#i can barely articulate my thoughts i'm just sitting here crying

[kimdokjas]

okay but can we talk about the symbolism of rei having his hair down while having that conversation with his father the boss like. finally allowing himself to be who he is free of the burden of expectations

[withleeknow]

magnolia.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, kinda fluffy, kinda angsty idek, hurt/comfort; unedited and self-indulgent as hell !! word count: 0.4k listen to 🎧: hold my girl - george ezra

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

sometimes, it's crazy just how in tune minho is with you, how he can sense that something's wrong before you even have to say it.

he knows all of your signs - smiles that don't quite reach your eyes; soft, barely audible sighs instead of frustrated ones like when you're angry; talking about insignificant things throughout dinner with a distinct lack of energy just for the sake of holding a conversation and not letting your home fall into a state of depressing silence. an overall aloofness that can't simply be blamed on exhaustion.

when you're upset, you shut down.

minho doesn't need you to justify your defense mechanism, doesn't try to coax you out of your shell because he's the same way. when something is eating away at him, he detaches himself from the world too.

in those instances, the last thing he wants is for someone else to offer unhelpful advice when no one but him knows what's going through his mind.

there are some things that you just have to process on your own, some motions you have go through by yourself.

minho can only be by your side while you deal with your inner turmoil. hold your hand and give you a shoulder to lean on, whatever you need until you're ready to come back to him again.

that's what he does this time too. he doesn't ask you any questions; he just puts on the kettle and lights your favorite vanilla and magnolia scented candle. makes you a steaming mug of tea and peels some oranges, arranging the slices neatly on a plate afterward. then he sits on the couch next to you, a random movie playing on the tv that no one's really watching.

at some point, you move closer to tuck yourself under his arm. minho instantly pulls you to rest against his body, a hand on your shoulder giving you comforting squeezes over your sweatshirt.

just the two of you, the willingness to be there for the other especially when it's hard, and the occasional meows reverberating from somewhere nearby.

when he thinks you might've fallen asleep just like that, you start sniffling. the ache that minho feels in his chest is almost immediate.

even then, all he says is, "i'm here."

you meekly nod in acknowledgment as you continue to cry, painful sobs making you fist the material of his shirt in your hands.

he knows that you'll talk when you want to, when you're ready. he gets that in this moment, you just don't have the capacity to articulate your thoughts and explain your feelings in a way that other people could understand.

so he simply presses a kiss to your forehead and hugs you a little closer. he sits with you until it passes. he loves you enough to wait for you, to hold you through all of the lowest lows.

"i'm here. i love you. i'm right here."

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.01.2024]

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

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[mmilkbreadd]

—oh my god, they were roommates—

Previous | Masterlist

╰┈➤ no longer looking for a roommate.

╰┈➤ someone help me, please.

╰┈➤ i think i like them.

[part two]

note: this the second part of a short fic series. it’s not really necessary to read part one, but i do recommend reading it before this one.

word count: 1.5k

Moving in was not a pleasant experience, per se. You had to carry all of your things from the tiny hotel to the normal-sized apartment, walking twenty blocks without any help.

You didn't have any friends there yet, and Tsukishima barely knew you —including he hadn't a very attentive spirit as well—, so no one was there to help you with your luggage. You were all alone in a city you had only been for a few weeks, carrying half your own weight on both hands.

“You are a strong and independent person, (Y/N). You can do this!" you thought as you walked the block number fifteen. "That's what Grandma always said... God, I hope she was right.”

Sendai was a pretty small city compared to Tokyo, but it still had a very enchanting environment. The population was not nearly half of the one your hometown had, so you weren't very used to this type of atmosphere.

Tall buildings surrounded you. Most of them were museums, and you questioned which one of them was the one your roommate worked in. He had affirmed something about working in one about Natural Sciences, yet you couldn't really recall its specialization.

Maybe you could visit it one day, who knows.

The traffic was not as bad as you thought, but, of course, people stared at you, pondering how only a crazy person would walk with that much stuff in their hands when rain was almost arising. You weren't mad though, you were just trying to start a brand new life in a brand new place with a brand new —and handsome— roommate. Who will spend these next months beside you.

And share a bathroom with you as well. Yikes.

Forty minutes later, you arrived at the craved destination. Sweating and longing for a glass of water, you rang the bell of apartment number 11. You couldn't hear anything coming from the inside, so you prayed someone was there.

Someone, anyone, slowly walking to open the door, with twelve gallons of water in their hands and a pillow for your head.

Yeah, that didn't happen. The sound of silence was never this loud.

Quick and tiny drops started to hit your luggage. The only thing covering you was the small roof above, but your stuff didn't have the same luck as you did. So there was only one option left.

Sitting on one of your trunks and crying until someone rescued you.

I did say strong and independent, right?

“Stupid Tsukishima, he told me to come today,” you angrily stated out loud. “I'm gonna- I will- Gah! It hasn't been one day living with him, and I already hate this guy's guts!”

“Hello there,” said a voice near you. Tsukishima appeared out of nowhere with a green umbrella in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “I just went out to buy some food.”

Your gaze immediately turned to him, cheeks flushed. Clumsily, you stood up and tried to come up with an explanation to save yourself from further embarrassment. The blond stared at you, raising an eyebrow.

'Cute,' he thought, wanting to have some fun by mocking you.

“I'm sorry, haha,” you said, forming an ashamed smile on your lips. “It's been a long day, and I'm so tired of walking. I just want to rest, okay?”

