#i woke up today and chose to suffer :)

[macaroni-stars]

Ever think about how Leia got Han and the Force, while Luke ended up closing himself off from both?

[devereaux]

2x02 | 2x12

[mad-hunts]

i honestly feel like even going to a rage room wouldn't help barton because, since people would still be watching him in a way (through the cameras and such) he'd feel like he'd have to hold some of his anger back and thus, the whole thing wouldn't feel anywhere near as cathartic to him as it should be. no... barton just needs to be able to go back to his childhood home and smash everything. and i mean, of course it wouldn't solve everything, but in his mind — at least it'd make him feel a little better.

[maikissed]

post euro Jude Bellingham story part 2 yall got me so hyped up I had to write a part two to it, ah and I like it, hope you guys like it too! warnings: well, just a bit of sexy times and as always, sorry for typos

He didn’t remember the last time he experienced morning’s silence and stillness. What he could remember is how every morning started when he was a boy. His mother waking him up, layers of sheets between his legs, gentle morning air hitting his senses and birds chirping outside the windows, slow eye blinks. He woke up on his own today and he could hear the birds. When was the last time he heard birds chirping? And when was the last time he slept so well?

A gentle movement on his side and he remembered he wasn’t alone. When he turned to his right his eyes met with the sight of her face, few strands of hair falling down her cheek and nose. Soft sounds of breathing, her chest rising and falling peacefully. The view astounded him for a second, stupefied even. Suddenly something so obvious showed it’s way to the surface. Suddenly he remembered it was all he wanted this whole time.

He fixed her hair, pulling them away from her face so it wouldn’t bother her. She stirred a little, her lips ajar, she sighed and he could hear his name leaving her lips. For a second he though she woke up, but then some more incoherent words followed and he realised she was still asleep. She dreamed of him, and he wondered if she could see him in her dreams the way he saw her in his.

The clock on his phone showed it was 7am. Twelve hours of sleep was quite a lot, but he felt much better. He considered waking her up, because he knew she suffered the worst migraines when she slept more than nine hours, yet she seemed to be in way too deep slumber. He chose not to.

Quietly he headed to take a shower and then went downstairs in a need of water.

“Morning, did you sleep well?” his mother’s voice startled him at first and he stopped in his tracks in the direction of the water jug.

A mysterious smile on her face as she looked at him, some papers in her hands, some more laid out on the counter in front of her.

“Morning. Yes I did” he nodded, observant and focused on his mother’s expression.

“Is she awake?” her attention back on the document in her hold.

“No”

“I guess you were both in need of a good rest”

“Why are you smiling like that?” he could not let that slip.

“Like what?” her face jerked back up to look at him.

“It’s that look and that smile that says that you know something I don’t”

She chuckled. A few seconds of silence.

“Do you need privacy?” she asked all of a sudden.

“Sorry?”

That smile back up on her face.

“Your dad and Jobe are on the training. I can make you both some breakfast or I can leave” her voice gentle when she started collecting the papers and putting it into a tidy stack.

“What are you insinuating?” his eyes narrowed when she walked up to him.

“You always make the right choices, darling. Time to make this one as well, it’s been too long” she pecked his cheek lovingly before disappearing into the hall.

-

You blinked a few times as your eyes begun to accustom to the very bright surroundings. You were in your clothes, in a big bed, not very familiar at first. Your head felt slightly heavy, you could tell your face was a bit swollen. What time was it? You turned your head in an instinct and moaned hiding your face in your hands.

“Were you watching me sleep, Bellingham?”

He chuckled in response.

“You know, you developed a new sleeping face. Never seen this one” you could feel him move closer to you.

“You’re a creep!” you whined still covering yourself.

“Couldn’t help myself. It’s cute”

You took a peak through your fingers to look at him. Gentle smile on his face, he looked healthier. And his torso was bare. Right.

“What time is it?”

“Eight”

“In the morning?!” you sat up and regretted it in an instant as dizziness hit you, your eyes filled with many black spots.

You turned to look back at him, head supported on his hand as he laid down.

“Yes, you slept for thirteen hours. You won’t die”

You suddenly started to feel giddy. What a lovely morning sight.

“You’re indecent” you acknowledged with an assertive look on your face “Put some shirt on”

“Does it bother you?” he laughed changing his position to lay back down, his hands behind his head.

“Are you flexing your muscles for me?” you jested, fighting the smirk that tried to sneak up to your lips.

“I can tell you’re absolutely enjoying it”

After his words your gaze trailed lower, down his stomach and you turned your head abruptly.

“That’s it, I’m leaving this bed. I’m in desperate need of a shower”

“Don’t go yet” he called after you as you begun to search for your bag “You can use mine. Let’s eat breakfast together”

You smiled at the proposition, feeling morose at the thought of parting with your friend so soon. So you agreed.

-

“You have some jam on your chin, clumsy” you frowned at his comment, his big eyes glowing with amusement as he watched you trying to wipe it off.

“Not there” he tutted, using his thumb to do the job for you.

This simple act, this gentle touch warmed your heart ever so greatly, you could feel your cheeks heating up and you quickly looked down at the remains of your food, so he would not notice them redden. Moment like this made a fast turn towards a more melancholic feeling, because you’ve missed him terribly every single day. Both of you chose so different directions in your lives, you could not do much about the fact that you were falling apart. And you were grown ups now, facing serious obstacles that would not allow you to constantly act so openly and freely like right now. You wondered if he had someone. This element often changed, so you found it difficult to keep track.

You stood up grabbing your plates and mugs to wash them.

“Is everything okay, y/n?” he called after you and you shuddered, trying to focus on the task.

“Yes, why?” your voice stable.

“You seem down” without turning his way you could tell he followed you, his voice much closer.

You will not bring up this subject. You will let things be.

But you stood stiff, a mug in your hand and you didn’t move in the slightest, paralyzed by analysing everything in your head so thoroughly. Taking a breath you placed the mug in the sink and put your palms on the counter in front of you. You heart was too heavy to remain silent on the matter. And that kiss from last night that filled you with undying happiness at first, now started playing with your stability.

He came up to you, his palms resting on top of yours, playing with your fingers. He was close, you could not feel his body but you felt the warmness of it.

“I don’t know where to put you in my mind and heart, Jude” you whispered, staring at the windows in front of you, but the view was blurred.

He placed his head on your shoulder, much closer now, you could feel his chest pressed against your shoulder blades. You closed your eyes.

“I wanted to kidnap you when you decided to leave to Japan” a soft whisper in your ear “I wanted to lock you up in my house to make it impossible for you to leave. It’s selfish but I still think of it to this day. Every time we see each other, I want to tie you up and keep you with me” one of his hands reached up to gather your hair, moving it away from your neck and face. You bent your head to the side and let him “How is that fair, it’s the life you dreamed about, doing what you love and here I was, also determined to reach my goals but so selfish I wanted to crush yours” he murmured into your skin, his lips now lower, under your ear “I started to plan and analyse a lot in my head, started thinking: what can I provide for you that would made you stay with me?” soft words breathed against your skin, you shivered wondering if he considered to kiss you next. You wanted him to and anticipated, your skin warm and body desperate. You were so desperate for his touch, other men could never surpass it.

But he reached for your hands to hold it up, wrapping both of your arms around you. He hugged you from behind, you nestled into him.

“Took me some time but I have come to the conclusion that we don’t have to part with our own lives to share them” the sentence made you open your eyes, you turned your head to look up at him. His gaze soft and tender, a smirk slowly appearing on his face, probably at the sight of your big round eyes “Would you like for us to share them, share all of it, no exceptions?”

You frowned, turning in his arms to face him. A race of thoughts rumbling in your brain. No lie to it - it scared you a bit.

“But it’s such a big distance…”

His hands reached for your face to hold it up for him, the expression on his face calm but determined. You admired him, admired the man he became.

“At some point there will be no distance, we have all the time in the world” he smiled reassuringly and you focused on the feeling of his fingers grazing your skin “And I will retire around 40” he added with a shrug of his shoulders, making you chuckle “But before that, your programme in Tokio is in for about three more years if I remember well, I will respect it if you decide to stay but if not, you can join me” the honesty and plea visible in his eyes made your heart melt, the sensation almost reaching your eyes but you blinked keeping your vision clear. You wanted to keep looking at him, drinking the sight of him, he was so beautiful.

Lost for words you nodded, took a breath and nestled your cheek into his hand. You heart lighter, your head quieter.

“I want that very much” you whispered “But let’s take it slow, okay?” you asked while his thumb slid down your throat, caressing the skin there, his face close to yours.

He nodded in response, his lips ajar, lids heavier as he leaned into you. You could tell he was as desperate as you’ve been all this time. He closed the final distance between you and the kiss was gentle, freeing, considerate. You let him lead you, your senses drinking only him, his touch and his closeness.

“I kissed you last night” he murmured against your lips before connecting you again.

“Yes” you breathed pulling away but he was quick to kiss you back.

The contact heating up, his movements speeding up, turning more determined. It excited you to the point of breakage, your hands grasping at him more certainly, your lips matching the intensity. You wanted to take it slow, take gentle steps to not ruin it all on the start. But you were losing the common sense. His hands slowly travelled down your body, resting on your hips, after a second he added more strength to his grasp, unconsciously you pressed into him and your whole body answered with an electric shock. Placing your hand on his chest you pushed him gently away from you. He blinked slowly, his eyes wild and dark, his breathing rapid. Your legs weak at the sight. You didn’t have enough strength to say no to him. He just have to say a word. But he smirked, took a few steps back and with a big breath rested down on the chair standing near the kitchen island.

“You look so sexy in my clothes” he murmured eyeing you down and you snorted under your breath, remembering that you were clad in his shorts and t-shirt, way too big for you.

You considered your look ridiculous.

“But I really want to take them off right now”

His loose posture, long legs, broad shoulders, fiery gaze in those bed eyes and his words made you tremble where you stood. You wanted to ravish him, jump on him and ride him right here and right now, sat on this chair. Your hands on his shoulders, nails dug into the skin there, his big hands on your ass, guiding you with a rhythm he preferred, you screaming out as he filled you. Breath hitched in your throat and you shifted from one foot to the other because there was an unyielding pressure torturing you, making every part of your body pulsing with desire.

“Slow” you breathed, reminding yourself, warning him, and he smiled cheekily, a spark in his eyes.

He was dangerous.

“I can fuck you slow”

“Jude” you warned again.

Why you wanted to keep on fighting it? You’ve already lost.

Taking a step you tried to run from him but to no avail, he reached for you and easily pulled you into his lap making you straddle him. You squeaked in surprise.

“What if someone walks in?!” you panicked.

“We’re alone” after pulling you closer to him.

“What if they come back?” your voice sharp, despite the fact that all your insides shook with arousement.

“They won’t” he kept looking at you intensively.

You rolled your eyes at his ignorance, you were truly worried sick someone might catch you in such position.

“Rude. I’m going to make your eyes roll while I have my way with you”

You mouth opened in shock, he was so straightforward, you did not expect it. You let out a little laugh.

“What makes you think you will be that good?” and almost immediately regretted that question.

His hips shot up to put more pressure to where you were connected and you gasped when your body instantly reacted at the friction. Your hands grasping his shoulders. Your cheeks quickly heating up.

“You’re already almost there, aren’t you?” his voice much deeper now.

You fumed at his perkiness because you wanted to prove him different, wanted to dominate him as much, but you had to admit that the way he toyed with you was exciting. If he keeps his game, he’ll surely ruin you.

“Are you?” you taunted, rolling your hips back and forward, making you both feel the power of this sensation.

He groaned, his hold on your hips strong and you breathed repeating the motion. Oh, for the love of God, he looked divine with his heavy lids closing on it’s own, his full lips apart, focused on your movements. You leaned into him, his head resting on the back of the chair, facing the ceiling, your hands outstretched behind him. You kissed him, ferociously, using your tongue and he jerked under you, his hands wandering over your back and nape.

“Oh, you are” you purred quietly with a victorious smile when you pulled back, his lips searching for yours.

His head still thrown back when he chuckled breathlessly, making you bite your lip at the sexiness of it. Your head dizzy at the sound of his throaty laugh. If you don’t stop now, there will be a mess.

“I have to reconsider the idea of tying you down so you won’t run away. Because I am going to have you today and I don’t think it will be enough for me” he declared pressing you hard onto him, the sharp pull making you whine.

[makuzume]

Texting JJK Characters During the Shibuya Incident SMAU

🔅characters: Toji

🔅content: spoilers season 2, angst, injury, death, gn! reader

🔅a/n: woke up today and chose PAIN😀; separated this from the others bc it felt a little different from the rest and more painful

[JJK Masterlist] [Nobara, Shoko, Yuta]

🔅Toji Fushiguro🔅

a/n: Sobbing as I made this one because I live for pain and now you have to suffer too🫵 You decide what happens to reader.

tags list: @megumisdivinedogs @zhenyuuu

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

[sanskari-kanya]

Guess who got 30/30 on her finals’ viva 😭💃

It was the biggest adventure of my goddamn life.

The viva was scheduled at 3 pm today so I was pretty chill. I was like okay I’ll do the hardest ones till late night, grab some good sleep and wake up a little early to revise the rest.

