and while I’ve already seen other posts I could relate to in the past— I even wrote an entire draft here about a YouTube video with a comments section that almost felt like some kind of veteran’s lobby a month or two ago, but one I’m so glad to have found because I really fucking needed to see it— this specific one I’ve come across was so, so unbelievably accurate, I thought I’d just tear up on the spot, because unless you’ve truly been there, you likely have no idea how it feels to get absolutely nothing from anyone for so long and believing you’re the one in the wrong if you can’t find anything about your issue anywhere, yet others do actually share your experience, even if in the far few.

Unfortunately, the dreadful reality hit me yet again, just like last time, after I spent more than two minutes scrolling through responses— none of these people had any solutions or help. There were only complaints and the same questions I would have, but it’s almost as if for half of them, nothing could be done, and the other half had gotten “help”— as much as the word applies here— due to having far worse outward conditions than myself which were the qualifier for them. Honestly, while last time, this sense of hopelessness did leave me with a harrowing feeling already, the fact of the matter is that since these comments were so much more accurate to what I’ve gone through, and they also have to do with…extremely serious matters that should require intervention, if only it was possible, it felt like direct confirmation that, without sugarcoating it, not only am I certifiably fucked, there’s also a whole group of people just like me who are fucked as well, but there’s simply not enough of us to be taken seriously or even have any real acknowledgment in the medical world, from what I’ve been attempting to search for ages now, and if we don’t have any other disorders, illnesses and whatnot to somehow “prove ourselves”, our form of help will not be the option to safely receive shelter and care from the state, it’ll be whatever we manage to scrape up ourselves if we even make it to that point (…as this issue, for practically everyone in that comment thread including myself, can become a direct threat to our lives), and if it’s going to be safe, that’s just between God and whoever we turn to.

It’s just…dreadful. I don’t know if it’ll be relatable to any stranger out there— not necessarily the specifics, just this…sinking, hopeless feeling of stumbling on your own community who’s just as lost as you, but it’s something I can’t even describe properly.

One extra thing I was going to formerly hide in the tags is that at least getting to see these people clearly existing in the same world as I do had made me want to try actively searching for them, but the thing is, in my case, we really are few, and everything that comes up for me when I attempt going online and taking matters into my own hands is exactly the opposite of what I’m searching for. It’s unfortunately something that gets conflicted with a very common human experience that there’s tons of research and help for, but none of it is anyhow helpful for my case or the cases of the few people out there whom I can relate to, and it’s so, so difficult to just…not even find a bigger community, which is a task beyond my mortal capabilities, but just be understood on a basic level of language in the first place outside of internet search engines, because if there is absolutely no research or readily available evidence of your condition you can show someone to explain things to them, they will never have heard of anything even remotely close to it and will either not believe you, or completely misinterpret you, regardless of what you say.

It’s just exhausting. To only find evidence of a tiny community once every couple of months in a random comments section. To have nothing written down in any record and have even professionals in the field confused, telling you they can’t do anything about it or staring at you as if you were insane. And to top it all off, to find literally no semblance of help other than “no one feels/thinks like that, get over it”, with the extremely rare discussion you sometimes find being mainly just people sadly high-fiving each other from the pits of Hell.

[theserpentsadvocate]

this is completely not related to your actual questions about Veronica Mars but the reason that marijuana is (1. a Schedule One drug (2. called ‘marijuana’ and not cannabis or hemp (which it was called in the early 20th century for a while, before being criminalized) is because of racism. Mexican immigrants especially were fond of smoking marijuana, and initially the idea was that if smoking it was made illegal they’d just move somewhere else. Propaganda called it by its Spanish name rather than the English ones to make it sound more exotic. Then there was a moral panic launched about how marijuana made white women sexually lascivious and likely to seek out interracial sexual encounters, because of course there was. That caused a massive public outcry leading to the criminalization of the drug based on paranoid fearmongering.

All this is relevant because since marijuana became Schedule One, all research on its effects and impacts became illegal. People on some level did fear it and consider it very dangerous, and since they weren’t able to do more research no one could confirm or deny anything until recently. Fun times down here!

I did know some of the broad strokes of this (that cannabis was all fine and dandy until it was associated with Mexican immigrants and became marijuana, oh no). I didn't know that it was part of a concerted effort to make them leave, though, wow - just that the demonization of pot was heavily influenced by racism.

I'm also surprised-but-not-surprised about the 'it encourages interracial sex' thing, because that's insane and I didn't know that, but also. Of course they said that. And it sounds very Reefer Madness, which is also unsurprising. (Also, don't be so sure it's not VM-related. The historical idea I have is very ambitious and I don't know if I can pull it off, so I'm mostly focussing on the projects I've already started, but I wouldn't have thought to look into this further and it might actually be very relevant. So thank you an extra amount!)

It's just truly insane to me that freaking marijuana is worse legally than crystal meth. It's been legal here for years (pot, not meth :D), and even then it was kind of no big deal; to my knowledge the general attitude when that happened was 'oh yeah, we should do that, huh', and then we all moved on. Intellectually I know that the United States is just Like That TM and at this point it's not even about what the actual people there think so much as gerrymandering and the entrenchedness of bad polical systems, but... having to stare it right in the face is always so surreal. (Meth!!!! Worse than meth!!!! Does this mean the Weeds lady was doing worse crime than the Breaking Bad guy? I never saw either of those shows, so I don't know, but wow.)

Anyway, I love hearing stuff like this - interesting tidbits, not racism - and I'm so thrilled whenever someone wants to engage with my posts in such a substantive way, so if you have anything else interesting you want to share, I am so here for it!

(And thank you!)

[selflessanatta]

Autism and Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy: Unmasking the 'Snake Oil' Claims, http://selflessanatta.com/autism-and-hyperbaric-oxygen-therapy-unmasking-the-snake-oil-claims/

New Post has been published on http://selflessanatta.com/autism-and-hyperbaric-oxygen-therapy-unmasking-the-snake-oil-claims/

Autism and Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy: Unmasking the 'Snake Oil' Claims

The US Food and Drug Administration has published a warning for parents to beware of false or misleading claims about HBOT for treating autism.

I know a family who purchased a hyperbaric oxygen chamber for their home to treat their son with autism.

It was expensive. A cheap one costs about $10,000, and some go as high as $40,000. Desperate parents are easily swayed into purchasing the more expensive models.

They did their research, which meant they went to Google and absorbed the various snake oil sales pitches. When they saw doctors who touted scientific studies backing their dubious claims, they were convinced the therapy had promise.

It did nothing.

At first, the imagined improvements strengthened their belief that they had found the cure. Their son’s health appeared better; they noticed more eye contact, and they believed he was on the mend.

Confirmation bias works that way.

They told their friends and other parents about their great discovery and their hopes for a “cure” to their son’s autism.

However, when they asked the specialists and therapists who worked with their son regularly about his progress, none reported any significant change.

After a few months, their enthusiasm waned, and they began questioning whether or not this was a cure.

They maintained their belief that the procedure improved his health for many more months, mostly as a way of rationalizing they made the right decision in purchasing the hyperbaric oxygen chamber and putting their son in it daily.

However, the objective reality was ultimately undeniable.

They purchased the chamber to cure their son. They kept it because they believed it improved his health. When they finally accepted that it made no difference, they were shattered.

They were heartbroken for two reasons.

One, they believed erroneously that they could transform their non-neurotypical son into what they wanted him to be. Their dreams of a perfect son were revealed as illusions.

Two, they were embarrassed because they told so many people, and convinced other parents of the efficacy of a treatment that turned out to be snake oil.

They certainly were not alone. It’s a trap nearly every special needs parent falls into, me included.

See: Snake Oil and Autism: The Truth About Autism Cure Scams

Hyperbaric oxygen therapy

Hyperbaric oxygen therapy involves breathing pure oxygen in a pressurized environment. Hyperbaric oxygen therapy is a well-established treatment for decompression sickness, a condition sometimes caused by surfacing too quickly when scuba diving.

According to the Mayo Clinic, other conditions treated with hyperbaric oxygen therapy include:

Serious infections.

Bubbles of air in blood vessels.

Wounds that may not heal because of diabetes or radiation injury.

Notice that curing autism is missing from this list.

In a hyperbaric oxygen therapy chamber, the air pressure is increased 2 to 3 times higher than normal air pressure. Under these conditions, your lungs can gather much more oxygen than would be possible by breathing pure oxygen at normal air pressure.

This extra oxygen helps fight bacteria. It also triggers the release of substances called growth factors and stem cells, which promote healing.

Studies of hyperbaric oxygen therapy as a treatment for autism

A study from 2009 makes bold claims about helping autism, Hyperbaric treatment for children with autism: a multicenter, randomized, double-blind, controlled trial.

After 40 sessions, mean physician CGI scores significantly improved in the treatment group compared to controls in overall functioning (p = 0.0008), receptive language (p < 0.0001), social interaction (p = 0.0473), and eye contact (p = 0.0102); 9/30 children (30%) in the treatment group were rated as “very much improved” or “much improved”…

Sounds great, doesn’t it?

These snake oil salespeople promote this study.

Unfortunately, this old study hasn’t been able to be replicated by anyone else. Further, follow-up studies in 2016 and 2017 reach the opposite conclusions.

