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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 2 months

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The Sun and The Moon

(Prologue: Meeting By the Sea) Alfie Solomons x Shelby!OC

Summary: In early November of 1917, you are over a year into your service to the Crown as a volunteer nurse. Following a hollow victory, you make your acquaintance with one Alfie Solomons. WC: 3.1K Warnings: Mentions of war, death, g-re, v-mit, foul language, angst, psychological distress, etc.

November. 7, 1917.

You know you need to hurry. It's almost nightfall; you won’t have much light left to write in. Yet you cannot help but linger at the sight of today’s victory. Before you, there is an ocean. It is a vast sea of gray, thick, and cold. Unfeeling and joyless. An ocean of standing water, crumbling buildings, and miles upon miles of mud. The buildings once housed people, but now they resemble the ruins of a bygone era. A necropolis.

Rolling clouds of dirt and gunpowder float just above the ground like phantoms. It’s the only piece of this that reminds you anything of home. Beckoning to the fog and soot that rolled in the early mornings when you would walk with your brothers to Charlie’s yard. Behind you, white tents flap in the wind, and cloth clings to metal rods that hold the structure in place. A field hospital. The only taste of civilization left for miles.

Rings meant to fasten the flaps down rattle like windchimes against the winds. A sudden updraft carries the stench of decay from the trenches up to where you stand. You press a cloth into a small bottle of peppermint oil. Quickly, you put that cloth on your nose. One of the first things you learned after joining the VADs was to keep your feet dry and to have plenty of peppermint oil on hand. It wards off the smell of rot, both in the living and the dead. The first time you smelled it, you vomited. Now, you barely gag. Still holding the cloth to your nose, you turn back to the field hospital.

Your name is Maeve Shelby, and you are twenty-four.

It’s warmer inside the tents. Uncomfortably so. The warmth is from all the bodies; most lay about in cots; the rest are your fellow VADs and doctors. Humidity mixed with stagnant sweat and all the bed pans that ever come clean enough to be rid of acrid remnants. To save yourself from having to sit in the midst of it all, you set aside a chair for yourself at the mouth of the field hospital. It is a plain, simple wooden chair with one leg shorter than the other three. Beside it is a stack of empty ammunition boxes. You have a small lantern weighing down an unfinished letter. With a sigh, you sit down and resume your writing from earlier that day:

Dearest Aunt Polly, Ada, and Finn ,

I know once my letter finds you that this will be well-known, but the Allies have finally claimed victory here in Ypres. The soldiers say we are nearly finished ousting the Germans from Passchendaele. Only a few remain. Too injured to retreat. It won’t be long before we can claim this as ours. Still, we have yet to celebrate. It’s strange. All these months we spent fighting, and this doesn’t feel like a victory. So many lives were lost. There are too many to even try to count.

My work keeps me busy, but it is at night when my mind is most busy. Even with the fighting stopped, it has been difficult to find the dead and the wounded. I do not know where these men will be put once they’re found. We have hardly any beds left to offer. I have taken to sleeping in a chair by the entry to the main tent. Partly to free a bed for those that need it, partly to keep an eye out for any soldiers still trying to make it back.

For so long, all I’ve done is race from place to place. Now all I do is change bandages, sooth the restless, and listen for the wounded who remain stuck in the trenches. Those still well enough to fight are sent out to recover their comrades. It’s hard work. Idle bombs and lurking landmines are all still out there. Some men come back worse than they left.

I know that the boys aren’t out there, but still, I strain to listen for them. John, Arthur, and Tommy. In my dreams, I do hear them. Just as I know, you hear them in your dreams too, Polly. It makes me wake with such a fear in me that my feet carry me forward before I’m fully awake. I rush toward that ocean of muck and blood, and I stop only when my fingers pierce the earth; the feel of it under my fingernails brings back my senses for some reason.

I wonder if all the victories we’ve won felt like this. I wonder if, when all is said and done, any of this will amount to anything at all. Does anyone remember why we’re even here? Who will take our bodies home if none of us survive?

“God,” you say, taking your pen and scratching out the last line. Then, you scratch out the last paragraph. You cross out line after line. They don’t need to read this. This madness. It was good of Ada to back out of volunteering. Not just because of this lonely sea of mud and blood, but for little Finn, too. With you and the three eldest men gone, someone needed to take care of him. Mom has been dead for almost five years now. Father may as well be dead; he felt like a ghost when he was home anyway. Aunt Polly was holding up “the business,” from what you could gleam from Ada’s letters back to you.

In the year you’ve spent out on the fields, you have yet to receive a letter from your brothers. Not that you blame them. All of you are on the move. What you know of their state comes from Ada, or Polly. Arthur and Tommy are together, which somewhat soothes you. You think of John often. He’s in France with Danny and Jeremiah. I think you joined so that you could look after your brothers. It’s been years since you’ve seen them in person. Who knows what state they may be in? There are men behind you who will never be whole. Broken bodies, shattered minds, and more scar tissue than flesh. Are your brothers as you remember them? You hate to linger on the thought.

You fold your ruined letter three times and rip it in half. The give-and-take of it feels good somehow. It reminds you of something you read once about children being destructive to gain some form of control. You can’t control how long this war lasts, when you can come home, what home you return to, or what state you find your brothers in, but you can control this paper. So, you rip it again. And again. Each tear becomes more jagged and childish. You throw up your hands, and the bits of paper fly away in the cold November winds.

‘Snow from Birmingham to Belgium,’ you crack a small smile.

You once dreamed of journeying across Europe. It was a lovely fantasy filled with long train rides and French pastries. Winking at handsome strangers while hiding your smile behind a lacy white glove. Now, you feel like you’ve seen too much of it. When all this fighting is over, maybe you’ll take a holiday to Margate. Clean your memory with a long look at an ocean of water instead of this hellscape.

“Shelby!” Your head turns sharply to see Nurse Burgess charging towards you. Her round face was blotchy as always, her thin lips drawn down in a harsh frown. “Miss Shelby, you are needed in the back.”

Tucking your scented hanky back into your apron, you ask, “Is someone in throes?” Some men, in the throes of despair, couldn’t always tell the difference between a nurse and a German soldier.

Her meaty hand takes you by the upper arm and says, “No, I need you to keep an eye on someone.” Nurse Burgess drags you through the maze of malaise swiftly, despite the growing night. The nurses have navigated this place in near darkness many times now. You could probably make it from one end to the other, blindfolded. Tonight, the field hospital was quiet aside from the moaning. Nurse Burgess guides you deeper inside the field hospital with a hoarse, “It’s Captain Solomons; that bastard won’t lay still, and I haven’t the time to keep on him.”

You try to keep your voice low as soldiers in their cots roll over to follow you and Nurse Burgess’ mad dash. “Captain Solomons? I thought he was sedated, heavily!”

Nurse Burgess, on the other hand, has no such qualms. She hollers, “That man is a bloody bear. We keep trying to give him more, and he shoos us off. Now, he won’t stop trying to get out of his cot... with a blown-out leg!” Two soldiers sat on their cots with a barrel between them. They played cards under the glow of a flickering candle on their shared nightstand. As you passed, they snickered.

“I can’t imagine he would be able to move much; Doctor Gill said he nearly lost that leg,” you noted wearily. Burgess was nearly done with her escorting or you; the back of the tent was not far off. You stepped over a pool of what could have been rainwater, bile, or piss. There is no point in stopping to check.

At the back of the field hospital lay two specific sorts of patients. Those who could not move and those who absolutely should not move. Captain Solomons was in the former category. Days ago, he sustained a bullet to his shin that nearly shattered it. He had been under strict orders, and a heavy dose of sedatives, to stay right where he was. Each cot in this back section has its own privacy curtain. When you first joined, you thought it was for the nurses to sleep and change in. The other nurses had a good laugh about that. When she comes upon Captain Solomons’ curtain, Nurse Burgess lets you go. S yanks back the curtain, shielding the Captain from view, and lets out a deep grunt.

You peer around her shoulder and sigh. The captain sits on the thin cot with a sterile sheet pushed down to his legs. His back is raised from the metal headboard, and he has his body turned with his good foot nearly touching the ground. Still on the bed rests his wounded leg. It lays at a stiff, awkward angle. You know he must at least be aware of its precarious state. In the dark, it’s difficult to make out all of his features.

“Captain!”

He’s a big man, with broad shoulders and heavy muscle on his back and arms. You can see it pushing against his long-sleeved undershirt. What strikes you most about him is not his mass or his leg, but his grin. His cheeky, cheeky grin.

Captain Solomons keeps on that grin as he says, “Hm, it appears I have been caught, right?” His accent is thick. You know very little about Captain Solomons aside from the most basic of details. You know he’s from London, you know that he’s Jewish, and you know that he can be difficult. The Captain’s tone remains glib as he remarks, “And you brought a friend, ‘ello there.”

“You are to be resting, Captain Solomons!” Based on her tone, you can imagine Nurse Burgess is turning purple about now. Captain Solomons gives her a boyish shrug and stays upright in his cot. That alone makes Nurse Burgess turn to you and hiss and say, “Keep him here so he doesn’t rip his bloody stitches, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you hum. She leaves you there in the parted curtains with Captain Solomons. He regards you for a moment, then restarts his attempt at standing. You let out a sigh and hurry to him before he gains enough traction to hurt himself. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you try to ease him back into his crib. “Captain, you really must follow the doctor’s instructions.” You feel him push against your palms.

“Fuck the doctors; pardon my verbiage, but I’m about to go mad lying about this miserable lump you call a bed,” he says, putting his hands around your wrists. You are taken aback by how easily his hand wraps around your wrist. If he wanted to, it wouldn’t be terribly difficult to just shove you aside. “I need to take a walk.”

Politeness doesn’t seem to work on him, nor does roughness. While you weren’t tough like John or ruthless like Arthur, you were clever with people. You could get a sense of how someone’s mind ticked quickly. You hoped you could catch on about Captain Solomons too. “And when your stitches rip and you’ve lost your leg, what cot would you like me to move you to?”

He stops pushing against you. His chest is still heaving, and his hot breath fans your cheeks. You swallowed thickly; you really underestimated how close you were to him. This is a is a big, big man. One who had rumors of a violent temper that took very little to agitate.

“You have been injured and are lucky to be alive. And you still have all your parts, Captain. Why are you risking that just to go on a fucking walk?” He stares you down with a furrowed brow. For a moment, you worry you’ve poked the bear a bit too hard. “If you refuse to take the doctors seriously, what do you think the men who answer to you will do? They’ll all be trying to walk about despite their pain and end up injuring themselves for pride.”

Solomons puts you at ease when he sits back on the cot, releasing your wrists. “I can’t just lay about like this. I’ll lose the rest of my marbles waiting around for those doctors to get these stitches out. There’s not a single thing a man can do to occupy his mind in this place. It smells of piss, rot, and pus. If they would give me back my knife, right? I could cut out a little window in this tarp behind me and get a whiff of fresh air. But they won’t. Where’s the respect, hm?”

You cross your arms and ask, “So, you’re bored?”

He stiffens. Oh, you hit the nail right on the head with that one. You can’t exactly blame him. The longer you stand still, the faster all your fears catch up with you. All those ugly things you’ve seen and heard find you. That’s why the soldiers play cards and the nurses trade that single copy of ‘Frankenstein’ and ‘A Room with a View’ back and forth. Distraction. “If you can stay still where you are, I can try to get a book or a deck of cards. Would you like that?”

With a sweeping gesture to the darkness, he says, “Can’t exactly read a page or play a hand in the dark, now can we love?”

Shaking your head at his childish attempts at derailing your little plan, you take out a matchbox from your apron. With your last matchstick, you bring life to a lantern by his bed. You turn to face him, a warm orange light reflecting on your face. In the dim lighting offered by the lantern, you can see the Captain’s face. He’s young for a man of his rank. And handsome, you can admit as much in your own mind. His eyes are bright, and his features are deeply masculine. A hard jawline with a prominent brow and pouty lips. Most soldiers, regardless of rank, are required to be clean-shaven. This is not true for Captain Solomons. He has a well-maintained moustache and beard, cut close to his jawline. You heard from somewhere that Solomons was an exception due to his faith or his demeanor. Captain Solomons is looking up at you, too. His expression was all aglow. Bright gray eyes stare at your face. Confused almost as they regard you.

“Do we have a deal, Captain?”

