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criticallyinneedofadar · 15 days ago

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Across Time (5)

A/N: I will be using Joseph and Sam's faces interchangeably throughout this series because I love them both and I refuse to choose.

Pairing: Adar x Former Elf! Reader

Warnings: Brief skirmish

Word Count: 2.6K

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The barn is damp and filled with the scent of rotting hay. Faint sunlight filters through the slats in the wooden walls, casting thin lines of light across the dirt floor. You sit in the shadows, wrists bound with a crude iron chain affixed to a post behind you. You've already inspected the lock; it’s a simple mechanism, poorly made. Given a few quiet moments, you could unfasten it without effort. But for now, you sit still, conserving your strength, waiting, letting your thoughts drift to what comes next.

Footsteps approach from outside, echoing heavily against the ground. The barn door creaks open, spilling light into the dim space. You press further into the shadows, watching as two figures enter. One of them you recognize immediately—Arondir, his presence careful and watchful. The other…

Your heart stutters, recognition hitting you like a blade. It’s him.

His figure is thinner, face worn and gaunt, yet there’s no mistaking him. His eyes, sharp and dark, sweep over the barn, restless and haunted. And then he sees you.

Eruviel—alive—stills, his expression shifting in an instant. Shock, disbelief, and something raw flash across his face, piercing through the years that have separated you. For a moment, he’s as you remember him, the weight of his gaze pulling you back to days when his name still carried something of himself, and the darkness had not yet completely taken him.

Arondir, unaware of your shared history, leads him further inside, forcing him to sit a few paces away, against a wall opposite you. Eruviel’s eyes never leave you, searching your face with an intensity that strips away every protective layer you’ve built over centuries.

Arondir secures his hands to a ring in the wall, his voice practical and indifferent as he directs his words to Eruviel. “You’ll wait here until we figure out what to do with you both.”

With a wary glance between the two of you, Arondir steps back, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in the heavy, unbroken silence.

You try to look away, to ignore the familiar burn of his presence, but it’s impossible. Finally, you speak, your voice low and guarded, bitterness slipping through.

“So, it’s true. You’re still alive. I thought I’d left every trace of Angband behind.”

He leans forward, the faint clink of his chains filling the silence. “If I’m a ghost, then so are you.”

His words cut deeper than you expected, dragging old wounds to the surface. You offer him a smile, dark and edged with irony. “Maybe I am. But I’ve heard stories—whispers of a strange leader gathering Uruks. I thought they were just that—stories.”

“And I thought the same of you.” His tone softens, almost reverent but with an edge that’s hard to miss. “After Angband, I searched. For years. Then I thought… you must be dead.”

The truth of it fills the space between you, the weight of time and grief settling heavily, draped over you both like the dust in the air. You want to feel anger, the sharp sting of hatred, anything that can guard you from the warmth flooding back to the surface at seeing him here, as real as your own scars.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, fighting to keep your voice steady. “To be some shepherd to the Uruks?”

The hardness in his gaze flickers, but beneath it, his eyes are shadowed, holding a depth of pain that catches you off guard. “I am all they have,” he says, voice barely a murmur. “Just as you once were for me.”

You clench your hands tighter around the chains, needing the cold iron to keep you steady. “And you abandoned it. Abandoned me.”

“I didn’t abandon you!” His voice is sharp, rising like a whip crack, before softening, barely more than a whisper. “They dragged me from Angband. I didn’t want to leave.”

The anger you’ve buried roars to life. “But you did leave. You left, and you took everything with you.”

He leans forward, closer, the chain between his hands taut, and the weight of his gaze pierces through your defenses. “Then why are you here, chasing shadows of Angband? If you truly left, if you no longer cared?”

You glance down, forcing your fingers to relax against the cold iron. The question lingers in the air, pressing against you with an intensity you don’t want to name. His gaze is relentless, searching your face, and there’s a strange desperation in his eyes that mirrors something you’ve tried to bury deep within yourself.

“What are you truly doing here?” he asks again, softer this time, almost gentle. The way he speaks catches you off guard, making it harder to hide.

For a split second, the truth hovers on the edge of your lips. You want to say that you’re searching for anyone who understands what it’s like to be torn from the shadows, to live with a past that gnaws at you from within. Someone who knows what it is to be both freed and bound by darkness. But those words would expose a part of yourself you’ve long since walled off.

Instead, you straighten, meeting his gaze with a defiance you don’t entirely feel. “I’m following rumors. There’s something out there, an echo of what was. That’s why I’m here,” you lie, the words tasting hollow even as they leave your mouth.

He watches you closely, the shadow of disappointment flickering across his face, but he doesn’t push further. Perhaps he knows that whatever you’re hiding is as much for his protection as it is for your own. And in the quiet that stretches between you, you sense that he understands, even without the words.

Eruviel leans back, the tension in his posture softening just slightly. “Always on the trail of something, aren’t you?”

You force a dry smile, hoping it will deflect the heaviness in the air. “It’s better than staying still.”

His eyes linger on you, as if he can see past every word, every barrier. But after a moment, he nods, seeming to accept your answer—or at least pretending to. The silence returns, thick and layered with all that remains unspoken, and you welcome it, finding a strange comfort in the weight of his presence, even if only for this stolen moment.

With your gaze fixed on the shadows at the edge of the barn, you steel yourself against the echoes of past grief, knowing that whatever it is you’re chasing, it’s not here.

The barn door slams open, flooding the space with harsh light. Galadriel strides in, her gaze like ice and fire as she sweeps over the dim interior, her eyes locking onto Eruviel. Without hesitation, she advances on him, her expression severe, filled with a wrath that feels almost ancient. You watch from the shadows, hidden in a corner, taking in her commanding presence and the grim resolve in her eyes. This is the warrior who was forged in the fires of war against Morgoth himself, and her disdain is palpable.

“Adar,” she spits, the name dripping with contempt as she stands before him. You blink at the word, recognizing it as Elvish—Father. A bitter, mocking title that twists in her mouth. She crouches down to his level, her voice low and venomous. “Do you feel any guilt at all? Any remorse for what you've done?”

Eruviel—no, Adar, as she calls him—sits silent, holding her gaze with a quiet defiance that only seems to provoke her more. She circles him like a hawk, her fury controlled but razor-sharp. Her words cut into him as she describes the havoc he’s wrought, the lives destroyed under his command.

He meets her stare, unblinking, his voice calm as he finally speaks. “I did what I believed was necessary. You, of all people, should understand the cost of that.”

