#sineir

perhaps           they’re           the           next           experiment. CASE   FILE :        MILES       UPSHUR        &       ELIZABETH       KEEN  SUBJECT :            DESCENT            INTO           MADNESS perhaps           they’re           the           next           experiment.

            hours ,            days ,            hadean’s           eternity           ━━           how            long            have            they           endured           the           blazing           furnace      /               THIS           TRAGIC          CHORUS           OF           WEEPING            &             GNASHING           TEETH  ?           often           does           he           join           in           their           song ,           a           cry           torn            from            lungs             used           to          the          point           of           raw        [         battered           &             bruised    ]          no           more          immune           to            aylum’s               horrors           than            aching            feet              or           suffering            soul .           SHE ,            adrenaline ,          &             pursuit           of           justice             act           as            sole            motivators :            the            graveyard             they           tread            through           stands            in            memory            of           those           hundreds .           the            world            will           know           their           stories .              ❝         WELL ,           MY           TIME’S            NOT           UP            YET .            IS            YOURS    ?            ❞

what the fuck did i just see nyx

HAPPY BIRTHDAY,  KEEN / @sineir !!!!!   i can’t remember when exactly it was we first started talking,  but i’m so incredibly grateful for that day bc since then,  you’ve blessed me;  with not just a phenomenal portrayal of such a complex,  female character   (  literally would not be able to trust anyone else with liz  ),  but a friendship i can’t imagine my life without.

THANK YOU for all the times we were yelling  “OPEN UP BISH !!!”  at each other over rabbit...   THANK YOU for all the times we were yelling abt the most random of things   (  namely shar/liz, tbl, t100  )   and then just straight up yeeting canon into the void and coming up with infinitely better things together...    THANK YOU,  simply put,  for all the times you’ve just been there.    they mean more to me than i think you know.

... and here’s to so much more of that.    i can’t even begin to imagine how my life would be like if these last 3 years didn’t happen the way they did.    fr tho,  i literally cannot wait to show you all the new stuff i’ve yet to co-erce you into stanning,   but in the meantime...

            “     my    dad     fuckin’     trusted     you.     ”

                 it’s    implicit,     whoever     she     trusts,     whoever     she     takes     under     her     wing,     El     Buitre     does     too,    and     that’s     perhaps     what     increases     her     anger     –     if     she     fucks     up,     if     she     fucks     it     up     and     goes     to     prison     too,     then     the     business     goes     to     shit.          Her    family     goes     to     shit     even     more     than     it    already     has     –     what     happens     to     her     mother?     She     goes     down     too.     What     happens     to     her     sisters?     Foster     care     system?     that’s   worse     than     prison.

             Felicitas    Cardozo     is     many     things,     a     baby     vulture   in     the     making,     but     there’s     no     doubt     that     the     one     thing     her     father     taught     her   before     she     even     knew     how     to     walk     is   that     family     means     everything.    Con     la     familia   no,     carajo.

                 the    woman     is     on     her     knees,     Felicitas’     gun    is     pressed     against     her     forehead     –     fbi     agents     are     the     worst     out     of     the     bunch,   always     sticking     their     fucking     nose     into     business     they     need     to     stay     far     away     from.    they’re     impossible     to     bribe     like     the     cops     in     the     area,     the     guards     in     the     Penitentiary.    

                 esos    no     son     como     los     cobani,     tené     cuidado.    Be     careful,     said     her     father,    once     she     expressed     her     gut     feeling     about   a     traitor     among    the     bunch     of     girls     working     for     her     –    one     cop,     two     cops,     the     entire     fucking     sheriff     department     in     the     town,     they   can     bribe     or     extort.     The     fbi     will     grab     them     right     by     the     balls     if     they     let     them.

                     “     we    all     trusted     you.     gave     you    your    part     of     the     cash    –     the     girls     were     all     nice     to     you,     weren’t     they?     I    was     nice.     ”   her     hands     are     cut     and     bruised,     very     much    like     the     agent’s    face,          her     arms     remain     tied     behind     her     back,     and     Felicitas     yanks     her     hair     back,     forces     a     brusque     shift     so     their     eyes     meet     again,     “    you     fuckin’     bitch     –     i     ain’t     killin’    you     right     now          ‘cause     i     wanna     know   what     he    wants     me     to     do     with     your     fuckin’     corpse.     y’know     how     we     get     rid     of     ‘em   around     here?     ”     head     canted     to     the     side,     a     more     violent     yank     of     the     woman’s    hair     brings     her     closer,     end     of     the     barrel     pressed     now     against     her     temple,     “   los     hacemos     asado.     barbecue,     you     gringos     say.              So     if     i     were     you     i’d     start     talkin’     before     i     lose     my     good     mood    and     paint     the     wall     with     your     brains,     nena.    ”