He’s still staring at you, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. Finally, he says, “If you can get ‘Frankenstein,’ I’ll stay put. That’s a piece of fiction I can sit with for a good bit of time.”

You beam at him and take the chance to push his healthy leg under his blanket. Solomons grumbles, “Easy now, easy. I’m injured, remember?” He allows you to gently move him safely into his cot.

Finding the nurse who had taken possession of the book was no easy task, but she was quick to give it to you when you informed her a captain had asked for it. When you came back with the book, Solomons was still in bed. You thanked a God you no longer believed in and handed him the book. Just as you attempted to leave, Captain Solomons made an admission: “My eyes, yeah, they don’t pinch up the written word so easy these days. If there’s not a grisly scene out there for you to attend to, might you do me the service of reading this aloud for me?”

For a moment, you think about refusing. You never know when you’ll be called away. But then again, you’re the one who came up with the idea to get him a distraction anyway. Settling down at the edge of his bed, you take the book from his hand and begin to read. Captain Solomons leans back against the metal headboard, listening to you begin reading the preface. What you didn’t know was that this was the start of a near-nightly ritual. Captain Solomons would attempt to slink out of bed to go'stretch his leg(s)’ until you would rush over to distract him with another book or game of cards. He became a welcome distraction for you as well. A friend, almost. Perhaps more than that, if the way he kissed you one cold night in late November told you anything.

His lips were as soft as they looked.

Whether it was friendship or not, it lasted for about a month. Captain Solomons and his men were removed from the area for transport to the west. You and your fellow VADs would go north. He didn’t stop to say goodbye to you, which bothered you. The morning after he kissed you was the day you found out about the move. And he was already gone.

In one year and three days, the war would be over. You would return home to find that all your brothers had survived. But they weren’t quite themselves anymore, and neither were you.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinders x oc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x shelby!oc #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader

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venomous-ragno · 1 year

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Writing advice...

... About military things from a soldier

Pt. 2 / ?: Women and relationships in the military

You wanna write a story with a militaristic setting, like CoD or R6S? You wanna create a female OC, self insert or character, but you don't know where to start, if women are even allowed in the military?

Well, lucky for you or not I know what that feels like and I've also got the combat / real life experience to help ya out!

Feel free to hop in my askbox or dm's and ask questions. I'll gladly elaborate and do my best to answer in full and plenty.

Disclaimer: My experiences and knowledge are mostly based on the German military, the Bundeswehr. They may differ from those of other countries.

Happy writing y'all! :)

Are women allowed in the military?

The answer seems obvious: Yes. Most militaries around the world do allow women to enlist. Some, however, do not allow women to join the special forces, such as the SAS, for example.

Certain branches report a higher number of female soldiers than others. The US army air force and sanitation in the German military are two examples I can think of.

Some countries do allow women to enlist but forbid them from partaking in "action", such as North Korea, Sweden, Norway, Bolivia and some more.

What about misogyny by male soldiers?

In my six years of active duty I've learnt that sexism rarely occurs, but when it does, it's straight forward and nasty. Most men don't care about your gender. They treat you like you're one of them, and oftentimes even forget about the fact that you're a woman. The few times I was talked down to for my gender was blatant and hateful though; but even then, some of these opinions didn't come from within the military, but from civilians. (Cue the old granpa who saw me travelling back home in uniform and just had to tell me that women belong in the kitchen, how in the good old days women were still women yadda yadda. Yeah, I had the same look about on my face like you now.)

Appearance is important!

As is in any military. I can't speak for them though, but in my experience, light and natural make up is allowed. Nail polish and lipstick are a hard no though, albeit the latter may be allowed for special occassions. If there's one thing my comrades have taught me it's that most men in the military got no clue about make up, so you'll probs get away with more than you'd think.

The exact rules however depend on your unit and what you do. Back when I was in sanitation I'd be working a pretty standard 9 to 5. Worked in the medbay and treated patients, kept the medical archive in order, pretty normal stuff. My superior allowed us to wear small ear studs. When I got deployed to another base I was almost lynched for wearing them. Really depends on the ones in charge.

As for hairstyles: Most units are fine with anything as long as your hair is up and out of your face. Now, we didn't have to use gel to keep stray hairs at bay. It wasn't that strict. Just don't use any flashy hair accessories and hair ties that match your hair colour. Oh, and your hair must be a) one colour and b) a naturally occuring one. The length doesn't matter as long as you're not Rapunzel. If your hairstyle is anything other than a pixie cut, you will have to wear a hair net under your combat helmet.

Do men and women stay in seperate dorms?

Seperate rooms? Yeah. Seperate dorms? Nope.

Sometimes you'd have couples who shared a dorm room. It's a whole process that your superior has to give his ok to, but I honestly wouldn't recommend it. Dorm rooms aren't exactly big. You need privacy? Well, that's too bad.

If you're lucky enough you get to have a room for yourself. Depending on what branch / base you're in, the rooms will be more or less furnished. Back when I worked at the ministry of foreign affairs, my room was pretty luxurious for milutary standards: TV, fridge, sofa, bed, desk w chair, a closet and a bathroom next door. That's definitely not the standard though. We usually had to buy and bring our own stuff, like blankets, fridge, decorations, whatever you'd need to make that cold room somewhat comfy. (Wifi is also not a given. Gotta get your own connection running.)

Flings, relationships, cheating spouses... How common is it really?

They do happen, though not as often as you'd think.

It's more common to hear rumors about who has smth going with who and these rumors can get BAD. As in reputation and career ruining bad. At that point there's gonna be an order from higher up to stop talking about these rumors and punishment can be quite strict. (Speaking of rumors...Hate to say it, but the more women a unit had, the worse talking behind others backs was.)

One thing that I always found particularly disgusting were relationships between higher ups and recruits. Yes, they happen. No, they're not allowed. These things are like open secrets. If found out and proven to exist, the superiors will be held accountable by military law. Outside of basic training it may be frowned upon if a superior were to enter any kind of relation with someone of lower rank, thought not outright punishable.

As for cheating... Well, I haven't enountered any cheating myself, nor heard of it (yet). Not saying that it doesn't happen, but at least over here in Germany it's rare. It's highly frowned upon and will open you up to rumors and... Not so nice treatment by comrades. Cheating on a spouse is punishable by military law. A soldier found guilty may be demoted in rank, suffer financial losses or even get dishonourably discharged.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #mod talks #call of duty headcanons #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty könig #call of duty soap

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allkordelia · 2 years

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Hi! Can I request a imagine/smut where the oc is black and is Targaryen? And she is the older half-sibling of Rhaenyra and is named after Visenya. Daemon likes her and is very possessive and kind of have yandere tendencies when it comes to her👀. She is extremely good in combat and a great war tactician like her namesake. And can she be the rider of Vhagar? And has the ability to bend blood at her will and make weapons out of them?

Blood/Lust

You rode vhagar high in the sky circling bloodstone looking down at where the Triarchy were hiding, it been almost year and half years since you left king's landing to join daemon and uncle corlys. Well, more like ran away rather than join you left home after a fight with you father, viserys, and you have to say you kinda wish you didn't the fact of the matter is we are losing and daemon "the commander" is leaving your uncles and you to come up with a strategy.

While he tries using caraxes to kill the triarchy and craghas drahar even through you told him millionth time that the dragonflies won't reach them in the caves, he does it anyways like a nonlistening child and your starting to feel like a mother now.

You look away from the bodies of your fallen comrades as you pull the reins causing vhagar to fly back to camp, it was nearing nightfall when you dropped down from your dragon since she's so big she would have to stay far away from the camp. You sigh taking the helmet off your head before shaking your white dreadlocks, the head of vhagar nudge you causing you to scratch under her chin making the beast let out a soft growl before completely laying on the ground.

You patted her snort before walking away as you walk the silver armour that they gave you scrap and clank togther with every step you took, seeing as the walk back to the camp going to be a long one you started thinking why you were here.

Daemon looked down at rhaenyra as she wore the necklace he just gave her his finger graze her collarbone, he watched with mischief as she grew pink at his touch she soon stepped away when the door to the throne room opened. He glared over at whoever interrupted them when his gaze turned soft when he realized it was you, visenya was your name the bronze beauty with white kinky hair like his and rhaenyra. He raked his eyes over your body haven't seen you since you were rhaenyra's current age, the red dress that pushed up your breast and hug your waist made him stare as you walk with grace with your hands behind your back and a small playful smile on your face.

"And may I ask what you two are doing in here?" You stopped in front of them glancing between them.

"Our dear uncle has gifted me a necklace...its made from valyrian steel." Rhaenyra said with bright smile looking at her older half-sister, your brows shot up as you step closer to look at the pretty necklace.

"Ah, It's very beautiful, rhae." Daemon watched as you smile at your sister, some siblings would be displease to found out that their younger siblings got a beautiful gift like this but not you not an ounce of jealousy or bitterness on your face just a carefree smile.

"Rhaenyra. I need to speak with your sister about a matter." Rhaenyra frown a bit before nodding and looking back at you.

"I'll be in godswoods when your done." You nodded before watching rhaenyra walk out leaving daemon and you alone.

"I hope I'm not in trouble." You said with a playful look, he chuckled shaking his head.

"No. I just wanted get a moment alone to talk, how have you been?" He asked giving you a soft smile, "You grown so much since I last saw you."

"I'm good, uncle. I am happy to see your back and well." He didn't say anything just giving her a low hmmm as his eyes went to her expose cleavage.

"I heard that you weren't in the Vale for sometime, where have you been during your time away." You asked calmly feeling a bit unnerved as he looked at you, he glanced back up before shrugging.

"A little bit of everywhere, you could say. I was in dorne, then I went to the iron islands, and I lingered in the free cities for a bit before getting bored coming back home." He chuckled moving to scratch the back of his neck.

"Well, we're happy your home and in time for the tourney I heard you got some competition." He rolled his eyes at that knowing very well half the men joining the tourney don't have a chance.

"I'll doubt that, neice."

"I don't know, daemon. I heard a new knight from dorne is very skilled and very handsome." Daemon narrowed his eyes at you not liking this new knight if he caught your attention.

"We see about that..." he stated before turning on his heel and walking to the iron throne.

"Daemon." You said cautious knowing what he was about to do, he gave her mischief smile before taking a seat.

"One day, all of this will be mine." He said looking around the room with a proud look.

"I guess I have to pray twice as hard for a boy, then." He turned to you with a soft glare.

"You mock your future king, princess." You shook her head.

"No, I mock my uncle the prince..." you giggle before standing in front of him, "...this is consider treason you know." He shrugged before patting his knee.

"Come sit and see what I see." You shook your head.

"No, thanks I choose life." He chuckled.

"Come on, live a little neice this might be your only chance to see what your ancestors saw when they sat here." You looked at him for a moment thinking you let out a small sigh before walking closer, this was a bad idea and you knew it but you did wanted to see why this seat was so special and made every person in your family fight over it like a peice of meat.

You glanced at daemon as he stared at you he put his legs togther making you sit down, you scooted a bit causing a soft groan to leave daemon's lips. Your eyes go wide before muttering a soft "sorry" about to get up when he right arm around your waist keeping you still, daemon shifted her on his left knee not before he got whiff of your perform you smelled like honey and cinnamon.

"You smell nice." He commented, she thanked him before she sat on his lap a bit stiff, "...relax and look ahead and tell me what you see." Your brows knitted togther before relaxing leaning back, you look ahead your hand rest on the arm of the throne as you looked around the empty room.

"I-I don't see anything." You turned your head to look at daemon, your faces were close to one another causing you turn away quickly making daemon chuckle softly.

"Pretend that your the queen and tell me what you see." You looked at ahead and tried to imagine but you shook your head slightly.

"I can't...what do you see." You asked

"I see lords from all over bending the knee to me, I see tables full of foods with people laughing and drinking." You hummed with a soft smile.

"With jesters?" You asked hearing him chuckled.

"Of course!" He exclaimed with a grin.

"How about fire dancers?"

"Yes, what kind of king would I be if I didn't have jesters and fire dancers at my coronation." You both laugh as he wrapped other arm around you squeezing you a bit as your hands went to his arms, daemon held a slight smile as you giggle before you knew it daemon lips was on yours.

Your hands went to his chest while one his hand went the back of your neck while the other one went to your waist slowly moving up, you couldn't help but kiss back your hand going to the side of his hand he too soon moved his hand from the ba k of your neck to your cheek.

"Daemon..." you breathed out as he kissed her neck well your hands went to his hair, you felt his hand massage your breast before grinding against you.