But my university sent a mail at 10:30 pm, saying ✨surprise motherfuckers, the time is changed to 9:30 am, all the best insufferable freshers✨

Post this mail, I had made peace in accepting that I aint gonna get any sleep tonight and I had to revise 4 subjects till 8 am (minus 30 minutes to get my boogie ass ready because I will never enter the uni looking like crap and 30 more minutes to reach the university)

I started studying around 12 am because all we did was cuss the fuck out of the university and exam managers for a bloody 1.5 hours.

Considering my attention span, my study session lasted for approximately 15 minutes before I opened Pinterest and keep scrolling mindlessly until it was suddenly 2 am 🤩. Then I went for a mindless walk around the hostel, disturbed my bf for a good 15 minutes, and realised he wasn’t giving me any attention because he actually studies and uski fati padi thi so I came back in my room and re-started studying. It continued till 5 am (paired with stress eating, gossiping, watching a documentary)

THEN, I ACCIDENTALLY FELL ASLEEP AT 5 AM AND WOKE UP AT 8 AM!?!? I had to leave at 9 am so there was no bloody chance of revising Histology and Radiology that I very confidently left for the morning 🤗 I left the house at 9 and kept a ppt of histological slides open on my phone so I could at least revise SOMETHING.

If this drama was not enough, here is more :

Me and my friend had decided to pair up for the viva but some dude mishandled the list and jumbled the numbers and I had to beg my classmate to go with a random dude so me and bestie could go tgt.

As I was about to enter the viva room, a physical fight broke pit between two students and my examiner walked out to stop the fight and never returned.

I confidently wrong answered a sub question and made the doctor believe that I was right cus I answered everything else too. 10 in Anatomy ✅

Manually picked the harder examiner for Histology because bestie shat in anatomy so I wanted her to score in Histology with the easier examiner. My reactions to the first two questions- ✨ma’am I don’t know✨ and she was glaring me so bad I cannot explain y’all but then by god’s grace, she asked me more questions (redemption arc) that I answered but she gave me 7.5 so I was like okay, I did shit in the beginning so-

Next was physiology and if y’all weren’t aware of my bad reputation with the professor (George), well now you are 🤗 But then I again had a choice to choose my examiner and I chose my favourite teacher from last semester and George was like ✨why are you not sitting with me huh✨ in the most sarcastic tone ever like i would ever voluntarily chose you , kind sir.

End result, I scored full in physiology too which just proves that my physiology wasn’t a problem, George was the problem!

Last was Radiology. I was scared for my life since I slept and didn’t revise radiology AT ALL. But the examiner was impressed by my marks and gave me 2.5 🙂‍↕️

Now if that still wasn’t enough adventure for you, let me introduce you to my bad math skills. 7.5 in Histology + 2.5 in radiology makes 10 which meant I had scored 30/30 but my dumbass forgot math and thought I scored only 27.5 and went out a little sad.

Then a senior dude asked me how was it and I was like ‘Accha tha bas muje ek baat bata histology ke liye maximum kitna hota hai?’ And he was 7.5 and then it hit me ‘Oh bhaiii fir toh muje full mile hai’ 😭😭😭

I’m never forgetting this day. I narrated this entire thing to my mom twice, once to bf, a 30 min voice note to @hum-suffer and now on tumblr.

[autumnshighlady]

Am I Making You Feel Sick?

Celegorm x reader

summary: Celegorm has taken things too far, and you're both pushed to the breaking point and things get heated

warnings: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ENDING FIC! celegorm is an asshole and reader matches his energy, borderline emotional abuse

fic based off of the song Strangers by Ethel Cain

word count: 2.8k

request: you are such an amazing author, i am in awe of your writing! if you are accepting silm requests, can i request a celegorm x reader? we all know that this lil meow meow can be very rude and cruel, even to people he loves, especially when he's stressed :((( what if reader is his wife and lately tielko has barely paid her any attention, causing them to argument :(( and in the middle of the argument celegorm being celegorm gets impulsive and throws his wedding ring towards reader :(((( today i woke up and chose angst

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” You snapped at Celegorm, patience wearing thin. Your husband was pacing back and forth, his fists clenched and his blue eyes dark. His long, pale blonde hair was unkempt, hanging loosely around his face. Normally, your husband took care in his appearance, weaving and braiding intricate jewellery into his locks. When you had first met Celegorm all those centuries ago in Valinor, he was always dressed immaculately, a playful smirk on his face and a mischievous light in his eyes.

But there was no sign of the elf you married before you. There was no light or kindness in his face as he scowled at the marble floor, muttering to himself in Quenya and ignoring you. “I do not think Finrod will appreciate you wearing holes in his floors,” you added. “So stop pacing and talk to me.”

“We cannot stay here,” was all Celegorm said sharply for the tenth time that evening. “I will not be indebted to my pathetic cousin who is content to let a mortal man pursue that which belongs to my father.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Too naive you were to think that Celegorm and Curufin’s peace and gratitude to their cousin for sheltering them would last. You had lost count of how many times you had been relocated. Your husband was prideful, his refusal to accept help and be seen as weak becoming your downfall.

“And where do you propose we go, exactly?” All patience you had left was gone, and you crossed your arms and stood in Celegorm’s path, halting his incessant pacing. “Morgoth broke the siege, the Pass of Aglon has been taken, we have nowhere else to go. We have to stay in Nargothrond until we regain our strength. We suffered a heavy loss, my love–”

Celegorm’s eyes narrowed. “You have lost nothing,” he hissed. “It is I who have suffered. You weren’t on the damn battlefield.”

His words cut you like a knife. Normally you could handle your husband’s angry moods, fits of rage that would blow over as quickly as they came. But lately they have been more and more frequent, each one leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Centuries of war and an endless quest had slowly chipped away at your husband like stonemasons on mountain rock. He had become a shell of the person he was when you fell in love with him, one that was harder to forgive with each argument.

“How DARE you?” You snapped, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze with equal fire. “You think I have not suffered amidst this ceaseless fighting? You think the constant war, the waiting on the edge of battle and having to pack up and move every decade has not had an effect on me? I may not be on the battlefield, but a piece of me is with you every time you go out there in that armour to try and get back some jewels. All because of that stupid oath.” 

To your fury, Celegorm merely rolled his eyes, turning away and striding over to the table by the bed in the guest room you were currently residing in. He grabbed the pitcher of wine, pouring yet another full glass and speaking with his back to you. “I will not have you whining about what you signed up for by marrying me,” he said dryly, taking a large swig from his goblet.

You scoffed, blood boiling. “Only you would call basic communication ‘whining’. I signed up for a marriage to the elf I loved. The elf who spent his days hunting and riding through the forest, who braided my hair in the morning and kissed me goodnight–”

Angrily, Celegorm slammed the goblet down onto the table, splattering droplets of red wine on the wooden table. They dripped down onto the pristine marble floor like blood from a wound. You flinched, stepping back as your husband stormed over to you. There was a mix of hurt and rage on his face as he grabbed your jaw in his hands, cupping your face. The gesture was anything but tender - it was possessive and dominant in a way that scared you. “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” He asked, voice trembling slightly.

Tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m saying that the elf I married and the one before me are not one in the same, and I do not recognize the latter.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Celegorm said more sternly. “Yet it told me everything I needed to know.”

You shook your head, the grip your husband had on your jaw starting to ache. “Do not be like this. Do not make me your villain just because you want an enemy you can actually defeat and beat down.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are losing this war, Tyelkormo. And you are taking it out on me and shutting me out because I am a reminder of all your mistakes. I am the face of your guilt and that is causing you to pull away from me because you cannot come to terms with everything you’ve done.” Your throat was thick with sadness, stomach churning at having finally uttered your darkest thoughts out loud. Never in any of your previous fights did you lay the truth so raw for your husband, ripping apart his delusions of grandeur and forcing him to face his reality.

Celegorm’s eyes darkened. “Everything I have done? It has all been for you, to end this quest so we can finally settle down and have a life together.”

You grabbed his wrists gently. “Do not lie to yourself, husband. You cling even now to thoughts of your own glory, and you are blinded by your own ambition.”

Celegorm growled and ripped your hands off of his wrists, releasing your jaw harshly and turning away. As you rubbed your jaw, the son of Fëanor continued his pacing angrily. “I swore an oath to my father–”

“As you did to me!” You yelled, voice echoing throughout the large chamber. Done you were with trying to reason with your husband. His anger and pain had festered like a wound for years, transforming and morphing into a dark and twisted creature that sought only the satisfaction of vengeance.

Celegorm matched your rage, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why must you insist on my loyalty to one oath and my subversiveness to another?”

“Because one of those oaths is destroying you!” You crossed your arms in defiance.

“I cannot seem to figure out which one that is, as of late.”

You flinched as if Celegorm had struck you. The room felt still, as if any love between you two that was warming the space had been snuffed out. But your tears did not fall, to your surprise. Nor did you feel deeply wounded. You felt numb, as if those words he uttered had switched off all physical and emotional feelings. “If you feel our marriage is the oath that is ruining your life, then why are you still in it?” Was all you said, coldly.

Celegorm ran a hand through his ragged hair. “Why are you? If you feel shackled to this life then why stay with me?”

“Stop turning my questions around because you’re too much of a coward to answer them.”

He smouldered, that fiery rage inherited from his father blazing up within them. “I am no coward.”

“Yes, you are.” You let the words lash out of you, empathy gone. You wanted to hurt Celegorm, to make him feel a fraction of what you felt right now. “You are a coward who is too afraid of what others think. You are a coward who is too afraid to make the choice that you know deep down is right, a choice for which you refuse to make since it is easier to blame an oath you spoke in the fragility of youth all those centuries ago.”

Your husband angrily grabbed the table with the spilled wine, hurling it with all his might against the wall. The wood splintered and shattered with a loud crack, its broken pieces falling to the floor amidst the red liquid. “How dare you–” he began to yell but you cut him off angrily.

“Ah, yes, resorting to throwing things in a tantrum when I force you to see the truth,” you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You really are your father’s son.”

Celegorm’s face went red, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That is a compliment. My father was a great elf!”

“Your father was a fool,” you spat. “It was his arrogance, selfishness, and pride that got him killed, and I now see you will suffer the same fate.”

You did not stick around to hear your husband’s response as you brushed past him, slamming the door behind on your way out.

********************

The evening air felt good on your skin, the gentle water lapping at your feet. You sat on a flat rock by the edge of one of the cave’s pools, soft lantern light giving the area a yellow glow. It had been hours since your fight with Celegorm, and you had not crossed paths. You knew your husband would not be the first to apologise, not after everything you said. You were well aware that your words were hurtful, yet no guilt burdened your shoulders. It felt oddly freeing to finally explode like that, to throw words in his face instead of just being on the receiving end. 

Undoubtedly, Celegorm was sulking. Your husband’s temper was something you were always well aware of, and usually you were shielded from it. And for the last few decades, you had tried to understand his pain, to look at things from his perspective to justify his anger.

Yet now, you could not even do that. Celegorm’s madness had gone beyond your reach, the weight of his oath and actions dragging him down under the surface. You were no longer sure if you wanted to drown with him. A hundred years ago, you’d have walked through Angband for your husband. But now, you were tired of fighting. Tired of going to bed knowing that since you’ve been with him throughout this whole ordeal, you served as a walking reminder of the life he could no longer have. 

Celegorm would not be satisfied as Finrod’s guest for long, especially after the King allowed the human Beren to seek out a Silmaril with his blessing. You used to be able to predict how far Celegorm would go to get what he wanted, but now you were not so sure. Would he truly usurp his cousin in a mad scramble to gain control? You did not know.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Celegorm was standing behind you.

“Am I no good? He spoke quieter this time, sadness replacing the anger in his voice from earlier. “Am I simply not good enough for you anymore?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, refusing to turn and face him. “It is not a question of being good enough for me, my love,” you said gently. “It is a question of being good enough for yourself, of being the male I know you can be. Your endless pursuit of the Silmarils has been at the detriment of me, your brothers, your soldiers, everyone. Yet you keep pushing as if we do not matter.”

“You don’t understand,” he continued, his voice echoing up the chamber of Nargothrond’s caves. “I have to do this. It matters more than anything.”

“More than me?”

A cruel laugh sounded from behind you. “Ah, so we come to it long last.”

You frowned, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up to face your husband. There was no sorrow in his eyes, his mood changing like a storm amidst the flowery spring fields. “What does that mean?” You asked through narrowed eyes.

“It means I always knew that one day you’d ask me to choose between you and the Silmarils,” he said heartlessly, his voice callous and devoid of love. “I’m surprised it took you this long, in perfect honesty.”

Anger churned in your gut. “You have forced my hand into doing so!” You snapped, voice rising. “Am I supposed to live forever in your shadow as a slave to your mindless choices? To never prioritise my own happiness or seek a life outside of war and quests?”

Celegorm gritted his teeth. “Again, you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“But did you know how far it would go? How many losses you would suffer, how many battles you’d lose and how many fortresses would be taken? If you had, would you have married me?”