Galadriel’s lips curl in disgust. “Don’t compare yourself to me, Adar. You are a defilement upon these lands, a twisted mockery of everything you touch.”

She lifts her blade, resting it against his neck, just close enough to draw a thin line of blood. You feel a jolt of anger rise within you, watching the crimson bead trickle down, her hand firm and unyielding. You don’t know why this scene enrages you, only that something ancient and feral stirs, clawing its way to the surface.

Without thinking, you slide from your chains in a quick, practiced motion. Quietly, you slip through the shadows, reaching down to draw the hidden blade from your boot. The madness in your mind surges forward, demanding justice, action, vengeance for a reason you don’t dare question. You cross the space between you and Galadriel in a heartbeat, the knife in your hand pressed firmly to her throat before she can react.

“Careful, Galadriel,” you murmur, cold and steady. “Never turn your back to the shadows.”

For a split second, she freezes. Then she whips around, and your blades clash in a deadly rhythm, each of you moving with lethal precision. Her strikes are practiced, powerful, but you parry with a force driven by something darker, something fierce and untamed. She drives you back, her face a mask of seething fury, her hatred flashing like lightning in her eyes.

The barn door slams open again, and a dark-haired man strides in, his presence commanding the room to silence. His gaze shifts from you to Galadriel, and he raises his hand, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Enough,” he commands, his tone steady, brooking no argument. “This is not the time nor the place.”

Reluctantly, you lower your blade, the rage simmering beneath your skin as you regard him warily. His eyes linger on you, calm but unwavering, as he steps closer. Taking your wrist, he guides you back toward Adar and snaps a chain around your wrist, binding you to him. You glance over, feeling Eruviel’s—Adar’s—gaze on you, a mixture of surprise and something else that you can’t quite decipher.

“Come,” the dark-haired man says to Galadriel, his tone slightly softened but firm. “The Queen awaits.”

Galadriel’s glare cuts into you, her eyes like steel as she allows herself to be led out. The barn falls silent again, and you’re left in the dim light, chained to the elf who, until moments ago, you hadn’t believed you’d ever see again.

Sitting side by side in the quiet, you dare a glance his way. His face, haggard and weary, meets yours, and there’s a strange familiarity there, as though centuries and darkness haven’t quite erased what once bound you together.

The barn feels even more stifling in the silence that follows your skirmish with Galadriel, broken only by the faint, irregular breathing of Eruviel—or Adar, as he’s now known—beside you. The stale air grows heavier as the barn settles, thick with hay dust and shadows. The chains linking your wrists are a tangible reminder of your shared predicament, clinking softly as you shift, and you glance over at him, feeling the need to break the silence and get to the heart of the matter.

“Adar... that’s what you’re calling yourself now?” you ask, letting the name slip from your mouth with a tone of dry disbelief. His gaze flicks to yours, something half-hidden beneath those familiar dark eyes. You can tell he’s watching you closely, assessing.

“Adar,” he replies evenly. “They chose it.”

There’s a pause as you try to reconcile the title—Father—with the face you once knew so well, the one that’s since been worn down by untold years and a thousand silent battles. His expression is cool, yet you catch a flicker of something else, something buried, in his gaze.

“‘Father.’ It seems fitting, I suppose,” you murmur, feigning nonchalance even as the notion strikes a deeper chord in you. “Or maybe not. You never seemed the fatherly type back then.” You lean back against the barn wall, letting a half-smile touch your lips, playful but laced with something sharper. “And now we’re chained together. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t mind so much.”

A faint smirk ghosts over his face, his eyes sparking with a brief flash of amusement that almost—almost—hints at the Eruviel you remember. Yet, he keeps his silence, offering no reply to your jest, only watching you with that impenetrable gaze, as if choosing his words with care.

You tilt your head, watching him closely. “So, tell me, Adar—how exactly do you plan on getting us out of this?” Your tone is light, almost teasing, though the question is laced with genuine curiosity. You have no intention of staying here, chained up and waiting for Galadriel or her soldiers to make their next move. “I assume that with your fatherly wisdom, you’ve thought up a clever plan?”

“Everything is under control,” he says, his voice calm, unshaken, with an edge of mystery that only irritates you further.

You study him, lips pressing into a line. “And here I thought perhaps a century or two of separation might make you slightly less infuriating.”

Still, he only offers a small, knowing smile, as if he finds your irritation amusing in a way that only deepens your curiosity. Before you can press him for more, he shifts, his head tilting ever so slightly, attention suddenly pulled away. You follow his gaze, noticing the subtle tension in his frame, the way he listens. You feel it too, a low hum beneath your feet, a vibration creeping into the barn’s wooden floorboards.

“What is it?” you ask, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he lowers himself, pressing an ear to the ground as if attuning to some unheard pulse beneath the earth.

The rumble grows, becoming a deep, guttural roar that you feel in your bones, setting the whole barn shivering. The animals in the nearby pens let out cries of panic, hooves clattering as they stomp against the ground. Dust shakes free from the rafters above, drifting down around you like ash.

“Adar?” You don’t intend for your voice to waver, but the strange gravity in his expression fills you with unease.

He doesn’t answer, eyes dark and focused as he listens to something only he can hear. A flicker of light catches your attention from outside—a dim red glow creeping up over the edge of the distant horizon, tinged with a molten orange that reminds you of embers left too long untended.

The glow strengthens, spreading like the bloom of an angry sunrise, but far more sinister. And then, with a sound that could split mountains, the ground heaves, a cataclysmic roar tearing through the earth itself.

Orodruin erupts.

You grip the chains instinctively, eyes widening as a pillar of fire lances up into the sky, molten rock spewing from the depths of the earth in a fiery display of raw, unbridled power. The land around the barn is bathed in that terrible red-orange light, casting everything in a hellish glow, as if the very air itself is aflame. Heat pulses, searing even from this distance, and you brace against it, a primal fear clawing up within you.

Eruviel—or Adar, you remind yourself—slowly rises from his crouch, his face alight in the eerie glow of the eruption. He looks... content, almost, a strange satisfaction curving his mouth, like he’s seeing something he’s waited for all along.

“So this was your plan?” you demand, half-shouting over the noise of the eruption, the heat blasting through the barn walls. “Setting the world on fire?”

He meets your gaze, a faint but undeniable smile playing on his lips. “Not quite,” he says, his voice calm against the cacophony. “But it is... progress.”

You stare at him, caught between exasperation and a terrible, undeniable fascination. In the heart of the chaos, as fire and stone rend the sky apart, he seems in his element. And for a brief, reckless second, you think that perhaps, just perhaps, you understand the part of him that chose this path—this dark and terrible path that now feels all too familiar.