"Your so divine, visenya. So divine."

You both stopped suddenly when you heard talking and footsteps coming your way, you got up and daemon grabbed your hand before pulling you towards a secret passage. He still held your hand as he lead you through a maze until we finally saw a stone wall he pushed at it making it open and only to found it was your chambers, you walked in looking around as if you never been in there before looking over at daemon closing the stone wall.

"I did not know I had that in here." You said to yourself but daemon heard you making him turn to you with a slight smile.

"You can thank aegon for that he wanted secret passages made so if enemies reached the red keep, his family will found a way out through the castle and into the city or out." You didn't know that peice of information and you thought you read all you know about the castle.

"I never read about in any books we had." He shook his head slightly as he got closer to you.

"Well, if he wrote it down it wouldn't be a secret would it?" He says looking down at you making you let out a embarrassed chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess your right..." you looked down at your feet before daemon tilted you head up to look at him, you let out a shudder breathe as his thumb swipe across your bottom lip before kissing you again. Your hands went to his arms to steady yourself as he kissed you with passion you knew you should pull away, but daemon had this magnetic pull to him that made never to let go and daemon felt the same way.

"Princess? Are you in here?"

"Yes! Don't come in I'm changing." You shouted as daemon's face was in your neck pushing you against the table and started lifting up your gown.

"Your father wishes to see you, m'lady." You slap daemon's hand away as he continue attacking your neck.

"I-I'll be there soon." You strutted fighting back a moan as daemon found your sweet spot on your neck.

"Your father instructed you come immediately." You heard daemon chuckled as he hoped to do the same.

"Okay, I just...need to...found my...shoes." Daemon pecked your lips as you talk making you hit his chest, the guards didn't say anything making you fear they come in here.

"Alright, princess." Your shoulders slumped in relief, daemon brought your attention back on him.

"I should get going..." you said slowly moving from he grabbed your hand kissing it.

"Not before I give you your gift." You looked at him taken back before watching him take off his targaryen ring.

"Oh, daemon I can't take that–" he didn't listen as he put the ring on your finger.

"Yes and you will, think of it as a temporary gift until I give you a real one." You chuckled looking at the ring on your hand.

"...fine...thank you." You looked at him again and he smile softly at you, you grew warm when his hands caressed your face well bring hisnfave closer.

"Can I come see you tonight?" He whispered against your lips, you hummed softly nodding before he planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I see you then, princess." You smiled at him as he left to the secret door you looked down at the ring again before holding your hand to your chest, and you couldn't help the smile staying on your face before walking out of your room.

You finally made your way to the camp walking straight to your tent, you hoped you can get their without any trouble from daemon. It been worrying about you constantly which isn't bad but he knows that you can take care of yourself, and that's not only that but you fear he might be getting to possessive over you.

"Where the fuck have you been?" You looked up to see daemon stalking towards you, he grabbed your arms looking you over before you back at your face.

"I was flying...the triarchy were still–" he cut you off with a stern look.

"How many time did I have to tell you, I am the only one to fly over there you could have been hurt. I knew I shouldn't have brought you here..." you glared at him as he ranted.

"I'm sorry, okay! By the gods, I just wanted to see bloodstone so I can figure out how we can lure them out without fucking dying." You snapped back before walking away, daemon watched as you stalk away growling lowly in his throat why couldn't you see that he wanted to make sure you were okay.

He rolled his eyes to the sky before walking to the large tent that they use to talk strategies, he walked in taking a seat at the end of the table he snapped his fingers to one of the servants he brought from dragonstone before tapping his goblet.

He leaned back in his chair listening to vaemond and corlys talk, he drowned out their voices as his thoughts went back to you. He shouldn't have snapped at you the last thing he wanted was for you to be mad at him, after all he didn't wish to waste all of his hard work he put in to make sure you were here by his side.

It was late in the night when daemon was in the small council chambers the meeting ended a while ago but he stayed behind to speak with his brother, alone without a sudden cunt to interrupt them.

"Are you excited for the tourney tomorrow, brother?" Viserys asked.

"Very. Our dear, visenya said I have some competition." Daemon rolled his eyes making viserys chuckled.

"Yes, many good knights and many good candidates as well." Daemon raised a brow.

"Candidates for what?" He asked before putting his goblet to his mouth.

"For Visenya. It is high time she be marry off," Daemon glanced at his brother with an unreadable look.

"What about her...abilities. Aren't you afraid she might act out. " He said, viserys shook his head putting down his cup.

"Visenya is an obedient daughter she will listen to me."

"She's also strong minded, brother...." daemon said.

"True. But she knows her place and she been trained to play her part, and I'm sure any men will be happy to have her." Daemon kept his bitterness to himself before watching his brother pour more wine in his cup.

"How many have offered to marry her?" Daemon asked making viserys sighs exasperated.

"None. They all to scared of her and her abilities, but that will change tomorrow hopefully." An thought came to daemon as he look at his slighly drunk brother with unbothered look.

"May I speak freely, brother."

"Never stop you before." They both chuckled before daemon choice his words wisely.

"May I offer an alternative arrangement for visenya." Viserys furrowed his brows.

"Like?" Daemon shrugged.

"Give her to me..." Viserys was a bit drunk to know what his brother meant by that well daemon knew what he was asking.

"For?" He asked.

"...her abilities...she's a great fighter and she can help with the stepstone problem." Viserys scoffed out a laugh.

"I'm not sending my daughter out there for you to use her as some sort of weapon–"

"You'll be killing two bird with one stone–" Viserys cut his brother off.

"The answer is no, daemon. The last thing I need is for her to play into this 'the lady of blood' banality like her namesake." He huffed getting upset.

"She will do like every other women in our family has done, lay on her back and produce as many heirs and dragonraides until it kills her." Daemon watched as he brother down more wine trying not to smirk.

"Yes, of course, brother." Daemon let it go getting what he wanted from his brother.

The meeting in the tent was finished daemon didn't hear anything the entire fime as he was the first to get out of his seat and go look for you, he made it to your wide wall tent peeking inside to see you talking with another knight he glared at the man as he walked in causing the two to stop and look at him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." He said looking at you.

"No...not at all," the knight said before getting up off the small box she had in the tent.

"Thanks again, princess." He gave you a soft smile making you give him a small salute as he moved past the rogue prince, daemon stared at you as he walked further in taking a seat on the small box.

"What did he want?"

"His arm was bleeding so I patched it up." You shrugged looking at your feet as if it wasn't a big deal.

"And he couldn't go to one of the others." He asked.

"I guess he wanted a woman's touch." You joked, daemon didn't found it funny he didn't find it amusing he hummed before moving to sit on the cot next to you. His hand went to your thigh before leaning in only for you dodge his kiss, but that didnt stop him from kissing along your neck.

"Daemon not tonight." You said pulling away him to stand.

"You said that the night before."

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood to fuck when a bunch of our soldiers are dying." You said putting your hands on your hips, he covered his eyes with his hands before sliding them down.

"You think i don't know that I'm trying–"

"Are you? Because to me it feels like some sort of sick game to piss off my father." He stood up angry.

"I didn't come in here to be lectured. I came in here for the same purpose I brought you to the stepstones to fuck." You slapped him across the face making him snap his head to the side.

"Get the fuck out of my tent." She hissed crossing her arms angry he looked at her for a moment before scoffing and walking out, he stopped when he heard his name he saw you walk out.

"Take your fucking ring back too, asshole." You threw the ring at his chest before going back into your tent, daemon looked down at the ring before bending down grabbing it he heard laughter and turned to see the same knight and some others drinking.

You rode on the back of Syrax with rhaenyra to dragonstone, when you made it you tapped on your younger sister shoulder before pointing at the bridge where the men had their swords out. Syrax screeched before landing on the bridge you got off before helping rhaenyra down, she walked ahead of you as walk behind making the men cleared the way.

Rhaenyra ignored otto's objections as she continued ahead you stayed back making sure no one stopped her from speaking to daemon, you haven't seen or spoken to daemon for nearly half a year after the brothel incident he tried to convince you come with him but your heart was still broken from the lost of another mother so you refused and stayed for your father and sister.

"Your father will be very displeased to hear about this, princess." Otto said standing next to you as you both watch them talk.

"Maybe so, but atleast you all will leave with your life, isn't that something otto." You glanced to the man making him nod.

"Yes, of course, princess." He looked down at your hand seeing the ring that daemon gave you, you moved your hands behind your back as you stared at daemon and rhaenyra.

Your heart jumped into your stomach as daemon tossed the egg to rhaenyra, he stood there looking at you while you turned your attention to you sister. You moved aside so the dragonkeepers can receive the egg, rhaenyra put the egg in their hands before looking at you.

"His asking for you." You turned your eyes to daemon who looked back at you waiting, you let out a sigh before walking over to him.

"Daemon."

"Issa jorrāelagon." He smiled speaking in valyrian walking closer whispering making you roll your eyes. (My love)

"What is it?" You said.

"Ao jurnegon gevie hae mirre." (You look beautiful as ever.)

"What do you want, daemon." You gritted out agitated.

"Emagon aōha kepa found ao nykeā valzȳrys, yet?" He tilted his head to the side looking at you. (Have your father found you a husband, yet?)

"I'm leaving." You said turning around he grabbed your arm pulling you close, you held your other arm out to stop the others. You leaned back as he leaned forward thinking he was about to kiss you in front of everyone, but instead he moved past your mouth to your eat whispering.

You looked at him taken back as he let go of your arm, "You know I will never lie to you." Was the only thing he said before stepping back and going back inside, I stood their shock and hurt before walking back to my sister and the men.

"What did he say to you." Otto asked, you looked at him for a moment before looking away with dejection.

"...nothing important." You said before walking away to Syrax.

When you got back to the red keep you went straight to your room staying their the remainder of the day, even when your father wish to yell at you and your sister about leaving the castle you stayed in your room not letting anyone in wishing to be alone. You hoped that what daemon said was a lie you wished it prayed for it to be, it took you a while for you to trust your father after your own mother dead at childbirth and if he wish for you to do the same then....

"Princess? Your father wishes to see you." You were under the covers when you shouted.

"Tell him I'm ill."

"He said it is important and will only take a few minutes." You pulled the cover from over her head and got up.

You neared the room when you saw rhaenyra walk you called her name as she ignored you and sped walked past you, you turned to follow her when you heard your uncle corlys talking making you head to inside.

"What has happened? What is wrong with rhaenyra." All eyes were on you making you look around the room, viserys stalked towards you grabbing your hand with the ring on it.

"So, it's true." You looked over at Otto before snatching your hand from his grip.

"What is?" He glared at her.

"What did daemon say to you at dragonstone."

"Nothing of importance." He put his finger up.

"Don't lie to me. They were multiple people who saw it, what did he say." You didn't say anything as you played with the ring, he notice and grabbed your hands.

"Visenya!" He snapped.

"He told me how you truely think of me! How-how you think I should lay on my back and push out heirs." You snatched your hands from him stepping back.

"That's not–I didn't mean to say it–" you let out huffed of air can't believing what you were hearing.

"I thought we were past this..."

"We are." He says.

"No, we are not. We never were." You turned away walking out.

"Visenya." He called out but you didn't turn back, you took a horse and rode to the hills where vhagar sleeps. You left king's landing to travel back to dragonstone, you went to the great hall to found daemon by himself. He got up when you came through the doors he could tell that you confronted your father, he opened his arms making you wrap her arms around his waist he rubbed your back whispered sweet words before leading you to his chambers.

You woke to see it was morning you rolled out of bed foundung a tunic and trousers to put on before walking out, you head towards the other men eating taking a seat next to your cousin, Laenor.

"Where's our fearless leader?" You asked.

"He went back to bloodstone." You rolled your eyes before wolfing down your breakfast and wine, you patted laenor on his back before getting ready for today.

You looked at the sky watching daemon ride caraxes while your uncles discussed strategy you took your eyes off your lover at the ships being destroyed by the triarchy, you were in thought about how you get on the island without dying when the sounds of caraxes roared as he blew fire in one of the caves is when an thought came to you.

"I'll think I know how to get them out." You turned to your uncles and the rest if the men, they looked at you as you came to the board.

"I'm all ears." Vaemond said exhausted crossing his arms.

"We will need someone to go to the island alone, when I was flying over I saw a white fabric on the ground we could use that..."

"For?" Laenor asked.