“I love you!” Celegorm insisted, his blue eyes wide and wild. “I have always loved you and wanted you by my side. It matters not what we face as long as we are together.”

“Do you not hear your own words?” You were yelling once again. “The horrors we have faced have been partially your own doing, you fool! We have been made refugees Eru knows how many times already, been rationing food and living in fear all because of a war you did not start but have certainly helped uphold with vigour!”

“Keep your voice down, many listening ears are turning our way.” Celegorm hissed, glancing around and the shadows of elves scurrying past you in the distance, no doubt wanting to get away from the yelling.

“Good, let them hear us,” you said sternly. “Now they’ll see you exactly as you are.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And what is it, exactly, that I am, dear wife? A kinslayer? Murderer? Thief? I am many things but a liar is not one of them. I’ve always shown you exactly as I am, and you have accepted me until now. What has suddenly changed that entices you to hold this against me now?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because you have not seen the error of your ways and refuse to change! I had hoped that as time went on you would mend that broken part of yourself and start choosing the path out of this darkness, but lately you have been rejecting that choice at every turn.”

“Everything I have done has been for a reason! There has been no error of my ways, nor do I need to change! I am simply doing what I swore to do and should not be punished for ensuring I see it through! You have not seen what I have seen, and yet you judge me for my actions. You have not been my wife as of late but a burden I must carry around, one that I can never make happy.” Celegorm’s rage was almost animalistic, like a wounded lion lashing out with anger. “If I’m such a horrible male, then go find someone better.”

With his final words, he yanked off the sapphire wedding ring from his finger, throwing it into the pool. You exhaled in shock, something inside of you breaking as the small but steady stream swept the ring away, carrying it into the deep crevices of the rock never to be seen again.

With a deep sadness, you looked into his eyes. The anger had subsided, and they were now wide as if for the first time in the entire argument, he couldn’t believe his actions. It was like a candle inside of you had been snuffed out - no longer was a scrap of the elf you fell in love with residing within the one before you. The Celegorm you loved was truly gone, replaced by a dark, angry shell of who he once was.

“You’re pathetic,” was all you whispered in disgust as the shock on his face changed into desperation.

“Shit, wait,” Celegorm pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to hold it within his own large ones. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yes, you did mean it.” You ripped your hand out of his grip before turning to leave. After a few steps, you paused, as if some final hope within you wanted him to follow.

But he didn’t.

You sighed, turning to face your lover for the last time. “Consider yourself freed from the burden of our marriage,” you said coldly. “I hope you get those Silmarils you seek so desperately, and when you finally hold them all you can think of is what it cost you. And as the blood on your hands from the kin you have slain stains their precious light, and all that you hold dear is gone and turned to ash, I pray that you think back on our courtship. I hope the image of me haunts your every waking moment; and not even Lórien himself can banish the ghost of my memory, even as it walks amidst your dreams. I hope the mere thought of me makes you feel sick until the end of time itself.”

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

Leona and the team travel again, and more and more interesting situations arise.

Hello!

I noticed that with all the upheavals in my life, I can safely upload approx. every two weeks, so I'll stick to that! :D

I don't have a separate Trigger Warning for today's chapter!

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. – Infected Mammal Lifeorm I.H.L. – Infected Humanoid Lifeorm

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Seventeen

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The small room is enveloped in motionless semi-darkness, and only the flickering lights of the machines resting next to the bed paint the two figures clinging to each other on the patient's bed into a neon-colored rainbow. And although their faces now finally radiate peaceful calmness, as they rest in the whiteness of the sterile bedding, they look more like plants floating on the edge of death, intertwined with their dry branches as a last refuge. Yet, despite their almost painful weakness, the aura mixed with terror that reigned over them seems to be easing at last, which was ingrained in each of their cells like an ineradicable illness.

And as I look at the crumpled bed on the other side of the room, I can read from the wet stains on the pillow that the boy probably woke up from a bad dream and sought solace from the woman. It's not surprising that he chose close proximity instead of comfort, because, in the many horrors he has experienced so far, his older companion has been his protector. Perhaps she anchored him in reality now as well, when he floated, writhing in tears, on the border between the bitter images of the realm of dreams and this world. And a rather bitter taste invades my tongue when it occurs to me, that it cannot be ruled out that he will suffer in this temporary nightmare for the rest of his life. Stuck in the middle of painful memories and fleeting safety.

Because I'm dead sure that the government won't let two very young Healers, whom they can squeeze out a few more years of service from, go to waste. No leader will let them take early retirement, even if they die while serving the Hunters. This system isn’t kind to anyone, especially not to those who, according to the authorities, were born to serve. And even though it's better for everyone if a Hunter stays sane and doesn't slaughter everyone in their path if they run out of energy, it doesn't change the fact that, as per the current state of the world, there isn't even time for people to mourn their traumas.

And this thought weakens the contentment purring inside me, which I experienced last night with the help of my clever ability. Because my little action seems infinitely futile as I watch them. I treated all their wounds, and all traces of the pain they suffered disappeared from the tissues, but every minute they spent in the dark little hole where they were pushed into lives just as vividly in their minds. And neither my energy, nor that bastard's pitiable death, nor time will cure this. I doubt that any of them will ever recover, and I can only hope with the utmost benevolence that they lose their sanity and wither in a lab for the rest of their lives, high on medication. That would be the slowest but most merciful death that life could give them. 

I must be quite deeply immersed in my thoughts, because I only notice that a tall figure casts a dark shadow on me, when he settles next to me in front of the window of the small ward and joins me in my silent observations. I don't need to look at Riley to know the expression on his masked face, because the barely suppressed rage that emanates from him when he glances at the pair hiding in the small, dim room almost stings my skin. And my mind, buried in resignation, has the strength to feel pleasure for a minute at his agitation, for it soothes my soul in a sick way, that, despite the fact that his kind doesn't need to fear such horrors, I still see the glint of anger in the dark eyes of his reflection. This gives me some faint relief from the gnawing doubts that snake into my bones, which have burrowed deeper and deeper since yesterday with such insidious efficiency as worms feasting on corpses. Because I can't get rid of the image of the terrified faces of the two Healers, and in those few passing hours, when I was finally able to close my eyes, I saw myself in the dirty corner instead of them.

"What did Price say?" I speak up suddenly, diverting my thoughts to safer ground, because the further development of our mission seems a much more pleasant topic than discussing the future of the two poor souls shrouded in doubt, or reviving the damned delusions of my brain. And even though I don't look away from the seemingly peaceful scene unfolding before me, I can see him examining me inquisitively, as if he would be searching for something in my expressionless features. And he must have found it, because even though I can bury my emotions expertly, even my persona created for denial cannot hide from his trained senses.

"Laswell looked the thug up." He finally answers, and whatever was going on in that mysterious mind of his, he goes into the game of ignoring my strange behavior without comment. And I'm immensely grateful for the fact that he is able to turn to duty so quickly, because no matter how much my mind is occupied by the miserable fate of my two fellow colligues, our mission is more important. Now only my subconscious and I should be on the same page about this. "We're leavin' tomorrow." He informs me, stating a certain fact, and I just glance at him curiously from the corner of my eye. Laswell works faster than the devil, and it looks like she hasn't let us down now either. Even though we only had a name and a colony in our hands, which could have been too little to be able to move on with our pursuit. But our station chief's nose is much sharper, and she picked up a hot scent again at such a pace that belies the fact that she is just a simple human. And the knowledge that tomorrow I can finally leave this cesspool, and all this dreadful moment will be an unpleasant experience lost in the mist of the past, selfishly calms my mind. Because I don't want to face why I want to leave the two Healers so enthusiastically and forget about what will happen to them.

"Are they coming with us too?" I continue to inquire, raising another important question, which, although less intensively, but with sufficient enthusiasm, strains my skull. Because the two short days I spent in the company of our new teammates helped to plant the seeds of suspicion and foreboding in my mind enough to make me prefer to part ways with them, even if that would mean the loss of their help. There wouldn't even be a problem with Horangi, but König... he's a different story. And I don't just want to keep him away from my friends, because I'm secretly afraid that they work together like a ticking time bomb, and it's only a matter of time before they have a punch-up due to their incompatible personalities with Riley. There is something inherently dangerous about the hooded Hunter that clings to his every cell like a bloodthirsty demonic presence. It was already difficult for me to decipher the masked man, but König is a completely new kind of riddle, and I'm not sure that I want to know what is hidden under the dark textile. I have a gut feeling that if I dip even one toe into this shallow, murky mystery, the monster lurking in the bottomless swamp will grab me and drag me under. But despite my vivid imagination, my rational side is perfectly aware that I need to observe just enough to be able to read him and know what he and his little companion are up to behind the scenes. Because they are most certainly not so willing because of their good heart and conscience.

"Shepherd won't let us go without his dogs." The Hunter notes curtly, and based on his tone it's clear that even without saying it, he understood whom I was aiming at so skillfully. The edge of disdain moves into his deep voice, which has been lurking under the surface ever since we were drawn here by the clues given us by Valeria. And although I know the kind of self-restraint and discipline the man possesses, it's still impressive how effectively he can rein in his temper, even though his colleague's behavior made it a difficult task for him on several occasions. They cooperate with us with perfect professionalism, but they make sure, with small and sly signs, that we know that, thanks to the old shit, we are not in control here. Our little adventure yesterday made this very clear.

"How surprising." I remark dryly, and I don't even try to make the words crawling on my tongue a little less sarcastic, because I know that my cynicism now finds a match in my partner. Shepherd wants to keep us on a short leash through the two Hunters, and I'm pretty sure it would only take one wrong move to make the kindness of our new helpers disappear like a mirage in the desert. But it's even more likely that the old bastard will wait until we smooth this little nuisance out for him, and then he will get rid of us. That would be very clever, and would give a good reason why the two mercenaries are coming with us. In light of this, we not only have to get hold of the serum and be careful with the mutants, but we also have to keep a watchful eye on when they stab us in the back. Wonderful.

"You shouldn't have come to the interrogation room." Riley deviates from the thread of our conversation, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't expect him to bring up my little incident sooner or later. It's a fact that it would have made a much better impression on our hosts if I hadn't poked my nose into their business, and perhaps if anger hadn't burned inside me like an inferno, I would have been able to think clearly and stay away. Undoubtedly, it would have attracted less attention, and it's also likely that even without my intervention, they would have found the bloody method that would have made that scumbag want to spill every last bit of info he had. The secret of my little abilities would also have remained under wraps, which would still give me a trump card in case one of our hired babysitters decided to help me cross over to the other world. But the icy hatred that closed its teeth around my insides injected a poison into me, causing a red fog to descend on my mind that I was unable to fight against. And to be honest, I didn't want to.

"I'd argue with that." I retort dispassionately, and I still don't meet his gaze, the weight of which now almost suffocates me. Although our relationship has fallen into something quite attractively complicated, I know that when it comes to work, he knows no joke. And it occurs to me that he might want to scold me now because I wasn't able to do what was expected of me again. And I would like to warn him well in advance, before he can even delve into his disciplining, that no one forbade me to interfere even with a fucking word. Horangi's feeble attempt was more of a less-than-enthusiastic warning than an actual command. If he was serious, then he would have easily arranged it so that I could not barge into the interrogation room. Because he could have killed me with one move.

A frightened whine penetrates the noise of the chirping machines in the ward, and as I see the half-asleep boy moving closer to the woman, who just begins to draw soothing circles through the blue material of the hospital nightgown on his bony back, then the terrifying feeling that brought me to the container on swift legs rises again in me. There is no protocol or rule that could have stopped me then, even if my brain now knows that sitting on my pretty ass and waiting for the big boys to take care of the situation would have been the right thing to do. But I'm too stubborn for that.

"It was our task to find out what he knows."  The man states the truth flatly, and I only carefully divert my gaze from the Healers hugging on the sick bed to immerse myself in the inscrutable eyes of Riley's reflection. Because from someone who carries out his duties with such rigor and keeps to what is expected of him, I wouldn't exactly expect him to let my newest naughtiness pass without a word. Although I had already managed to avoid the retort that my misbehavior would have deserved once, I had saved his bosom friend by disobeying the order. But now, guided only by my own feelings, I charged into the middle of their party like a bull gone wild. Not that I mind for a minute.

"It took a long time. I sped it up." I offer the most acceptable reason, which I'm sure can soften the condemnation that might be camped in his mind. Because even though he knows that my terrible game was about much more than that, he can't argue with the fact that I forced out the answers that we were after much sooner than they could have achieved by beating him into a bloody pulp. And it's just an insignificant factor that I used specific tools, and the motivating force behind my actions is another completely negligible detail. The point is, that we got what we needed to continue our search for the serum. It's best for him and me if we leave it at that.

"You took revenge." He specifies simply, and even I'm surprised that there is no reprimanding weight behind his words. As if he had merely made a frivolous remark, rather than stating why I had so vehemently stormed in when they worked so diligently on their victim. But if his insight strikes me unexpectedly, my surprise quickly fades, because it's clear that he already knew why I was there when I crossed the threshold of the interrogation room. But instead of feeling ashamed for exposing my not-so-nice motives, the uncomfortable tightness in my stomach that hasn't really gone away since yesterday just flares up again. And as petty as it may be, I was filled with vengeance indeed when I laid my sly little hands on our prisoner, but I'm by no means such a noble soul as to refrain from it. This kind of meanness fits right into my repertoire of personality traits.