Tsukishima smirked and grabbed a set of keys from his pocket.

“First the rain, and now the long day,” he articulated, opening the door. “You're full of excuses, aren't you?”

He then made a signal with his head indicating you to follow him. Therefore you grabbed all of your stuff —which felt even heavier than before—, and entered the building.

Tsukishima walked through a corridor and stopped at door number 11. He then proceeded to take out the set of keys again and unlocked the apartment.

“You could help me, you know?” you remarked, struggling to keep up. “When you see a friend in need, you should help them. Hasn't your mother taught you that?”

“Well, I would,” he answered, turning around to see you. Tsukishima left out a single laugh as he saw you almost letting everything fall off. “But we're not friends, remember? You said you hated me back there.”

“I will hate you more if you don't help me right now.”

“I think I can live with that,” said Tsukishima leaving the groceries on a table and then closing his bedroom door.

Minimalistic, empty, and neat.

Those were your first thoughts when you examined the apartment once your room was settled.

You had finally relaxed from your exhausting day, so you decided to inspect your new home, trying to find out more about the guy who now lived with you, though roaming around the house made you feel a bit out of place.

The house looked too tidy in your preference. The walls were white, and a few paintings adorned the entire area. There was at least one plant in each room, though you weren't sure if there was one in Tsukishima's room, as you haven't entered there yet.

Some magazines about Volleyball laid on the tea table, where you could see an orange-haired boy on the front page. It looked like he was chosen to be part of the National Team for the coming Olympics.

Your search resulted in you glancing at one of the hundreds of books about dinosaurs. When you were looking at one about Tyrannosaurus, a picture fell from inside. The same orange-haired boy you saw before in the magazine appeared in it, smiling in front of a younger Tsukishima. There were two other boys and one blonde girl in the middle as well.

You noticed all of them were wearing a Volleyball uniform, but before you could look into it a bit more, a hand pressed your shoulder.

“It's not nice to spy on other's things,” said Tsukishima, smirking and taking the photo from your hands. “You are a really awful roommate, (Y/N). And it's only been like two hours, at best.”

You watched him walking towards the kitchen, disappearing from your sight again. He startled you when he appeared. It was the second time today he had done something similar.

Was he always sneaky like that? You hoped not, because your stay here wouldn't be so good if he was.

And also, how long did he stare at you before actually stepping in?

Dismissing your thoughts, you followed where Tsukishima went. You found him studying —with a rather gloomy demeanor— the picture he took from you.

“Didn't take you from someone who had feelings,” this time, you were the one who surprised him. “And also didn't know you were a volleyball player.”

Tsukishima quickly changed his attitude and put the image inside his pocket. He crossed his arms and reclined in the kitchen furniture.

“You never asked,” he answered, trying to act uninterested. “Though I don't know why you care.”

“Well, we live together now," you said after a sigh. “The only thing we have left is getting to know each other.”

“Even if you hate me?” Tsukishima snarked with a cocky smile, making you remember how handsome he was.

His blond hair was messy, and his bright and tired eyes examined every inch of you. Tsukishima liked reading people like a book. And he was good at it too. Waiting for your answer, he started to recall the day that he met you.

Now you weren't soaking wet, and you weren't freezing because of it, but the weather was still the same. The rain hit the window nonstop, thunder and lightning appearing from time to time. Your face shone with the kitchen lights, making Tsukishima a little flustered. His attraction to you growing bigger every time you spoke, and the distance between the two being only two meters.

If Tsukishima made only one step, he would be able to touch your face. However, he stood there, expecting you to do it instead of him.

But you didn't.

“Yeah. Even if I hate you, I want to get to—” you giggled, but before you could finish, the lights went off. “Oh, crap!”

Tsukishima took only a few seconds before remembering where the candles were. Opening one of the cabinets nearby him, he found them.

“(Y/N), where are you?” he whispered, trying to light the candles on.

“I'm here,” you murmured back. “Also, why are we whispering?”

Tsukishima followed your voice and irradiated your face. You had a tiny smile brightening your appearance. Your eyes sparkled like two stars in a dark night, making the moon beside you fall deeply in love, but at the same time, earning jealousy of your glow.

Tsukishima wished for the electricity to never come back, so the stars shining in his life never faded.

But as we all know by now, stars never shine forever... And neither could these.

[katerix]

(How old is New Vegas? And it’s still my fav part! I feel like I need more Raul content even after all these years🥺)

Drink with the living dead

Characters: Raul Tejada x Reader Summary:  Courier and her companion returned to New Vegas after a long wandering to get a drink and gamble, but faced serious inhospitality. Six was not ready to leave her friend behind, so they changed their plans. Warnings: - Words: 2781

***

It was almost half past midday, when a dusty dirty road to New Vegas welcomed the wanderers with just another sandstorm without any declaration of war. Courier’s mirror aviator sunglasses could hardly stand that gusts of winds, so she decided to hide it in the pocket of her jacket until the better times. Six and her ghoul-companion were on foot for nearly five hours, and now the hightower of «Lucky 38» looked huge in contradiction from its look an hour ago.

It was not their first visit to New Vegas, but every time she saw a glowing and sparkling casino’s signs, she was bringing up the idea of going there and wasting an evening gambling and drinking. Just like everyone does. The fact that she spent here some time, passing all the entertaining places by, met with Mr. House and performed several missions for NCR ambassador, but still never took a break to try some of those things, these poor fellows from all Mojave wasteland were arriving for - was a crime by its definition.