Hyperbaric oxygen therapy for people with autism spectrum disorder (ASD)

Key results

We found a single, small study of 60 children that evaluated high‐pressure oxygen therapy for ASD.

There was no evidence that high‐pressure oxygen therapy improved social interaction, behavioral problems, speech or language communication, or mental function in children with ASD. However, children who received high‐pressure (hyperbaric) oxygen therapy showed an increased occurrence of ear barotrauma events when compared with those in the control group.

[In other words, it hurt them.]

Quality of the evidence

The quality of the evidence is low. Evidence is insufficient to confirm that high‐pressure oxygen is an effective treatment for individuals with ASD.

Hyperbaric oxygen therapy for children with autism spectrum disorder

Recommendation

Hyperbaric oxygen therapy has been approved for treating specific conditions such as decompression sickness. The current absence of conclusive evidence for treatment of autism symptoms has not supported its endorsement for use in treating ASD by the Food and Drug Administration. Further, the Food and Drug Administration has published a warning for parents to beware of false or misleading claims about HBOT for treating autism.21

Conclusion

Currently, there is insufficient evidence to support use of HBOT to treat children with ASD, and its use as a form of treatment is not recommended. More research might reveal specific groups of children who might benefit from such treatment.

In short, hyperbaric oxygen therapy is snake oil.

Snake Oil Sales Tactics

Snake oil treatments rely on the mistrust of consensus opinions. However, they do rely on expert testimony, an interesting dichotomy.

For example, the consensus opinion is that hyperbaric oxygen therapy is snake oil. However, some doctors claim it is not.

Of course, the snake oil peddlers also claim it’s great, making dubious claims.

How HBOT Helps Autistic Patients

HBOT has been used as an alternative autism treatment, and it has shown positive results. [No. It has not.]

Even Autism Parenting Magazine gets in on the snake oils sales support.

The bottom line

Multiple studies show that hyperbaric oxygen therapy can help to alleviate the symptoms of autism in children and adults. Clinically supervised use of the therapy can potentially improve their cognitive abilities, communication behavior, and fine motor skills by increasing oxygenation circulation and reducing inflammation. However, the evidence supporting the efficiency of HBOT is mixed and anecdotal.

Notice how they contradict themselves in the paragraph above. They claim there are multiple studies and clinically supervised uses that show improvements, which is not true, but they follow with the accurate statement that the evidence is mixed and anecdotal, which means there is no real evidence.

If you are a desperate parent, you will ignore the disclaimer and latch on to the idea that the therapy works—confirmation bias at work.

With so many sources of plausible-sounding bullshit, it’s very difficult to sort fact from sales fiction, which is exactly how the snake oil sales pitch works.

Common Sense

If you are still considering hyperbaric oxygen therapy, you’ve probably convinced yourself that your child is unique, and they may be the one who does respond.

Before you waste tens of thousands of dollars on a submarine torpedo, ask yourself a few questions. Why hasn’t the 2009 study been replicated since? Wouldn’t a truly effective treatment for autism spark a great deal of follow-up research? Why have subsequent studies shown no results? If it were effective even for a small number of children, that would be reflected in the results.

Ask yourself what you expect from the therapy. Are you throwing a “Hail Mary” hoping for a “cure?” If so, I fear you are setting yourself up for a major disappointment.

~~wink~~

Anatta

[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips. 

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago. 

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place. 

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back. 

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air. 

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling. 

"Hey, Mom." You answered. 

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now.  "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation.  "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...."  "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought.  There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?"  You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer.  “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind.  Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

[thylacine-dreams]

Thylacines likely went extinct much later than previously thought -- new research found

For three years a team of researchers combed newspapers, old books and Parks and Wildlife records in a bid to collect every sighting ever of the Tasmanian tiger. It was a painstaking process but the reward was a chance to track the extinction of the iconic species.

Small collections of sightings had been collated previously but never before had a group of researchers brought together every recorded sighting of the thylacine. Now thanks to scientists from the University of Tasmania a database exists where anybody can view the details behind every sighting since the 1930s.


UTAS professor and Australian Lauriat Fellow Barry Brook said for the first time they were able to scientifically analyse the sightings to examine when the thylacine went extinct.

There have been no confirmed sightings of Tasmanian tigers since the last captive animal died at Hobart Zoo in 1936 despite there being more than 1200 reported sightings - the most recent of which was made last year.


Professor Brook said it was easier to believe the species went extinct when the last captive animal died because there was no concrete evidence to show the animal still roamed Tasmania's wilderness.

But, through analysis of the more than 1200 sightings, now collated in their database, Professor Brook and his team found the likely extinction date for the thylacine to be in the late 1990s.

The group analysed each sighting and provided extra weight to "expert" sightings - those made by experienced bushmen and wildlife experts.

"Obviously there are different levels of credibility that you can attach to those types of sightings and so part of our analysis was attaching probabilities to these different sightings and accepting or rejecting them probabilistically," Professor Brook said.

"So there was a chance that even a tourist who saw something was right but it is a small chance and there was a large chance that they were wrong. So their sighting was down-weighted in the analysis as a consequence."

After assigning each sighting a probability of being accurate the group ran computer models on the data in a bid to determine the date of extinction. The models they used were widely accepted in the science of extinction biology and have been used to track the extinction of other rare species globally.

"When we did that we were able to determine that the most likely extinction dates are between the late 1990s or early 2000s which is much later than a lot of people might imagine," Professor Brook said.

"But the extinction interval is wide because of the uncertainties and the probabilities. So it could have occurred anywhere from the 1960s through to the small probability that the thylacines still exist in more remote areas of Tasmania even today."

Professor Brook said there was probably less than a one in 10 chance that the thylacine still existed in the remote areas of Tasmania.

"But it is not extraordinarily improbable as some previous work has suggested," he said.

"And that really only came about by taking a truly comprehensive look at all the records. [This work] also points out to people that it is worth making sightings and making reports to authorities, or to researchers, because they can be taken seriously. They are never believed or disbelieved -- they are taken into account."

This work forms part of Professor Brook larger look at the impact of humans on the natural environment. Along with tracking the extinction path of the thylacine the group also developed a new method of mapping the hotspots of sightings The new method could help scientists determine the likelihood of threatened species inhabiting a certain area.

"There are actually many species where we just don't know whether they are extant or extinct. They haven't been seen for either years or decades and they are hard to document," Professor Brook says.

"It is very difficult to prove that something is extinct because that is evidence of an absence and all you can really have is the absence of evidence. This is the general problem for threatened species - how do we know that a threatened species is in a particular place?
 It can be important because decision on conservation might rest on whether a certain area has certain protected or threatened species in there. If they are unlikely to because they are already extinct then that will have management implications and vice versa if there is high uncertainty or there is reasonable probability that threatened species exist in an area and it is under consideration for protection or management then this is important information to contribute."

The database of thylacine sightings is publicly available. New sightings can be reported to Professor Brook via email - Barry.Brook@utas.edu.au. All new sightings can be added to the database.

"The idea here is that moving forward anyone can pick up this and do whatever they want with it, and add to it, and that will allow more clarity going forward into the future," Professor Brook said.

The article is behind a paywall and I can’t find any versions that aren’t, so I’ve pasted the text here. I’ve also made a few minor edits since I found some missing words and grammatical errors.

Tl;dr -- new research based on analysis of reported sightings suggests that thylacines may have gone extinct as late as the 1990s-early 2000s.

I have a few issues with this study, the main one being that not every sighting is credible/truthful. I do like that they put more weight on more “credible” sightings to buffer this, though.

Thylacines aren’t in the news very often so I’m posting this despite my reservations, since some followers may be interested!

[jerzwriter]

His and Hers

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff

Summary: Unbeknownst to Ethan, or anyone else, Casey had a short stint as a model when she was a senior at NYU. It was the perfect way to make a little extra money to pay off her student debt. What happens when someone leaves a magazine with a bikini-clad Casey on Ethan’s desk?

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi! This started as just the magazine covers for MC Monday, but it morphed into a mini-fic, so I’m posting that here. As you’ve already been tagged in the MC Monday reblog, I am not tagging anyone. This is just a fun little piece. I hope you enjoy it.

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. 😊

When Casey was 22, she was a senior at New York University getting ready to head to the Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. Not from a wealthy family, she was already saddled with debt and in order to achieve her dream of being a physician, she was about to take on at least four times more.

One day, while studying with friends at Washington Square Park, she was scouted by a modeling agent. She told her that she was not interested. She was heading to med school in the fall and had no time for modeling. But the agent was persistent, telling her that just a few gigs could likely pay for a decent chunk of her student debt. Enticed Casey took her card.

She did her research and found out it was a legitimate agency, IMC Agency, one of the biggest and most successful agencies in the world. They agreed to let her sign a short time contract allowing her to attend med school in the fall. In just a few months, she managed to get a ton of catalog work, a few magazine shoots, and the biggest coup of all, she landed the cover of Sport Illustrations annual swimsuit edition.

Some people that knew her called this into question, given that she is an ardent feminist. But she was steadfast in her belief that there was nothing wrong with women embracing their appearance and sexuality; her problem was with the media, mostly run by men, controlling the women and the narrative. This was her body, she was in control of it, and she controlled her narrative, no one else. She had veto power over photos and would not pose for anything she found inappropriate. And with just one summer’s worth of work, a year of med school, and a chunk of her undergrad loans were paid off. She has zero regrets, in fact, she was proud of what she accomplished.