"Is it such a big deal?" I turn back to spying on the small room, because it's much easier to study the dark walls than to digest how effortlessly he can see through me. Of course, it's not that I have lost my mystery to him that bothers me, but rather the fact that I feel like a little kid caught doing mischief. Because from his tone it's like I did something completely wrong. Although I know that my approach was truly merciless, that dirtbag deserved every single moment of it. I don't care if what I have done is questionable, because as soon as I saw the desperation on that disgusting face swimming in tears and snot, my mood turned better in an instant. And if there was even a little justice left in the world, then all the wretches like this bastard would receive this punishment. What's wrong with such scum finally getting a taste of their own cruelty?

"No."  He breaks the short silence, agreeing with me almost too naturally, which is completely foreign from his mouth. Because this makes me unsure for a minute about why he brought up the whole topic in the first place. If it doesn't bother him that I took control and used my own little incentive, then what is his problem? "But you don't have to get your hands dirtier at all costs."  He adds, and I don't like the tone he puts into his voice at all, like he wanted to scold me. Which sounds bad coming from him, because we both know that while I may be a sneaky bastard, he doesn't need to go next door when it comes to brutality. We aren’t different in any way, and he shouldn't point out how unfeminine and not-so-delicate it is when I use these merciless tactics.

"There's enough blood on them anyway. A little more won't make a difference." I remark nonchalantly, keeping my eyes fixed in front of me with all my strength, because I'm afraid that if I look at the Hunter, I will glimpse something that my soul couldn't bear. I don't want to see his contempt or his superiority, because I don’t feel an iota of regret. This cruelty helped me through hardships all my life, I took what I needed to survive. If there was even a little less blood on my hands, I'd be lying there in that fucking bed right now, beaten, starved, raped and used. The only thing that kept me from this was that I immersed myself in the filth as deeply as was necessary, and my selfishness served me quite well. And if I have to drown in this infectious pool, I will.

But the movement comes completely unexpectedly, as one of his big hands finds my shoulder, and as his fingers gently tighten around the tensing muscles, I turn my head towards him with a starled shiver, because the tenderness in his touch reluctantly tears me out of the gloomy monologue going on in my head. And the way those brown eyes glance down at me makes my stomach jump instinctively, because the inscrutable flickers dancing there make the anger raging inside me fade away in a minute. The heat emanating from his palm pleasantly licks at my skin, which has cooled down due to the bitter rage, and brings my attention back to him so decisively from the chaos in my brain, as if he would be my anchor keeping me in reality.

"I know you're cruel. You don't have to prove it." He states, and his voice fades to a grumble, as he takes a small step to close the distance between the two of us. And as he leans down to me and his scent fills my nose like a familiar visitor, every nerve in my body is sharpened to what he has to say. "But you don't have to do it alone anymore." He declares, and with this one sentence, he dispels all the doubts that have nested in the hidden corners of my brain so far. And the realization that this is exactly why I wanted to leave the two Healers behind me tears into my mind. Because I saw in them the fate that could easily have found me too. I could have ended up chained and abused to the extreme, but instead, for all my selfishness and dishonesty, karma has led me to a place where I am treated much better than my background would justify.

And now here is Riley, who knows my worst side, has experienced firsthand the caustic sarcasm I can use to dig into other people's weaknesses with my words, and what evils my hands are capable of when my interests demand it. Yet knowing this, he offers that I don't have to walk this dark road alone, but willingly joins me. He doesn't expect me to leave behind my dubious methods accumulated over the years, he doesn't ask me to wash my hands clean. And because of this, something completely inexplicable awakens inside me, which simultaneously fills me with a pleasant warmth, which is followed by a hot trembling lightness that spreads through all the fibers of my being. And along with that, an icy fear creeps into the pit of my stomach, because the warning flashes in my subconscious almost immediately that I mustn't let this go. I can't waste this opportunity that fate has given me, because I'm not sure I could survive if I lost them.

And as a result of the realization, the invisible fingers of the tears spurred by the rising emotions gnaw into my eyes with almost painful force, but forcing the feelings down my dry throat, I just nod with a faint smile on my face. Because now I can see clearly. It takes shape in my head firmly that I'm willing to cling to the team, and especially to him with every drop of my blood, that this pledge almost burns into my brain.

⃰

The warm rays of the sun caress my naked arm peeking from under my shirt with deceptive peace, and as I leave the cargo deck hand in hand with my companions, and wade into the wild grass, the sweet scent of wildflowers fills my nose, and I allow myself to drink in the picturesque landscape for a minute. As if I had fallen into a dream, the meadow stretches to the edge of the horizon with such unimaginable calmness, where Nik so skilfully put down our plane, the soft noise of which is accompanied by the buzzing of bees and the chirping song of crickets as background noise. And at other times, this huge open space might make me nervous, where we are easy prey for the mutants who are stalking us, but behind the large building not far from us, the abundance of trees stretching to the sky cover us beneficially from at least one side. A real, hidden corner of paradise.

In other circumstances and in another life, this beautiful weather might even tempt me to have a little picnic in this undisturbed clearing that spreads out in front of our temporary accommodation. Of course, this would be a realistic idea if there was no chance that my idyllic pastime would be interrupted by a deformed monster or one of its humanoid friends, who would pay their respects with a slightly different kind of snack in mind. Although based on Price's information, the safe house might be located in the middle of nowhere, but it's just reassuringly close enough to the colony to be at a comfortable distance from any reckless beasts. Of course, the suspicion raging in my brain doesn't ease one bit, because, during my ever-longer mission, I already had the opportunity to experience what kind of horrors can be lurking behind such beautiful landscapes with watchful eyes. And most of the time they don't appear in the form of malformed animals, but take on a much more human face. Naturally, in this filthy place laced with death, we are still each other's greatest enemies.

"Good to see you're still alive!" A familiar voice interrupts my thoughts, and as I turn my head in the direction of its source, my dark little heart leaps with real joy. Because as soon as I see Garrick emerging from behind the battered door of the house, a definite line of a sincere smile crosses my face. And although it's barely been a while since I last had the good fortune to admire the Hunter's good features and even more pleasant aura, yet, in an almost disgusting way, my soul is relieved that amidst all the complicated misery, I finally have a familiar figure near me.

"We need more than that to bite the bullet!" MacTavish exclaims, and  he hurries forward grinning, so that when his friend is within arm's reach, he simply pulls him into a brotherly embrace enthusiastically, patting his back with the weights of the unspoken words of happiness in the small movement. It's no wonder that this meeting is so heart-warming, since every single mission is another chance for these happy moments to never happen again. And this is probably not the first party they got involved in, but in light of the fact that we are drowning deeper and deeper into unknown complications, even I can sympathize with the zeal of my two fanboys.

I don't have to wait long for the one person who is still missing from the impromptu celebration to show up, and as I recognize the well-known figure of Price marching out from the dim depths of the house, the fleeting feeling of absence that may have been present in me until now disappears. The man carefully studies us gathered in the field, and when his gaze settles on me after Riley, who is anchored next to me, and his beard-framed mouth curls up in a satisfied little smile, then my stomach jumps with excited joy with such ridiculous speed that it's downright disgusting. Still, it doesn't bother me for a minute that such crippling emotions rear their heads in my little soul, because I would be willing to do anything to never have to live without them.

"I've hoped this would be the case." Price also joins in our greeting, referring back to my Scottish friend's earlier confident statement with his small comment, as he comes close enough to welcome us. And when one of his big hands lands on my shoulder with the greatest naturalness and squeezes it gently, the pleasant warmth, that only the small team was able to revive in me for a very long time, spreads through all of my limbs following his touch. And I swear that an almost paternal pride shines in those bright eyes, as they survey my face, and I have to keep my cheeky superiority in my features with all my strength, because I don't want to get emotional in front of our audience just getting off the plane. "I've heard a lot of good things about you." He adds, and even though his praise is enough to awaken an impossible cheerfulness in me, but as his gaze meaningfully moves to the masked Hunter enveloped in silence, I understand to whom I owe this exceptional treatment. And because of this, I feel that the tremble in my stomach paints surprise on my face despite my will and all my attempts at indifference. I didn't think that it would be Riley who would so enthusiastically praise my performance to the boss, when earlier I had him to thank for the bright idea of my forest trip, due to which I almost got impaled by a mutant piggy. But this is enough for the hope in my head to push me even deeper into the embrace of my complicated feelings for him. Great.

And at that moment, Riley, who was already more wordless than usual, joins in the warm welcoming, and although he remains silent, he greets our leader with a firm nod. Others might not find his curtness particularly striking, but he cannot hide from the captain's eyes either. And I'm sure that Price also realized by reading his companion's body language that his stand-offishness is directed much more to the two mercenaries who approach us with lazy steps. Because it would be impossible not to notice the distant aura he puts on when he has to share the same space with his colleagues. And although this tense atmosphere made our plane ride excruciatingly long, considering the unique show we were treated to during our joint mission, the grumpy mood of the masked man doesn't seem exaggerated one bit.

Even though they close the distance between us with the silence of the predators lying in wait, I don't have to look back to know that our new companions have arrived at our small gathered group, because the tiny little hairs reflexively rise at my back as I feel that unmistakable gaze burning the back of my head. It was enough for me to look into those blue eyes once over the mangled body spread out on the floor of the interrogation room to know that the wisest thing to do was to ignore the existence of the hooded Hunter altogether. For although I don’t know to what, apart from his obvious interest in my kind, I owe that persistent attention with which he honors me every time we come into forced proximity, yet I'm sure that no good would come of entering into this dubious game. Whatever his purpose is by obnoxiously and shamelessly staring at me at every opportunity he gets.

Price is the one who, as a true leader, grasps the noble task of breaking the ice, and turns to the two mercenaries, straightening his back out with confidence. And although there is a diplomatic impassiveness on his face, and I might even detect a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, but my trained eyes catch the troubled wrinkles gathering on his forehead under the cover of the hat just in time before they disappear. It's rather cunning and tactical of the man to show his best face to those who might run to report to their master after his first questionable move, but despite his best efforts, the visible traces of suspicion remain in his gaze, with which he measures his colleagues up.

"Thanks for the help." The captain expresses his gratitude, and if he has doubts about the two men, it doesn't show in his voice for a minute. And although it's quite clear that he did this out of mandatory politeness, but even I'm impressed when he fixes his eyes on the hired Hunters with the keen attention of a hawk, as if he is trying to read even the smallest twitches, assessing every second how trustworthy the newcomers really are.

"We were paid well to do it." Horangi comments with complete calmness, and even though it was evident that the credits made them so willing until now, even I find it bold that he chirps out this little detail so casually. He doesn't even try to deny his motivations, and it can only happen for an infinitely simple reason, which helps my eyebrows furrow. The Korean Hunter and his no less pleasant companion are so carefree because they don't see an iota of threat in us, which would make them think it would be worth behaving more cautiously. Although under normal circumstances the goal would be for our group to be able to work together without stress, but it's quite obvious from the small, nonchalant little movement as the man cocks his head in interest that this isn’t the case. This is at least as humiliatingly belittling as it's irresponsible, and helps to spread the sparks of tension for a minute in the warm air swayed by the spring wind.

But as rapidly as the unpleasant atmosphere arrived, it dissolves as quickly, for MacTavish breaks the silence, loud with the buzzing of the beetles, that has set in, before my masked friend has time to act driven by the spark of irritation in his dark gaze. As he leaves Garrick's side and takes a few hasty steps closer to the captain, all eyes are suddenly on him, beneficially interrupting the storm that was no doubt slowly brewing.

"Did ya find out anythin' interestin'?" The Hunter with the mohawk turns the attention to the mission instead, directing our conversation in a much safer and more important direction. Despite his best efforts, no one moves for a couple of uncertain seconds, and even the blades of grass stand on guard, waiting to see if one of my buddies would like to test their skills against each other instead of working together, but in the end, it's Price who is the first to settle back into his composure with the impeccable nimbleness of years and routine.

"Maybe." The captain answers thoughtfully, and his gaze lingers on the two mercenaries before he nods toward our new shelter, inviting us inside. Whatever Laswell has dug up from the depths of yet another bottomless drawer, it's not a topic to be discussed in the open, and this sufficiently awakens my curiosity. "Let's go inside." And as he sets off towards the entrance of the safe house with quick steps, I'm the first to follow him, not only because instead of the tense atmosphere that slowly fills the peaceful meadow on the wings of the pollen blowing in the breeze, even the vague emptiness beyond the threshold is more inviting, but also because there are much more urgent problems scratching my mind than the struggle for dominance stemming from masculine vanity. The serum is what made us so beautifully wander to almost the other side of the world, and this very dangerous little vial of hell is why we crossed the ocean to visit another continent. The clever trick Shepherd will use to remove us from the uncertain variables is the problem of the future, which won't come if we don't concentrate on the task with all our focus. And it seems that after the fleeting intermezzo, the others come to this conclusion as well, because without further ado everyone heads towards our temporary headquarters too.