Coddling this thought, Courier continued to trudge the nasty weather, until they walked up to the Northern gates of Freeside.

- What’s the plan when we reach Strip, boss? - asked Raul, shaking his dull-green jumpsuit down: it all was full of pervasive grains of sand, as well as the girl’s clothes.

- At first I wanna visit the «Lucky 38» apartment and change the outfit, then go to the bar and win big in the kazino!

- Perfect plan, chief, ironclad like my revolver. - the ghoul was sarcastic as usual, but didn’t evince any sight of disagreement.

When she turned around to continue movement, he added: “Wait, amigo, there's a tuft of straw stuck under your collar.” - and carefully extracted an annoying piece of flora, stuck to during the storm.

“Gracias!” - Six smiled widely and made a fast gesture of gratitude with her hand. Without wasting time, they passed heavy metallic gates.

Freeside met companions with a funky, stinking smell. She still couldn't get used to it. Dusty air seemed to mar the cityscape: it looked much pale and lighter than from the outside. Just fifteen minutes and they’ll reach the destination. The picture couldn’t be called unusual for this time of the day in this part of town: one or two shabby hobos against the dingy walls, kids in wrecked clothes playing a tag-game in the area of the «Mick & Ralph's», random citizens with roving glances, sneaking around, wasting their time in an idle attempts to figure out how to spend their life in this Dump. On the other hand, there are many places where people live even worse: take a look at Westside, for instance.

«What a hopeless sight, - thought the girl. - Hope the Followers are really able to do something about this in the future».

- Something on your mind, boss? - it felt like nothing could hide from Raul’s inquisitive look.

- Just thinking. I find this picture quite dismal, like there’s no tomorrow, and humanity is still doomed. Like there’s no chance to restore life, as it was before.

- When we are on the road again, I’ll tell you about the Football Cup in Mexico, if you like to hear another one “before the Bomb” story. - he obviously picked up on her mood and decided to cheer up the girl, carefully diverting the theme.

- I do. Have you attended it?

- Sure thing. That was a big day. We drove to the capital to see it with our own eyes.

- Sounds pretty good! Let’s not ruin the intrigue.

- You asked.

They passed a small cross-road, which didn't have to be called like that anymore, as it was just one of the ghosts of the past with it’s burned skeletons of cars, left here motionless as evidence of human lost ambitions. The air in this part of the town was stale, despite the fact that they were in the streets, the smell of some broiling meat and spoiled vegetables was sticky like an ant's nectar. Sudden wild cryings and shouts were heard from the nearest dead end. 

One glance was enough to understand that the Kings had cornered swashers, their prey, who were too fucked up and all-fired sure of themselves to attack the town’s main showrunners just a couple of minutes ago. And the Courier was not going to do anything about that: she herself was nearly butchered by one of them, shown up from nowhere. If it was not her loyal companion who dealt with it with one precise shot, she, probably, would be dead by now.

It took more than ten minutes to cover the distance between the East and Strip gates - right now there was no reason to hurry. As they got closer, the protectrons took up their positions immediately. One of them articulated “Move along” with a familiar metallic cold of lifeless voice of his, when companions were passing by.

“Never liked these guys. They are like slow mines: you never know what they do the next second.” - grunted out the Courier, as two of them found themselves on the first line of the Strip between “Lucky 38” and “Gomorrah”.

“Hey, so who is an old one here?” - the ghoul chuckled in response.

She went ahead, so he could never see how her lips slightly bended in a ready-to-laugh smile.

***

Presidential luxe met nomads with a deep, wrapping silence of a broad, gloomy space. This was definitely not the place a person could wish to stay in: walls with, once being gorgeous - now - greasy dark-wine wallpapers were giving an oppressive feeling. Six was happy that they didn’t have to stay here for long. Only to sleep or change the outfit maybe.

She got near to the wardrobe in her room, where the majority of things, accumulated during the long travels, were stored. Took out two dresses, went to the guest-room with a billiards. Raul was civilly waiting for her there.

- What you think? Which one?

He raised up his head, looked from under the sunglasses for several seconds, examining, and answered in a casual tone:

- It’s really up to you, boss. - made a pause, then added, like a little confused: - But I like the pink one. Might look graceful.

- Great! Exactly the one I wanted to pick.

The ghoul just gave her a hesitant nod, wondering if she noticed that detail. Courier went back to her sleeping-room and returned after some minutes, informing: “Ready to go! The next stop is “Ultra-Luxe”, yee-haw!”

***

After a while they were in the street again. All they needed was just to reach the second line of the Strip and pass a hundred meters to the “Ultra-Luxe”. Lots of NCR soldiers were hanging around, goofing off, as long as they had a chance, and indulging in lust in the nearest private clubs. Nothing unexpectable. When they passed by a small group of drunk, barely balancing on their feet big guys, Six suddenly heard a hushed voice from behind her back, addressing his teammates. “Do they let ghouls on the Strip now? Perfect, let’s make it a spooky ghost-town.”

“Yeah. That’s why civilization will start floating away again. Our attempts are meaningless.”

Only just Courier wanted to turn around and shout out something to those sons of a b or event take out a gun and shoot beneath their feet, Raul caught her arm:

- Hey, hey, calm down, that’s okay. NCRs are many here, you know, even for a dashing rider like you, boss. Even with me backing you up. From behind the farthest stone.