That said, she never announced it, not out of shame or embarrassment, but med school and her residency were grueling, and that just wasn't her life anymore. She and Ethan were finally together, and her life revolved around her work and their future plans. She had never been happier.

Not everyone was happy when Ethan and Casey went public. Long believed to be a confirmed bachelor, the legion of people who had long held massive crushes were saddened at the news. Most moved on, but others were quite bitter and had it out for Casey. One day, a nurse who was particularly sour uncovered Casey's modeling past, in particular the swimsuit issue, and hunted down a copy. She saw to it that it was left on Ethan's desk, mixed in with his daily folders.

Ethan sat down at his desk with his freshly brewed cup of coffee. He had a slow workload today, an amazing rarity, and he was looking forward to a relatively relaxed day. After lifting the third folder from the pile, the magazine cover jumped out at him. His eyes bulged, his heart nearly stopped, and he spit the coffee out of his mouth, landing everywhere around him.

He stood up, holding the magazine in his hands at arm's length, and paced the floor frantically for a good ten minutes. He was convinced Casey had a doppelgänger, that was the only plausible excuse. He opened the magazine turned to the pictorial inside.

“NYU Senior Casey MacTavish hits the shores of….”

I’m having palpitations. I need water. I need to sit down.

“Hey Boss, I got the results on Mr. Daly, I think we’re looking at…”

Ethan shoved the magazine behind his back. But Tobias knew his boss and old friend too well. One look at him, and he already knew that something was up.

“OK, what gives.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What are you hiding. Hand it over.”

“Absolutely not.”

After a little bit of wrangling, Ethan sighed, “Fine! But this stays between us.”

Tobias’s grabbed the magazine and his eyes popped out of his skull.

“Holy shit! Is this one of those mock-ups? Did she have this made for you?”

“No! She was the Sport Illustrator cover model for their 2014 swimsuit issue.”

Tobias let out a slow whistle.

"TOBIAS!"

"Look, Ethan, I mean no disrespect. But, Jesus, you hit the goddamn jackpot with her. If you ever screw this up, I will personally kick your ass.”

“I’m not screwing anything up, but I can’t believe she did this….”

“Did what?” Casey asked walking in the door.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Tobias saluted as he rushed out the door.

“Ethan, what have you got behind your back.”

He strolled quietly to the door and locked it shut. “I don’t know,” he said handing her the magazine. “Why don’t you tell me.”

Now it was Casey’s turn to have her eyes attempt to escape their sockets, not because she was shocked to learn of the magazine's existence, but because she hadn’t even thought of it in years. Plus, how did it get here?

“Where did this come from?”

“It was mixed in with today’s files?”

“What? Well, something like this just doesn’t show up there, someone did this on purpose!”

“Why would anyone do that?”

Casey shrugged. “They probably wanted to get you mad at me. Not everyone is happy that we're together, you know. But...you’re… you’re not, are you? You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m… I’m kind of shocked. And wondering why you didn’t tell me, but … no. No, I’m not mad. But, can you tell me...why, how… when…”

“Why don't we sit down.”

She explained how it came to be, why she did it, what her feelings were about it. She never told him because honestly, it was such a forgotten part of her life, she didn’t even give it thought.

“So, are you upset?”

“No,” he smiled rubbing his cheek. “But, Tobias is right.”

“About what?”

“I did hit the jackpot.”

She fell into his arms and embraced him.

Ethan picked up the magazine and smiled.

“Do you… do you think I can get more of these?” he asked.

“Why?” Casey asked scrunching her nose.

“Because I am going to need to frame at least two. For home, of course, not for work.”

“We can put it right next to your magazine cover,” she smiled.

“JAMA?!”

“No, silly, the nee one!”

“Hmm. It’s a little different, than yours.”

"Perhaps, but you still look sexy as hell. So, I say we do it.”

“If you insist,” He smiled.

“But I have a request.”

“Anything.”

“I want to show whoever did this that they accomplished nothing. So, can we have a little PDA at work today?”

“You can have a lot more than a little. Can I grab your ass in the hall?”

“That may be a little much.”

“OK, I’ll save it for Donahue’s after work.”

Casey giggled as they headed out the door, arm in arm. “Oh, Ethan?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Tag lists were tagged under MC Monday - which is more or less the same fic.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[mercy-burning]

High Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer calls Reader to see if he can come over, but she’s already having her own fun and suggests something... out of the box. Category: Smut 18+ (oral- male receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, sex while high) Warnings: Smoking (marijuana), language, smut. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.1k

***

The prospect of seeing Spencer Reid again was something that always excited Y/N. They'd only been seeing each other for about two months, but she never really knew when she would get to see him because of his job, and that made their relationship all the more interesting. Though, she wasn't really sure if she could call it a relationship, considering they had only went on one date. And even then, it was barely considered a date because they ended up leaving the movie twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the night having sex in her car.

Recalling that night to herself, Y/N smiled and wondered about all the other things they could do together.

She daydreamed for a few more minutes, and in no time her legs had started to shift together, craving any form of friction. And since her partner wasn't there to help, Y/N figured she'd find it elsewhere.

After shuffling to her bedroom, she stripped herself of all her clothes except for a pair of thin scarlet panties and put on a hotel bathrobe she'd stolen, not bothering to tie it closed. Then she opted to reach towards something she didn't normally use, but had on hand in case the need ever presented itself.

In a small box under her nightstand was a lighter accompanied by some joints she'd gotten from a friend a few weeks ago. The only time she ever really smoked was when she was with said friend, but it wasn't something she was ever opposed to partaking in. It just rarely ever crossed her mind.

Minutes later and Y/N was on the couch again, windows shut, lights off, a few candles lit in an attempt to offset the strong scent, and her earbuds in. There was a glass of red wine and another glass of iced water on the table in front of her, and she was all set. Before she took the box out of the pocket of her robe, she took a sip of wine and leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off and and the other pulled to her chest.

After turning on a lo-fi playlist and taking a joint and the lighter from the box, Y/N finally lit it, then set her things on the table before taking a long drag. When she pulled it from her lips and slowly exhaled, she closed her eyes and focused on the music blasting through her earbuds. It didn't take long, only a few 3-minute songs, to feel a little buzzed. She kept her breathing steady, only taking a few drags once in a while as her free hand drifted over the front of her body, tracing patterns down her stomach and occasionally her breasts.

She was completely and totally relaxed. But just as she was about to dip her hand past her panties, the music stopped and her phone rang.

Had she not been slightly buzzed, she would have been more annoyed, but instead she just sighed, more disappointed than anything that her plans would (maybe) have to wait, depending on who was calling.

So Y/N was more than happy to look at her phone and see the words 'SPENCER REID' across the screen.

Unplugging her earbuds and then taking one more drag from her joint, she answered the phone. "Hey, Doc, what's up?" she inquired, smoke falling off her lips. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to call so late."

"Nah, that's alright. It's never too late to get a call from my favorite guy."

She heard him laugh a little from the other end of the line. "Good. Well, um... I just got back from work and I was wondering if... maybe I could come over? That's fine if you're too busy, but I could really use the company, and I... I've missed you."

The smile on Y/N's face was unavoidable. And maybe it was only the buzz talking, but God, if hearing his voice wasn't the best thing in the whole world. It was almost as intoxicating as the high she was slowly but surely achieving.

"Aw, I've missed you, too, Doc," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

Would it be wrong of me to pick up where I left off, she wondered as she waited for him to answer, her hand hovering over the waistband of her underwear. She took another drag of the joint and decided against it, though it was still tempting.

"Well, we can do anything you want, really, I just... I just want to be with you, that's all."

"Hmm... Alright. Well, come on over, and I'll be waiting."

"Okay. Should I, uh, bring some overnight clothes?"

Y/N felt like that was his subtle way of asking if they were going to be sleeping together that night, and just in case it wasn't, she added extra emphasis on her answer to either confirm his inquiry or give him a hint. "Yes."

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line before saying goodbye, and it made her giddy. They hung up, and she put the joint out, sticking it back in the box before wafting away some of the smoke and tying her robe closed. Every move she made made her head swim a little, but if anything she figured the small high she's created will make the sex feel even better.

She ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then spritzed on some perfume, hoping to mask some of the smell in case, for some reason, Spencer had a problem with it. She was sure he wouldn't, but she never wanted to make him uncomfortable with anything. Also, she just wanted to smell like the vanilla perfume she had that he once told her he loved anyway. Running back out to the living room, Y/N noticed that it still faintly smelled like marijuana. The candles masked it enough, though, and she figured it might dissipate by the time he got there.

Eventually she found herself on the couch again, before deciding to wait by the door. The thought of seeing Spencer again sent her body into a giddy, lovesick mess. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, and if that meant waiting by the front door like a puppy then so be it.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She wanted to wait. Really, she did. But she couldn't resist, and almost as soon as he'd stopped knocking, Y/N grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal him standing there. He almost looked shocked, probably at the speed and ferocity with which she used to open the door, but once he saw her face, the shock melted into pure adoration, his lips forming a shy smile as he clutched his bag in his hands.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly as she stepped aside and let him in.