And despite the desolation of the building from the outside, as I cross the border of the house and the cool darkness embraces me, I'm greeted by a very well-maintained, almost homely interior. The gaudy stains on the walls preserve the old tasteful pattern of the torn wallpaper, and there is no doubt that a whole series of family photos could have rested on these eerie square patterns, which the residents might have taken with them in a hurry, in order to have a few memories frozen in the past peace, to which they can long to return to. And as I follow Price further into the uninhabited depths of the house, from the worn furniture forgotten behind and the child's toy lying in the corner, and from the curtain submitted to a slow rot I feel like I had trespassed into somewhere, where the faded ghosts of the late inhabitants still haunt, locked in the objects left behind. But I quickly suppress this short-lived unpleasant sensation, because if there is anything remaining here from the previous owners, it can only be a few bones and decaying scraps of clothing left by the victims when the beasts inevitably found them.

"What a nice place you got us." I note pulling the corner of my mouth into a grimace, and although my voice is noticeably laced with irony, considering the circumstances, the captain has managed to find a really impressive den, which is just right for us to hang out in for a few days. And even though my pretty little body is used to the puritanical comfort of the colony, but for once I'm willing to set aside the inconvenience that I might have to share my bed with ghouls.

"The credit is our helper's. The big guy gave us the coordinates." Garrick shares the information quietly as he catches up to me, and it's enough for him to nod behind with his head to let me know who he might be talking about from our new teammates. And the fact that the pleasant shack is thanks to König explains a lot. Up until now, it was obvious, based only on his rather strong German accent and even more German-sounding name, that he was not from an American colony, but the fact that he provided such accurate information about this safe house hidden in the desolate wilderness confirms that he was born somewhere in the area. And it's quite logical that a terrifying butcher like him started his later adventurous journey from one of the largest and world-famous colonies, because the mention of the name of the Hunter training center operating here fills even civilians with sufficient foreboding. And where else could such a burly giant have been trained into such an efficient killing machine than in Purgatory? It wasn't by chance that they gave it this apt nickname, because the miserable little kids who are dragged there endure such sufferings that, although they become "purified warriors", the few years they suffer there, leave a permanent mark on them. Or at least this urban legend is spread by word of mouth. But it's enough to just recall the bloodthirsty pleasure with which the hooded Hunter stomped someone to death, and it immediately becomes clear that there is perhaps a hint of truth in the rumor.

The captain finally ushers us into a spacious dining room, in the middle of which stretches an old table, where a myriad of documents and weapons are spread out, indicating that the man had just felt at home enough to get to work while he waited for us to join them. And although they got here with less than a day's lead, based on the scattered reports and papers, the two Hunters had enough time to review the important pieces of information, and perhaps even work out the beginnings of a plan to celebrate our arrival. If Laswell took swift action, then Price rivals this momentum, because as my eyes discover the map of the colony among the many pages, and the tangled chaos of streets and buildings highlighted on it in bright colors, I quickly understand that our leader wasn't lazy and must have already studied the field.

"Kate had a hard time with this. She managed to find out that the Rat is in the colony indeed and that his organization is involved in several businesses." The bearded man immediately jumps into the middle of the briefing, not wasting a minute, as we all gather around the table, and he skilfully pulls out a file, which he pushes to the center and opens in front of us. And when the picture of an unknown guy richly adorned with tattoos appears, it becomes obvious that our aforementioned criminal is staring back at us from the low-quality photo. "But he hides well, and no one finds him if he doesn't want it." He shares this not-necessarily positive development, and with this, he succeeds in planting an easily recognizable atmosphere of pessimism in the dim little room. Of course, we could guess that this bastard had to earn the nickname somehow, so it wouldn't be easy to get hold of him, but now we can't allow ourselves to start this search with uncertain assumptions. We need to find him quickly, but mostly immediately, because the clock is ticking, and with every minute we are getting closer to that damned poison finding a new owner.

"This doesn't make our job any easier." MacTavish voices some of the doubts in my head, and as his dark eyebrows meet with annoyance in a rather troubled grimace, it becomes quite evident that he had a similar train of thought in his head as I did.

"We have to get him before he sells the serum." Riley joins in as well, and although the seriousness of the situation should require my undivided attention, I can't help but acknowledge with satisfaction that he almost automatically lined up next to me, like a loyal shadow. And even this small detail can ignite excited little sparks under my skin, because his proximity is enough for all my senses to be painfully sharpened. And I have to forcibly divert my concentration back towards our discussion, because no matter how much I want to read every tiny movement of his face covered with a mask, now my useless brain has to deal with the analysis of bigger complications. Pull yourself together, Leona.

"If he doesn't come out on his own, we'll smoke him out." Horangi puts forward the rather radical idea, and leans comfortably on the table with folded hands on the other side, as casually as if we weren’t just trying to find the ever-cooling trail of a drug that leads to certain death. And I find his ease interesting, because I'm pretty sure that fat credits won't be of much use if the army of hybrids and their little minions overrun every corner of the surviving civilization. Because this tiny little suggestion would most certainly lead to that.

"It would be an irresponsible idea." I interject my comment, looking through the file that was probably dug up by Laswell, searching for anything that might narrow down where in this huge, bustling city we should start our search to find our criminal in the shortest possible time. And Price was really not exaggerating, the dude got his hands into almost everything from trading with weapons, to prostitution, to drug and human trafficking, so it's no wonder that his criminal organization weaves through the colony like a spider web full of decay. Because, except for the central sectors, where the centers of the official bodies are concentrated in each colony, areas where he has influence have been circled in bright red almost everywhere else. Fabulous.

"Scum like him is easy to catch. All it takes is force." König chimes in for the first time since our arrival, and as his voice resonates through the barren walls of the building, I also break out of my observations and shift my gaze from the piles of documents to the man with careful deliberation. And from the way he straightens up and stands out from our small group without the slightest uncertainty, it's clear that he sees nothing wrong with his idea full of violence. And although it's already quite obvious from this how they managed to find the weak link leading to the Vultures so amazingly quickly, this approach won't work now. Because it's the least of our problems that everyone is in a foreign land except him, but if our target is such an influential person that he has ears on every corner, then he will know that we are in his heels before we have a chance to touch him with a finger.

"If he finds out he's being targeted by Hunters, he'll take off before we can even get close to him." I explain this non-negligible factor, and as I firmly hold the unpleasant weight of his gaze fixed on me, I know I'm not imagining the curious glint in those ice-blue eyes. "That's why we're here now instead of the colony, I imagine." I add this detail almost as a side note, and I don't try to prevent cynicism from creeping into my voice, because I want this behemoth to know that no matter how menacingly he stares, he won't be able to force me to surrender. Especially not when I know I'm right. If it were so easy to track down that goddamn thug without being noticed, then Price would have been breathing down the dude's neck before our plane even touched the ground.

"She's right." Garrick agrees, his face involuntarily giving way to the helplessness that must have settled in his head, and which helps to plant the faint line of resigned wrinkles on his face. Without a doubt, he would have been the first to bring our target to us wrapped in a pretty bow if he had the chance to lay his deadly little hands on him. But it wasn't a coincidence that they arrived here first and waited for us, because this action requires much more caution than they can organize with their usual bloody techniques.

"But we can't just sit around and wait!" MacTavish argues, spreading his hands out passionately, thus effectively voicing the frustration that is probably slowly forming in everyone upon hearing our increasingly hopeless mission. But even though I can understand his powerless rage, we cannot run headlong into the wall, because at this point we risk the complete destruction of humanity with every wrong move.

"I agree with Woods on this. We can't act hastily. We need intel." Price affirms, his eyes scanning our small gathering meaningfully, silently signaling that although he would like to throw himself into the middle of action, even his experience cannot guarantee success right now. "Nik, can you help us?" He suddenly turns towards the entrance of the dining room, and I look back over my shoulder in confusion, because I could swear that we left our pilot at the plane. But as I see the man leaning against the doorframe with complete peace of mind, many questions arise in my mind regarding our friend, who until now was believed to be rather harmless. And judging by the fact that my companions aren't at all surprised that Nik was able to sneak up to us so unobtrusively, I have a very strong feeling that I quite misunderstood the guy. His remarkable ability to follow us without being noticed is only a negligible detail in addition to the fact that the captain turns to him to solve our predicament.

"I have a few contacts in Colony No. 2. I'll see what they know." Nik offers, with such a self-evident simplicity that deepens my suspicion that the man mostly plays pilot as a hobby, and pursues very dubious activities as a full-time job instead. Because there is no other logical explanation as to why he has contacts on another continent who hide deep enough in the underworld to help us. Very interesting.

"All right." Price gives his blessing to the proposed solution, and then immediately turns his determined attention back to our small team. "Until then, we'll wait." He shares our next step, and although I can feel that not everyone is filled with unclouded happiness by this development, he gets a nod of agreement from everyone, even from our mercenary comrades. "Let's rest. The last week has been busy." He adds in conclusion, now with a much softer tone, and the hoarseness of exhaustion settles in his voice, which he has been able to more or less successfully remove from himself so far.

As our two mercenaries take the opportunity without further comment and leave the scene of our meeting with comfortable steps, I have the opportunity to take a closer look at the face of our leader. And although for a fleeting moment, I still feel the scrutinizing gaze of the giant man on the middle of my back, I'm much more occupied by the very pale grayness that I now quite clearly discover appearing on the captain's skin. Up until now, it might have been the excitement of the trip that could divert my attention, but now I see the weariness dominating the features of the bearded Hunter, and in the semi-darkness surrounding the room, the circles under his eyes seem even darker. And as I shift my searching gaze to Garrick, I can make out the small gray veins running along his temple even from the cover of his cap, which can indicate only one thing. And after a quick calculation, my suspicion is confirmed, that I haven't been able to handle them with my clever little hands for weeks, and although they probably didn't have to use their ability extremely, stress can very effectively bring out exhaustion in them. Although my Scottish buddy and his masked bosom friend received a charge not so long ago, at the gate of our important little mission, a little boost won't hurt them either.

"By the way." I speak up suddenly, effectively drawing all eyes on me, and I take advantage of this to get around the table, strolling closer to Garrick, who looks the most worn out, and who only curiously raises one of his dark eyebrows, when I pull off the glove from one of my pretty little hands to hold it out towards him. "It would be time to regenerate you." I note, bringing a mixture of surprise and concern to the man's face.

"Won't it be a bit much?" He asks, his voice full of doubt, and I can't hold back the cheeky little smile that escapes my lips, because the way he peers at Price for help makes him look infinitely boyish. And I also know from this small confused gesture that it's only worry speaking, because there is no doubt that he doesn't want to strain my little body in the least by asking for my aid. But unfortunately, determination works much stronger in me than the dull grip of the slowly awakening hunger in my stomach, and I'm willing to go to painful ends if I can guarantee that the care with which they turn towards me won't disappear. And although this admission fills a part of me with the right amount of disgust and contempt, I just have to think about the fact they mean my safety, and I immediately manage to suppress these unwanted voices. Because thanks to the suffering of the two Healers, the motivation to feed my selfish desires with their attention lives much more vividly in my consciousness, as if I were pouring oil on an already insatiable fire.

"I'll survive it." I comment simply, and although I know that by charging four Hunters I will wake up the torturous hunger gnawing at my insides, this small nuisance seems bearable. Even knowing that it’s uncertain how I will get blood, because I'm sure, even if Price brought me a tasty treat, it won't alleviate my problems permanently. And I can only wildly hope that the power of the mouth-watering dinner given by Riley will last until I maybe manage to catch an unsuspecting fool in the colony to quench my thirst. But no matter how much these troubling thoughts arise in me, as Garrick's damp hand wraps around mine, and the first burst of my energy penetrates his body, then I feel the familiar pull of the demanding force, and I know I have made the right decision. Because my hunger is a negligible inconvenience, if I can guarantee they will be in top shape when it's needed most. Even if every single nerve in me cruelly warns me that this will have consequences.

⃰

The silence in the house echoes in my ears with painful loudness, and the creaking of the old floor under my boots screams in my skull in an almost ear-piercing way, as I drag my legs, which are growing heavier by the minute, toward the room assigned to me. I wasn't wrong in that the charging of my four companions would sufficiently flare up the well-known pangs of hunger twisting my insides, and although it doesn't besiege me nearly as strongly as last time, I feel that it's only a matter of time before the feverish agony hits me. And even though I don't regret for a minute that I was able to solve my team's problem, I have to get some food very soon, if I don't want to be the one who, weakened by hunger, hinders the mission. If I have a little luck, the captain has been kind enough to surprise me with a delicious morsel, which will be just enough to ease my suffering. And as soon as we wander into the colony, I make sure to catch some stupid criminal and refuel with nutrients, because I have a bad feeling in my mind that tells me that our deployment will take turns where it will come in handy if I'm in peak condition.