"To surrender if they think we're surrendering they will come out, and your soldiers will come over." You moved a pawn to the shores of bloodstone on the board.

"Laenor will follow after with seasmoke, you will have to aim high since that's where their archers are shooting from." You moved a dragon pawn around on the board, you turned to the men.

"It's not a great plan but it's something."

"It's a better plan ours." Vaemond commented.

"Thank you, uncle. But, we still need a decoy...and I volunteer myself." Corlys shook his head.

"No." He said not allowing it, he will send all his man first before his own blood.

"Then who should go, brother? What madman is willing to go down there with no one. " Vaemond asked.

"Daemon." Laenor said backing up his cousin, and as he said that caraxes flew over them.

"It should ms that goes I have the stamina and the abilities to do it." Corly looked at you for a moment conseplating.

"I can do it, uncle." He smiled nodded before putting an hand on your shoulder.

"...intelligent and brave like your mother, no wonder she named you after her favorite warrior." He murmur to you when he past by you making you smile, you turned seeing daemon make his way through the crowd of men as he neared a boy you recognized from court along with a couple of men behind him walk to us.

"Princess..." he bowed before looking at daemon, "...messgae from the king himself, prince daemon." He handed the rolled up parchment to daemon, you watched as daemon unrolled and read it.

You watched him read it and you notice how his face twitched with every word scanned, anyone else would think everything was fine but you knew better whatever your father wrote pissed and angered daemon. He was finished reading handing it back to Addam before the young man can look take back you snatched it out of daemon's hand, you scanned through it furrowed your brows reading good news rather than bad before you knew it daemon was besting the messager with his helmet.

"Daemon!" You shouted at him as he beat the messager, you looked at around as all the men knew better than to touch daemon when his like this. You lifted your hand up slowly making daemon groan as he stop his assault on the young man, you twisted it a bit as daemon held his stomach in pain.

A small perk in your abilities you can cause them to do as you wish by just bending and manipulating their blood, you broke out of your consternation when your felt a hand on your should causing you to stop. Daemon let out a painful groan as he kneel to the ground, he looked over at you seeing your left eye let out a bloody teardrop.

"Take the him to get looked at," you told the others that accompany messager before looking at corlys.

"I'm taking the rowboat to bloodstone, wait for my signal." He nodded before you walked passing daemon who was slowly getting to his feet, you used the back of your hand to wipe away the blood.

From the time you got here you been using your blood bending frequently against the enemy and training, you still don't know how to use it since you were forbidden to use them back home. Your father feared that you might be too much like visenya targaryen if visenya had powers, but after two years you gotten better at making your blood turn into a weapon a favorite of yours is the rope dart. You saw it once a long time ago when a dornish woman use it as a trick on rhaenyra fifth nameday, you were captivated by it that you wanted learn to use but your father refused to allow such thing.

"Wait! I'm coming with..." you stop looking behind you to see daemon walking after you, you didn't say anything before finally getting to the rowboat. He held out his hand so you can get in but you ignore it getting in and taking a seat he pushed it into the water before jumping in himself, you grabbed the oar like daemon and started rowing neither of you spoke for some time until you notice he was wince with ever time he moved.

"Are you alright?" He looked up at you before nodding.

"Yeah, I'm fine just a bit sore." You hmmed looking behind him at the island, daemon looked at you before speaking.

"Do you still want to be with me, visneya?" You looked away from the island to daemon as he stared at you.

"That's not what you should be saying to me right now," you said plainly.

"I know and I am sorry for what I said last night, I didn't mean it you know...we all been on edge." You looked at him for a second before staring over his shoulder, daemon cast his eyes away feeling a bit rejected.

"... and yes, I still want to be with you." A slight smile played on his lips as they row in silence the entire way, they finally made it on shore you looked around until your eyes caught the knight from last night.

"He's with the gods now, visenya." Daemon said looking at the knight, you sigh nodding as a feeling of anger bloomed inside your chest.

"Do you have your dagger." You nodded before stopping as you tear the white fabric and grab a broken spear tying them making it look like a flag.

"What are the chances this might not work?" He asked as you hand him the stick.

"Uh, I'll get back to you on that." You gave him a pursed smile as you continued walking.

You both made it seeing the ruins of bloodstone, daemon raised up the white flag waving it you looked up to see archers pointing their bows at them, your eyes moved away when men in mask came out. Daemon planted the stick in the sand before we both kneel he took out dark sister as a "offering for peace", your dagger was on your thigh hidden the masked man came closer to you both as he looked down at us.

You cut your hand on a sharp stone in the sand the blood started to morph into a dagger, as daemon killed the man you threw your blood dagger at another man. You ran grabbing the blade his chest before stabbing the other with your valyrian dagger that daemon got you, you both ran dogging the arrows as more man came you slide on your kneels slicing two men legs before turning to stabbing them in the gut. You and daemon held out as long as you could waiting the velaryon troops to come, your blood dagger transformed into a sword before sticking into another twisting it before pulling out. You yelp in pain making you fall to your knee that archer shot you in before breaking it and getting up limping, a man tackled you causing you trumble to the sand as we rolled.

"Visenya!" You heard your name before a painful groan caused you to see daemon get shot with two bows in the leg and chest.

"Daemon." you scrambled off the floor only to feel your ankle get grabbed causing you to turn to the guy and kick at his face multiple time trying to get him to let go, you look to see three more men coming towards daemon you was pulled back getting flip on your back which made you stab the man under the chin when he was above you before pushing him off.

Daemon swinged his sword trying to get them to back away, when he watched as two of the men body twist in a weird way as they yelled out in pain and bleed from the eyes and nose before they necks snapped causing them to fall.

He saw you launched at the last man as you bleed from both of your eyes one of the many arrows hit you in the arm but that didnt stop you from repeatingly stabbing the man in the chest and neck getting blood all over your face, you broke the arrow from your arm before walking over to daemon dragging him to shelter as more arrows were fired at you.

"Are you okay?" He asked breaking the arrows from his chest and leg.

"Yeah, how about you?" He nodded, they notice more men were coming causing them to get up, as they were cornered the sound of troops came from the shores to the rescue you looked up to see seasmoke above blowing fire at the archers.

"Daemon..." he turned to you as you gave him dark sister, "...finish this.." you said before running out to join the fight with the others.

The battle ended with victory as daemon was made king of the narrow sea and stepstones, you clapped and cheered along when daemon brought half of craghas body out. The soldiers decided to celebrate their victory in camp with drinking, you skipped the celebration went to clean yourself off at that this spring you found. It was beautiful and quiet only the sound of nature to feel your ears, you lowered yourself in making all the dirt and blood from the battle wash off and flow away. You leaned your head back enjoying the hot water on your body when you heard a sound coming from the woods in front of you, you looked slowly moved to get your dagger when you saw daemon come from behind a tree.

"You spying on me now?" You asked he didn't say nothing only shaking his head no.

"May I join you?" You shrugged as you watch him him get undress and step inside, you leaned you head back as you went back to reflexing while your arms moved against the water.

You opened your eyes staring up at the purple sky as you feel hands on your waist, you bite your bottom lips as you felt his mouth on your shoulder. You lifted you head up wrapping your arm around his shoulder, his hand was under the water rubbing your heat making you moan softly. Your chest and his pressed togther as you kissed him his tongue slipped making you taste the wine he drank earlier, your hand moved underwater grasping his cock in your hands as you slowly move your hand up and down.

He groaned against my lips before kissing down to my chest and making me gasp as his mouth lick and bite my breast, your nails raked through his hair causing him to thrust his hips into my hand. He soon slap my hand way making you giggle before wrapping your thighs around his waist, you felt his cock rub against your folds making dig your heel in his side making him chuckled. You let out a sigh as he pushed his cock into you he held you against the rock as he fucked into you, you whimper throwing your head back as he suck on your neck.

"Do you love me?" He said holding your thigh tight, you nodded quickly.

"I want...to hear you say it." He grunted out well his thumb started rubbing your your sweet spot again.

"Y-yes, I-I love you daemon." Your nails went to his back leaving stratch marks as he move his hips bit more rougher against your own.

"Will you marry me?" He asked, he feeling you squeeze around him you didn't say anything for a minute feeling your stomach tighten.

"...yes, fuck yes I'll marry you." She moaned out before latched his lips against hers fucking her against the rock not soon after he came in her making her shiver in pleasure.

"I love you, daemon." She said leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I love you too, visenya." He panted kissing her cheek.

They made it back to camp holding hands you grinned having your head on his shoulder, "I have forgotten...this belongs to you." He reached in his pocket with his free hand pulling out his targaryen ring, you gave him your hand as he slides it on before kissing you.

"I'm gonna pack my stuff, I'll see you later?" You asked him with a sly smile.

"Of course, love." He gave you one last on your cheek before you let go of his hand and walked to your tent.

"Visenya." You heard your cousin called out for you making you to see him running up to you, you greeted him before he asked about the knight that was in your tent yesterday. You told him the bad news and how you saw him on the shores, making him furrowed his brows.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Nothing, it just he was supposed to stand watch at dwarfstone with three others but they said they havent seen him since all morning." You tilted your head.

"Did anyone see him last night."

"Yeah, they said he was drinking and was last seen with daemon...." you furrowed your brows as your cousin kept talking your eyes moved over to see daemon looking at the two of you, you looked back at your cousin when he mentioned five other names you recognized.

"We gonna go back to bloodstone to see if we can found and receive their bodies for their families." You nodded seeing daemon walking over to them.

"I hope you found them cousin." He nodded before walking away he nod towards daemon as he does the same before he stop in front of me.

"What was that about?" He asked trying to act dumb.

"You know what you did to ser gwayne at the tourney was cute, but this is just madness..." you said ignoring his question as you continued to walk towards your tent.

"I didn't like how they were looking at you." You rolled your eyes, you expected that he killed them it was sweet since the first two was arshole and a bit touchy when they are drunk but the other three were sweet.

"For your sake, their bodies better be found before the others get back from bloodstone." You stopped outside your tent and looking at him.

"Or what?" He challenged.

"Do you truely want to found out?" You glared at him with a stern look, he stared at you hoping to get you to reconsider but you were firm to your words making him sigh pecking your lips.

"Fine." You smiled.

"Can I atleast–"

"No." You left no room for argument as you walked in your tent leaving daemon scowl to himself as he left to get the bodies from the woods.

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stargirlaveblog · 4 months

Text

7Seals

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Chapter 1

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• Previous Chapter: Prologue Next Chapter: Chapter 2

•Chapter List

•Content: Levi Ackerman x OC Fem! Canon Verse! Slow Burn!

• Word Count: 1.2k

"Now I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals; and I heard one of the four living creatures saying with a voice like thunder, 'Come and see.' And I looked, and behold, a white horse. He who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer."

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In the regiment's relentless rhythm, my days blurred together over six unchanging years. The routine was our relentless master – wake, eat, train, meetings, eat again, and sleep. The mundane melody was occasionally disrupted by Shadis' whims, granting us a fleeting taste of the world beyond the towering Walls.

Our morning table, a sanctuary for the seasoned veterans, bore witness to comrades dropping like autumn leaves. The unspoken question lingered: when would our turn come? While many saw luck in our continued survival, I saw a darker twist. Fate, I believed, lurked patiently, biding its time until we felt secure, ready to shatter the false reality we'd constructed in this hellish existence.

Today, the cruel hand of fate played its cards, mocking our comfort.

"The boys aren't here yet?" Petra's radiant smile broke the morning's routine as she settled across from me.

"Nah," I replied, absentmindedly tearing at my morning bread. "Just Hange and I, probably still asleep."

Petra's grin widened, cheeks tinted with a hint of mischief. "Thank the Wall."

Hange, always perceptive, caught the unspoken secret in Petra's expression.

"I know that look," they squealed with infectious excitement. "Spill."

"Have you guys seen the new recruit?" Petra's playful voice danced through the room.

"Have I?!" Hange's response, a lively squeal, prompted a shared effort between Petra and me to hush them. Yet, if anything, their voice only seemed to gain volume.

"He's a menace! Have you guys seen him in action? He's truly set to revolutionize the Scouts."

One person expected to revolutionize the regiment was a wild accusation, not only wild but big shoes to fill.

"I thought all the recruits died."

"He's the sole survivor. Goes by Levi," Petra disclosed in a hushed tone leaning towards me. "Word has it his entire wing was taken out on the last expedition. Rumor even suggests he took down five titans single-handedly."