"Hey'a, Doc," she chirped happily as she shut the door behind him.

He took his shoes off and set his bag on the ground before he spoke again. "You... lit candles," he observed, then turned around to fully take her in. His eyes drifted to her robe, which hung loosely closed, her underwear just barely peeking through. "And you look..."

His soft voice turned her insides into a quivering mess, and it took all of her strength not to jump him on the spot. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but it was clear that she'd rendered him speechless.

"Yeah, I was only going to have a relaxing night in," she explained, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. "You called at just the right time."

His head also tilted upwards, but he sniffed the air a few times. "Have... you been smoking?"

Y/N was a little panicked, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh. Yeah," she laughed, twirling a piece of her hair in between her fingers. "I was smoking a joint when you called, so I'm just a little buzzed right now. I hope that's okay. I thought maybe the candles would help offset the smell, but it's pretty strong I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, no, that's okay. You know, actually, research related to using cannabis before and during sex isn't really conclusive, but it's theorized that depending on the person it could increase pleasure during orgasm, and even just touch in general."

"Is that so?" she responded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She could have listened to him talk all day. He nodded, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. It made her want him even more. "Well... I think we should test out that theory. Don't you, Dr. Reid? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her hands played with the tie of her robe before she slowly undid the knot and pulled the soft fabric apart, running her fingers lightly across her bare stomach as she did. She took her hands away from the robe just before it exposed her breasts and dropped her hands to her side. Spencer's eyes raked over her once more, each of his breaths getting noticeably heavier.

"Well?" she encouraged, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat a little. "Are, um... Are you high enough to try do you think? Or do you want more?"

She smiled. "Well, I can definitely feel a little of the effects right now, but some more wouldn't hurt. Would you prefer I smoke beforehand or during?"

"Um... Either is fine, I suppose."

One more step and he was close enough to touch, so Y/N reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, already melting at the contact.

"Would you like to share?" she finally asked. "Of course I won't make you if you're not comfortable, I just thought I'd ask."

He smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate that. And... I'd love to share."

Pulling herself away from the door, she kept her hand locked with Spencer's before leading him a few steps away into the living room.

"Have a seat," she offered, reluctantly letting him go as he made his way to sit on the couch. Y/N turned and cleared the coffee table, setting the drinks and candles on the side table instead, and then grabbed the small box as she turned to face Spencer.

Her eyes locked onto his as she swiftly opened the box and grabbed a new joint and her lighter. Setting the box on the side table, she made sure to keep her upper body somewhat covered by the robe. It left just enough exposed that Spencer's eyes briefly left hers and glanced down at her chest, checking to see if anything had slipped. Almost as quickly as he'd looked down, he looked back up, swallowing and slightly parting his lips.

Y/N took that moment to close their distance and promptly straddle his lap. He straightened and placed his hands tentatively on her waist, over her robe as she brought her hand up to his face, lightly tracing the end of the joint across his jawline.

"Have you ever smoked before, Doc," she asked softly as she brought the joint around to trace his lips.

He exhaled a little, and she could see his tongue dance behind his lips, trying to find words it seemed, before settling on, "A few times... I don't particularly care for the smell, but I manage."

She pulled the joint away from him and placed it between her lips, simultaneously holding out the lighter for him to take. He did, and she watched his hands as he flicked it on and lit it for her. She took the lighter from him and reached to the left to toss it on the table next to the box, her hips grinding softly in his lap. She could feel Spencer's breath hitch as she came back, this time leaning backwards a little and sliding the robe over her breasts, finally exposing them as she inhaled.

The pure longing in Spencer's eyes was just as exhilarating, if not better, than the feeling Y/N got when she removed the joint from her lips and slowly let go of her breath. She blew the smoke to the side, barely missing his face, and she noticed how he slightly chased it, tilting his head to inhale some of it.

With her free hand, Y/N dragged her fingers across her breasts and sighed longingly. "You said this could increase pleasure just by touching, right, Doctor?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting down to her chest as he softly bit the corner of his lip.

"Well, I can't tell if this feels better than it would normally, but it definitely feels pretty damn good," she remarked before taking another short drag. Her fingers pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned as she exhaled, grinding her hips against his once more.

This time he breathed a little louder, nearly a whimper, and it urged Y/N forward. "Touch me, Doctor," she breathed, grinding her hips once more and taking her hand away from her breast.

Without hesitation, Spencer's hand replaced hers, his thumb rolling softly over her nipple. She sighed, holding onto his shoulder with her free hand before taking another drag. This time, when she exhaled, Y/N tilted her head upwards, exposing her neck and, again, grinding her hips. Her eyes closed as he continued to touch her, his other hand resting firmly on her bare waist, skin burning skin.

Every second of this is pure bliss, and they both still had a good amount of clothes on. It could have been the drug taking effect, or maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, but it was the best Y/N had felt in a while.

As she leaned into him, enveloping herself in every sensation, Spencer leaned his head forward and took her nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and swirling is tongue over it, his other hand tightening its grip on her waist. She moaned again, grinding her hips even harder and feeling her stomach flutter at every touch. He moved along to her other breast, following the same motions with his tongue as before as she continued to rock into his hips.

She took one more drag and then exhaled before pulling herself away from him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"As much as I love how this feels, Doctor, I think you have on a few too many clothes. Here." She handed him the joint. He took it and she climbed up off of him and knelt to the ground, taking him in as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. Y/N sighed, tilting her head and softly biting her bottom lip when he pulled the joint away and breathed out, smoke pooling around his face.

God, he's so hot, she thought to herself as she took him all in. He was wearing just a white button down dress shirt with a tie, black pants, and one sock that was purple, the other white with red polkadots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up just below his elbows, showing off small muscles and veins.

My God, those veins...

She pulled herself out of her trance, crawling up Spencer's legs and resting her hands on his belt. "Can I take these off for you, Doc?"

"Yes," he responded breathlessly.

Y/N looked up at him as she worked at his belt, unbuckling then sliding it out and tossing it on the floor. Then she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before sliding them down, also tossing them aside.

"I'm a little more high than you right now, Doctor, so you might want to catch up if you want this little experiment to be accurate," she purred as she palmed him through his underwear. Without hesitation he took another drag from the joint and closed his eyes, leaning his head back while she continued to tease.

"That's it, Doc, just relax. I'll take good care of you."

Spencer exhaled, groaning as he did so. Y/N's hands continued to trace his dick through the fabric, and she could feel him getting harder beneath her touch. Her head leaned down to kiss his inner thigh, and she trailed her tongue lightly upwards, eventually reaching and pressing a firm kiss to the tip of his dick through the fabric when he took another drag. Her mouth then travelled upwards to his lower stomach, undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt and slowly working her way up, pressing soft kisses and little licks to his skin after undoing each one. She took her time, lightly raking her nails up and down his torso in between buttons. By the time she reached the top, undoing his tie and tossing it aside, leaving his shirt on but completely open, he was in the middle of taking another drag.

Sliding off her robe and tossing it aside, Y/N waited until he exhaled, then straddled him again and firmly pressed her lips to his. Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging lightly, as she's learned over time he very much enjoyed. As if she'd needed confirmation, Spencer moaned into her mouth, using his free hand to lightly caress her back.

Now that there were less clothes between them, Y/N ground her hips against his again, and her lower stomach practically burst into butterflies, sending her into a mess of tremors. She moaned softly as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then before he could lean in and kiss her again, she pulled away, taking the joint from him and taking another long drag. Her other hand played with his hair as she leaned her head back and breathed out, smoke falling around her.

Spencer's hands gripped her waist firmly as he rocked her hips into his, leaning forward and kissing down the front of her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed, grinding harder and feeling her breathing pick up. She could probably cum from just this if they kept at it, but in the weeks since she'd seen him last, she'd craved him, and so she was willing to drag this out as long as possible in case he was somehow called away in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly she peeled herself away and handed him the joint. "You want me to suck you off while you get high, Doc?" she inquired, kneeling once more and tugging on the waistband of his underwear. "Would that feel good?"

"God, yes, Y/N," he breathed, throwing his head back.

"Well, then your wish is my command," she purred, pulling his underwear down and tossing them aside with the other clothes. His dick was even more perfect than she remembered, and her stomach erupted at the sight of it. Licking a line up the length of him, Y/N's eyes fluttered up to look at him through her eyelashes. He was taking another drag of the joint as she took him completely in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down at a torturous pace. His other hand drifted down to her hair, and he combed it back, away from her face so he could see her.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good," he groaned, smoke exhaling from his lips as he said it.

She moaned softly around his dick in response, gradually increasing her pace. The lack of breath through her mouth mixed with the cannabis in her system made her head start to spin, but in the best way possible.

Eventually she slowed her movements again, then removed her mouth from him completely, replacing it with her hand. "Would you say the cannabis is increasing you pleasure when I touch you, Dr. Reid?"

At the smooth, seductive tone in her voice, he leaned his head back and sighed as she continued stroking him with her hand. "Yes. You feel so good. You make me feel so fucking good, Y/N."

His words made her stomach coil in desire, and she decided promptly that she needed him right then and there. She peeled her hand away from him and got up, sliding her underwear down and looking him dead in the eye.