- But we can’t simply swallow that shit, Raul!

He just spreaded his hands:

- Fine, then go shoot them and be killed by protectrones because of two drunk idiots. Very helpful, chief. I’ll stay all alone, without my beloved companion but with a protected pride. Thank’s.

Six stood still for some seconds and nodded after that.

- Fine. Whatever.

Then merely continued walking in the direction of the cazino. The ghoul hesitated for a bit. He understood that she was acting out of good intentions and she just wanted to protect her partner, as she was the one who had a right of speech here. And that made his heart melt and he was silently praising her for that, because nobody seemed to do anything like that for him in a while. But picking a fight with these dummies, who fill the streets of Strip like water fills the canyon, was not wise.

“Sorry for that, Niña. I really appreciate what you do. I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You don’t notice, but there are often lots of sidelong looks and hardly heard whisperings along the way. I'm used to it and don’t want it to affect you.” - he tried to lighten things up.

The girl turned her head a bit just for him to see her glance softening.

- Let’s just reach the bar and relax.

*** 

An unexpected trouble struck them further - black line has not ended yet. Courier already picked her place at the bar desk in the distant hall and ordered a glass of whiskey, when a bartendress leaned over and said in a low tone:

“I’m sorry, but here, in “Ultra-Luxe”, we serve only the citizens and guests of the Strip. I’m able to bring a drink only for you, ma’m.”

That was the last drop of her patience. The girl slowly raised her head at the bartendress, ready to blow up, and responded:

- Are you fucking kidding me?

- That’s the rule. I don’t need problems. You can ask any guard or another worker.

She bowed her head and gave a fast hidden glance at her ghoul-companion. He was sitting there next to her and looking straight at his arms crossed on the desk, like he had nothing to do with it. But he, of course, heard every word. His eyes weren't moving, just a finger was slightly knocking the air, producing a rhythm he alone knew. Six couldn’t even imagine what her friend might feel at the moments like that. An anger came upon her.

“Are you all that scumbags here? Keep your drinks for acceptable ones. Ma’m.” - the girl said, getting up from her barstool and heading towards the exit.

Raul stood up without a word and, as he always did, followed Courier. He had mixed emotions. On the one hand he was glad they left that place and that Six is such a kind and loyal partner, but on the other hand he felt a little guilty for himself. After all, it was him who was the reason for such inhospitality in some kind of place. Even now she couldn’t get what she wished for so hard. Her idea of “winning big” in the kazino seemed to be falling apart, as together they won’t be even let to the gambling table. And she, obviously, won’t leave him in the street and have fun on her own, and an old ghoul didn’t want to be a ball and chain.

- Boss? Are you sure we need to leave? Maybe you’d better stay there? And I’d wait for you somewhere else or go back to “Lucky 38”. Fresh air won’t do any harm for my old lungs.

- What are you even talking about? You know, even the best drink worth nothing, if there’s no one to share it with.

- You have a heart of gold, chiff. - these words came fast, in an undertone, as if he was embarrassed, - Well, I saw a small sign in Freeside. I believe we’ve never been in that part of the city before.

- Hope it’s not an «Atomic Wrangler».

- Nope.

- Great! You lead. They passed the ruins, generously spread all over the suburbs, while every their step sounded louder thanks to trash, small pieces of brick and other rubbish. The sun was already going down and the heat was getting less intense.

Finally they reached a small inconspicuous wooden door. Only a little sign next to it represented that place as a bar.

As they entered, nothing changed. There was not much to be changed. There were no crowds of gamblers, no fancy casino machines and no shiny-polished bar desk. Bartender was a man in old ragged clothes, probably in his late fifties. He was slowly wiping cut glasses with a gray dusty piece of fabric full of holes.

When the companions stepped in the room he just looked up at them without raising up his head and got back to his plain, simple activity. There were not many customers besides the two of them. A woman was sleeping on the table in the far corner - her head rested on her arms while her shoulders were calmly going up and down. Another guest settled down at the edge of the bar desk.

“Fancy,” - giggled the girl.

“Ah, let’s get down. Ladies first.” - Raul just waved his hand.

Six made a few steps in the direction of the bar desk and sat down, Raul followed her.

“Barman! Two beers, please”. - she laid some bottle caps in front of him.

The barkeeper took them and then put two opened bottles onto the surface.

“Bon appetit.”

Courier took her bottle up and clinked it loudly with Rauls one. His soft non-blinking sight of half closed eyes was locked on hers, while he made a sip. His heart always went pop when it felt like there were just two of them in the world, though he never showed that.

Raul looked around and suddenly his eyes stopped on a guitar lurked behind the racks.

“Hey, can I…?”

The barman followed ghoul’s gaze and shrugged his shoulders: “This piece of wood? Be my guest.”

In the next second he was on his feet. The courier raised her eyebrows as she almost forgot if she saw him that agile. Raul approached the metal shelves, put aside some garbage and waste paper, then carefully extracted the instrument and blew away the dust.

Six and the bartender were watching him closely. The ghoul got back to his chair, sat down crossing his legs to position the guitar more comfortably. Then pulled the first string to check out the tuning. It was no surprise that it was out of tune, so the next minute Raul spent trying to fix the instrument.

When everything, as he thought, was ready, he played a couple of notes in fingerstyle to flex some life back into his fingers. After nearly 200 years the skill was obviously weakened.

“I didn’t know that you could play the guitar.” - said the girl.