#the rings of power #adar #adar rings of power #adar x you #adar fanfic #adar x reader #fanfiction #adar series #across time

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talonabraxas · 1 year ago

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"The Kiss" by Artus Scheiner Hymn to Pan by John Keats "O thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness; Who lov'st to see the hamadryads dress Their ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken; And through whole solemn hours dost sit, and hearken The dreary melody of bedded reeds-- In desolate places, where dank moisture breeds The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth; Bethinking thee, how melancholy loth Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx--do thou now, By thy love's milky brow! By all the trembling mazes that she ran, Hear us, great Pan! "O thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtles Passion their voices cooingly 'mong myrtles, What time thou wanderest at eventide Through sunny meadows, that outskirt the side Of thine enmossed realms: O thou, to whom Broad leaved fig trees even now foredoom Their ripen'd fruitage; yellow girted bees Their golden honeycombs; our village leas Their fairest blossom'd beans and poppied corn; The chuckling linnet its five young unborn, To sing for thee; low creeping strawberries Their summer coolness; pent up butterflies Their freckled wings; yea, the fresh budding year All its completions--be quickly near, By every wind that nods the mountain pine, O forester divine! "Thou, to whom every faun and satyr flies For willing service; whether to surprise The squatted hare while in half sleeping fit; Or upward ragged precipices flit To save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw; Or by mysterious enticement draw Bewildered shepherd to their path again; Or to tread breathless round the frothy main, And gather up all fancifullest shells For thee to tumble into Naiads' cells, And, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping; Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping, The while they pelt each other on the crown With silvery oak apples, and fir cones brown-- By all the echoes that about thee ring, Hear us, O satyr king! "O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears, While ever and anon to his shorn peers A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn, When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn Anger our huntsmen: breather round our farms, To keep off mildews, and all weather harms. Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds, That come a swooning over hollow grounds, And wither drearily on barren moors: Dread opener of the mysterious doors Leading to universal knowledge--see, Great son of Dryope, The many that are come to pay their vows With leaves about their brows! "Be still the unimaginable lodge For solitary thinkings; such as dodge Conception to the very bourne of heaven, Then leave the naked brain: be still the leaven, That spreading in this dull and clodded earth Gives it a touch ethereal--a new birth: Be still a symbol of immensity; A firmament reflected in a sea; An element filling the space between, An unknown--but no more: we humbly screen With uplift hands our foreheads, lowly bending, And giving out a shout most heaven rending, Conjure thee to receive our humble Paean, Upon thy Mount Lycean!"

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seraphimcollections · 6 months ago

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gentle giant | Konig x medic!reader |

chapter 6

warning: dark themes, blood, torture, electrocution, use of firearms, mentions of death and mutilation. Angst but eventual fluff (it’s going to be okay!)

summary: there’s no waiting for when the reaper calls, and Konig’s come to collect.

w/c: 4.2

The whirring of the helicopters would have deafened König if he hadn’t been deep within his thoughts. He sat hunched over on the bench, his elbows and knees connected and fingers laced together. His dark eyes remained on the grated floor, never moving. The others knew to give the Austrian his space, letting him sink further and further into his worries. He couldn’t get the image of your smiling face out his mind, your witty remarks. The warmth of your hands, how soft they were. Everything about you was a blessing but also a curse as his anxiety clawed into his gut, refusing to release him. Glimpses of you injured or worse, it made him nauseous.

König didn’t snap out of his thoughts until he felt the chopper shake before stabilizing, telling him they had landed. Almost immediately he was on his feet, ignoring the concerned glances from Soap. He stalked to the bay door, holding on to a support rope overhead as the hot sun crept in as the door lowered. The blades of the helicopter were coming to a slow halt as his hard gaze landed on two men waiting for them on the tarmac. Konig was about to make his way down when Price clapped a hand on his shoulder, gaining the Austrian's attention.

“I’ll handle the introductions, mate,” Price said, his voice stern but his gaze gentle.

Koning remained silent as he let Price take the lead down to the men, the rest of the task force following close behind. Almost immediately Konig could feel the two strangers’ curious gazes on him, but he couldn’t find the effort to care. He was on edge and not in the mood to waste time.

“Nice to see you again, Captain!” The man with dark slicked back hair grinned. “And I see you’ve added onto your entourage.”

“Los europeos y sus máscaras,” the other man, warily eyeing Konig.

“This is our colleague from KorTac, Cl. Konig,” Price said, “Konig, this is Cl. Alejandro Vargas and Sgt. Rodolfo Parra. They were a great help for us with the whole Hassan business.”

“Likewise, Captain,” Alejandro smirked.

“Pleasure,” Konig muttered.

Alejandro’s expression became serious, “Come, let’s get you settled.Your message worries me, Captain. Shepherd really took one of your own?”

Price nodded solemnly as he and the others followed, “yes, broke into our base and abducted her.”

“And you think she’s here?” Rudy said skeptically.

“It’s our only bet,” Ghost said. “And we can’t waste anymore time.”

“Do we have a lead?” Konig said, his exhaustion peeking through his gravelly tone.

Alejandro nodded, “we noticed some suspicious activity at an old mine two clicks from Las Almas. We first thought it was something to do with Valeria, possibly a new stronghold, but when we took a closer look, the men definitely weren’t from the cartel.”

“Then there is no need to settle, we leave now,” Konig said.

“Hold up, mate, we need a plan. We can’t just barge in there, they’ll just kill her,” Gaz said with a frown.

“What aren’t you understanding? Every minute we waste here the closer we are…that she is-”

“We know you’re worried mate,” Soap said, his ocean eyes washed in empathy, “but we have to do this right way if we even stand a chance of saving her.”

Konig let out a breath, knowing the lieutenant was right, whether he liked it or not.

“Fine,” Konig frowned, “what’s your plan?”

The sound of slapping flesh with flesh followed by groans stemming from you. Your body lurched back as the imposter hit once again, the number you’d lost count of long ago. You could barely remember when you’d arrived at this abandoned mine which was slowly being reclaimed by the earth, threatening to swallow it whole, with you inside. The rickety supports seemed to be giving way with random leaks of spring water making the cave he’d held you up in unbearably humid. The room was blurry, like a smeared red oil painting, but you could see that you were in an opening in the cave. You were tied to a chair, arms tied behind your back with zip ties cutting off the circulation to your wrists, the same with ankles.