"Five?" My surprise echoed throughout the mess hall, louder than Hange had earlier.

"Who is this guy?"

A recruit taking out more than one Titan on their first journey outside the Walls was unheard of. The recruit surviving a Titan encounter was impressive enough, but taking down five was a whole other game.

Petra gestured subtly towards the corner, where Levi sat alone. "A short fella," Hange added with a playful smile.

"But undeniably handsome," Petra remarked.

My curiosity ignited and my intrusive thoughts won as I nudged Petra.

"Go talk to him."

"I'd only fool myself," she sighed. "He keeps to himself, speaks only with section leaders and the commander."

"I don't buy it," I chuckled, glancing in Levi's direction. There he was, absorbed in the morning paper, sipping tea in that peculiar way of his—hand over the rim, neglecting the perfectly good handle on the side of the cup.

"Go see for yourself," Petra challenged with a smug grin.

"I will," I declared, sticking my tongue out playfully before confidently striding towards Levi's table.

He was a recluse no doubt about it. From the moment Petra pointed him out to me, not once has he looked up from his morning paper. I know that nothing that interesting happened in these three walls to keep his attention that long.

Undeterred by Levi's icy reception, I took a seat without awaiting permission. The mess hall seemed to hold its breath, the world stopped moving around me as I gathered the courage to speak.

"What's your name?" I probed, met only with the continued rustle of his morning paper and the measured sip of his tea.

"Not a big talker, huh?" I teased, maintaining a resilient grin. "Well, I'm Iris, been with the scouts for six years now. Sorry for the tardy introduction—"

"Are you a section leader?" he interrupted.

"Oh, no, I'm just—" Again, his interruption cut me off.

"Until you become a captain or commander, don't talk to me unless ordered to," he snapped, his eyes still glued to the paper.

"Until you become captain or commander, don't tell me what to do," I retorted, my smile unwavering. "Until then, I'll talk your ear off as much as I want to."

Finally, he set aside his papers and looked up. His midwinter eyes jabbed at me as they locked onto my own.

"If you're trying to make a friend, save your breath and look elsewhere," he groaned, his gaze cold. "Tell your friends it's rude to stare."

I rose from the table, maintaining my cheerful facade. "Congrats on the five Titans. Until next time, Mr. Grumps."

"Tch," escaped Levi's lips as I walked away, his grumbling fading into the background as I navigated back to my comrades.

Miche Oluo and Alexander awaited my return at the breakfast table. All eyes were on me, especially Alexander's, his light brown gaze burning into mine. There was an unspoken tension, a silent exchange between us that spoke of disapproval and lingering questions.

As I settled beside Alexander, his disapproving gaze burned into my being. "What were you doing with that little freak?" he sneered.

"Hey, don't call him that," I retorted, nudging him playfully.

"What? Freak?" He laughed with a harsh edge. "He's just another underground sewage rat. Nothing but a freak." The disdain lingered on his tongue.

"Kid has a death wish," Miche chimed in.

"I think that kid is older than all of us," Hange interjected.

"There's no way that puny little thing is older than me," Alexander scoffed, dismissing Levi as if he were insignificant. "Just look at him. Nothing but bones under that uniform."

"Now now, Alexander," Hange teased. "I'd think you're jealous of him passing you up."

"Me jealous of that freak? Never," Alexander laughed, a defensive edge in his voice.

"Really? Because he's already at five Titans for his first expedition. I recall you earning three on our first mission," Hange pointed out with a mischievous giggle.

"Listen here, you little shit" Alexander's frustration surged, and he aimed his words at Hange. "I earned my way into the Scouts. That guy is only here to kill Erwin. He's nothing but a thug."

"Alexander, calm down," I attempted to defuse the tension, but his anger was worked up. Hange's teasing had struck a nerve, a fact known to everyone at the table.

"What?" Alexander groaned at me. "Don't tell me you have a soft spot for the freak already."

"Calm down. Hange is just teasing, and we all know it," I laughed lightly, attempting to ease the situation.

The table fell into an uneasy silence as Levi strolled by, his steel-grey eyes fixed ahead with unwavering confidence.

"Freak," Alexander muttered under his breath as Levi passed.

Alexander's sharp words lingered in the air as a bitter aftertaste, and a knot of worry tightened in my stomach. The casual disdain he threw toward Levi struck a nerve, leaving me both surprised and uneasy.

The recruit's gaze met Alexander's, offering an unfazed look. However, Levi's eyes then locked onto mine. I felt a shiver down my spine as his gaze traveled, time seemingly slowing down at that moment.

At that moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that fate itself had chuckled at us, reveling in the disruption Levi brought to our routine. The mess hall buzzed with the usual noise, but an undercurrent of change hummed beneath it all. It was as if Levi's mere presence had punctured the veil of our ordinary existence, inviting uncertainty and curiosity. It was a curiosity I wanted to explore, boundaries I wanted to see be pushed.

If only then I knew how much he would change our little world inside these three walls.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #captain levi #levi attack on titan #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot x reader #levi angst

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evilminji · 1 day

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OKAY. *slams open door in manic about to have opinions*

MAYBE i am binging so, SO much unhinged bnha fics? Have already sent this to all my mutual and is not ENOUGH? But everyone is focused on these BABIES and not the MOST unhinged of them all? You COWARDS!!!

That's RIGHT! Ya girl has been hitting the "yandere/obsessive/possessive" behavior tag on Ao3 and is REFUSING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT IT! I have THOUGHTS DAMN IT! AaaaaaaaaaAAAAAA-!!! *Flips table*

Why the FUCK everyone focusing on BABIES?

I get it, don't yuck someone else's yum. To each their own. I respect that. But ALSO? What lvl of unhinged could they POSSIBLY HAVE? They are FIVE. SMOOTH FACED TODDLER BABY BOYS! A CHILD!

Like? Listen...

You know how Quirks are basicly evolutionary advantages? Random protections that are hit or miss? I have touched on this before in my naruto WIP (that i never posted but shush), but there must exsist a theoretical opposite of killing intent.

A sort of loving/peaceful intent if you will. A SAFETY intent. Or, for the purposes of THIS scenario and slightly to the left of that, a "love me" field. Which? Unlike what the perverse might believe or suggest? Just makes the target... love you.

Not sexually desire.

Love. Care about. Emotional connection.

And, yeah, maybe i've just been reading too many fics where shigiraki do what shigiraki does, and he is his unhinged obsessed lil self. Too many unhinged yandere fics where i darkly mutter "you are forgetting their Core Character Motivatioooooons! Just write an OC!"

Because you can twist a characters personality WITHOUT forgetting who they ARE. Thats what makes it INTERESTING, after all. Seeing how it could go so very, very wrong. How a good emotion, taken too extreme, can corrupt! N it's not just "oh that means violence n cursing right? Immediately jumping to cruelty?"

Its the obsession. The need to consume. The manipulation and care in which they try and maintain the illusion. It isn't one crack and "whelp, fuck it I guess!". Every character is different! Breaks under the strain of 1000% loving someone, DIFFERENT. And it brings up FASCINATING dynamics n potential quirk reactions?

Cause a emotional quirk WILL work. Even on people who supposed "dont have any" emotions? Because thats not how the human body FUNCTIONS. They HAVE all the necessary components. They just have a disorder. The Quirk would be forcing their body to MIMIC "feel-Y.exe" and their body would go with that. How THEY would process that data? What would it FEEL like to THEM? Whole different story.

But they WOULD feel "love" in what ever capacity THEY understand it.

You don't want to hurt your BEST FRIEND do you? You love them. Your BELOVED SISTER? This CUTE CHILD? She seems so NICE. Or maybe it's a precious and to be protected PET? She doesn't know what she'll get, "love" is nebulous and multifaceted. Could be platonic, familial, romantic. The love of a comrade. But it's never failed BEFORE. (Not, that I imagine, she being a well adjusted young lady, would feel morally comfortable USING said quirk in such times of peace. On anybody.)

We're all friend here, right? No need to be aggressive! Hurt anybody! Let's all put our weapons down, yeah?

But! This runs into a PROBLEM. The fuckin Yandere. Your bog standard sociopath. Those to whom this love field/targeting/ray/what-have-you is either so completely foreign too or NOTICEABLE as to be ineffective. Or to whom "love" is AGGRESSIVE.

Who's concept of "love" would actually make the problem WORSE.

I bring this up? Because I am FACINATED by the concept of AfO falling in love.

He... he would be COMPLETELY unhinged about it. The very act would unlock LAYERS to his deeply fucked up, highly obsessive, mind games and bank vaults, squirrel brain.

But I don't think he'd ever WILLINGLY fall in love. Or even be capable. Might be a brain chemistry thing, honesty. But the very reason his CLINGS to his his brothers quirk? Is because his brother was HIS. They were connected. It was... the closest thing he understood to love. And he is unhinged even to this day about it.

EIGHT GENERATIONS OF USERS LATER.

So like? If he spooked some poor soul? With a "love me" quirk? And she, in terror, tried to blast this Scary Supervillian into Not Hurting Her? She would have NO WAY of knowing that she just made a HUGE fucking mistake. Like... conceivably, the WORST mistake.

Because all it would take? Is her NOT instantly dying. No reflexive "how dare you use your Quirk on me". And? The altered brain chemistry starts to kick in. He's suddenly getting?? All these NICE happy brain chemicals that his body has been fuckin STARVED off? Fascinating new sensations? Elevated mood?

It's fake. He KNOWS it's fake. :) But that doesn't mean he won't murder her if she STOPS :)

Looooove yoooou~♡

Does it shift in to real, deeply deranged, love? Impossible to tell. Someone for the LOVE OF GOD call All Might. But?? He's just such an unhinged MESS it's fascinating to explore how emotional quirks would even react to him? Fascinating to think about how he would REACT if he had a SECOND "little brother" scenario. A person he CARED about. But this time... WORSE because it was in a way he could somewhat comprehend AND he had FAR more power then before.

Would it derail everything? Would he be able to focus on his Machiavellian plans while being able to fold them into them? Would he fuckin CONSUME THEM like he did Tomura? Ultimate form of love, after all, to become HIM.

How long could she, the hypothetical Quirk holder, keep that Quirk ACTIVE? Fear is a powerful motivator.

Just?? Why are there not more fics about the Ultimate Creep, BEING CREEPY AND UNHINGED??? He's VERY GOOD AT IT. Has had a LOT OF PRACTICE. LET AfO be deeply insane, 2XXX!

#minji's ponderings #minji's ranting #bnha #mha #AfO #yandere #yandere AfO #let him be unhinged you cowards #its his natural state!

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slavonicrhapsody · 9 months

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Hello ! I’ve seen a post mentioning the demigods of the Mausoleum as well as the ones killed by Vyke, and while as the person say that this does have potential for oc writers, I can’t help but wonder who they might be related to. (Like seriously I can’t stop wondering the relation between 9 dead demigods and the demigods we know about as well as the Elden Lords and Marika). So I became so desperate that I finally dare to ask other people their thoughts about it (my family doesn’t even know a little bit of Elden Ring Lore or just forget about it).

Hello! OK this topic has actually stumped me for so long, so I finally got around to looking into the wandering mausoleums and wow is it weird and complicated.

Lets get the basic facts out of the way… Basically, the wandering mausoleums house the bodies of “the soulless demigods:”

“The mausoleum prowls. Cradling the soulless demigod. O Marika, Queen Eternal. He is your unwanted child.” (Spirit NPC)

“The sun in eclipse is said to be the symbol of the Wandering Mausoleum where the soulless demigods slumber.” (Eclipse Crest Heater Shield)

The mausoleums’ bells are said to ring "in constant mourning for the soulless demigods.” (Mausoleum Surcoat)

The mausoleums (well, most of them... stay tuned) are defended by Mausoleum Knights, undead warriors who “willingly beheaded themselves so that they may serve their masters in death.” (Mausoleum Knight enemy description) The mausoleum knight Lhutel the Headless earned herself the honor of Erdtree burial for this sacrifice. These knights carry shields bearing the symbol of the Eclipse:

“The eclipsed sun, drained of color, is the protective star of soulless demigods. It aids the mausoleum knights by keeping Destined Death at bay.” (Eclipse Crest Greatshield)

We also know that Castle Sol and Miquella are connected to all of this, because the inhabitants of Castle Sol seem to worship the eclipse… there are two spirit NPCs in the area who say these things:

“Ohh, great sun! Frigid sun of Sol! Surrender yourself to the eclipse! Grant life to the soulless bones!”