“Sure you didn’t. I never told about that.” - he looked back at her with a little smirk, - “What was the point if there were no music instruments left anyway?”

He laid his right arm down on the body of the guitar, fingers on the cracked wooden surface, and took a deep breath.

At first Courier could hardly hear or see the slightest movement of ghoul's fingers on strings, but soon the sound became more clear. She was sitting there with a bottle in her hand, unable to look away from her companion.

The sound of slow mexican melody floated across the room, filling every corner of the room with itself. The windows were closed with wooden boards from the outside, so the sunlight was trickling down through narrow gaps between them. Warm light was leaving gold-yellow lines on the walls, tables and the bardesk where the Courier and Raul were sitting. She could even see the tiniest specks of dust freeze in the air. The ghouls face was half hidden by a shadow and the sunbeams were highlighting one of his eyes which now looked like a beautiful transparent crystal and his hands all covered with veins and partially with thin skin.

The whole space imbued with peace and calm, even the impenetrable bartender set his glass aside and leaned his head on the hand, listening to the sensual music.

They travelled together for a while now, but never before had Six seen him the way she did now. Something new was arising in her soul.

“Hey chief,” - Raul closed his eyes and slightly threw back his head grinning a little, fingers still dancing over the strings. - ”You’re the best friend and partner one could ever wish for, you know. Thank you for always being on my side.”

“Raul, I’ll never leave my partner in crime behind!” - she chuckled as she felt like something pinned her heart.

The ghoul continued playing the tune without opening his eyes. A grin turned into a soft smile and the feeling of joy span all over him for the first time in a while.

“I’m following you to the world’s end, boss.”

Also, here’s a link to this fanfic on my AO3 (gif is mine \ use credits if repost)

[urlocalfrogmammy]

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it—ronald speirs

inspired by

(and my 12-1am contemplation)

@yeahcurrahee : Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Ronald Speirs imagine with the prompt “you can’t keep avoiding your problems!” “i avoid you well enough!”? Thank you!

when your feeling utterly lost, speirs shows you a side you're not used to seeing.

literally started writing this as sOON as i got the request because i was listening to the song and i was like 👀. not re-read it, not cut it down. my pure, unfiltered 12am thoughts. word count 2k because i don't know where to stop at this time. i hope u enjoy it <3 thank u for the request

there was a soft breeze that blew the sheer curtains. the doors to the balcony had been left open the night before, you couldn't be bothered closing them before slipping into your silk sheets. now, the rays of sunshine cast a heavenly glow on the marble floor of your room, and believing in a god no longer felt foolish to you. you, however, were not exactly feeling like you belonged in the paradise of that austrian hotel room. you'd spent your night tossing and turning, stripping layers of clothes off in cold sweats between nightmares. you now lay wearily in your bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep as well as everyone else. you were a lieutenant, for christ's sake. you were supposed to be training the men to go to war once again. but you were haunted by the images of the war. you'd seen almost all your friends injured or dead. chuck grant with his head shot, bill and joe with their legs missing, gordon paralysed, hoobler bleeding out, jackson in that dingy basement, skip and penkala being blown up—

breathe, you told yourself.

now you could barely look your men in the face without feeling guilty for sending them off to the hell you'd experienced. you had the points. you could go home. but you knew in your heart you'd forever feel ashamed if you left now. your head, being wiser, knew that you'd forever feel guilty for leading these men back into combat, after they'd earned long and happy lives.

instead of worrying about your inner conflict, you lay and stared up at the lighting fixture. there were three lightbulbs, surrounded by tulip-shaped lampshades. they were edged with gold, and they reflected in the light. you stared and stared, until your eyes began to drop. a bang on your door startled you, and you called: "i'm naked!"

ron speirs came barging into the room. "lieutenant what the hell are you playing at?"

see, the awkward thing was that you really were naked. you grasped the sheets to pull over your bare chest and a small squeak cane out of your throat. "i told you i was naked sir!" speirs awkwardly stood in your room like he was lost in the middle of a jungle and had stumbled into a foreign camp. he slowly prowled towards the dresser, lifting up a jewel encrusted brush you'd snagged and holding it up to the light. the reflection was cast on the wall opposite, leaving a glowing pattern on the cream walls. you sat up onto your elbow and stared at your captain. you weren't blind, you knew he was handsome in a sort of rugged way, but the delicate light from those french doors radiated a celestial glow onto him, making his appear angelic. you watched as speirs fumbled with the silver box of pins, trying to figure out how to open it. a soft click confirmed he'd succeeded and he peered inside, unimpressed at the contents of the box.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to tell the man to get out your room. but instead, you just observed him as a glint from your bedside table caught his eye. slowly approaching both you and the bedside table, he lifted up the best thing you'd snagged. a diamond necklace, four diamonds thick, with tendrils of diamonds hanging down from it. you knew it was worth a small fortune, because it was one of the most luxurious pieces of jewellery you'd ever seen. looking down on you, ron leaned down and held it up to your bare neck. "it's pretty."

"thank you." your voice was breathless, ron had taken that away. standing back up and letting the necklace clatter on the glass tabletop, ron's demeanour returned to normal. "are you going to get dressed?" you simply pointed to behind the door.

ron's footfalls were the only thing heard in the room as he grabbed the silk robe from the back of the door and chucked it at you. you caught it with one hand, and ron turned around to give you some privacy. he heard you place yourself back on the bed before telling him you were decent. as he turned back around to look at you, he swore he'd never seen anyone as ethereal as you in that moment. your hair was down, something he had never seen before, and it caught the light. your eyes gleamed as the looked at him, sparkling with something he couldn't recognise. your cheeks were flushed and your lips looked soft. “you’re not sleeping.”