"Mmm, I love when you use your words, Doc," she purred, straddling him once more and taking the joint from him to take a drag herself. She took her sweet time, sinking down just a little so that the tip of his cock sat firmly at the base of her pussy, barely touching. She exhaled and used her other hand to comb his hair with her fingers. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want." She meant it wholeheartedly.

His hands slid up her sides and over to her breasts just lightly, enough so that he wasn't touching them completely, but enough that she shivered. He ran them back down and firmly gripped her waist. "I want you to fuck me, Y/N," he said, completely entranced and desperate. "Ride me. Please, I want to feel you."

"Happy to," she breathed before completely sinking down onto him and rocking her hips forward. He groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..."

She set a steady pace, bouncing nicely on his cock as she took another long drag of the joint. Everything was dizzying and light around her, and every part of her body lit up with pleasure. As she exhaled, she let out a moan louder than she had all night, everything so overwhelmingly blissful and, well... high.

It wouldn't take long to come undone, she was sure of it, and she didn't want this to end so soon. So she slowed her pace, rocking against him ever so slowly, soaking in every inch of him, every touch of his hands as they roamed her body.

Spencer took the joint from her fingers and took another drag, locking eyes with her as he did it. When he blew the smoke out, it enveloped the both of them, and she breathed it in through her nose, taking a deep breath and gripping his shoulders as she worked her hips against his.

"Fuck," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him. When their lips connected, that's when everything started to build. Y/N was pulled impossibly closer to him and her speed started to involuntarily increase. His tongue swiped out to meet with hers and his free hand reached down to her clit, circling it with his thumb. The extra sensation sent her into overdrive, and her orgasm crept up into her, threatening to explode. She groaned into Spencer's mouth, signaling how close she was to coming undone. Her lips parted from his and she rested their foreheads together, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers and plunging himself even deeper into her as his thumb worked her clit.

"That's it, fuck," she breathed, and in no time at all, release found her, blinding her so brightly it was like she was wasn't even on this plane of existence. She let out a long moan, her hips stopping and staying completely still as he fucked into her relentlessly. Her eyes screwed shut, seeing stars as her bliss increased, every thrust of his hips bringing her higher and higher until she was calling out his name.

His name falling off her lips was enough to push Spencer over the edge himself. He pulled her closer as he spilled over inside of her, and Y/N felt like she was on fire. They both hung on to every second until they were both slumped against each other, completely spent and also lightheaded.

Y/N was so unbelievably unbothered and comfortable in that moment that she didn't want to get up, but reluctantly she helped herself up off his lap and placed herself next to him, still hugging close to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Rather, they passed the joint between the themselves until it was finished, occasionally kissing each other in between passes.

She set the end of the joint on top of the box on the table before leaning back to Spencer and resting her head on his shoulder. She was completely aware of every glide of his hand up and down her arm as they sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Gotta say, that's not exactly what I had in mind when I called. But I'm happy about it anyway. We should do that more often."

Y/N snuggled up into his side and giggled. "Anytime, Doc."

[warm-starlight]

Hi! I hope you are doing well,

I’m reaching out to you because I stumbled to some of your post and there was some post of yours regarding Petra and Levi that were incorrect. Someone ask you about Rivetra now I understand you are a Levihan shipper so of course your response was exactly what I expected to be but you claim some things that were off. The Levi squad were very fond of Levi specially Petra they are a bunch of hints of this throughout the manga, anime, games and more. Petra was one of the few people who got a real understanding of Levi’s character we can see this when she talks to eren and how overprotective she is of him even though he’s strongest humanity soldier she see past that. I get the feeling you are one of those people who think Hange was the only one who could understand Levi because if so, that’s not true. Btw I would like a link to were Isayama said the Levi squad saw him as a monster.

Second there was another post that I had a problem with,is the one someone ask you about Petra’s feelings towards Levi. Is canon that Petra was in love with Levi there a bunch of hints that confirm that but the one hint that it just plain obvious is the father scene and her song called Souyoku No Hikari. I don’t have a problem if you want to answer questions regarding Rivetra but I would appreciate if do more research about it before answering those types of questions because you can misinform people like you just did.

Siiigh.

Isayama's words:

This implies two things:

1) His new squad was the first one who didn't see him as a monster

2) This is the first time he felt this kind of intimate trust with them.

This is canon.

Your second point: Whatever "hints" you may see are coming from bias. Her father misinterpreted her letter. She was admiring her captain and a poor man thought she was in love. That's all there is to it.

An advice: don't use songs/games other extra stuff to claim as definite proof for your ship.

Oh and it is canon that hange is the only one who truly understands Levi. Isayama even included the scene where they translate to others what he is trying to say.

I am sorry that you're bitter about it, but it's just the truth.

[warriorrazor]

More Spooky Family AU time!

((masterpost))

This will go a bit more in depth about the lead up to the custody trial, and Pump finally getting to return to Lila and Skid.

This is going to be another half-summary-half-mini story sort of thing. I also wasn’t planning it at first, but the last part definitely turned into a full-on ficlet.

I’d also like to mention that I came up with a lot of this while bouncing ideas around with others! Thank you to everyone who’s commented, asked questions, and added their own ideas, I owe a lot of this AU’s development to those who have shared their own thoughts with me! You’re all amazing!

This one is even longer than the last post, so it’ll be under the read more as well:

After calling CPS early in the morning, a few hours went by until Skid and Pump woke up. When they did, Lila had already made them a big breakfast of chocolate pancakes and bacon. Skid, since he was asleep when Pump ran to the house in the middle of the night, had no idea why Pump was there, but was of course happy that he was with them. For those moments everything was peaceful and nothing felt wrong, together they all shared a delicious breakfast and the boys rambled about spooky month.

CPS arrived at Lila’s house very soon after, informing her that during this time Pump would need to return to his father so they could conduct the investigation. Now knowing Pump’s situation, Lila was absolutely distraught by this news, but she sadly knew she couldn’t do anything about it. She ever so carefully explained to Pump that he had to go back to his father. It took Pump a bit to finally get it, that so soon after he had found a place of safety and belonging, he had to leave it. While Lila also explained that she would do everything in her power to make it so he could stay, so that Pump didn’t have to see his father ever again, the only thing that was really registering for him was that he had to leave. Lila herself carried Pump to the CPS agent’s car, having to pry Pump off of her and watch as he gave her one last look, a look of pure fear and betrayal, a look would haunt Lila for a very long time.

The CPS investigation would take a week, and there would be another week that would lead up to the trial.

As soon as Pump was taken away, Lila immediately got to work. She began researching everything she needed to know about laws, custody, CPS, etc. though she quickly decided she would take care of Skid during the day, and work on research and filling out paperwork during the night.

Speaking of Skid, Lila had to explain to him in kid terms as best she could what exactly was happening with his best friend. Skid didn’t exactly understand all the details, but he was able to understand that Pump is in some sort of trouble. And being the empathetic and caring kid that he is, Skid wanted to help in any way he could.

While this was happening, Pump was stuck in his father’s house, confused and terrified. For most of these two weeks Pump would spend his time in his room, curled up tightly on his bed. He wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from everything that was happening. He would dread the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs, praying that whoever it was wouldn’t come into his room. It was always either his father wanting to talk with him about just how good of a father he is and that Pump should be thankful to live with him, or it was the CPS agents who would ask him personal questions that he never knew exactly how to respond to.

During this time, Pump’s father also set up a curfew for Pump so he could barely see Skid after school, and he couldn’t visit Lila’s house at all. However Pump could see Skid plenty at school, and Skid would keep close to him at all times. While Pump would try to hide it, Skid could see just how distressed his best friend was, and would do his best to offer as much comfort and support as he could.

Now knowing Pump’s father wouldn’t always pack Pump a lunch, Lila began packing an extra lunch and giving it to Skid to give to Pump. As she didn’t have any other way to communicate with Pump, she would put a note in each of his lunches telling him that he would be okay, that he was brave, that she promised she would help him.

School had quickly become the only place of sanctuary Pump felt he had.

At home, Pump’s father would try to “play nice” with Pump and do his best to drill into his head that he was the best parent Pump could have. However, after all the time Pump had spent with Skid and Lila and how much he’d learned about what a family should really be like, this only serves to utterly confuse him. Pump’s father would also be doing his own research on different laws and which ones that would in any way work in his favor. He was basically trying to throw every law that would give him any slight advantage at Lila, little did he know his onslaught only made Lila more determined to research and counter what he would come at her with.