“Lord Miquella, forgive me. The sun has not been swallowed. Our prayers were lacking. Your comrade remains soulless... I will never set my eyes upon it now... Your divine Haligtree…”

There is some kind of operation to “give life” back to the soulless demigods of the walking mausoleums centered at Castle Sol.

So who are these dead guys??? It does seem that they were killed on the Night of the Black Knives… Godwyn the Golden’s murder was said to be “the first recorded Death of a demigod in all history” (via Rogier), so we can assume that these guys were also killed by Destined Death, wielded by the Black Knife assassins. I think they are considered “soulless” because, since they were killed by Destined Death, they died in both body and soul… Ranni set up her ritual splitting the cursemark of death so that she would die only in body and keep her soul, and Godwyn would die only in soul and his body stayed alive, to everyone’s horror… so a killing with no special ritual would just kill both aspects of a person, and prevent them from experiencing the “proper” death of returning to the Erdtree:

“A proper death means returning to the Erdtree. Have patience. Until the time comes...and the roots call to you.” (Spirit NPC)

So I guess the goal of the eclipse ritual is to retrieve these demigods’ lost souls, including Godwyn’s.

As for the soulless demigods’ identities, a spirit NPC does explicitly state that a demigod within a mausoleum is Marika’s child. There is indeed plenty of room within the Golden Lineage family tree for there to be a bunch of currently unknown family members, because Godrick is said to be the last of the Golden Lineage and a distant relation of Queen Marika… so that’s potentially a ton of previous generations of demigods that are just not named! These demigods could easily have been killed in order to hurt Marika and the Golden Order in Ranni’s dire plot, with Godwyn being the most devastating loss and the target of her specific ritual.

I should also mention that there are two unique wandering mausoleums in Liurnia, around the Uhl Palace Ruins, that do not have a bell, are not protected by mausoleum knights, and can only duplicate remembrances of NON-shardbearing bosses. @katyahina pointed this out in this fantastic post, and I wouldn’t have even thought about these mausoleums if I hadn’t read it!! I’m currently unsure if these two soulless demigods had unique identities; however, really interestingly, unlike every other demigod corpse, the corpses in these two bell-less mausoleums are charred black:

(Normal mausoleum)

(Bell-less mausoleum)

So I’m inclined to think that something weird happened TO these two demigods that didn’t happen to anyone else that caused them to behave as less powerful versions, rather than them having unique identities from the other demigods to begin with… but that's just my take. What could have happened to them??? And why are they confined to this one “Mausoleum Compound” area, that’s among the Uhl Palace Ruins, where there are also Ancestor followers??? Literally I thought about this so hard I gave myself a headache. Anyway give katyahina's post a read for some fun ideas about their identities. Whoever they are, I think whatever happened to them means that they’re beyond saving; even the eclipse ritual can’t help them.

Also I could not ever begin to guess what’s going on with the demigods supposedly killed by Vyke in order for him to have gotten great runes and it honestly makes absolutely no sense to me. sorry but if I try to think about this anymore I fear my head will explode

#elden ring #elden ring lore #asks #you’re right that there is definitely a lot of oc potential here #if anyone has theories about what happened to the charred demigods in the bell-less mausoleums LET ME KNOW because i’m exhausted #also sorry for the shitty youtube screenshots my sister has the gaming pc and she’s in another country

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duncandonuts06 · 9 months

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Yippee!! I’m finally done with this massive drawing! I am so happy to share with you all Schatzi’s complete ref sheet! Character information and lore dump under the art! Its going to be a lot to read but bear with me. I have a lot to share. Schatzi is my first “thomas oc” so he holds a special place in my heart. I have spent months researching Trench Railways, and I am so excited to finally get to publicize some details from this big project I am working on.

TW: War, and Death

Schätzchen (can be shortened to Schatzi) is a German trench engine. He was built in 1915 so the world has been at war for his entire life. Built for war, immediately sent to war. His personality has been shaped by the soldiers around him. He is brave, strong, and proud (but not vain). He understands how important his work is and gives it his all. He can be stubborn and pop-offish around his crew but holds his tongue around strangers. He is very gullible and naïve which is occasionally taken advantage of by people in his unit. He is considered a fellow soldier by his crew and the other soldiers in his regiment, and they treat him as such.

Schatzi did not start off with a name. In this “universe” as you may call it, trench locomotives usually are never named. They are known solely by their numbers. They are machines made for war, and just like a soldier is known by the serial number on his dogtags, so are the engines known only by the number on their plates. They are seen as expendable and nothing more. If an engine has a name it is because they did something heroic enough to become loved and valued by their unit. In a similar way we only know the names of war heroes, we only know the names of engines brave enough to sacrifice themselves for their humans. The rest are lost to time.

Schatzi understands the fragility of human life and puts himself in harms way to see that lives are saved. He earns his name after saving his injured crew, and a very overloaded train of soldiers retreating from the front. He suffers severe damage in the process and is written off as scrap. However, his crew, who see him as their family, protest and get word out to everyone he saved on that train. It sets their entire sector of the front ablaze. The commander of the region is informed that his soldiers are threatening mutiny if this one trench locomotive is sent for scrap. So, instead of scrapping No. 1091 the engine is saved by the officer’s pen. Once they learn that their engine has been saved, the soldiers go to rescue him and in their jubilation scribble out “Unser Schatz” (Our Treasure) on his tank with chalk. He is repaired, and his crew lovingly paint Schätzchen on his tanks because he has and always will be their little treasure.

Afterwards, he is adored by everyone. He is accepted by the soldiers as “one of them” and is addressed accordingly. They play jokes on him and tease him just as they would a comrade. He even gets the nickname “Scheissechen” (which is like calling him little shit) when he is taking them back to the front. A lot of “tough love.”

He does any job asked of him. He carries munitions, supplies, and troops to the front but the job he holds in the highest regard is serving as an ambulance. Derailment was very common on Trench Railways. Schatzi is a fully articulated locomotive which gives him an advantage over other engines. He can handle tight corners with ease which enables him to keep up a good pace while rushing to and from the front lines. However, the track was still incredibly rough, and he does derail on occasion. His biggest fear is derailment while pulling ambulance wagons. He knows how precious time is to injured patients and blames himself if someone dies enroute.

Another advantage he has is the ability to “hide” his face. Some trench locomotives have adapted and developed ways of protecting their faces from shrapnel and debris. In a sense they can choose to "hide" their face and appear like a normal engine while still having all the functions of a "living engine." He can still see and speak while faceless which he occasionally uses to play tricks on people.

He prefers the company of humans over engines. Once he was accepted as a fellow comrade he took an interest in how humans live and interact with each other. He enjoys listening to them talk about their families and loved ones. He even learns popular war songs and gets to share rations and drink beer with his crew on occasion. The war has caused him to suffer in his own right but, regardless of how difficult things are, he carries on through adversity and remains strong. Lives are counting on him and as long as there is someone in need he will continue to give it his all.

#tw war #tw death #ttte #ttte fanart #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte oc art #ttte oc #ttte narrow gauge #trench locomotive #trench railway #trench engines #ww1trench #ww1train #ww1 #ww1 au #ttte oc: schatzi

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malarkgirlypop · 1 month

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MEDIC! Part 27 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Oh guys this is a hard read for my first post in a hot second. I have been slow at writing this, cause this is super important and I don't want to have it be bad, or tacky. This is obviously horrible what happened to these people, and sometimes that horrific a of an event is hard to put into words. This is in means no way to offend anyone.

Disclaimer: End part of episode 9, if you are not comfortable with this please don't read.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, anyone else please let me know.

We again piled into the trucks, we were making good time, but it still felt like years being in the back of the vehicle. Babe had kept my secret from everyone like I had asked, but I caught him sending me looks throughout the night. The sadness still lingering in his eyes from the conversation we had had previously. All I could do was send him small smiles.

We passed through the green countryside, chatting amongst ourselves. The rolling plains seemed endless, as they stretched out for miles, further than the eye could see.

The trucks passed through the outskirts of the small rural town, a decrepit barn sat on the side of the road. Even from over the roar of the engines from all of the vehicles driving by, I could still hear the yells of men. I look to the barn curious about the commotion, everyone else also peering over. The barn door swung open as soldiers tossed men onto the ground, I could see from here the men were wearing German uniforms. I couldn’t look away fast enough as the soldier’s standing behind the men raised their guns, shooting them in the back of the head. I turned my eyes away from the scene, not wanting to witness the brutal killings.

The other men seemed unfazed.

Except for O’Keefe, who looked around to his fellow comrades with shock on his face. They didn’t return the sorrow that etched his features, only shrugging their shoulders, or smiling at the man for looking so distraught by what he had seen.

His eyes finally landed on mine. I returned the look of sadness and horror, but mine was worn with memories behind it. O’Keefe eyes shone with new fear and sadness, whereas mine was tattered and old. O’Keefe had not yet known the horrors of war, I guess that’s why the men didn’t reciprocate his concern. We all had seen much worse than a few men being shot in the head.

What an odd statement to make. To realise.

O’Keefe’s reaction was only natural, but for us it wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was a sad reality to think we were accustomed to the horrors we had seen.

We finally pulled into the little town. The men quickly departed the trucks, getting orders from the Lieutenants. We weren’t staying the night, just stopping for a break, before continuing on in our journey.

“I have to go on a patrol through the woods.” Don said as he approached me. I nodded my head, giving him a smile. There wasn’t much for me to do here, we weren’t unpacking, so I hung around the officers in case they needed me for something.

“Ok, be safe.” I placed a kiss on his cheek. I watched as he walked away joining the rest of the men he was going with.

—----------------------------------------------

“Emily! Guys! Hey, have you seen any of the officers?” Frank yelled from behind us. I turned to face Perconte, his normal playful expression filled with urgency.

“No.” Babe, Lieb and I all stated.

“Is everything ok, Frank?” I asked the man, my face changing to concern for my friend. He had been on one of the patrols. Everyone else had come back from theirs except for their group. But Frank was by himself, where were the other men? Even Don had come and gone, saying they hadn’t found anything. Frank didn’t answer me though, sprinting from one soldier to the next, asking the same questions.

I watched him, my brows furrowed and lip caught between my teeth. Babe and Lieb seemed to have brushed off the odd interaction going back to the conversation they were having.

“Ain’t that right, Em?” Babe nudged me, but my gaze was still fixed on Frank running around frantically.

“Em?” Lieb asked, clicking his fingers in front of my face.

“I think something’s wrong.” I told them, my stomach churning. I felt unsettled, something not sitting right in my gut.

“He’s probably fine.” Lieb said, lighting his smoke, taking a deep drag from the cigarette. “Don’t look so worried, Emmy.” He tried to reassure me, stroking his hand down my back. But I shook my head. I set off after Frank as he ran into one of the buildings.

“Em, where are ya going?” Babe called after me. But I didn’t turn to explain. I ran after Frank, gaining on him as I sprinted, dodging my way through the crowd.

Frank found Winters first. The red haired man walked out of the building they had been temporarily occupying. I hung back not wanting to interrupt them, but I was desperate to know why Perco was so frantic.

“Major Winters, Sir.” Frank started chasing after the officer who walked briskly towards where I stood.

“Uhh, we found something.” Perco didn’t seem to know how to phrase his words. The pair passed in front of me, I followed behind them closely, eavesdropping in on their conversation.

“We’re out on patrol and we came across this…” Frank stopped trying to find the right way to describe what he had seen.

“What, what, what, what?” Major Winters prompted Perco trying to get him to spit out what he wanted to say.

“Frank, Frank, what is it?” Winters seemed just as concerned as I did. Perco stood in front of Dick, mouth agape, trying to think of how he wanted to explain himself.

“I don’t know, sir.” He uttered, shaking his head.

At that moment my stomach dropped. I didn’t know why, but something about how flustered, confused and scared Perco looked set me on edge.

This war wasn’t pretty, hell no war was. But there were horrific things done, so many lives lost. There were a number of explanations as to what their patrol found, each one just as dreadful as the next.

Winters saw that too. He loaded a couple groups of men into the back of the trucks, myself included. With Frank in the front car with the rest of the officers, he gave directions back to where the patrol waited.

I sat between Don and Lieb, no one seemed to take Frank’s worries seriously. The men in the bed talked and chatted casually to each other. I sat elbows on my knees and head in my hands, I couldn’t stop my leg from jittering and my stomach churning.