You coughed, saliva mixed with your blood dripped from behind your busted lips. Blood spilled from your head due to Richards slamming your head into the ground repeatedly before strapping you to the chair where he continued to beat you in and out of consciousness. You were barely hanging on, your eyes dazed and head bobbing limply, before Richards began to speak.

“You really are a tough cookie to crack, aren’t ya?” Richards chuckled.

You glared up to the man, remaining silent. Richards let out a dramatic sigh as he rounded you like a vulture, walking behind you. You grunted as he yanked a fist full of your hair, forcing your head back.

“You’re making this so difficult for no reason, little bird!” Richards sneered.

You didn’t hesitate to spit in the disgusting man’s face, your saliva mixed with you blood.

“Bite me.”

You half expected for the man to blow up and beat you until you couldn’t see straight, but Richard’s expression became steely, almost emotionless as he stood straight, wiping the spit from his cheek.

“Guess that’s just how it’s going to be then,” he mused, turning back to his table of torture toys.

He ran his leather glove over the cool metals, “you know, Shepherd said he wanted you alive. Although, he didn’t I couldn’t have a little fun with you first.” Your eyes widened in terror as Richard’s hand finally settled on a simple knapsack bag. You knew this tactic, your eyes immediately falling to the buckets of water lined neatly in a row. You thrashed against your constraints as Richards approached you.

“However, I can’t be held liable if you stop breathing along the way, huh birdy?” A sadistic smirk stretched across the man’s face.

At that moment, you prayed. Before this, you never wasted your time but in this instance, you prayed for the one thing that had made you feel safe for so long.

Konig, please hurry.

It had felt like an eternity, but finally the patchwork task force was ready to move. They had planned everything to the ‘T’. Pinpointing the exact cave that Rudy had picked up escalated activity over the last few days, noting how hardly anyone left the mouth of the cave. Noting how they were heavily armed. All of this was semantics for Konig. He didn’t care what was in the way, the point being they were in his way to you. And they would pay dearly for it but none more than this supposed ‘Richards’.

Konig kept his eyes nailed to the other side of the concealed vehicle as they traveled the bumpy dirt roads further into Las Alma’s wilderness in pitch dark of night. His hands mindlessly checked on his weapon, not even sparing a look as he went. His skin was practically humming, he hadn’t felt like this his first deployment. It was a mix of nerves and unspeakable rage that was spilling from between the seams. Finally the van lurched to a stop and Konig didn’t waste a moment slamming the doors open and jumping down into the dirt. He cocked his gun as the rest of the men climbed out of the vans, John clapping a hand on the behemoth’s shoulder.

“Remember the plan-“

“Wipe these sorry abschaum off the face of the earth,” Soap chimed in.

“And recover Shephard’s whereabouts in the process,” Ghost seconded.

“Leave the rat to me, Captain,” Konig said, not as a suggestion, but as an order.

All John could do was nod, “Ale and Rudy, cover us!”

“On it,” Alejandro smirked before nodding and taking off with Rudy to the high hills overlooking the mouth of the cave.

“Move in men,” John ordered.

Konig led the pack, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He kept his rifle ready and aimed as they advanced, staying low. Finally, they made it to the level of the cave entrance, finding two cartel jeeps and some of the hired men standing guard, rifles strapped to their chests. Konig came to halt, his predatory gaze not wavering. Ghost gently pushed the button to his radio, whispering gently.

“Light ‘em up.”

Two shots of sniper fire erupted through the forest trees, some jumpy birds taking into flight from the sudden noise. Konig’s eyes didn’t tear away as two of the five men’s faces exploded into blood and flesh before collapsing lifelessly into the dirt. The three other men were immediately alerted, but they weren’t blessed with enough time to figure out what was quickly becoming their doom before they were gunned down by Gaz and Soap. Konig rose from the bush, making a rush for the cave as more goons began to spill from it. The Austrian hardly blinked as he gunned them down one by one, his breath calm and controlled. It was almost as if routine, and partly it was. Shoot one here, stomp in one head there. It came so easy, like breathing. Perhaps at one time this would have bothered Konig, but he almost felt numb.

He only stepped out of this trance when a gunshot rang out directly in his left ear, leaving it ringing. He blinked, looking to see Ghost standing directly in front of him. Konig didn’t feel anything and definitely not a gun wound. He looked over his shoulder to find one of the men sliding down the wall, a blood trail staining the wall as he fell. Konig looked down at the pathetic man that somehow managed to find his blindspot, and would have used it accordingly if Ghost hadn’t stepped in.

“Get your head out of your arse!” Ghost shouted. “What good are you if you’re dead.”

Konig frowned but nodded, following the lieutenant down the winding cave system. The cave must of been used for drug smuggling in the past, evident by the main made paths and electric lighting hanging limply from the stone ceiling. Konig looked past Ghost and back out the cave, hearing more gunfire.

“The others-“

“They’ll be fine, we have to find Wren,” Ghost said. “Let’s move.”

Konig didn’t argue as he followed the Brit further into the cave. Surprisingly, there weren't many more cartels, not nearly enough to put up a fight. The two winded down the tunnel with lights haphazardly swinging above them, clearing out any ops who stood in their way. Soon, they reached a opening in the mouth of the cave that forked into two.

“Scheiße,” Konig growled, looking between the two paths.

“There’s no time to take both, I’ll take the right and you take the left,” Ghost ordered.

Konig didn’t like this, but he nodded nonetheless. Keeping his rifle aimed as he began his descent through the tunnel. He listened to Ghost’s heavy footsteps echo until he couldn’t hear them any longer. All he could hear was his slow breath as he moved deeper and deeper into the cave. The lights were fewer and fewer but Konig wouldn’t give his eyes time to adjust. He had to keep moving. He had to find you, no matter the cost. Keeping his ears alert, he couldn’t hear anyone shuffling in the dark with him.

Konig’s eyes squinted at a dim light at the end of the tunnel, coming from around a corner. He did his best to make his heavy steps lighter as he slowed his pace, coming closer to the bend. He pressed himself against the cold stone of the cave, listening. For a moment there was nothing, only silence. Konig prepared to take another step when he heard it. The sound of breathing. Faint, gargled, breathing. It was enough for the adrenaline to shoot through his veins like lightning as he rounded the corner, rifle aimed.

The heat underneath Konig’s skin cooled to ice from the vision in front of him. It was a room of sorts, mined and carved from the mountain’s belly and lined with flickering lights. In the center of the room was a small frame, quivering like a leaf. Female, evident on the lack of shirt, leaving her in only brassiere and torn cargos. Stained a gruesome crimson. Her face obscured, a knapsack pulled over her face. But there was no denying it, he found you.