“of cour—”

“you’ve got dark circles.”

he watched as you scoffed, walking over to the dressing table mirror and peering into it. “maybe i’d get less stressed if i was tested less.”

picking up the hairbrush, you slowly began to pull it through your hair. ron watched your reflection in the mirror. “why are you here, captain speirs?”

“why aren’t you with your men?” you paused, hissing as you got to a knot in your hair you couldn’t untangle, right at the back of your head. ron felt an insatiable urge, and indulged himself in it. taking the brush from your hands, your hair was like silk in between his fingers. he dragged the hairbrush through your hair slowly, and your head tilted back towards the movement of the brush.

“you never answered my question, lieutenant.” you hummed in content at the soothing feeling of having your hair brushed, and looked up at him in the mirror. “just let me enjoy this. this is the best things that’s happened to me since nixon brought me that bacon sandwich.” ron chuckled at the statement, and continued to brush your hair with a softness you hadn’t expected from him. the gesture was very out of character, but you accepted it with open arms. maybe you just didn’t know your captain as well as you thought you did. there was a clank as ron set the brush back down and you turned on your stool to look at him. he looked down on you with a look you couldn’t decipher, so you stood and padded over to the bed again.

"the men need someone else." ron stared at you from across the room. arms crossed. "i can't do it."

"why?"

"because..." you couldn't articulate what you were feeling. "i... i can't watch another boy die. screaming for the medic, or their mother, with blood coming out of their mouth and—" you cut yourself off abruptly in order to stop yourself from crying in front of the captain. he approached you, crouching down until he was at your eye level. "aren't you just happy that the war's over in europe?"

you scoffed again. "don't ask if i'm happy."

"why?"

"you know that i'm not." your traced your fingers along the silk of the creamy sheets, stained with your sweat and a reminder of all the images you'd had in your dreams. "at best i can say i'm not sad." you glanced fleetingly at him, with a half smile on your face. you wondered how your captain would ever understand how you were feeling. ronald was ruthless, to the point. he acted as every solider should, no second thoughts, no remorse.you wondered if he ever understand the guilt that hung heavy on your conscience, like a plaque that read i've murdered more people than i can count.

ron sat on the bed next to you. "you're a good leader, y/n."

"yeah?" you tucked your hair behind your ear.

“yeah.” he smiled, something you hadn’t seen properly before. ron had always been stern faced or shouting, but it was worth it for the smile. his eyes crinkled, twinkling like the constellations in the sky. you looked away from him and shrugged. “i don’t know. maybe.” you stood back up, collecting your clothes off the floor, and dumping them on the bed. “y/n.” you ignored him, picking up your army pants and folding them leg to leg. “y/n, you can’t keep avoiding your problems.”

“really? because i avoid you well enough.” a neatly folded shirt now joined the pants. speirs walked behind you, and you could feel the warmth he radiated on your back. his hands captured your wrists. “stop.” you turned your head to look at him, and his lips met yours.

at first you froze, and then you jumped back. ron felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. had he read the signs wrong? “y/n, i’m sorry i—”

“no. i’m sorry. i panicked, i...” you turned around properly, “spilling my guts with... drunkards who don’t care about me... is the only love i’ve ever known.” he felt a pang if guilt, that someone as beautiful as you had never experienced what love really was. he looked down on you and murmured: “let me look after you.” you wrapped your arms around his neck. ron’s hands found your waist, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. this time, it was reciprocated. softly, gently, and with feeling. lifting you up and sitting on the bed with you in his lap, the kiss continued with more compassion and care. you pulled away.

"wow." your laugh was breathy and shaking. ron just grinned, hair ruffled and chest heaving under you. easing yourself off him, you could feel your legs trembling. "i should... probably get ready." a sudden wave of guilt slammed into you. you were enjoying yourself, and you should have been out there training your men. the men you were responsible for. your chin wobbled and you turned away from your captain, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes. "hey, y/n look at me." ron lifted you chin up to look at him. "everything is fine. you have done your very best. just..." his voice softened, "hope for the best." you sniffled, and he told you he'd leave you to get dressed. as he was about to open the door, when you answered him. "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have," you said softly. he turned to look at you, "but i have it."

he left you alone to your thoughts as you got dressed. your ike jacket was a little loose, you didn't have the broad figure expected, and your hair could barely stay in its pins, but you looked a lot better than you had done for a while. your face wore a smile. going down the luxurious stairs of cream marble to meet the other officers, you were greeted by a slightly drunken lewis nixon at the bottom of them. "captain nixon."

"lieutenant y/n. nice lie in?"

"shut up." you shoved him with an elbow and he just giggled that dumb giggle. he held his hands up in mock surrender, "i'm serious, y/n. you're looking a lot better than when we got here." wrapping an arm around your shoulder, nix guided you into the glass room with the huge wooden table and sat you down on it. ron was stood at one corner, drinking coffee and consulting his map. you smiled shyly at you, and he smirked back. lewis seemed to pick this up, and he handed you a teacup and saucer and winked at you. you couldn't help but smile at the gesture, shaking your head and glaring. you sipped your tea and almost gagged on it. “christ nixon! stop drowning everything in alcohol!”

“sorry! thought it would be a good pick me up!” you stood up, leaving the teacup where it sat.