Finally, the day of the trial would arrive. Though the trial was long and stressful, Lila would succeed, and she would gain custody of Pump.

~~~~~

Pump listened to the sounds of footsteps coming closer and closer. He groaned and buried his head in the blankets of his bed.

Pump didn’t want to think. He just wanted to sleep.

The strangers came into his room. Pump knew the routine; they’ll make him sit up, look him in the eyes, ask him questions, look at his body, and leave. If he does what they ask, then they’ll go away. But they always come back. Always.

He managed to push himself up into a sitting position. One of them sat next to him on his bed, looking at him with a concerned smile. She was talking to him, but her words just seemed to blend together. Pump listened anyway, watching her mouth move with tired eyes. Suddenly, she stood up and gestured him to follow her. Pump’s eyes widened. This was new. He didn’t want to leave his room, but he knew he couldn’t say no. He avoided her gaze as as he slowly shuffled off the bed and followed her out of his room, then down the stairs.

Pump looked at his father who was talking with a stranger. His father looked back at him with a frown. His eyes were tired, but there was something else behind his gaze that inexplicably made Pump shudder. He looked back at the strangers he was following and froze. One of them had opened the front door, and was looking at him expectantly. Pump didn’t move. She smiled and gestured for him to follow her again.

He had to listen. He didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t.

Pump swallowed thickly and gripped his shirt as he cautiously followed them out the door. He tried to glance once more at his father, but he was now out of Pump’s sight. The strangers led him to a car, and the sight of it immediately made Pump’s chest tighten. It was the car that he had to ride in when they took him away from Skid and Lila. He was terrified. Where were they going to take him this time?

Pump felt tears welling up in his eyes but kept his mouth shut as one of the strangers guided him into the backseat. The door slammed shut, and Pump was immediately overcome with a strong feeling of claustrophobia. He was trapped. His hands shook as he buckled himself in, needing a few attempts before the buckles finally clicked. The car began to move, and Pump breathed hard as he watched his father’s house disappear from view.

The car ride wasn’t long but for Pump it felt like forever. He looked out the window, watching all the houses pass by. They all seemed to blend together; it was his own neighborhood, but Pump was too panicked to recognize any of them. It felt like an alien world where nothing made sense. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks, and watched as they dropped onto his lap.

The car then took a quick turn, and Pump suddenly realized he recognized this place.

Pump had been here many times, seen these houses over and over, remembered every twist and turn the street would take. Even if he felt he may never be able to visit Skid’s house again, he could never forget where it was. He leaned closer to the window, his heart roaring in his ears as the house he had been to so many times came into view. He felt a sudden flutter of hope in his chest, and it slowly spread through his body as the car slowed and stopped in front of the house.

Pump remembered that Skid had told him many times that he and Skid could be brothers, that he could come to Lila’s house and she could be his mother as well. He didn’t believe him, how could he? His father kept telling him that Lila didn’t want him, that she didn’t like him, that she was lying to him, that she had already given up on him...

Pump flinched harshly as the car door suddenly swung open. He slowly scooted himself out of the car and followed the stranger towards Skid’s house, his heart pounding harder with each step he took. He brushed his sleeve roughly against his eyes to clear his tear blurred vision, looking again and confirming that this was in fact not a dream.

The stranger knocked on the door.

It was only a few seconds before Skid’s mother Lila answered. He stared at her as she exchanged a few words with the stranger. Finally, she looked down at him. He felt himself begin to shake as he looked back at her with wide eyes. She gave him a bright smile, and Pump’s breath caught in his throat. The stranger stepped aside.

Pump thought his heart might burst out of his chest.

He couldn’t stop himself from running over to her, and he let out a startled gasp as she immediately scooped him up. Pump shuddered harshly at the sudden contact, but as Lila brought him close to her chest and starting stroking her hands through his curly hair, he felt a strong warmth quickly spread through his body. He tightened his grip on Lila when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone giggling, he could recognize that voice anywhere.

Skid!

Pump looked below him and saw his best friend jumping for joy and skipping around them, with the happiest smile on his face. Pump felt a fluttering in his chest as a smile started to form on his face as well. He looked back at Lila who was beaming at him, the very sight making any of Pump’s doubts and worries melt away. Lila held him closer and spun around, making Pump squeak in surprise. He had never felt anything like it, but somehow it didn’t frighten him, instead it filled him with such a strong feeling of exhilaration and bliss. He reveled in the feeling, giggling with Skid and hearing Lila laugh along as well.

Pump felt tears spilling from his eyes, but he wasn’t sad, far from it. He had never felt such a mix of positive emotions, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he buried his face into Lila’s shoulder, breathing heavily. He felt Lila rubbing soothing circles along his back. Pump relaxed into it, letting out a shaky sigh. Had he ever felt so comfortable before?

Though his thoughts were positively jumbled, he was able to force out one word, spoken so quietly that he barely heard it himself:

“Home?”

Pump felt Lila pause, then she kneeled down, still holding him close. He felt a second set of arms wrap around him and he turned his head to look at Skid, whose eyes were practically sparkling. He leaned into Skid, a strong sense of belonging being added to his pile of scattered emotions. He looked back at Lila, her comforting gaze strengthening that wonderful feeling.

“Yes Pump, this is your home now. You can live here with us,” Lila softly spoke, stroking his head, “If you want, Skid could be your new brother, and I could be your mother. Would you like that?”

Pump’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Yes,” he breathed, excitement filled his voice as it began to rise, “yes, yes!”

At this, Skid cheered and tightened his hug around him.

“I told you!” He declared, shaking with pure delight, “I told you we were gonna be brothers!”

Pump chuckled, feeling the tears begin to flow again.

“You did, you did tell me,” Pump grinned as he spoke with a shaky voice. He hesitantly let go of Lila to wrap his arms around his friend, his best friend.

His brother.

“We’re family now,” Pump heard Skid breathe, and he finally allowed himself to believe it. Pump leaned his head onto Skid’s shoulder, and closed his eyes with bliss as he felt Lila bring them both into a group hug. He’s hugged Skid so many times, but never has he felt surrounded by so much warmth. It was like being wrapped in a soft, heavy blanket, a feeling that was almost overwhelming, yet Pump never wanted it to end.

“This calls for a celebration!” Lila announced, giving both boys a squeeze.

“A bit later we can go out for icecream, then I’ll cook us a big dinner! How’s that sound?”

Pump could hardly believe his ears. Skid was the first to react, throwing his hands in the air with joy. “Great idea!” Skid exclaimed, making Lila let out a chuckle. Pump rapidly nodded his head, his eyes shining. Lila moved back a bit and looked at Pump, giving him a warm smile.

“Welcome home.”

~~~~~

Finally, the ordeal was over. Lila kept true to her word, bringing the boys out for icecream and fixing them a big, full course dinner. Afterwards, they had a small movie marathon, though Skid and Pump fell asleep before they even got to the third movie.

Just like Skid and Lila promised Pump, they are family now, and a very tight-knit one at that. They care about each other deeply, and Lila makes sure to give her boys plenty of attention and create memories for them that they’ll never forget.

While Pump didn’t have the best start to his childhood, Lila is determined to make sure that the rest of it is just as wonderful as his brother’s. And with how joyful and caring her kids are, it’s not at all difficult to do nice things for them.

[modern-inheritance]

I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly.  Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh? 

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns. 

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures​ for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!

[eunjidrabbles]

孤单北半球/Oceans apart

(I’m riding on the Dreamcatcher Crossroads concert high rn to bring ya’ll this. Yes i cried when Dongie cried.

Edit: Happy April Fools, I finally posted)

Word count: About 2k

-

“你答应了她们. (You promised them.)” “但我不想把你给留下. (But I don’t want to leave you behind.)”

Watching the wonder that is Handong grow up with you, there was never a moment you were not amazed by not only her talents, but her willpower and determination to push through the hardest times. You were the one who supported and stood at the boarding gates as your childhood mate entered to start the grueling grind of her dreams as a teenager. You watched as she turned back with a gleam in her eyes, and you couldn’t help push aside your selfish feelings of wanting to continue growing with her by your side and smile back brightly to her. Handong has always told you, that you were what gave her courage to pursue her dream. You weren’t going to be the reason to stop that too. Only until you watched as what you assumed her flight lifted off into the skies did you let your smile break and your tears consume you. That was years ago.

You were not expecting when your phone rang a week ago, and a familiar custom ringtone played. A soft voice made you stop in your tracks and you hesitated, wondering if you were dreaming. Noticing your coworker staring at you weirdly finally had you snap out of your thoughts and scramble to hit the accept button before the next verse of the song started. Putting the phone to your ear, you held your breath in silence, trying to find the right words to say. Before you could form a proper sentence, the same voice from your ringtone was heard on the other end.

“我刚下飞机, 正在回来的路上. (I just got off the plane, I’m on my way back.)” You could only blink owlishly, trying to understand what she meant as she continued. “你... 能接我吗? (Can you... come fetch me?)” There it was, the little crack and tremble of her voice, making it sound so fragile and weak. You looked over to your coworker, and to the nearly empty café around you and made your decision. Giving a sound of affirmation, you heard a whisper of thanks before the call was ended. Walking over to your coworker who was now across the counter, trying to busy herself with wiping it down as if to clean away some imaginary stain, you stopped right in front of her before thinking of how to phrase your early leave off your shift. She finally stood up straight, towering well over you when she couldn’t stand the deafening silence between you, and raised an eyebrow at you. “Judging by your reaction, it’s your old flame, isn’t it? Go. I can handle this.” Waving the rag over her head behind her towards the exit, you chuckled and let out a sigh of relieve at your coworker and next longest friend that you had besides Handong. The American girl never failed to amuse you with her straightforwardness and how she could tell whenever you weren’t feeling your best. Removing the apron over your head, you rushed to the back to hang it up and back in front to hop over the counter earning yourself a damp rag on your head and a “I just cleaned that!” as you ran past.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you pushed your legs to move forward, slowing down only when your calves cried in pain. Pacing yourself as you catch your breath, you slowed down even more as you let your thoughts wash over you once again. Years have passed since the both of you last talked. She wasn’t allowed her phone as a trainee, from what you understood from the last message she sent before going radio silent. The next time you saw her was on screen; she was standing proudly with 6 other girls, each equally as charming as she was but all you could do was focus on how much time has changed your childhood friend. Her features grew sharper, so had her words. From the little korean you picked up as you helped her study back then, you decided to do whatever research you could about her and her new group and became their fan. You watched from afar as they grew bigger, and got more attention from fans, but as a fan yourself, you weren’t blind to the hate that they got too. You were sure that she wasn’t too.