And as, lost inside the massive building, I finally reach the corridor on the floor where my temporary quarters rest, instead of being relieved, all my limbs fill with tension in a split second, because I discover someone who shouldn't be hiding here in the least. Because Price certainly planned it so that I would be given the one out of the dozen rooms which is farthest from our guests, in case they wanted to use my services. Although I don't think they would openly force me to regenerate them, in this dirty world even less deadly people are capable of horrible things, and it's even better to be careful with someone who can crush another's skull with their bare hands.

Certainly, he had already heard my steps when I was tramping up the rickety stairs, but now, as I approach him, König turns his head in my direction with leisurely calmness, and even this small movement is enough for caution to gain a foothold in my mind. I have already acknowledged the amazing size that genetics has blessed him with, but now, as he is surrounded by the faint light filtering through one of the broken windows, he looks more like a shapeshifting demon than a human being. And even though he's comfortably leaning his back against the worn wall, there's something quite unsettling about the way the fabric of his black uniform strains painfully on his arms, as his folded hands rest on his chest. Because he may seem perfectly harmless to an unsuspecting observer, but my paranoid mind warns that it's only an ephemeral illusion, and that an artificial peace resides in each and every inch of him. But I'm even more interested in why he's here, because I was sure that after our impromptu meeting, he and his friend went off to rest. And even if he has zero navigational skills, he couldn't have accidentally wandered in here, because their room is most definitely on the ground floor.

But no matter how much caution creeps into my limbs, I don't let any of it reach the surface, because it would be a mistake to show him the concerns he can arouse in me. I have just seen enough of his behavior to know that this operation is just as much about polishing his ego as material goods, and what could be a more tempting pastime for such a man, than to frighten a unique little thing like me. I saw the barely concealed fear in the eyes of his men during the mission, and it's quite easy to deduce from this what kind of respect the Hunter desires. The kind that makes the knees of the unfortunate person who stumbles in front of him tremble, and that makes him feel even more powerful. A pathetic but perfectly legitimate goal. After all, instilling fear is at least as effective a control strategy as gaining respect.

His bright eyes follow my every step with unbroken attention, as I walk closer, and from his gaze resting on me, I feel like a mistrustful small animal that approaches a larger predator in the hope that it will be merciful enough not to kill it. And although we are currently playing on the same team, nothing guarantees that this hunch of mine won't come true at some point in the not-so-distant future. Because, unfortunately, my observations and intuitions are very rarely wrong, and now every nerve fiber of mine screams that I'm dealing with a beast in the guise of a man who, if he could, would have wrapped his needle-sharp teeth around my throat a long time ago. And while in the case of Riley, I was sure that he rewarded me with his disdain for my not-so-appealing behavior, in the case of the hooded Hunter, I have no idea what could be causing this outstanding interest.

"Your team is unusual." He breaks the heavy silence that has settled between the desolate walls, and I just stop at a safe distance from him and raise one of my eyebrows curiously, because he starts the first direct conversation we have with a rather interesting remark. And with this one sentence, he succeeds in reminding me that the good life I experienced in the unit is a unique privilege, which normally my kind hardly ever gets. And while in most cases the Healers are kept away from all the nitty-gritty details of the actual deployments because they get more use out of them unharmed, it cannot be denied that the active role that my team so generously gifted me within the ranks of Unit 141 is quite unusual. And although I don't like the fact that he expresses his comments so freely, it's indisputable that as a stranger, and especially as a Hunter in a leading role, the dynamics of my team can be a real curiosity for him.

"If you think it's strange that I dare to speak in their company, then it really is." I answer with an unimpressed tone, trying with every cell to be able to keep my confidence. Although he still doesn't move from the wall, the way he stares at me with an almost abnormal immobility makes the goosebumps prickle on my back. As if every single muscle of his would be stuck in a deliberate frozen state, but my keen senses catch the tiny little movement as his fingers wrap a breath tighter around his biceps. And this simply gives the impression that he is forcing himself, against his nature, into a less threatening position than his instincts would like. Maybe my brain overthinks every little thing, but it's no coincidence that I honed my observational skills over the years. I see that something completely different lurks under the surface than what he lets on.

"This isn't common in many places." He states simply, but his remark doesn't throw me off in the slightest, because I'm also perfectly aware of this fact. That's why I'm so motivated to keep my place. "But Price seems to be a liberal leader." He notes almost only to himself, and his voice is full of fascination, as if he had just made a very profound statement. However, it bothers me much more, and it can suddenly turn my already sharpened mood into a more prickly one, when my clever little ears hear the breath of derision hidden in his tone. Others might not even notice it, or would attribute it to something completely insignificant, something that is not worth pointing out, but I have analyzed just enough people over the years to know that nothing is completely unconscious that is buried behind one's words.

And even I cannot explain the angry flame that kindles within me at the thought that this complete stranger is making such casual comments about the captain. Of course, I'm aware that Price is not an innocent virgin, nor a flawless saint who needs someone to protect his honor, but there is something viscerally infuriating about the way the hooded man turns to him with barely veiled criticism.

But, as the stagnant emptiness in my stomach tightens, I decide that I shouldn't engage in this conversation when my mind is dulled by the pull of hunger slowly coming to life. Nothing good will come of this irritation taking control of my brain, because I might say something that would give him a reason to leave behind his false peace and show what secret temper lies beneath the no less dangerous exterior.

"If you came here to provoke me, then don't waste your time." I sigh tiredly, and as the exhaustion screams in every corner of my body at the same time, I set off with renewed motivation towards the door, behind which the solitude awaits that I yearn for. "It won't work."  I add, not even sparing him a last look, my eyes strictly fixed on the worn wood that hides my shelter. And once again, I have to note that he didn't come here by chance, because out of the countless possibilities, he managed to settle down right before the entrance where I'm heading, with almost measured accuracy.

"I didn't mean to insult you." He says plainly, and it's quite disturbing that there is still no obvious emotion in his tone, which makes him seem much less human than my nervous system finds comfortable. His statement doesn't seem like a lie, but my impatience grows with each passing minute, because I can't figure out what the hell is going on here. I could think that he only wanted to forge closer unity between our teams, but then I would have to be much more naive. In that case, he wouldn't have waited to catch me alone and without any witnesses to see whatever he was planning in that mysterious mind of his.

"You want to befriend me, perhaps?" I inquire with a malicious little smile on my face, and the sarcasm that nestles in my voice stings even in my ears. And I know it's not the smartest idea to taunt a guy who can tear me to pieces with his hands, but that didn't stop me even when I was mouthing back to Riley. And my sharp little tongue won't go on vacation when the starved tension working inside me rages in my head. "How nice of you." I sprinkle at the end, considering the whole tense conversation as closed, because no matter what reason he strayed here for, I don't want to talk it out with him now, when we are all too alone. And even though carefree mockery shines from every cell in me, my hands wrap around the doorknob too quickly when I finally arrive before my room. Because he may still not move from the place he has occupied until now, but the threatening aura that emanates from him like some uncontrollable, poisonous gas almost gnaws at my skin.

But before I have the chance to finally disappear into my little cave, so that I can finally be left alone with the suffering clinging to my insides with its nails, the floor behind me creaks and my fingers freeze on the metal as suddenly as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water in my neck. And for a suffocating moment, everything is shrouded in quietness, and there is such a silence between us that the crackling screams of the old house travel through the walls like an ominous melody.

"I liked what you did in the interrogation room." He utters, and it takes me a second to understand what kind of compliment he gave me due to the stress and the agony of the spasm that is slowly closing my intestines in an iron fist. And when the recognition penetrates my brain and I decode his words, I turn back to him with complete confusion, looking up at him with such shocked astonishment on my face that almost certainly paints a cartoon-like shock on my features. Because suddenly I can't find any logical explanation for how the thread of the conversation has led us to this point, and I can't discover any answers as to why he feels so comfortable around me that he can point this out to me so freely. What the hell?

"Excuse me?" The startled question breaks out of me, and I'm unable to hold back the surprise creeping into my voice, doubting for a fleeting moment whether I heard what he said correctly. But as soon as my eyes meet his, and I discover a glimmer resembling admiration in them, I’m completely dumbfounded. Because under other circumstances, my twisted little soul might even be touched by this unusual recognition, but I know all too well who is standing in front of me. And that makes the unexpected turn the situation took seem even more surreal.

"The bloodlust in your eyes was beautiful." He continues his grotesque praise, almost undisturbed, and as he takes a step towards me, I need the combined work of all my nerves in order not to back away from him, because the distrust drills itself into my brain that if I turn my back on him again, it will end very badly. Because I suddenly sense very well how unbelievably huge this man is, and as my troubled eyes reflexively run over him, I become painfully aware that if he attacks me, I won't be able to defend myself. "I doubt your friends could truly appreciate it." He claims, and now some deliberate malice creeps into his voice, which he doesn't even try to hide, thus clearly showing that he has been holding back his real thoughts until now very willingly.

But when my body breaks out of the paralyzed shock, and I get over the fact that he could crush all my bones to dust with a strong hug, then I finally have the brain capacity to understand what he shared with me so carelessly. And from this simple sentence, the alarm disappears from my mind, because it suddenly makes sense why he honored me with his presence. And as my mind realizes that this little discourse is about nothing but the rivalry that has existed since the very first moment our team met, then my little soul calms down in the blink of an eye, because no matter how terrifying the man may seem, according to this, he is driven by just as fallible and transparent motives like everyone else. And although it's very difficult for me to maintain my indifference due to the intrusion of hunger in my stomach, now that I know why he is so persistently interested in me, the doubt of the unknown disappears from my mind.

"Interesting deduction. But I'm afraid I don't care." I respond with utter disinterest, and as the line of a sardonic smile stretches across my lips, I see the first bewildered wrinkles appear around the skin covered with dark paint. And it's painfully obvious that he didn't expect this reaction, but believed that such a big and strong Hunter's kind approach would make me fall at his feet from the pleasure. But he is seriously mistaken if he thinks it's so pathetically easy to sweep me off my feet.

"You’re wasting your talent with them." He laments, and if I were a little more stupid, I would really believe the sympathy in his voice to be authentic, but even if he hadn't blown his disguise so irresponsibly, I would still see through his benevolence. Because I can tell when someone tries to manipulate me, especially if said someone does it half as skillfully as it would take to be a successful strategy against me.

And at other times, I might want to play with him verbally and continue this complicated moment, but when my stomach convulses with the pain tearing into me, then all my patience evaporates like the last sip of water in the desert. Every single one of my nerve cells is stretched to the point of breaking, and this straining ache makes my body braver than it should be, because the sooner I put an end to this extremely bizarre situation, the sooner I can collapse into my bed to finally rest a little in the embrace of the slow ache that spreads to every fiber of me. I quickly cross the distance of a few steps that are remaining between us, and my hand shoots out towards him with the speed of a venomous snake. It seems that he didn't expect my attack, because before he could react, my fingers close around the fabric covering his face, and as I pull him down to me with a movement that is perhaps more forceful than necessary, he obediently leans down to me, stumbling towards me, and I see genuine shock in his eyes.

"It's unnecessary to try to flatter me." I murmur with deceptive kindness, and it seems that I managed to stun him so much with my unexpected act that he even forgets to protest, because he almost dazedly lets me intrude into his personal space to finally have stare off with him without him towering over me. And although it seems that his spine bends in rather uncomfortable positions in order for me to do this, it only makes the contemptuous grin on my face grow wider. "I know this is all about measuring who's dick is bigger. They have something that you don't and it hurts your ego. It's sad, but you'll have to live with it." I curve my mouth downward pitifully, savoring every single emotion that flashes through his eyes. But as soon as I see one of the gloved hands moving in my periphery, I let go of his hood with nonchalant ease and dance away from him in order to return to my door and open it again. "I recommend that you focus more on the mission. A lot of credit is at stake, isn't it?" I throw my last words at him from the threshold, and as I enter the embrace of the darkness of the small room, I have one last chance to catch his gaze stopping on me as he straightens up, and I'm almost relieved when I'm hidden by the thick wood.

Because even though it was only for a few seconds, I saw something very dangerous flash in those bright eyes, and the warning voice waking up in my brain tells me that this is exactly how the predator stares at its slowly cornered prey. With curious hunger. And that makes me realize, even despite the pain that is slowly squeezing my stomach, that I have crossed an invisible border, which sooner or later will bring the trouble that I so enthusiastically sought out for myself. Wonderful.

[multifandomexpialidocious]

The subtext of hunger, agriculture, food crisis vis-a-vis scapegoating and “othering” in Wicked

I just watched the WICKED movie the other day. This is my second night after having watched that movie. I’ve read the book, watched the musical, and now, watched the movie. I am writing this immediately after I woke up after lucid dreaming, some themes and commentary hiding in plain sight having been made clear in my dream.

So.

Oz is a highly agricultural land. From the depiction of a largely agrarian society in Munchkinland to the triggering events that shape its society, this much is clear.

Right off the bat, in the movie, Dr. Dillamond attributes the scapegoating of the Animals to the Great Drought, where the people, hungry and frustrated, wanted someone to blame. (As a side note, I am curious whether Madame Morrible is alive and already competent a sorceress during those times. I am don’t remember the dates, but come Oz suffers from Great Drought when there’s a weather-manipulating sorceress in the picture? This to me is suspicious in the same way Morrible’s hand in Nessa’s demise is, or will be.)