“i’m going sorting third platoon.”

“alright kid. have fun.”

speirs smiled and nodded as you lit up a cigarette. you felt pride swelling up in your chest. he was proud of you. and you were proud of you too.

[shelovesrainn]

Lost Scrivener

Perhaps, happiness is on your way. Perhaps, for you, every day means a new venture for hope, love, prosperity, and felicity. But not for me, because for me, witnessing how the sun rises from the east with its brilliant light complementing with the blue sky means darkness, a nightmare that keeps haunting, another set of torture, pain, and sorrow−a torment. Each morning, as I open my eyes, I used to pray with my knees bended, my eyes closed, and my heart fast beating. My plea may not be the typical one for a 20-year-old; my prayer revolves around I, hoping for meeting someone who can pull me out of this chaos or I, pleading for this ineffable pain arousing inside me to vanish. None of these was heard, though. So, I got exhausted asking for those pieces of crap daily and started embodying and accepting the fact that perhaps, I was created to crave for that so-called happiness; perhaps, I was given life to be miserable.

The bus stopped at a familiar spot which is way too ironic to say, because my feet never stepped in this place before. Maybe what makes it familiar thou, is the vivid picture of it that I’ve been dreaming of every single night. And the moment I wake up, my body would shiver as the deafening beats of my heart prevailed over the loud noises from a bunch of city vehicles, like of a teenager’s seeing her childhood crush. Since then, I unconsciously desired to reach that place someday. I worked every day excluding Sundays and saved most of the fee they’re giving me for that. If you will ask me, for what reason, I weren’t able to provide you an answer because to be honest, I don’t either know. I saw a reflection of a pale maiden looking at me intently. Her hair is short, her face is cute, her lips are bitsy and only her pink tip tint gives color in it, her pair of eyes are small like of the Chinese and as dark as the sky at night, her long eyelashes are curvy, and the moles on her face are what you’ll never fail to notice. However, she has several marks of pimples all over her face and some huge dark circles around her eyes−evidences of hundreds of sleepless nights and tiring sobs. She isn’t novelty, she is just an ordinary, she is me.

I got back on my senses when the bus conductor yelled telling that we already reached our destination. The people went out of the vehicle carrying their baggage with them. I assume that they’re having their vacation, but it’ll sound ridiculous because it’s already July which is supposed to be time for labor. I carried my bags and went off the bus. My body welcomed the fieriness that the breeze of air is offering early in the morning. The blasting sounds of the water hitting the immense rocks of the ocean is like a lullaby from a loving mother that an infant is longing to hear for decades. The salty scent of the sea creatures tingles my nose. I smiled, for I know I am here. At last, I am finally here. I navigate towards the bluish piece of solace as the delineate visual of it in my visions simultaneously flashes in my mind. I realized that the paradise I’m staring at the present is more flabbergasting than of in my dreams. I sat on the pure white sand of the brine, relishing my own company. I wonder how and when do this desire of mine started. When I closed my eyes, the answer rapidly popped.

It was one Sunday morning when a blaring voice of a woman awakened me. Her voice was full of worries. It was easy for me to distinguish that it was my mother’s because I knew how she sounded very well. “Where did he come from? Is he alright?” my grandmother asked from the first floor.

“I…I have no idea. Hand me a bowl of cold water, please!” she retorted almost sounded like crying. I stayed silent in bed for a while for I cannot understand what was going on. However, anticipations are all over my head. I felt my chest heavies but still, I managed to be at ease and shake the bad ideas I’m having away. I heard my father crying and repeatedly uttering, “I’m sorry. I should have died instead.” Based from his voice, I knew he was badly wrecked.

Nica, my older sister came and sat beside me, she said, “The car was severely damaged.” There is a hint of grief on her tone, yet she is covering it with her most fabricated smile. I went down to check my father and the car. Gladly, it wasn’t that critical. My father got few wounds on the head, and several bruises on his arms and legs. However, that morning, marked my very first heartbreak. It was because, that day, I found out with my own eyes, the affair of my beloved father with an unknown lady.

The family where I belong to seems to be an epitome of perfection for many. We barely brag each other onto serious arguments, we set barricades to each member of the family lower than of the others, and we are used to be happy and genuine. But even the firmest post has to give up. I accepted the fact that there is no longer a way to repair and reconstruct this broken pillar. Maybe it can be rejuvenated but the stability can never be brought back.

“Hey, cutie! Can I sit beside you?” A stranger suddenly appeared from nowhere. He noticed my frowning face, so he continued to speak, "Hi, I am Danni. And you are?" I should have ignored this guy, but my inner self is saying he isn't bad. So, there's no way running away from him.

"Veronica." He smiled. His reaction is telling me that he already knows who I am, but I shook that thought away because I might probably be hallucinating.

"It's nice to finally be with you again, Veronica. It's been 10 years and nothing much has changed." He said.

That was my first time meeting him. Well, technically, it was not because I discovered that Danni and I are classmates during our primary school days. He was once a mama's boy who always got towel at her back and baby powder on the face and neck. He was the blithesome child sitting beside me for three consecutive years, I think. We used to be that close before not until we moved into another place.