”Maus!” Konig shouted in a panic, letting his rifle fall to his hip as he rushed to you. His boots splashed in the mud surrounding you, his hands grabbing your frail wrists tied to the steel chair. Konig ripped off the bag over your head — noting how soaked it was in your blood and water—, revealing your swollen and bruised face still crusted in blood.

“Jesus- Wren, Wren, come back to me,” Konig gingerly slapped your cheeks.

Your eyes rolled back from behind your eyelids, still clearly seeing. You could feel someone’s hands on your face. It burned so much, you felt like your throat was on fire but your body was on ice. You hacked, your entire body convulsing as your vision finally blurred into one. You looked into eyes you thought you’d never see again.

“It can’t…Konig-“

“Shh, shh, schatz, save your strength,” Konig said, relief beginning to well in chest.

You were alive, admittedly in bad shape, but still breathing.

“I have to tell the others-“

“You can’t- you can’t be here,” you groaned, head hanging weakly.

“It’s going to be okay,” Konig assured.

You wanted to believe him, truly, but that sickening feeling wouldn’t leave you. You watched as he pulled his radio out, speaking something into it but you couldn’t hear him. Not when your eyes found Richards’ stepping out from the shadows of the cave. Holding a live wire. Your eyes shot wide, throat going dry.

“Konig-!”

But it was too late, Richards threw the live wire connected to a small generator into the puddle beneath Konig and you. The electric current immediately surged through you both. Your body went tense, your back arching as your teeth gritted together painfully. Konig let out a painful grunt, hunching over at the sudden assault. You let out a wail, spamming against your restraints. You could feel yourself losing consciousness, it felt like an eternity before the current eventually stopped. Konig collapsed into the dirt face down with a groan. You could hear his heavy breaths, easing your anxiety slightly. He was still alive, for now. You could feel the hot blood drain from your nostrils, whimpering.

“You couldn’t just stay away could you,” Richards tutted, “had to make a mess of things.”

You called to the colonel weakly, voice quieter than a mouse, as he struggled to lift himself up onto his knees. You could see his eyes from his mask, burning with rage. Terrifying. Richards came around to you, wrapping his fingers in your matted hair and yanking up, pulling a cry from you.

“All this bloodshed, for a medic? How foolish,” Richards rolled his eyes. “Is it even worth it?”

“Shut up,” Konig said through his teeth.

Richards laughed, letting your head fall, “I can’t help but feel a little moved. The infamous Task Force 141, the bloodhounds of the finest military men, come together for a little treasonous coward? Could be a movie.”

“The only treasonous coward I see is you,” Konig growled, glaring up at the man as he assessed how much time it would take for him to rip Richards limb from limb.

“See, that’s where your wrong my friend,” Richards frowned, swinging his steel-toe boot right into Konig’s gut.

Konig gasped, rolling on to his side, holding his torso but Richards’ wouldn’t relent. He stomped on Konig repeatedly, over and over and over. You thrashed in the chair, screaming for the bastard to stop.

”You see, because of that stupid bitch over there, I had to come out of my early retirement and clean up her mess!” Richards shouted, eyes wild as he continued his assault on Konig. “She became a threat to the US the minute she saw that fucking file, and it’s been my fucking job to eliminate that threat. Until then, I intend on finishing the fucking job — but I sincerely hope you don’t take it personal. It’s just business!”

You didn’t know when you cracked the knuckles in your hand to slip your hand through the zip tie, but you quickly on feet. You swung the metal chair at Richards head, throwing him off of Konig. He stumbled a bit but you wouldn’t allow him to gain stability on his feet again. You grunted as you kicked his knee back into a position it shouldn’t have been before suckerpunching him right in the jaw. The pathetic man toppled back into the mud with a shout, grasping at his wounded knee. You stomped on his knee making him scream like the worm he was.

You saw red as you lifted the chair above head before shoving the back of the chair directly on Richards’ neck. He hacked and gasped for air, squirming like a dying fish on shore. You applied your entire weight on the chair, squeezing all the air from the man’s lungs.

“Rot in hell, bastard,” you growled, as Richards’ pleaded pathetically for his life.

You jumped on the chair, hearing a blood-curdling pop underneath the metal. Richards’ heads stopped struggling, falling slowly to his sides, eyes rolling to the back of his head. All was silent. You stood over his body for a moment, listening to Konig struggle to lift himself to see what you’ve done. You slipped your other hand from the zip tie, throwing the chair somewhere in the room. Your eyes never left Richards, watching carefully for any sign of life. He laid still. But that wouldn’t be enough.

Rage poisoned your blood as your eyes immediately fell to the pistol still strapped to the deadman’s leg and without a second thought you yanked it away from him. Like clockwork, that’s all it was, you unlocked the safety and shot the man right between the eyes. The gunshot rang in your ears and echoed through the cave system. Followed by another. And another. And another.

You screamed with fury, loaded more and more bullets into the man’s skull. Konig moved quick to wrap his arms around, his hands taking over yours.

“Stop, stop!” Konig pleaded, aiming the gun up to the ceiling.

You let out a strangled scream as you fell onto your knees, emotions hitting you like a freight train. Sobs racked through your body, unable to hold them back. Konig watched in heartbreak as you finally allowed yourself to fall apart. He looked upon Richards, but not for long. There was nothing left of him. Konig chucked the pistol somewhere in the cave limping over to you before kneeling.

“Mein Maus, you’re okay now, you’re safe,” Konig whispered, his large hands carefully holding your arms.

He hated how you flinched, signaling for him to back off. His stomach lurched as he watched you sob, body shaking uncontrollably. Konig’s ears twitched at the sound of footsteps rushing around the corner. He scrambled for his rifle, not wasting a second to aim it at the intruders.

“Hold your fire!” A booming Manchester voice snapped him out of it.

Konig’s shoulders slouched seeing Ghost and Soap appear from the shadow of the cave.

“Steaming Jesus,” Soap said, immediately rushing to you. “Lass, lovie look at me, look at me.”

You were spent, barely able to keep your head up as Soap tried his best to look for signs of concussion in your eyes. Ghost looked over to Richards’ corpse, clicking his tongue.

“You didn’t have to send him out like that,” Ghost frowned beneath his mask, obviously talking to Konig.

Konig shook his head, his eyes never leaving you, “it wasn’t me.”

Ghost eyes widened in unexpected shock before turning to you, covered in a mix of Richards’ and your own blood.

“Fuck.”

“We gotta get ‘er movin, LT, she won’t last much longer,” Soap chimed in, his voice serious for a change.