Reaching the park you used to play in with her, you looked around the darkening scenery as you spotted a figure, hood up and covering their face with a mask. As if sensing your gaze, her eyes snapped up to meet with yours. Immediately, you could see her worn features soften as she stood up to greet you. Taking your time to slowly admire the fact she was finally back while you approached, your eyes met and your hand unconsciously reached up to gently caress her cheeks; a confirmation that she was here. Closing her eyes, she leaned into your hand and pulled you closer into a hug. When they opened again you could see the weariness, the damage words had done to her over time, and the way the spark you sent her off with barely flickering in her gaze. Gently tracing her features down her jawline to her neck and down her arm to her hands, you intertwined your fingers and gently tugged her towards the direction of your home. Wordlessly, Handong gripped her luggage with her free hand and followed you.

There was a comforting feeling once you’ve helped her pull the luggage in your apartment as she heaved a loud sigh and started removing the extra layers on her. It was as if everything was back to the previous normal, where the chinese girl would crash at your place after a long day in school, automatically making your place as her own with her beelining straight for the bathroom to wash up. Pulling the luggage towards your room, you moved to the guest room to pick up the extra set of pillows before heading back to your room and dumping them on your bed. When the doors to your bathroom opened, you saw the girl step out, already dressed in one of your old pajamas and you moved to the side so she could have a seat on the bed. Giving her shoulder a soft squeeze, you picked up another set of pajamas and headed to wash up. The sight that greeted you when you stepped out of the bathroom was heartbreaking. A deep frown marred her face as her eyes dart around on the screen in her fidgeting hands, not even noticing when you quietly approached her. Slowly rounding your fingers around the electronic, you pulled it out her hands and your other hand leading her head to lean into you. Feeling arms wrap around your waist, you take the hint to slowly move onto the bed, guiding her along as you soothingly thread your hands through her hair.

Setting her phone aside and laying down on your side, you pulled up the blankets slightly and continued to comfort the girl in your arms. The silence was cold, but was broken by sobs and you could start to feel her body shake as she finally let the ice cold façade go. Gone was Dreamcatcher’s ice queen Handong, and in your arm was the shy and soft Dongie that would always turn to you for comfort ever since she was a child. It tore you apart inside, knowing you couldn’t do much but be there for her, regardless of time. Gently nudging her to move further up on the bed, she complied and nuzzled her face between your neck and gave you a squeeze. That was all you needed to know before you placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and pulled her closer to you while you hummed a random tune that came to your mind to lull her into slumber. You weren’t sure how long it took, but only when you felt her breathing even out signaling that she was asleep, you moved back slightly to look at her. Though her face was stained with tears and the evidence of her struggle, she was still your beautiful and precious Dongie that you cared for as long as you could remember. Pressing another soft kiss on her forehead, you mumbled, “哭过就好了, 你会变得更坚强的. (It’ll be alright. You’ll become stronger.)” and closed your eyes to let slumber overtake you.

It truly was as if the years of her absence did not exist. You’d rotate between days of her staying over at your home, and sometimes heading over to her place to have meals with her family once again. You’d watch how her rigid posture slowly relax, and how the words she’d share with you slowly increase day by day. You’d notice that she’d look at her phone lesser, and instead choose to smile at you more. Though you’d each have your own schedules and routines daily, knowing that you’ll see one another at the end of the day brings you a strange feeling, both longing for this to continue but you knew better. Handong came home to find herself, to get back her confidence and not for you. She won’t be staying by your side. You can’t be selfish to think of holding her back again.

On the day of the final episode of the show was recorded, you sat silently in the parking lot an hour before the supposed ending in your car waiting for Handong to emerge from the back exit. Your head was clouded with just one thought despite all the internal debates. Hearing the car door open and slam close beside you, you glanced over to see her wide smile as she excitedly chatter away. Only when you failed to give any sounds of acknowledgement did she turn to look at you questioningly. Still not getting an answer from you, she could only chuckle awkwardly. “你干嘛这样看我啊? (Why are you looking at me like that?)”

“韓東. (Handong.)”

You could see her excitement reeled in slowly as she realized that you were about to talk about something serious with the look in your eyes and the sigh right after calling her.

“你该回去了吧. (You should go back.)” Confusion flashed in her eyes as she studied your posture, trying to find any signs of a joke. “你...在说什么呀? (What.. are you talking about?)”

“在这没什么能给你, 你还是回去韩国吧. 她们都在等你. (There is nothing more to offer you here, you should go back to Korea. They are all waiting for you.)”

The smile on her face dropped as she broke eye contact with you, slowly retreating into herself. You knew that she was most comfortable here, but her dream meant pushing past her comfort zone and into the horizons beyond. Like you did in the past, you’ve decided to continue to push her forward from behind, and cheer her on. Fear was obvious, not less to say a still healing wound but with a gentle hand on hers, you encouraged her to look back into your eyes.

“你答应了她们. (You promised them.)” “但我不想把你给留下. (But I don’t want to leave you behind.)”

Taking a deep breath, Handong wiped the tear away from her eyes. The journey back hasn’t been easy. Hearing the birthday message from her parents certainly brought back the memory of all the hardships she had faced, but it also helped her realize how far she had came. Feeling arms embrace her from all directions and the slight taunting and comforting words of her members, she broke out in a smile as she tried to contain the tears flowing down her cheeks to prevent them from ruining her makeup. Throughout the rest of the online concert, she pushed herself even harder to show everyone and made her presence known; that she was back. The burst of energy was definitely felt by the rest, and the encore was hyped up even more so with it.

At the sign given by the director, the camera was shut and everyone came together to celebrate a successful concert. Rowdy cheers and hoots were shared even though it was past midnight, and as snacks and drinks were brought out, Handong quietly slipped out of the main stage to the back. Tears sprung to her eyes again as she let her smile grow wider and wider as you stood up from the sofa. Walking forward, she pulled you into a tight hug and you naturally embraced her back.

“我会和你一起走上每一条路所以你可以安心的向前冲吧. (I’m with you every step of the way, so you can aim for your dreams.)”

[shirtlesssammy]

6x06: You Can't Handle the Truth

Then:

Soulless Sam was a psychotic work of art

Now:

Calumet City, Illinois

Jane, a cute waitress at Biggerson’s, talks on the phone with a friend about whether a boy likes her (Bechdel who?). “I just need the truth,” she implores, as the camera zooms in on her mouth. 

She gets the truth. After ending the call, her coworkers start telling her VERY mean things, and a customer admits to running over a homeless man once. People just poor their worst thoughts out at her. Feeling like she’s going crazy, she calls someone to pick her up. Her friend just throws out more mean things at Jane. It’s then that Jane pulls out a gun and kills herself. DARK. 

Meanwhile Dean’s on the phone with Bobby about Sam. Bobby says he’ll look into it more and tells Dean, “Don’t shoot him yet.” Once off the phone, Sam brings food and a case. 

They head to interview Jane’s sister. She tells Sam that Jane was having a bad day, and she tried cheering her up. Sam --ruthless and blunt-- calls her out on her lie and asks what she did. Dean watches, perplexed. The sister starts crying, and admits that she wanted to console her sister, but it’s not what came out when she talked to her. They leave wondering what could have caused the fatal exchange. 

At a dentist’s office, a man sits in the dreaded chair, chit chatting with the dentist. He suddenly admits to not liking his wife anymore, and he’s actually a raging pedophile. 

Dean’s back on the phone with Bobby, hoping for answers on whether it’s Sam or Satan that’s Dean’s copilot. Dean’s struggling with the idea that this could just be Sam. 

Sam comes back to the motel to report another death --this time a guy got drilled to death. (But by the “non-sexy kind of drilling”, as Dean points out. DUDE.) Dean tells Sam to go interview the dentist alone. He’ll stay behind and do research. Uh, not suspicious at ALL , Dean. 

Turns out, the dentist hung himself before Sam could talk with him. They’re thinking that all the truth telling around the deaths point to a curse. While Sam heads to the morgue to check out the body, Dean heads to the dentist’s office. Once there, he finds a receipt for “Harry’s House of Horns” and remembers that Jane also had frequented the store. 

He goes to interview the store owner.

The owner asks about progress on his stolen horn. It was a museum piece, a thousand years old, one in a million. It was stolen the same day Jane died. 

Later, at the motel, he looks up Gabriel’s Horn, and sarcastically prays to Cas to check out the “loose nuke”, not really expecting the angel to show. 

GUYS. I haven’t rewatched this episode in --forever!--and didn’t think Cas was in it. But HE IS. AND we get a “Hello, Dean.” 