We drove into the dense forest, following the dirt roads and Frank’s directions. I watched as Perco lifted his arm pointing left, my eyes followed.

My heart dropped as my eyes landed on the gruesome sight.

There in the thick of the trees, was a clearing.

Within the open space was a fence, lined with barbed wire. The tall barrier loomed over a muddy field. In the middle sat wooden huts and a bigger building sitting at the edge. Outside of the fence was a tall watch house.

I knew from the first glance what this was.

No, I knew from the smell.

That was the first thing to hit me. The stench of sweet rotting flesh filled my senses, it felt as if it clung to everything, there was no way to escape it. The men around me screwed up their noses and flinched away from the foul scent, their attention finally captured.

The chatter had died as soon as the camp came into view. From a glance around the bed I could tell a lot of the men were confused, unsure of what they were looking at. Just like Frank; they were unable to put into words exactly what they were seeing.

Within the confines of the barrier stood people. Well, they didn’t look exactly like people. I could see, even from a distance, their bodies were unfed and unwashed.

The trucks stopped, the men slowly disembarking. It was silent, as they all tried to understand what exactly they were looking at.

I jumped out immediately walking closer to the barrier. There were two fences. A perimeter between the two, enough for people to walk in. A body lay between the two barriers, gaunt and lifeless.

The men inside the gate all wore the same sets of clothes, blue striped pyjamas. I swallowed the lump in my throat, tears already brimming in my eyes.

It was one thing to learn about in school, but another to see it in real life. It all but consumed me.

Everyone else still had no idea what this really was. Eyes all filled with questions and horror.

Winters slowly approached the gate. The men inside stood waiting. I wonder if they knew if we were good or bad, but they didn’t run. They gathered around looking back at us as we looked in on them.

There were no women, no children, only men inside. But they didn’t look like it. They all appeared pale and lifeless, only skin and bone, barely moving.

The men opened the gate as everyone gathered in front of the opening.

“Major, sir?” Christenson questioned, asking if he should proceed in opening the next gate. The gate that would allow these people to be free of their confines, and allow us to enter their decimated prison.

“Open it up.” Winters commanded. The men nodded their heads, cutting off the chain that secured the compound closed.

“Stand back, back it up, back, back.” Christenson commanded the prisoners as he tried to swing open the gate.

They stepped back revealing smoking huts and even more men, ones who didn’t seem strong enough to approach the barrier.

I couldn’t hold back my tears as they slipped down my face. I looked from person to person I could see the torture they had endured etched into their features, but I’m sure that was only a second. Only a small glimpse into the years of horror they had to live through.

How many people did they have to watch die, family, friends, peers. Wondering if they were next or secretly praying that someone would just end their pain.

I wonder how long they were kept in these cages like animals waiting for their slaughter?

How could people be so cruel to their own kind?

We moved forward slowly as a group, the prisoners watched us, they looked apprehensive for a moment before they all seemed to realise we were not the enemy.

They moved forwards, hands reaching out grabbing at the soldiers who walked in. I felt the sleeves of my shirt being tugged glancing to the side to find the men holding tightly onto me.

“I’m sorry.” Was all I could manage, they didn’t even understand what I was saying but I just wanted them to know how awful I felt.

A man reached for me embracing me in his arms, I held him back. I could feel under the material of his clothes, his thin frame, I could feel every rib and bone as I hugged him.

He sobbed into my shoulder whispering in German, I didn’t understand what exactly he was saying but it sounded like he was thanking us.

“Liebgott, Liebgott!” Winters called from the front of the group. My heart stopped. Lieb, my best friend, my rock. He had no idea his own people were one of the main targets in Hitlers regime.

I watched Lipton move back through the crowd yelling Lieb’s name. Joe and Don stood guard just outside the gate, guns in hand.

Lipton brought him back through the crowd. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, he glanced over to find my gaze.

Joe tilted his head, without words he was asking me if I was alright. I weakly nodded my head still wrapping my arms around the German man who wept into my shoulder.

There was no way I could stop Lieb from finding out, and it would break him. All I could do was be there for my friend.

Lipton spurred the men into action, instructing the men to give these people rations, blankets, food and water anything we could spare.

The man holding me stepped back collapsing to the floor, I glanced around looking for water.

“Water, can I get some water over here!” I yelled, Babe moved quickly holding out a canteen for me to take.

I unscrewed the lid, pouring water into the man’s mouth. He was exhausted, as if he was holding on to the last of his strength until help came. When he knew he was safe he finally let go.

I moved from person to person, tending to their ailments. But most of them I couldn't do much for, it wasn’t like they were actively bleeding out like all the other injuries I had become adjusted to. They were sick and starving.

The only thing I could do was offer food and water. But each time I lifted my head the numbers grew, the more that gathered, the more ill they looked.

A man approached me holding another in his arms. The man in his arms looked so weak, nothing to him but skin and bone, so pale he was almost translucent.

The prisoner holding the man spoke quickly in German, his eyes pleading with me to help. I held out my arms as he passed over the very ill man.

I let out a gasp as he was placed in my arms, he weighed almost nothing, I could feel every piece of him under my fingertips.

I knelt to the ground holding the German man in my lap, trying to figure out what I could do to help him.

“How can I help you?” I muttered under my breath.

“Sing bitte für mich.” The man that lay in my arms said. I tilted my head listening to his whispered words.

“Lieb!” I called, he rushed over kneeling next to me.

“Sing bitte für mich.” The man repeated himself.

“He wants you to sing for him.” Lieb said softly. I nodded at the man, if that's what he wanted I would do anything.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey.” I sang quietly to the dying man, the song my mother used to sing as a lullaby to me.

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.” The man reached his hand up cupping my face as I sang for him. A tear slipped down my cheek. Lieb sat close and watched us. His own eyes glistened.

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms.” The man smiled at me, more tears falling down my cheeks as I held him in my arms.

“When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and cried.” The man brushed away my tears, as his hand fell back down to his side. His breathing faded.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” A sob left me as the man stared up at the sky.

I let go of his hand, resting it by his side. I moved from underneath him, lying him gently on the floor.

Joe encased me in his arms as I sobbed into his chest. He pulled away, I looked up to find Don standing over us. He opened his arms for me, I stood from my position on the floor and moved into his embrace. His hand ran down my back as I cried.

We pulled apart, Lieb had gone and gotten a blanket. He gave it to me to lay over the man. I bent down, closing his eyes to make him at peace and gently placed the blanket over his body.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered as I stood again. I wiped my tears away.

Lieb was called away to translate, as Don and I moved around the camp, trying our best to help the men who came to us.

We stuck close to each other not wanting to stray from the other’s side.

I kept glancing over my shoulder to find Lieb with the officers and one of the German men. He was translating for them. I was just waiting for the bomb to be dropped, the truth to be revealed.

“Everything ok?” Don asked, I shook my head.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, coming closer.

“Don, this camp. These aren’t prisoners of war.” I started, unsure of how I was going to explain this to him. His brows furrowed as he listened.

“These people are innocent. They were dragged from their homes, away from their families. The only thing they have in common is that they are different.” There were so many groups here, but anyone who was ‘imperfect’ or ‘different’ was casted out.

“What do you mean?” Don couldn’t understand that these people did nothing wrong. I’m sure his mind went to why would they lock these people up if they were innocent?

“Jews, Poles, Roma, musicians, people with disabilities, people of colour, this is who they have captured. And this isn’t the only one! There are thousands of these camps, some far worse than this. Don, Hilter wants a superior race, anyone who doesn’t fit that bill he’s exterminating.” Don couldn’t stop the horror in his eyes as he realised my words.

“You’re saying there are more of these camps? That more people are in this condition?” Don asked, his eyes flicking around our surroundings imaging more of these exact situations.

“They split up the families, women and children together and then the men together. These camps cover all of Germany and some other countries as well.” I explained the best I could to Don, who didn’t look like he was able to wrap his head around the information spilling from my lips.

“Wait, how do you know this?” He asked his brows furrowed together as he glanced over at me.

I bit my tongue, this wasn’t the time to expose my true self, all of this was too much in itself.

“The nurses have been talking about it, I didn’t quite believe it till now.” I lied through my teeth, but Don didn’t notice, he was too wrapped up in the scene playing before us.

“What are we going to do?” He asked, his sweet eyes full of sorrow as he looked over each person that walked in front of us.

“I don’t know?” I answered honestly, as I stared off into the distance.

I again glanced over to Lieb who was translating for the officers. Each man with their own look of horror and shock on their face. I bit my lip, waiting and watching.

“Juden, Juden.” The prisoner they were talking to repeated. I didn’t need to be translated, I could see it clearly on Joe’s face what the man had said.

“They’re Jews.” Lieb uttered, in his own disbelief and rage. Lieb was a loyal man. This camp, this attack, was on his own people, his family.

“Lieb knows.” I told Don who was giving water to a man. I wanted to run over and hug him, but he was keeping his composure, still translating for the officers. So I turned my back and helped the men who gathered before me.

The further we walked into the camp the more awful it became. The huts the men were living in were burned down to the foundations, burnt skeletons still resided in the ash and rubble.

“Jesus Christ!” Don muttered covering his face with a piece of fabric, the smell was so strong it almost made it unbearable to breathe.

“Look at their arms.” Don pointed out two men who lay still in the ruins. Numbers etched into the flesh on their wrists.

“Like cattle.” Babe shook his head. We walked in silence through it all.

We helped as much as we could, going into the huts and bringing people out. Each time I stepped inside, my heart clenched and cracked, it was tearing me up.

The tears had stopped long ago, there was nothing more left to cry. I just needed to help, I think at some point I switched off, just to maintain some sanity, because before I knew it we were back in the beds of the trucks.

#band of brothers #hbo war #donald malarkey #band of brothers fanfic #easy company #joe toye #dick winters #bill guarnere #emily lane #babe hefferon #lewis nixon #joe liebgott

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fortune-fool02 · 1 year

Text

Taken a Chance

Jack Krauser x female, military reader

Requested by: @zer0pm

I think you entertained this idea before… we know Krauser was like a father to his squadron. Imagine he was absolutely smitten with one of his soldiers (can be reader/oc- your call) and one day, he bites the bullet and decides to let his feelings be known.

He takes them to the side, talks them up, and right when it seems like they’re on the same page and things are looking up for our super soldier- bam! They get the call to order for a certain “operation”. And they have to put their conversation on hold.

Sorry, I may have put in too much but if this seems like something you’d love to tackle, I’d love to read it. Love seeing your stuff~

Warning: Spoilers for Operation Javier and RE 4 remake. Fluff. Light angst at the end.

Word count: 1,488

I LOVE THIS!! Thank you so much for requesting this!

Please enjoy!

Krauser made no attempt to hide the smile that lifted his lips a little as he watched [Name] step out from the army-van, along with her comrades, most of them smiling and cheering at their completed mission. Amidst the mass of movement, camo-wearing beings, he could always isolate her out of them. Every single time.

He greeted and welcomed back every single one of his men as they passed him, proud to see them back. But his eyes lingered when [Name] approached him, a smile on her lips as she looked up at him.

"Major Krauser." Her smile cut through him and his own smile grew warmer as he nodded his head back at her,

"[Surname]." His eyes took note of the splotch of purple and blue on her cheek, his brow furrowing very lightly. The sight of it making his chest twinge at the idea of her being hurt in someway. But she was tough, he knew that better than anyone. He trained her, after all. The two stood there for a moment, an air of uncertainty simmered, words both wishing to say but unable to do so.

"Um... I'm gonna... get washed up and... yeah." [Name] forced out with a polite nod of her head before walking off. Krauser watched her leave before silently cursing himself. He had this whole little thing planned in his mind about talking to her, trying to find an excuse to be alone with her. And yet, when the opportunity presented itself, the words refused to come out. Krauser never had any issue barking orders at the rookies, in fact, he often enjoyed it.

But with her? He couldn't even form a proper conversation, stumbling almost like he was back in high-school boy. [Name]'s presence, her existence, it touched something deep inside him that he had buried down, long-forgotten corner of himself, and now, he longed for it. He longed for her to be his.

He watched as she rushed off, catching up with her fellow comrades that were gathering together before she disappeared entirely from sight, twinges of disappointment gnawed away at him once she was gone. He gathered himself and went to continue about his duties, trying to get the thought of her out of his head.

There were bits of paperwork he needed to organise and whatnot. Planning out further training routes. They were going to be taking a trip through the jungle soon, to see how prepared they were for a serious mission. Sharing tents wouldn't be fun, but they would all have to suck it up and accept it.