This statement alarmed Konig as he felt his blood pressure raise impossibly higher.

“We have to-“ Konig grunted as he limped on his bad leg.

“Easy,” Ghost said, lifting Konig’s arm around his shoulder, “you won’t be much help to her if you end up dead yourself, remember?”

Konig grunted but nodded nonetheless. He could only watch as Soap carried you bundled in his arms, nodding to Ghost that he was ready to move. You looked and felt so tired, so drained. You felt as if you were moving through jello, threatening to hold you there forever.

“Try to stay awake for me, lass,” Soap said gently.

“This is Bravo 0-7, we’ve got ‘er, get med on standby!” Ghost shouted into his radio.

You felt like the weight of the world was on your chest as you heaved in shallowed breaths. Your head rolled weakly to see Konig and Ghost leading the way. It wasn’t a dream, they were here. They came for you. You let out a small, painful chuckle, breath fading from you.

“Wren, keep those eyes open for me.”

“Wren, ya hear me lass? Wren? WREN!”

The sound of a heart monitor never came unfamiliar to you. You were used to the smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. It came with the territory, and it strangely made you feel at home. You only wished your body didn’t feel like it was on fire. A groan wrestled out of your dry throat and chapped lips as your eyes squeezed tighter. You were so thirsty. Finally cracking your eyes open, you were grateful to find yourself in a dimly lit room with the bed light only slightly illuminating the room. You blinked blearily, desperately trying to clear your vision. You were definitely in a hospital bed, clear by the stiff linen and the itchy hospital gown. You looked down to your arms wrapped in gauze bandages, reminding you of just how you got here. Of that puddle of crimson flesh and blood. Chills rain down your spine as the memories come flooding back.

You went to slowly lift your hand, only to find it weighed down by something. Only when you blinked again did you notice the massive frame lying hunched over on the bed. His arms laid over your legs, almost holding them. His mask partially lifted from moving his head as he dreamt, revealing the growing stubble on his chin. You slowly reached for him, wincing at the pain tingling your nerves. As your bruised fingertips brushed against his skin, his eyes snapped open, narrowing in on your right away. Konig’s gaze softened seeing your watery eyes on him.

“Maus…you’ve finally come back to me,” Konig whispered gently.

He sounded exhausted. Your eyes studied him, finding a splint on his leg.

“You’re hurt,” you croaked.

Konig shook his head, “a bit, but you shouldn’t worry-“

“How could I not worry?” You said, voice quivering.

Konig watched with mild surprise as the tear began to fall uncontrollable, rolling down your chin. You tried and failed to hide your face from him by throwing your arm over your eyes. Ever the awkward military man, Konig never really knew how to react around tears. But for you, it all came so easily. His warm hand found yours, holding it carefully like a fragile bird. Lifted it, bringing it under his mask and to his lips. He gently pressed his lips to the back of your cold hand.

“Mein schatz, please don’t cry,” Konig whispered.

“How- you, you could’ve- I could’ve lost you,” you whimpered like a kicked puppy.

Konig felt his heart break, “as long as you are safe, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Don’t,” you said, voice unwavering, “Konig, I swear to god, if you ever put yourself in harm's way for me, I will never forgive you or myself.”

Konig couldn’t tear his eyes away from you who finally looked at him.

“Why not?” Konig asked innocently.

You were stunned into silence. You found the answer alluded you, or at least weighed too heavily for you to speak it now. But the blush on your cheeks was indication enough.

“Because…you just can’t, alright? As long as you are with me, then you can’t, ever,” you said.

The words sounded childish coming from you — for God’s sake you had a medical degree! But they were perfect to Konig. The man couldn’t help but chuckle, rumbling deep in his chest.

“I will try my best to remain by your side, liebling,” he smiled, kissing your knuckles.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You wanted to shove them down in the name of professionalism, but you knew you were past that now. The two of you were indebted to each other, intertwined. And it felt so right. Konig stood over you, placing a lingering kiss on your forehead through the mask.

“Would you like me to call the nurse?” Konig said after finally pulling away. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, your eyes never straying from his, “no, can we…can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

Konig smiled, indicated by how his eyes crinkled, “of course, maus, whatever you wish.”

Konig sat back into his chair, his hand never leaving yours. You sighed as you both relaxed into the silence, finally safe in his presence. Finally home.

a/n: I am so, so, so, so sorry this took so long. As soon as my semester ended, I got right back to writing this. Thank you for being patient with me! Thank you for reading!

tag list:

@Winters-doll

@unforgettabie

@muomuah

@midwesternwitchery

@frostygiant24-blog

@peachymonsters

@frazie99

@cocrorapop

@nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105

@hk-4ever

@glizzification-of-liz

@cumikering

@sl00tty-v

@mheerdraws

@herefornanami-s-cake

@that-napa-know-how

@animechick555

@depression-247

#seraphim collections: gentle giant #konig x reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty

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northern-passage · 2 years ago

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finished the map of Adrania with a little cropped close up of the places we’ve been 🧭

the scale is a little off - i didn’t want to make it too big and it turn illegible, but the distance between Blackwater and the Black Iron is a few days along the white trail. i imagine there to be various little settlements and villages that i didn’t include here, i mainly wanted to focus on key locations and places we’ll be hearing about/seeing in game. there are more roads and rivers than pictured, with the white road being the main road, or the King’s Road.

Blackwater, Myrasea, King’s Harbor, and Wolf’s Ford are the main large port cities of Adrania, with Yulan to the west, and with that being their main trade partner, there are only smaller ports to the east - the rest is moved along the King’s Road. The southeast of Adrania relies a lot more on farming and agriculture with the flatter land and decent soil from the rivers, which is then carried west to the coast for trade or sold across the country. Up north, with the colder weather and impassable mountains, the focus is shepherding, hunting, fishing, and whaling, again with most of the products being moved along the King’s Road or shipped down the coast out of Blackwater.

The mountains make it hard to reach the Gaelish border, and work pretty well as a natural wall between the two; to reach Highfell and other various mountain towns, it’s typical to go out towards the coast and move up that way before cutting back in, which is exactly what Lea and the hunter are doing at the start of the story.

#i am not a geographer or a mapmaker so pls be nice LOL #but this was fun to make #looks way better than my previous ms paint looking drawing #and yeah it's just supposed to give you a general idea :-)#lore #map

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irlactualvo · 2 months ago

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@ariaverge

Couldn't upload audio to the original post. Prolly cuz it might've been deleted at one point. So Screenshots.