This already sets the precedent of the public consciousness being pliable to “other” sectors of society and deprive them of their rights, if it meant being able to get-over a real but complex societal problem like poverty and hunger. Sounds like Nazi Germany and today’s current climate, right? It does. The propensity for fascism exists within Oz’s culture.

Now this part may sound like a stretch, but I argue that there is subconscious reason why they sprang out of the creators’ imagination.

I’m not gonna talk about witches and their significance as an historically oppressed group and the metaphor of a witch as society’s constant attempts to snuff out women empowerment. Y’all already know that.

Obviously, the solution to a drought is water. And I cant help but remember how water is significant in the story. In the classical tale, Dorothy melts the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle by throwing a bucket of water at her. In the books, Elphaba is deathly allergic to water. This is not the case in the musical and movie, but she does take advantage of that ridiculous rumor and a bucket of water gets thrown at her. In the movie, and as I’ve seen many point out, during Elphaba’s iconic scene, storm clouds punctuate her rise to power. But Elphaba isn’t known to manipulate the weather. You know who is? Madame Morrible. Storm clouds and thunder are gather to literally make Elphaba appear villainous, fearsome, and menacing. Spoilers, but, Elphaba wasn’t able to see her political aspirations bear fruit. Going back to the drought imagery, Elphaba, a symbol of otherness herself exists as a figure that seeks to correct the undue scapegoating and political disenfranchisement that people chose to wrongfully resort to. They may wreathe her in stormclouds all they want, but as force of nature herself, her moral stance in all these injustice, her advocacy, is correct and righteous. She and everything she stands for water to the Ozian’s moral drought: clear, purifying, quenching. A path to wash away the sins of society and clean its conscience anew.

The resulting “othering”, scapegoating, and disenfranchisement of the Animals, of Elphaba, were not mere reactions to a harrowing social ill. The Great Drought and its direct effects (poverty and hunger) and the trauma it entrenched in collective Ozian consciousness were taken advantage of by political figures. Leaders people looked up to but were unable to solve the problem. So instead of taking accountability, they chose to shift it on others instead, employing propaganda. The “greenness” of Emerald City is an illusion of the Wizard, the phony spectacles masking the glaring inequality in its metropolitan affluence as opposed to the more agricultural provinces and distracting from holding leaders responsible to effect true and direct solutions. After all, if there were no problems, who would the people look up to? It is all a fake. This “greenness” is a fake to Elphaba’s real. It’s a “greenness” that co-opts and imposes conformity, calling one to willful blindness and perpetuating that same culture of division and disenfranchisement. A “greenness” that is not the same as and inevitably clashes with Elphaba’s own: a greenness forged by the same “othering”, stigma, and disenfranchisement but with a sense of self and a sense of justice to effect social change that would end the cycle.

[zarasaurus-studios]

Hohoho you're gonna hate me for this

Hunter holding a dying flapjack in his hands as he slowly fades to dust or light (whichever you prefer).

I woke up today and chose pain thanks to a good omens post I saw :))

hello!! I too am suffering from good omens brainrot

Here’s your Hunter sketch!! The worst part of flapjack’s death for me was that they never got to say a proper goodbye :’)

I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are! <3

[domquixotedospobresblog]

She had an incredible love for listening to stories. She couldn't watch someone telling something from the past without immediately placing herself at a distance where she could close her eyes and travel with such stories. She had daydreams of living everyone's stories. She saw herself in the role of a man, a woman, objects or animals. While she listened, she would think about which character she fit best, even if it was a simple pen on a table, the one that would ultimately serve to open a lock, penetrate the heart of a villain or write an apology for the mishaps in a love story. When I met her, I knew everything she liked, and also this strange mania that she kept in her soul, being a different person or something every day. I tried to write so much and improvise too, just so that at night I could see her with her eyes closed, calm and lying next to me after we made love. I wanted her to get caught up in her thoughts in my mind-blowing stories of countless genres. After ten years, three thousand six hundred and fifty-six stories later, it is in this last one that she finally is. the protagonist without having to imagine being inside her, this is the true story of my little actress, five feet six inches tall, with long red hair, emerald green eyes and hundreds, maybe thousands of freckles all over her body, a soft voice and a smile so calm that it seemed like a flower bud blossoming in slow motion, it wasn't the perfect ending to a story that young women in love like to hear, but that's how she left, all because I decided to tell the story of a young woman in love who, after suffering so much, went to bed and never woke up again, she chose to be this character and as soon as she closed her eyes she went so deep into it that she would never open them again, she left right there in front of me, and I was smiling because I thought I was just watching her sleep, today my mania for telling stories also ends, my main actress left with this full stop.

Jonas r Cezar

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 13: Team as Family

I've got a little La Squadra everyone lives fic for today's @whumptober prompt :')

Prompt: Team as family, multiple whumpees, 'death will do us part' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Risotto & La Squadra