"You left without proper farewell. I searched for you every day, but I didn't see any hints of you. Every day without you is darkness. For the long 10 years that we were apart, I'm hoping for your return. I felt hopeless to see you again. Now, that you're finally here by my side, I cannot afford to lose you one more time. I don't want to miss you again." His eyes were full of sincerity that afternoon when he was uttering those words. I am not aware of his feelings toward me, so I was a bit surprised with his confession. I don't know what to say or how to react. I stayed unspoken. I stared at his eyes, they are as brown as my favorite caramel coffee during rainy seasons. Those were once what I adored about him because aside from reminding me my favorite beverage, they mirror his soul. However, those eyes were what I abhorred the most as well. Those eyes became my greatest foe. It began when the sincerity of it vanished; lies underlies those eyes.

Our first year were pretty blissful. Though far from each other, we never failed to express our affection. We ensured to find time for us. Nevertheless, happiness seems to be ephemeral; misapprehension aroused. I felt like I was being taken for granted. I left; he chased me. I was too heartless, but I only did that because I foresee how our ending will be. Perchance, this is where I am credible at−overthinking then, creating my own ending.

Unconsciously, I headed toward my consolation. My body trembled as the glacial salty water slowly soaks me. I sluggishly shut my eyes, feeling the placidity that this paradise is giving. Perhaps, I have the same fate as of my mother's. Perhaps, I am not meant to meet the valiant one who has the audacity to save me out of this abyss. Perhaps, happiness is too much to ask. Perhaps, for me, happiness is unattainable. Perhaps, this is what I've been yearning for, all this time.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. I know I made something bad. I hurt you. I'm crying every night because of what I've done. I'm crying because I don't know if you still love me. What I only knew is that I'm going to lose you again. I don't want that to happen. Please tell me you still do love me. Please, stay with me. I'm still here, waiting for you. I love you." That was the last words I heard from him, the same exact words my father articulated to my awful mother. I promised to myself that that was the last time I'm ever getting a glimpse back of our story. This will be the last time I'll be remembering how the sun rises from the east amd how its light gorgeously complements the blue sky because now, together with the sun setting to the west, I am closing the book. Up until the end, I have written my own finale. This is my ending.

[daishannigans]

To be fair, and in the scheme of things, just story-wise, I get the decision about Roxy. It doesn't mean it didn't tear my heart to pieces. I can't properly process my feelings yet, nor find a way to be come across completely articulate about it. In complete Kingsman fashion, I'm not showing emotions outwardly, but I'm actually ugly-crying.

oh, yeah I get it, too. I get that the central part of this film is that poppy can and is taking away everything eggsy loves and has worked for, and that’s fine. it’s his motivator and it shows us that she’s dangerous; that there’s an even deeper risk involved in this mission. they have to convey that for tension’s sake, and I completely understand that they need to do that...

but it just feels dirty. it doesn’t completely ruin the film for me, because I’m too attached to this goddamn franchise to let go that easily, but killing off beloved/important characters to raise the stakes doesn’t work when you’ve set a clear precedent that people can and have come back from the dead (or near death) - and matthew’s even said, “nobody really dies in kingsman...” so what’s the point? will people eventually get fed-up with being tossed around like a rag-doll for caring about these characters? will death and the threat of it become meaningless in this universe? have we really eliminated the possibility of any meaningful addition to the genre, at the expense of upping the stakes? of making enough room for the severely underutilised a-listers? 

I won’t sit here and pretend I can come up with a better movie, because I probably can’t, but there are ways they could’ve upped the stakes and kept her alive for any future films. could roxy have survived the attack, but if they’re so insistent on her having a lesser role in this film, why not just have her infected? if it’s man pain they want, fine, but why don’t you make it eggsy’s fault (at least, in his eyes?) what if she was at brandon’s party, where they were all sharing that big fucking bag of poppy’s pot? eggsy sits there, makes a vague comment that work is making her too stressed, and that she should let loose for tonight. have a drag, you’ll feel better. you deserve a break, rox - how long’s it been since you’ve done this? and she does. she wouldn’t usually, but fuck it. she does. and it’s that time when she gets infected. once her virus becomes a real threat, then you have eggsy trying to deal with the fact that if they fail, she dies. and if she dies, it’s on him -- he’s the one who encouraged her to take a break; that there wasn’t any shame in getting help sometimes, and that wrecks him? he’s already lost his house, J.B, brandon, his job security... then he has tilde, who’s infected too and who he just cannot bare the thought of losing, and roxy... whose death did wreck him in the film, but even more so if there’s the implication and guilt that he’s the one who told her to smoke it. and they don’t get the vaccine until the very last moment, at the very last stage, so there’s the tension there of, “oh god, will they get the vaccines to them in time? she won’t die, will she?” the stress is even more devastating in that scene when their only vial of it is smashed and poured all over the floor - could that have been their last chance at saving her? at saving everyone? [since it’s eggsy’s story...] the people he loves?

they managed to stir enough tension and fear in us for years about her fate, and it didn’t let up for a second, especially during promo. no one knew if she’d make it through the whole film. that tension and that engaging fear absolutely could’ve continued throughout the film had she’d only been infected, and would’ve made for something a lot more effective in the long-run than blowing her up and giving her absolutely zero opportunity to really show herself off; to show us, “oh, yeah, of course she won the lancelot position - she’s a bonafide, kickass spy.” (eggsy even believes that she’s a better spy - so Show Us That, or at least leave room for it to happen in the final film, if it ever happens.) 

though, even if she does come back, by some miracle, it’s empty. it’ll an empty, overused device at that point, and would’ve been for pretty much nothing?

I really wish I could pick their brains about this. I just wanna figure it out.