#leavoice #awesome tumblr posts #request #scooby doo

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 6 months ago

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🌸 Books for AAPI Month

❤️ Celebrate Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month with this list featuring some of the FEW empowering, vibrant stories written by AAPI authors or starring AAPI protagonists.

🌸 What books did you read for AAPI month?

✨ 2024 Releases ❤️ Night for Day - Roselle Lim 🌸 The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years - Shubnum Khan 🏮The Great Reclamation - Rachel Heng ❤️ Lies and Weddings - Kevin Kwan 🌸 Valley Verified - Kyla Zhao 🏮 The Catch - Amy Lea ❤️ Your Utopia - Bora Chung 🌸 Tehrangeles - Porochista Khakpour 🏮 Horse Barbie - Geena Rocero ❤️ Memory Piece - Lisa Ko 🌸 The Fetishist - Katherine Min 🏮 Real Americans - Rachel Khong ❤️ The Kamogawa Food Detectives - Hisashi Kashiwai 🌸 Manila Takes Manhattan - Carla de Guzman 🏮 The Last Phi Hunter - Salinee Goldenberg and Ilya Nazarov ❤️ May the Best Player Win - Kyla Zhao 🌸 Are You Nobody Too? - Tina Cane 🏮 The Design of Us - Sajni Patel ❤️ Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop - Hwang Bo-Reum 🌸 Heir - Sabaa Tahir 🏮 Maya's Laws of Love - Alina Khawaj ❤️ Midnights with You - Clare Osongco 🌸 Vilest Things - Chloe Gong 🏮 This Place is Magic - Irene Te ❤️ Guilt and Ginataan - Mia P. Manansal 🌸 Icon and Inferno - Marie Lu 🏮 Calling of Light - Lori M. Lee ❤️ Bite Me, Royce Taslim - Lauren Ho 🌸 Rules for Rule Breaking - Talia Tucker 🏮 What's Eating Jackie Oh? - Patricia Park ❤️ How to End a Love Story - Yulin Kuang 🌸 Dark Star Burning, Ash Falls White - Amélie Wen Zhao 🏮 This Is How You Fall in Love - Anika Hussain ❤️ Just Playing House - Farah Heron 🌸 The Boyfriend Wish - Swati Teerdhala 🏮 A Tempest of Tea - Hafsah Faizal

✨ Romance ❤️ Dating Dr. Dil - Nisha Sharma 🌸 King of Wrath - Ana Huang 🏮 The Kiss Quotient - Helen Hoang ❤️ Girl Gone Viral - Alisha Rai 🌸 Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors - Sonali Dev 🏮 Role Playing - Cathy Yardley ❤️ The Hurricane Wars - Thea Guanzon 🌸 Ayesha at Last - Uzma Jalaluddin

✨ Fantasy ❤️ She Who Became the Sun - Shelley Parker-Chan 🌸 Babel - R.F. Kuang 🏮 Daughter of the Moon Goddess - Sue Lynn Tan ❤️ The Deep Sky - Yume Kitasei 🌸 The Jasmine Throne - Tasha Suri 🏮 Kaikeyi - Vaishnavi Patel ❤️ Light from Uncommon Stars - Ryka Aoki 🌸 Klara and the Sun - Kazuo Ishiguro

✨ Mystery ❤️ Arsenic and Adobo - Mia P. Manansala 🌸 Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers - Jesse Q. Sutanto 🏮 The Cartographers - Peng Shepherd ❤️ Miracle Creek - Angie Kim 🌸 A Disappearance in Fiji - Nilima Rao 🏮 The Leftover Woman - Jean Kwok ❤️ The Widows of Malabar Hill - Sujata Massey 🌸 Things We Do in the Dark - Jennifer Hillier

✨ Young Adult ❤️ The Wrath and the Dawn - Renée Ahdieh 🌸 All My Rage - Sabaa Tahir 🏮 Forget Me Not - Alyson Derrick ❤️ Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating - Adiba Jaigirdar 🌸 These Violent Delights - Chloe Gong 🏮 This Book Won't Burn - Samira Ahmed ❤️ American Betiya - Anuradha D. Rajurkar 🌸 Dragonfruit - Makiia Lucier

#aapi authors #aapi heritage month #aapi #books #book list #batty about books #battyaboutbooks

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shepherdsdiary · 4 months ago

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This blog isn't necessarily for everyone. I'm unsure how much reblogging I'll be doing. Stay and follow if you like. Or maybe follow one of my other blogs. They're fun, flirty, silly, horny, and nerdy.

This one won't be. It's my diary.

I'm Lea (Lee-ah) Shepherd. I'm a 34 year old Enby Trans-Woman. (They/She)

Please take the time to spell or say my name correctly. It matters to me.

I guess you can gather the rest from what follows.

#lea shepherd #diary pinned post #diary #journal

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hotdamnitsmoony · 10 months ago

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what i think the marauders favourite tv show would be - based on my favs :)

james - stranger things. he’d watch it because everyone was raving about it and then become emotionally invested in the characters. he thinks the concept of the monsters is really cool but also very terrifying. he’d definitely make everyone else watch it too, and he’d be mouthing along the lines while they did. his favourite character would be steve harrington, because i think they’re pretty similar. the episode he’d like the most would be s4 ep6.

regulus - the rain on netflix. it’s a kinda disturbing show about an apocalyptic world where the rain literally kills you if it touches you and there’s a whole thing with sibling betrayal and i just feel like he’d eat it up. his favourite character would be lea or kira. he would really love dystopian and apocalyptic shows in general tbh. his favourite episode would be the cult one, because it explores religion in an apocalyptic world.

sirius - greys anatomy. i’ve said this before but he would secretly LOVE greys, even if he won’t admit it. his favourite character is addison montgomery, closely followed by mark sloan. the episode he likes the most is the musical episode but if you ask him, he hates it. also he would so do the superhero pose amelia shepherd does before her surgeries before he does anything important.

remus - the society. it’s a dark, weird and kinda obscure show that only had one season because of covid but he’d love it. he’d bring it up in conversation with everyone and ask them what they’d do if all adults suddenly disappeared, which would obviously have varying responses. he’d complain about not getting a satisfying ending to it all the time. his favourite character is sam or kelly definitely. he can’t choose a favourite episode because literally so much happens in every one.

lily - the good place. i’ve also said this before, but i just genuinely think she’d love it. it’s a show that she would watch while knitting or studying, because it’s easy to follow and funny. she’d definitely quote it a lot and it’d create some great & healthy conversations between the marauders about mortality, morals and death. her favourite character is janet!