Dean’s a little (!) pissed that Cas will come for this stupid horn, but not otherwise. Cas reassures Dean that Sam is not Lucifer while pouring him a consolation drink.

Dean asks Cas what’s wrong with Sam, but Cas doesn’t know (Like, doesn’t Cas honestly not know he forgot Sam’s soul or is he lying on purpose?). Dean then stares (and stares) at Cas. He wants to know what Cas’s deal is --when did he stop being human (*whimpering noises*). “I’m at war.” 

For Science:

Dean mentions Gabriel’s Horn of Truth and says they think it’s in town. Before he can continue, Cas is gone. (*whimpering noises*)

Dean takes a drink, and Cas is back before he can finish swallowing. He searched the town and didn’t find Gabriel’s horn. Dean turns his back and tells Cas, “Nice seeing you anyway.” Cas tries mending fences a bit by telling Dean that he does want to help with Sam. He tells Dean that he’ll “make inquiries”, and is gone. Dean looks around the room forlornly, and takes another drink. 

Sam takes a look at the dead dentist and asks to see the rest of the bodies. The coroner says, “They’re gone.” Gone gone. They’re gone. 

Dean sits at a bar, nursing his Cas wounds, and watches the news on the television. Sam calls with the news. He’s at a missing person’s apartment now --and since she died a whole week before the others, he’s thinking the curse started with her. 

Dean orders another drink for the road, and utters the words, “I’d just like the freaking truth.” The bartender unloads some serious truths on Dean --and he realizes that he’s cursed. 

He calls Bobby to test out his new cursed skills, and learns that Bobby’s drinking milk in the middle of the day and watching Tori and Dean. Lol, nothing to confess at all, Bobby! “I guess it does work over the phone,” Dean laments. Bobby also confesses to pedicures and that Dean’s his favorite (but Sam’s the better hunter). OOF. Said flippantly, but this is one truth siblings never want confirmation on. Dean tells Bobby that he’s cursed --and then he gets an idea.

Dean calls Sam strategically now that he’s carrying the truth curse, and asks him to call him when he has a chance SO HE CAN SPILL. Sam can’t come to the phone right now because he’s going over the case with Corey’s sister. She confesses that her sister was obsessed with finding out the truth about her potentially-cheating boyfriend.

Back with Dean, Lisa calls at the WORST TIME. She confronts him about his behavior - storming in and shoving Ben. “You've got so much buried in there, and you push it down, and you push it down. Do you honestly think that you can go through life like that and not freak out? Just, what, drink half a fifth a night and you're good?”

Lisa then tears into the reappearance of Sam, tagging the Winchesters’ relationship as unhealthy. As soon as Sam reappeared, she knew their relationship was over. Once everything’s laid out, Lisa pauses. “That came out so much harsher than I meant,” she says, softer this time. Dean absorbs her criticism like a towel specially designed for soaking up loathing. She tells him they’re done.

Sam tears through the bedroom looking for evidence. He finds a cat skull under the bed. “Yahtzee,” as they say. Dean storms in and demands the truth about the vampire hunt. Sam goes dewy eyed. He froze when Dean was attacked! And he feels super duper extra duper bad about it! For REALS. 

Later, they uncover the truth - quite literally - while doing research back at the motel. The cat skull was part of a ritual to invoke Veritas. Now everybody in town calls on Veritas whenever they demand the truth. Bombarded with the truth, victims kill themselves and become tributes. 

Cut to a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it montage of stealing a hard drive from the TV studio of Ashley Frank, local TV anchor. They (mostly Sam) watch cut footage until dawn.

For Pretty Motel Science:

Nothing suspicious appears until a barking dog makes an appearance on film. While the dog barks uncontrollably at the news anchor, they FINALLY notice an eye flash. Monster target LOCKED.

At Ashley Frank’s palatial home, they ready their weapons: blades coated with dog blood. (Sam does NOT want you to ask where he got it from.) The Winchester’s creep through her house, and finally locate an altar-like setup. There are candles, a sculpture of Veritas, and many cute widdle kitties. Veritas arrives and immediately knocks out the Winchesters.

Later, they wake to find themselves tied to posts. Veritas strolls in wearing a fabulous gold gown and gets right in Dean’s face so she can absorb some delicious emotions. 

Dean confesses that he feels better about Sam now, but before he thought he was a monster and wanted to kill him. Dean explains that the hunting gig is that you’re either covered in blood, or dying in it. He tells her that he’s good at slicing throats - he isn’t a father. He’s a killer. I SCREAM BECAUSE 15X18 AND 15X19 LEFT US A GIFT (and then 15x20, well……..doesn’t exist).

Sam tells Veritas that their lives are hard, but he and Dean watch out for each other. He’s EXTREMELY chill about the situation. Veritas listens to this calm analysis and then freaks out and accuses him of lying. She demands to know “what” he is, which is SO RUDE. 

They could stick around and talk some more, but Sam’s finally done sawing through the ropes holding him down. He escapes, then Dean frees himself as well. Veritas gets stabbed first by Dean, then Sam. She perishes dramatically, but after that foe is defeated, Dean raises a knife to Sam. Dean demands the truth.

Sam reveals that he knows he is “Sam,” but he understands that there’s something wrong with him. He lied, and he let Dean get turned into a vampire because he knew there was a cure, and that Dean could fight it. He admits that old Sam wouldn’t take the risk of Dean turning forever, or killing an innocent person. Sam tells Dean he doesn’t feel anything - and this is what makes him a better hunter. Sam concludes that he needs help. 

Dean knocks Sam to the ground and starts throwing several punches at him until he passes out.

The Quotes Hurt:

Dentist drilled a guy to death

I'm here hittin' the books while drinking a nice glass of milk, while watching Tori & Dean

I'm not saying don't be close to Sam. I'm close to my sister. But if she got killed, I wouldn't bring her back from the dead!

It’s the gig. You're covered in blood until you're covered in your own blood

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[reveriesofawriter]

hi bestie :) gimme 1, 12, 18, 26, 35, 36, 38, 53, 60 for let's fall in love for the night jalex, 61 for the one where jalex keep meeting at weddings, 66 for street lightning fic, aaand 70 sorrynotsorry for being ur biggest fan ill follow you until you love me etc xoxo bella

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I daydream constantly all the time but if I think up a specific piece of dialogue or a scene that I can literally see in my head, I will write it down immediately, usually in my phone notes bc starting a new doc is intimidating

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

I only outline my fics if I think they're going to be long, and for me "long" depends on the format of the fic like if I'm writing something in snapshots I usually won't outline, and honestly most of the fics I've outlined have been 5+1 type fics where I needed to keep track of Things and Events

18. Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

I do enjoy research, I love learning super niche things that have no practical effect on my story whatsoever but knowing I'm getting into the head of someone in a particular time period (for example) knowing precisely what types of technology they would have had and how prevalent things were and whether something was only ever popular with rich people or only with teenagers. idk if this counts as research but I've watched multiple movies to write them into fics and that definitely took up as much time as actual research. for one more time for second chances I had a character who was an 8-10 month old baby so I did have to do some light googling to figure out developmental milestones but that was mostly to confirm what I learned a few years ago in my child development classes

26. What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

finishing things. no the part where I've written all the significant plot points and I need to connect the dots or make the parts flow better. that's partly why I like snapshot fics so much bc I don't have to write so much of the glue, if I leave enough breadcrumbs I can trust the reader to fill in the blanks to a greater extent than if I've written 90% of a fic to be linear and then have random scenes that I just thought were too boring to write

35. What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted?

everything taylor-verse? can I say that? We Dream Impossible Dreams probably

36. What fic are you proudest of?

I am still in pure awe that sam and I co-wrote over 20k, I reread it all last week and we really! did that! and I have no clue how!! I can picture it after all these days 

but also street lightning, I feel like I caught a rare spark there

38. What is your most self-indulgent posted story?

I've been going crazy (I'm stuck in here) I know it was part of a challenge technically but I saw the challenge and knew without a doubt what I wanted to write about bc I remembered this event that happened and was like Fic Material and I really like how I had to do zero extra work to give it a pairing bc merrikat are just Like That

53. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

not including the tag for alcohol warnings, fluff 😌

60. In and forget in the morning, what inspired the idea for the plot?

I listened to the song one too many times and a vague plot popped into my head lmao the most thought I put into it was when I was like oh alex is ace and then went back to make sure I didn't already write something that contradicted that. I seem to remember writing most of it while on vc with you and sam and neither of you had any idea lol

61. In if you leave the light on, then I'll leave the light on, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

the first one probably, I wrote the majority of this one on my phone just one section each night and I didn't think it would turn into a real fic until I got to part 3 and was like this is actually going somewhere, tho honorable mention to the fourth scene with the part about alex's middle name that you love so much :)) but the first scene was like a break in my usual writing pattern in so many ways so I like that I could stretch that out to a whole fic

66. What’s a fun fact about romancing what might've been?

you commented that it feels like a music video or short film? if I was directing any of my fics in film form, this would be the one I'm most confident in just because the vibe of it is so perfect that it would be a good balance of being hard to mess up (which would be good for my perfectionist self) and also like a pinprick sized specific mood that I wouldn't want to hand over to anyone else

70. Are you subscribed to any writers on AO3?

no but in my defense I follow my favorite writers in other places so I rarely miss a fic