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

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In the After

Risotto wakes up after nearly dying on Sardinia and realizes his team has been reunited and given a second chance by the new don (everyone lives au)

~~~~~~

When Risotto woke after his fight against the Boss on Sardinia, he wondered at the fact he had woken at all.

And part of him wished he hadn’t.

He had never felt so tired in his entire life. The fact that he had failed weighed on him. Despite his drive for revenge, leaving what was left of his team in critical condition to follow Bucciarati’s team to Sardinia had been one of the hardest things he had ever done and to then fail…

He still didn’t know what state Passione was in. The fact he wasn’t dead made him suspect that Bucciarati and his team had come out on top of the fight against the Boss, but he still didn’t know what that meant for him.

He didn’t even know if he had anyone left in this world.

He had tried to ask after his team when a nurse came to check on him, but she hadn’t seemed to know who he was talking about. And truthfully, it was stupid to ask. He was probably in some hospital on Sardinia, wasn’t he? Even if the others were alive they wouldn’t be here.

But Risotto could barely stand to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. His entire body ached despite the copious amounts of morphine. He was riddled with bullet holes.

He shouldn’t be alive.

That was the only thing Risotto could think the entire time.

Why was he here?

That was the most perplexing thing, because who had found him in time to save his life and get him to a hospital? It was frustrating and he wasn’t sure that he had even wanted to be saved. He had gone after the Boss for revenge and he had failed in that. Failed his entire team. It was the last thing he’d had to give them, to make up for all the tragedy they had suffered and now all of that just seemed so empty.

Risotto drifted, never having felt so helpless in his life. He felt like he had been cut loose at sea, at the mercy of winds stronger than him. But then, nothing had really changed in that regard, had it?

He didn’t know how many days he had been there before the nurse came in to tell him he had a visitor.

Risotto felt a sudden panic at his helplessness. He didn’t truly have faith that it was one of his team, as much as he wished that to be the case, so the only other option was the Boss or one of his men come to finish him off.

It was neither though, to Risotto’s surprise. He watched the door cautiously, trying to figure out if he could summon Metallica with the morphine in his system as his visitor entered.

It was the blond teenager, Bucciarati’s new recruit. Giorno? Was that his name? He was dressed in a black and green suit, overcoat hung casually over his shoulders as he approached the bed with a neutral expression.

“Risotto Nero, we finally meet face to face.”

Risotto glowered up at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Giorno didn’t really look phased and Risotto kind of respected him for that. Not that he made a particularly threatening picture in his current state.

“I came to offer you a deal, Signore Nero. An opportunity to swear your loyalty to me and start afresh.”

Risotto blinked, genuinely confused before it dawned on him. “You actually killed the bastard, didn’t you.”

Giorno nodded. “Diavolo, the former Boss of Passione is dead, or, well, he won’t be coming back.” Risotto didn’t want to ask what that meant. “I have taken over the position now.”

Risotto’s head was whirling with all of this information.

“You want me to swear my loyalty to you?”

“If you wish to stay in Passione, yes,” Giorno replied with a firm nod. “But if you wish to leave and live a different life, it is your choice. If you chose to be my enemy, then just know that I will be rid of you in the same way I got rid of the Boss—There are worse things than death, Risotto Nero.”

There was a ripple of Stand aura around the teen and a figure briefly showed itself at his shoulder. Risotto felt an unbidden shudder run through him.

He let out a long breath. “If I am to swear loyalty to you, then I want to discuss terms first.”

Giorno smiled. “I would encourage it.” He pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. “Okay then, Signore Nero, let’s talk terms.”

***

The mansion was…huge. Risotto couldn’t help but stand there, looking at it in shock long after the cab had dropped him off at this place that was supposedly his new residence.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. He couldn’t quite believe how Giorno Giovanna had done this instead of executing him. But after a long discussion about what would and wouldn’t be allowed in the new Passione, they had come to an agreement and Risotto had kissed the new Don’s ring, swearing his fealty. Giorno had healed his wounds before leaving and gave him a plane ticket back to Napoli the next day where he had been greeted by a driver who had taken him here.

Risotto finally gathered himself and walked up to the door, opening it slowly.

He had never thought to live in a place so opulent, his old flat and team headquarters had been the best he’d ever had but he had always longed to provide a place for all of his team to stay. A place where they could be secure between paychecks, and now that he finally had that he was missing his team. He had asked Giorno before he’d left, but the teenage Don hadn’t known where his team members were. He did say he would look into it, but Risotto hadn’t heard anything from him yet, and considering the conditions he had left them in…

Risotto had always known life was cruel, but the blow that he would live, that he would be given this, while he had no idea about the whereabouts or conditions of his team…it seemed like one final cruelty. A second chance that hadn’t forgotten his past sins.

He dropped his bag, just standing there, suddenly so weary. His eyes slid shut and his head drooped down between his shoulders.

“Risotto?!”

His head snapped up at the sound of a footstep and his eyes widened as he saw Melone hurrying into the foyer.

“Melone…”

“Hey, you’re here!”

Risotto turned to see Formaggio and Ghiaccio entering from the other side of the room. They were both limping and had visible bandages but they were alive. Alive was all Risotto had ever asked for.

“You took your time getting here,” Ghiaccio said, but there was less of a bite than usual in his voice.

“Be nice, he just got out of the hospital,” Illuso said as he exited a mirror on one of the walls, his eyes shining with relief to see his boss. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Big bro, look! Risotto’s back!”

Risotto glanced over to see Pesci and Prosciutto entering the room too. Prosciutto was leaning on a cane, face dark, but there was obvious relief in his eyes.

Risotto couldn’t speak. He wasn’t even sure if any of this was real.

Melone stepped forward. “Riz? Are you all right—oof.”

Risotto simply reached out, grabbing Melone and Illuso who were the closest and yanking them in tight toward him. He then reached for Formaggio and Ghiaccio, pulling them close as well. Ghiaccio grunted in protest but didn’t try to pull away. Risotto then grabbed Prosciutto by the front of his shirt and yanked him and Pesci into the mix as well.

He sank slowly to the floor, attempting to hold his entire team at once. They were all a tangle of arms, clutching each other close. He let out a shuddering breath and finally realized there was wetness on his cheeks. He was actually crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried.

“Risotto, are you all right?” Pesci asked in concern.

Risotto only pulled him in tighter. “You’re all alive,” he croaked.

“Yeah, we’re alright,” Formaggio told him. “The new kid—er—Don Giovanna; he fixed us all up.”

Gratitude of a variety Risotto had never felt nor thought possible for another human being washed over him. He realized for the first time that he had done right by swearing his loyalty to Giorno. The fact that he had been gracious enough to heal the men who had tried to kill him and his teammates spoke volumes about the new Don.

He scrubbed at his face, and someone pressed a handkerchief into his hand. His team, his family stayed there holding each other for a long moment, all of them likely reveling in the fact that they were all alive.

He finally pulled himself together though and stood, everyone helping each other to their feet with their various injuries.

“I guess we’re back on the job then,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah with these new fancy digs!” Formaggio said with a grin.

Prosciutto snorted. “Yes, well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to have wild parties. This house belongs to all of us and I expect you to respect that.”

“Sure, mom,” Formaggio said with a good-natured jab.

Risotto felt his mouth stretch in a smile. It was an unpracticed movement, but he had a feeling it was going to be more common now.

“This is a new start for all of us. I expect you to make the most of it.”

“Yes boss,” the others replied, smiling back.

And surrounded by his family, Risotto thought that this was the first moment he had ever felt anything close to peace.

[the-kingshound]

you woke up and chose angst today I see (brb tearing up at work just thinking of Arthur angst now)

Arthur is obligated to suffer a bit of angst once in a while...

[finniestoncrane]

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 29: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2k this man can fit so much angst and self-loathing in the guise of egotism in him 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst and pining

It was almost noon by the time you woke up. Everything felt more casual now. Like you’d passed a point in your relationship with Eddie, if that’s what you could call it. Perhaps a better term was arrangement. But either way, it felt like you could be yourself a bit more, stand up for yourself. If you wanted to take the morning to catch up on sleep, then you would. What was Eddie going to do? Dislike you more? Insult you more? Maybe he’d apologise again like he did the other day.

As you remembered that moment, you replayed it in your head. Had he meant it as a genuine apology? A statement of regret, for how he had made you feel. Or for how he had made you react to his words. Was he sorry that you had gotten angry with him? Uttering the word in confusion and shock at your sudden ability to speak up. Or was he simply excusing himself? He left the room immediately once he had uttered that one word, so there was every chance that he was just making a polite exit from a situation he either no longer wanted to be in or felt he was above, or both.

Stepping out of your room, you entered the living space, shocked to find Eddie sitting at the table with his breakfast. Obviously, in your absence, he would have had to prepare his meals for himself. He did it all the time before he knew you, so it wasn’t entirely ridiculous to assume he could do it himself, but it felt like you had been replaced, almost. That one of the few things you could, or did, do for him was no longer needed. Trying to avoid any awkward or confrontational conversations, you poured yourself a coffee and sat down at the table across from him.

“I’ll make lunch today.”

“Yes. That would be a good idea.”

He didn’t look at you, he didn’t even look up, and you couldn’t contain your irritation with his flippant attitude.

“You know, you could just say thank you.”

“For what? The bare minimum? You haven’t even done it yet, why should I thank you in advance for something you might forget to do, or make a disaster of.”

Slamming the coffee mug on the table with, liquid spilling over the edges at the upset, you leaned back in your chair with your arms now folded.

“I could just as easily leave again, Eddie.”

You watched him continue eating after the briefest of pauses, where he might have been considering a retort, or a snide come back, but chose to sit in silence instead. Sipping at your coffee, you stole glances at him, waiting to see if he would decide to speak, if he would apologise again. It was a one-off, though, you assumed. Or at least resigned yourself to believing. Until he placed his fork down, wiped his mouth on his forearm, and finally decided to speak.

“I have always been the smartest man in the room. Forced to endure the suspicions and mockery of those whose meagre mental facilities prohibited them from appreciating that fact. It has not been easy, to suffer fools. And I don’t suffer fools gladly. But then, you appear, dressing up your cognitive abilities, marginally superior as they are to that of the average hoodlum, in the guise of admiration. Although, I realise now, that it isn’t just a guise. You are… patient. Tolerant of my… less admirable qualities. And for that I…”

Eddie swallowed hard, sighing as he gritted his teeth to get through the next part of the sentence, unavoidable as it was if he wanted to at least attempt to see himself gain even a tiny iota of what he assumed was going to be genuine happiness.

“… I am thankful. And I am sorry.”

Knowing that it wasn’t the moment to push or to prod, or to try and get anything else out of him, you forced a gentle smile on your face.

“Thank you, Eddie. I appreciate that. And I’m proud of you for… trying to be a bit more…”

“Kind. Nice. Human?”

“Well, you said it.”

He offered you a smile back, oddly self-effacing, toned down and genuine. Warmth behind it that you hadn’t really seen before. He appreciated being praised, clearly. Almost as much as he loved being complimented. So you decided to keep stroking the ego in the hopes that you could nurture this fresh, and perhaps feral, ability within him.

“You’re really a wonderful person to work for, Eddie. As difficult as it can be, sometimes, I do appreciate the opportunity to see how your brain… functions, how it creates.”

“And it’s only difficult sometimes? My dear, you and I both know that’s an understatement.”

It felt like a trap. Eddie had never been this down to earth, this open about his own nature and often problematic personality. Agreeing with him felt like it might be suicidal, but it might also open up a dialogue of honesty and vulnerability. The opportunity to joke, to critique, to be equals. So you took the risk.

“Maybe, but I like you enough that I’m willing to overlook the more challenging aspects of your… general being.”

With bated breath you waited to be cursed out, for the newly built bridge between you to fall apart, the dynamite stuck to it’s fragile and trembling beams to be detonated, to watch it collapse as quickly as it was constructed. But he let out of a soft chuckle and leaned back in his seat, picking up the newspaper from the table and reading it with a smile. It was casual. It was… normal.

And it killed Eddie to be normal. Everything in him fought against the desire to tell you he was not difficult, despite knowing very well that he was. But he had been reasoning with himself, while you were gone, since you came back, even when you had been with him in the first place, that allowing himself to be normal would be the only way he could see a future with you, in any capacity. It made him feel nauseous, to consider that he wanted a future, even one where you remained as his obedient assistant let alone anything else, but that feeling of dread was good. It might mean he was doing the right thing, for a change.

Each day, each moment it seemed, he was closer to letting the softer side of him win. And every day he woke up, he was hoping it would. In the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul, there was something growing. Something that longed to be adored, and to be deserving of that adoration. Not to win it through aggression, or cruelty, or his intelligence. But through offering it back in equal measure. True. Equal. Vulnerable.

He was pulled from the thoughts by your sudden interruption, speaking again as you tried to see how far the line had been moved, toeing it, testing the waters.

“It is a shame what a pain you are, Eddie. You have the potential to be very sweet, and you are handsome. You could easily have conned someone into marriage and then they’d be sort of contractually obliged to look after you.”

“Much like you are?”

The curt, almost factual way he insinuated the dynamic between you shocked you into a stunned silence, and all you could do was look at him, stupefied, mouth open in half-shock, half-amusement at the way he had so casually implied your unspoken marriage. In the face of the ridiculousness, he stammered at an explanation.

“I mean… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the implications when I suggested… or implied… insinuated? When I said that. I… n-not that it would be wrong, I mean you would do well as a… for someone else, although, I mean I wouldn’t want you to because then you’d spend less time with me, uh, for me. Although! You’re allowed to spend time with other people it’s not… it’s not like we’re in a relationship. We, uh, have a relationship of course, not a… which I would like, or… no… wouldn’t mind. But I would date you first not just… I’m not asking you… just explaining that it… you know what I mean? I mean… I don’t know what I mean. I am talking a lot. Big, bulging, genius brain and it can’t figure out when to stop talking to feel free to step in at any point and do your job, save me from- ”

As was now your standard, you interrupted him by placing your palm softly against his cheek. It silenced him, caught him breathless. A motion so tender, unlike most other times people had reached their hand towards his face. But, interestingly at least to him, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t expect you to react violently. He trusted you in close quarters. It felt so natural, so warming, that he didn’t even realise he was instinctively leaning in towards you, closing the gap, until he snapped back to the real world and pulled away.

“Ok, well… thank you. That’ll do it.”

As you dropped your hand to the table with a smile, he was quick to place his on top of it, watching it with a confused look, as though he weren’t in control of it. As if his body had decided to bypass his brain and start making decisions for itself, taking what it wanted. Touch. Comfort. But there was no silencing his mind, always there to assert its dominance over his heart and soul. So he snatched his arm back and placed it under the table, scowling before shifting his face to a more calm and neutral expression, not wanting to seem angry when he spoke to you.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t do that. For the sake of… the feelings involved. It might be simpler to focus on returning to our working relationship, especially so soon after your return.”

With a heavy heart, you couldn’t help but agree with him, but it stung nevertheless.

“I do agree that it was a bit awkward, before. But does that mean we just live with the tension now? We ignore it? Until it swells up again? Is that what you want?”

With a defeated smile, forced onto his face to keep the mood as light as possible, Eddie looked int your eyes, longer and deeper than he had ever done before.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how I feel. And that is terrifying, because I know everything. The only thing I am certain of is that my ego would be satisfactorily bruised if I get something wrong. Getting it wrong would be admitting there’s something I can’t do. So I would rather not… know. I’d rather have nothing than risk being disappointed… or… disappointing… anyone else.”

You reached to grab his hand, but corrected yourself. You wanted to comfort him, to congratulate him. This was enough, this was all you needed at that moment. The fact that he had opened up, told you his feelings, confessed to his fears. It was plenty to live on. It gave you hope. And he seemed to appreciate your restraint, taking what he needed from your comforting smile at least for now. The day could begin. It would be like normal. You’d make lunch. He’d tut when you hummed and distracted him from his work. You would eat dinner and go to your separate rooms. It would be the same as always, until he was ready to find more. Or to go after it.

But as he watched you stand up, he felt a painful pang of regret in his stomach. How long could he really wait? He’d spent so much time already trying to figure out the correct answer. It might be possible that there was no definitive solution here. A risk might be the only option.

[glitterslittleuniverse]

Moment: Lucky

Sunnie woke up from her nap, nose blocked and throat sore. She rubbed her eyes letting them adjust to the early afternoon sunlight filling the room. She was about to call for one of the girls to come and close the curtains when she remembered that her members were out today. Just her luck getting sick on their day off, the other members all have plans and she’s stuck at home suffering alone. 

She tried to get comfortable again when she heard someone coming in the front door. Assuming it was one of the girls she shares the apartment with, she let it be and decided to sleep some more. 

She was about to drift off again when suddenly sounds of clutter came from the kitchen. Curiosity got the better of her and she slipped out of bed sleepily to see what was going on. Pulling her blanket around herself tightly she made her way to the kitchen. To her surprise she didn’t find one of the girls there, instead there was a man. A man she knew very well, who had set up his hot pot and was getting ingredients ready.

“Junnie Oppa?” Her voice came out quiet and scratchy thanks to her sore throat but it got the older man’s attention, his head whipping in her direction.

“Oh Seonie, did I wake you up. I’m really sorry.” 

“It's okay Oppa, I wasn’t sleeping.” She said shacking her head. “But why are you here? Didn't you have plans with Chenle today?” 

“We met earlier.” He explained as he turned to gather the last of his ingredients. “But I told him I’ll have to go early.” 

“Why?” She questioned him, her sick brain unable to make sense of his words.

“Because my little sister is sick and there’s no one here to look after her.” 

His words caused a small smile to form on her lips and a warm feeling filled her chest, but still she couldn’t help but feel guilty for making him leave early from his plans with his friend. 

“You didn’t have to came all the way here Oppa.” She said watching him look for a knife in the kitchen draws. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, sending her a glance and a small smile. “I live two floors above you. I don’t have to come far.” 

“I know, I just meant that you...” 

She was cut off by a sudden coughing fit. She covered her mouth with her blanket. Jun quickly reached out to rub her back, hoping to sooth her.

“Even when you’re sick you still talk a lot.” He laughed softly as he brought his hand to her forehead to check her temperature. “Did you take medicine?”

“Yes.” Sunnie replied. “Seungkwan already called to nag me about it. Twice.” 

Laughing again at her statement, Jun put an arm around her shoulder to lead her out the kitchen.  

"You go rest while I make you a nice warm hot pot, okay. I'm sure it will make you feel a lot better."

"That sounds really nice, thank you Oppa."

"Anytime, Seohyunie."

Deciding not to go far, Sunnie chose to lay down on the couch in the living room. Getting comfortable, she listened to Jun's soft hums from the kitchen. She soon drifted off to sleep, already feeling a bit better and so lucky that Jun was here.

[springdandelixn]

Cake

Summary: Your plan to bake Loki a cake on his special day backfires.

Warnings: mature themes implied, coercion, manipulation.

Characters: Dark!Loki x Reader

A/N: Made a very quick drabble for Loki’s birthday. May be sloppy.

As always, even if this is simply a drabble, your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs would be amazing. Happy Birthday to the one and only God of Mischief and hopefully, you guys enjoy! 💚 

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

It’s his birthday today and you woke up early, thinking of baking him a cake and hoping that such a gesture would please him, that he would at least give you a smile for your thoughtfulness. But such desire is tamped down when you look up at Loki from the mixing bowl and see the disappointment on his face. 

“And goodness, you look filthy.” He adds. “What are you even doing?” 

“I-I wanted to bake you cake.” You mutter, eyes cast down on the bowl with green icing.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t order one from the place I told you last night?” His voice is tight, making your spine shiver in fear as the thought that you’ve angered him runs through your mind.

You shake your head. “I-I thought y-you’d be happy if I made you o-one m-myself.” Your voice stutters, your grip on the whisk tightening. 

“You thought wrong.” Loki sneers and you visibly flinch when you see him dip a finger in the bowl, taking a small whip of the icing, looking up to watch him slip it between his lips and taste it. 

You hear him hum and it slowly ignites a flicker of hope within you but all at once his face slants, spitting the confectioner into the sink. 

“And you expect to feed my family with this—this filth?”

Tears begin brimming in your eyes and you try to hold them back as hard as you can. You won’t cry in front of him. Not again. Especially after knowing how much he enjoys seeing you suffer, and how much he basks in the grip he has on you. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble and make to throw the icing in the bin.

A sigh of exasperation leaves his lips, and you quickly wipe away the tear that escapes before dumping the dirtied bowl in the sink. 

“You can make up for it by doing as you are told.” He bites, inhaling sharply when he grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. “I’m tired of putting up with all your nonsense. I could have chosen anyone yet I chose you. At least show me that I don’t regret such a decision.” You whimper when he pinches your chin hard, your hand reaches up to grab his wrist as you try to stop him.

“Loki—you’re hurting me,” You cry and stumble backward when he shoves you from his grasp.

“Order the cake.” He commands. “And get dressed. That green one I like.” He runs his hands down the lapels of his black suit and stares down at you, green eyes glinting with mischief. “And don’t forget; no panties. This party is going to be such a drab and I want to be able to relieve myself when I can.” He smirks before taking a step forward and pressing a light kiss against your forehead. “Am I understood?”

You swallow thickly. “Yes, sir.”

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