pandora - a series of unfortunate events. she’d love this show wholeheartedly. it’s so messy and reminds her of the odd things that seem to keep happening to her. she’d know the “that’s not how the story goes” song and sing it all the time, though she’d change the lyrics to fit whatever situation or drama is going on. her favourite character is sunny, and she started wearing more bows in her hair because of violet! her favourite episode would be s2 ep3!

mary - desperate housewives. she would love the drama, the betrayals and the overall storylines. she’d know every little thing about it, from all the names of lynette’s children to mrs mccluskey’s backstory. her favourite character is gabby solis and she will take no criticism. her favourite episode is the one where carlos’ mum falls down the stairs.

marlene - glee. i genuinely believe she’d know every single big song and wouldn’t stop singing them. you hear “Don’t Stop Belivin’” being sung (badly) in the hallway? it’s marlene. her favourite character is santana lopez and she knows the entire monologue that she says to kurt in season 6. she constantly complains about this show but really does love it. her favourite episode is the klaine & brittana wedding!

dorcas - heartbreak high! she’d love the petty drama and storylines that happen in this show, and she’d so create her own “map” but put concealment charms on it because unlike harper and amerie she’s smart enough not to get caught. her favourite character would be ca$h or harper, and the episode she likes the most would be ep4.

barty - how to sell drugs online (fast)! this show is so hilarious and i really think he’d enjoy it. he’d smell the plot twists coming a mile away but he’d still love it, and probably make evan watch it with him. his favourite character is moritz because he’s just such an idiot and he sort of reminds him of himself, though i feel like he’d love lisa too. he would say that he doesn’t have a favourite episode because he loved it all.

evan - the umbrella academy. he would compare the dysfunctional family to the marauders nonstop. he’d love the way it explores time travel and superpowers, and would spend hours in the library researching if it was possible because he’d get hyper fixated on it of course. his favourite character is klaus (no surprise there lol) and he literally cried during that one episode in season 3. his favourite episode is the first ever one.

(as always, these are my own opinions!! i’ve personally watched all these shows and love them all very much!! this took a while to make but we move who needs a sleep schedule anyway. )

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irlactualhuman · 2 months ago

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As requested by @lmdhawk

I did two takes. One serious and one a little less so. :3

#leaposting #leavoice #voiceover #voice acting #warhammer 40k #40k #god emperor of mankind #florida

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charliethomascoxuniverse · 2 years ago

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I was in the kitchen of my apartment staring down at a small rectangular black case that I believed contained a recorder. I believed it contained a recorder because I had been told as much, but I didn’t know for sure because I had never actually opened it. How had I let this happen? I had been tasked with one job in the summer vacation after my first year at drama school — to learn to play the instrument for the school’s tour of the Nativity play. I hadn’t. And the term was starting in T minus 12 hours. All I could do now was pray.

Then something amazing happened. God called me! Well not quite, but close enough. My agent. I had auditioned for a film early on in the summer holidays, had heard nothing for two months and had long since concluded that I had not been successful. Yet this was the call from Hollywood myth: “Kid … you’re in the movie.”

Luckily, I would no longer be showing up to drama school the following day hat in hand, apologizing for my incompetence. Instead I’d be apologizing for having to relinquish the role of Shepherd Number Three, as I would be filming an adaptation of “The Merchant of Venice” — playing the role of Lorenzo — with none other than Al Pacino.

As this life-changing news began to sink in, and on top of the relief from narrowly escaping detention, what was most exciting to me was the prospect that this job might be the point after which I could legitimately call myself an actor.

I had wrestled with this idea for the last few years. I knew I wanted to be an actor. I had won a place at a top drama school and had even played a small part in a film. Admitting, however, that I was an actor (to anyone who might ask) made me feel like a fraud; I would find myself instead saying things like “I’m trying to be an actor” or “ I want to act.” It was like I hadn’t earned the right to the title yet. Surely sharing the screen with Al Pacino would change that.

The next few months spent filming this, my first major motion picture, was everything that I could have imagined it would be. It all still feels like a dream, littered with incredible moments, but one in particular stands out.

We were filming in a remote part of Luxembourg before a Christmas break that happened to include my 21st birthday. In order to keep morale high the producers hired a private dining room in a restaurant nearby, and twice or three times a week the whole cast would be invited to dinner. Not everyone attended every meal, and I would say on average people went once a week.

Not me! I was there Every. Single. Time. I never missed a dinner. It wasn’t for the free food or out of boredom, but because we never knew on which nights Mr. Pacino would turn up. Even if I were never seated anywhere near him, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to “have dinner with Al.”

On one of our last evenings before the break I turned up to dinner marginally late, and to my amazement spotted an empty chair next to Al. I’m not sure what gave me the courage other than naïve bravado, but knowing this was a once in a lifetime opportunity I casually eased my way round the table and nonchalantly slipped into the seat next to … Michael Corleone. Carlito Brigante. Lieutenant Colonel Frank Spade.

Now although Mr. Pacino was always friendly on set, none of my inexhaustible efforts to say something fascinating or hilarious on this evening led to the explosive conversation I had hoped for. Truth be told we barely spoke to one another. The producer on Al’s other side selfishly hogged him for most of the evening, which I felt was rather uncharitable!

As we got up to leave, however, and probably in another lame attempt to engage him, I mentioned to Al how cold it was outside. This is how I recall the banter that followed:

“Cold huh? … Where’s your leather jacket?”

I froze. He sounded like someone doing a clichéd impression of Al Pacino.

“Leather jacket?” I repeated. “Umm. I don’t have one.”

“You don’t?”

Silence.

“Well you gotta get one,” he said. “Every actor has to have a leather jacket.”

That was it. Not the most memorable exchange of all time, and undoubtedly forgotten by Al by the time he had stood up and donned his own, impossibly cool leathers.

What he couldn’t have known, of course, was that he had answered a much larger question of mine. I could have sworn I had grown a few inches taller. Impostor syndrome be gone — I was officially an actor. The Godfather himself had declared it!

On the way back to the hotel, my head still in the clouds, my dad called to arrange picking me up for the holiday break at the airport.

Just before we hung up I heard my mother’s voice interrupt him in the background. “Oh, yes, Coxy,” I remember him saying. “Mum wants to know what you want for your birthday.”

A knowing smile crossed my face. “It’s funny you mention that …”

~*~

(X)

#I've a particular appreciation for this article since it's the only one that was written by Charlie himself 🥰💗#he's so hilariously self-deprecating xd #also his dad calls him ''Coxy'' - how cute!! <3 #charlie cox #the merchant of venice #interview #article

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