Maybe he could share a tent with [Name]? Purposely arrange it so she had to share a tent? A heavy sigh left his lips as he ran his hand through his slicked back hair. "Fuck it." With that, he set the pen down on his desk and stood up.

The mess hall was quieter at this time of the afternoon, as everyone had finished eating and gone to take a small break for the evening. A handful of people remained, scattered about either in small groups or their own little world.

Among a small group, he could spot her [Hair colour] easily from across the room, like a black dot on a sheet of white wallpaper. His chest warmed, and he had to fight the smile that tried to form. He had to remain professional among the other rookies. He walked over, taking steady strides as he closed the space between them.

"[Surname], my office, five minutes." His stern voice made the younger woman blink, confusion on her face but she smiled regardless.

"Ooooo! You're in trouble, girl!" One of the soldiers teased as Krauser walked off, the rest of them chuckled a little.

[Name] joined in the chuckle, though she couldn't help but wonder what Krauser wanted. She hadn't done anything to earn her Major's anger, right? From what she gathered, he was quite happy with her progress. Maybe it had something to do with the recent mission?

Questions spiralled in her mind as she watched Major Krauser walk off, her eyes trailing along his build before he vanished. He did have a nice behind. She waited a few minutes before approaching Major Krauser's office. A light anxiousness chewed away at her for a moment before she knocked on the door, entering once hearing him from inside.

Krauser stood with his back to her, taking a breath then turned around to face her. His expression unreadable but held a faint softness around the edges, a softness that he only held to her and her alone. [Name] stood straight, her form professional as she addressed her Major. He nodded his head, a silent manner of telling her to stop.

"You wished to speak to me, Major?" That anxiety from before came flooding back into her mind, swimming around noisily, spilling questions upon questions, doubts drenched in deeper doubts.

"I did, [Name]." His use of her first name both sparked joy and panic. His posture attempted to relax but something kept it firm and stiff despite his best efforts. "As you're aware, your progress here has been incredible. I dare say you're one of the best damn soldiers I've ever seen." A light bubbling sensation filled her chest at his praise, her eyes lighting up in that manner that made him smile, knowing that he caused that spark in her eyes.

"Thank you, Major Krauser. I have only you to thank for that, given your teachings." Now it was his turn for his eyes to lit up. Krauser was always strict with his teachings and his training.

"Coming from you, that means something else." He smiled, his eyes locked on her, taking in every little detail of her form, her face. All of it. "I won't lie, and I'll get right to the point." He took a deep breath and straightened himself, "I can't stop thinking about you."

There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to spill out to her, but he needed to keep himself composed and organised. He won't crumble because of some emotions. "For some time now, you've been on my mind. You're remarkable. A damn fine woman who won't take shit from nobody. I respect that. And you." She looked up at him, those beautiful [Eye colour] eyes gazing into his soul.

It was hard for him not to smile at her. "I'm not the best with words, and I care about you. Deeply." All these thoughts, this moment, he had played it over and over in his mind countless times. Picturing how he would tell her, how he would confess to her. Even now, it felt difficult but he pushed through it. He would never back down against anything.

[Name]'s expression was soft, gentle and warm, a ray of sunlight in his life, as she always had been. Slowly, she took a step closer and carefully reached her hand out to his. He allowed it. His heart hammering in his chest as her hand gently slid into his hand. Their size difference was always humorous to him. Her hand fitting into his perfectly like a lock and key.

"Major Krauser." She smiled at him, "Jack." His heart hammered louder at this and he tried hard to control his breathing. "I lov-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the door opened up and she quickly yanked her hand away from him, stepping back and looked over. It took great self-control for him not to reach out after her hand, chasing that gentle warmth.

"Forgive me, Major Krauser." A solider spoke, saluting as he stood there, "There has been an update, Operation Javier has been pushed forward. The unit is to leave today." Twinges of disappointment flicked at this as [Name] nodded her head as the solider left, turning to Krauser.

"We'll continue this after the mission, okay?" She smiled at him, ready to leave before stopping. She turned back around and walked up to him, leaning up on her tiptoes, and letting her lips press a soft kiss on his left cheek. With that, [Name] dashed off to meet up with the unit to get ready.

Krauser could still remember that day as vivid as ever. He stood by the edge of the cavern, his eyes holding a distant fog to them. In his hand, he held a dog-tag between his fingers.

'Lieutenant [First Initial] . [Surname] U.S Army - Special Operative'

The scar on his left cheek twitched at the memory of her lips on his skin. His eyes shifting up towards the night sky, the stars more dimmer than ever. "We never continued our talk after the mission, [Name]." He thought aloud, looking up as if she could hear him. But Krauser knew better. He had know better for two whole years.

And yet, he longed for a response. A sign. Something. But he never got one.

#major jack krauser #major krauser #jack krauser x reader #krauser #jack krauser #jack major krauser #major krauser x reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil x reader #re4 jack krauser #jack krauser re4 remake

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dovithedarklord · 7 months

Text

Age of Monsters - Chapter Ten

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⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

The small team is presented with a new kind of problem, and Leona investigates Riley's strange behavior.

Hello!

I don't have a specific Trigger Warning for today's chapter! But again, I'll probably have some in the next one! :D

Have fun!

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform. I.H.L. - An infected humanoid lifeform.

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

..........................................

Under my eyelids, the whole body of the soldier lying on his hospital bed becomes a map interwoven with a complex network of blood vessels, and I search for injuries, so that when I reach to the broken ribs and bruised internal organs, I can help the tissues heal with a very nice little push of my energy. Ever since our little team got back, I've been working on patching up the surviving soldiers, while Riley disappeared along with MacTavish, who already looked a thousand times better, to alert their other two companions, because they had to hear the crap we went through, after which our little team returned crippled, beaten and reduced in numbers. Riley didn't have to say a word for me to begin acting on my benevolent role and escorting their wounded mortal comrades to the infirmary. Of course, I don't do this out of the goodness of my heart, but mostly because I suspect that Price would certainly not be happy if I would let these poor bastards meet their maker, just because I don't feel like straining my pretty little body with so many tasks in one night. Another more pressing reason is that while I fix the physical integrity of these guys, I still have time to reflect on what happened.

And the more I run through the whole series of events in my head, which destroyed the entire bombproof plan in the blink of an eye, the more I'm sure that it wasn't the virus that got to a magical evolutionary peak and helped to give birth to a completely new kind of humanoid mutant. Even if the development of the pathogen had been accelerated, it wouldn't take just a year and a half to go from a brainless idiot to a beast carrying out organized attacks and capable of planning tricks. And this explanation just stirs up more questions in my skull, because even though I worked in the field and studied the behavior of these assholes for years, I can't think of anything that could have caused this. Provided that someone didn't interfere with the order of nature intentionally. But who would be so idiotic to pronounce the death sentence on humanity with this? And although I know that people can be mean, evil, and most of all stupid, but not to this extent. No one can be this suicidal, because the fear of death and terror is a much greater motivational force to not delve into such dangerous games. Of course, if the chance of something happening is not zero, that will never be a factor that can be ruled out.

When the last broken bone has mended together and all the damaged organs have regenerated, I just silently step back from the man resting on the bed, who looks up at me and mutters a quite "thank you", but my brain is too far gone for that. Without any further comment, I head towards the door of the infirmary, so that I can finally go to the place where I can release the many hypotheses swirling in my head and discuss with those who, along with me, have experienced what kind of new hell can be unleashed on the world. Because the fact that these bastards behave intelligently and are able to corner S-Class Hunters is more than worrisome. We've been lucky so far because these monsters have also learned that if they don't stray too close to the colonies, they can get away without the Hunters making mittens out of their flayed skin. Of course, this is also a fragile balance, where random attacks still could happen starting from the yellow zone, but it’s a system that has been operating for fifty years, and is mainly held together by the Holy Spirit. And although Hunters are always born, and there are a few idiots every year who join liquidation units as soldiers, still, the number of our defense and that of mutants is not even, to say the least. Moreover, in light of the new developments concerning humans, we have theorized that within a few years, we will be more and more outnumbered by the infected lifeforms. But this… this puts this very friendly prediction into a new perspective.

My hasty steps thump loudly in the empty silence of the base, and I find it surprising that the commotion caused by our arrival didn't attract more attention from the busy little soldiers living here. Although I suspect that at this moment, the most advantageous thing to do is to remain quiet, since creating fear with insufficient information would be the stupidest thing we could do right now. Even if, with the available data, the subsequent events won’t be much better. And the sinister foreboding, fighting with sharp claws in my mind, keeps telling me that this little trifle is the result of some huge blunder, the consequence of which we will nobly bear now. And I secretly hope that Laswell and her omnipresent hand will make sure that the thousands of questions arising in me will be answered. Although I know that this is mostly a futile dream, because that is exactly why she sent us there, only to return with even more unclear circumstances and question marks.

I make my way to Price's office in the heart of the base as quickly as I have never done before, and I suspect that restlessness and the desire for knowledge make my steps so damn springy after the stress and adventures of the last few hours. And I could even muse about the fact, that it's quite irrational of me to be so interested in the new risk threatening the colonies, and I could even argue that in order to keep my peace, as a simple Healer, it's not my concern to worry about this. But rationality has always been stronger in me, and it alerts me that there is no corner of the world where I can escape to, if what we've experienced today develops into a worldwide problem. And this has the potential of becoming one. In any case, my renewed selfless soul wouldn't let its new little squad down. No matter how much the latest incidents promise new complications in addition to my life which is already full of excitement.

As soon as the door to Price's den appears in front of me at the end of the familiar corridor, I see the restless movement of several shadows in the light filtering under the doorstep, and it's clear from the muffled muttering, that they are just as excited by the thrills we encountered during the mission as I am. And as I get closer, I catch the worried grumble of the captain, as he surely tries to get more information from the two Hunters with enthusiastic questioning, and despite the fact that I can't see through the walls, I can still imagine the serious expression on the man's face. That's why I don't hesitate any longer, but after a soft knock as a courtesy, without waiting for an answer, I reveal the entrance to the office, only to be met almost immediately by five pairs of rather grim eyes, that settle on my approaching figure at the same time. And after I survey the people gathered in the dim room, my gaze almost instinctively finds MacTavish, who is resting in his chair next to the table, now wearing civilian clothes instead of his earlier tattered ones. There is now a significantly more human color to his face, even though his features are now dominated by an unusual sullenness, which softens just a shade when he turns his attention to me. The edge of his stubble-framed mouth moves upwards into a faint curve, and it almost physically hurts to see the gloom that settles over his entire being. And I can assess it quite well that this is for the failed campaign and our diminished team.

"Woods!" Price addresses me, when he snaps out of the surprise caused by my arrival, and as he scans over me quickly, a small smile appears on his face. "I'm glad you're in one piece." He adds, and the fact doesn't escape my attention that, regardless of his delight, he lingers on my rather battered person for a few long seconds, and it feels good for the hidden little corner of my soul as I catch the sparks of concern glimmering in those sky blue eyes. I almost find this paternal worry to be sweet, but now is not the time for this in the least, no matter how much my brain wants to go off on disgustingly sentimental tangents.

"Yeah, I almost ended up in several." I note rather darkly, and I also cruise over to the table with just a few quick steps, and driven by the bubbling tension under my skin, I don't even notice that for some reason I automatically arrive at Riley's side, who just silently turns his head towards at me as I appear next to him. Our gaze only meets for a fleeting moment, but that's enough for me to observe that in some magical way, he lacks the distance that has been a constant guest in those chocolate eyes. And this would even make my morbid little heart skip a beat with the honor, if his pious behavior didn't arouse suspicion in me, in light of how enthusiastically I disregarded his orders earlier.

"Ghost and Soap gave a broad outline of what happened." Laswell also joins the conversation, who seems to have been so interested in the outcome of the excitement she brought here that she stayed here to wait for the news. And from the line of her thinly pressed lips, it's clear that she the story she got was far off from what she wanted to hear. And the evil little voices in my brain warn me to watch every reaction of the woman carefully, because if my assumption is correct and this whole mess is the work of humans, then our informant was either honestly unsuspecting, or she's hiding it damn well that she was aware of the hornet's nest she was sending us into. And although I would like to believe that she was barking up the wrong tree as much as we did, it crosses my mind once again that what cannot be completely ruled out is still a potential possibility.

"We've had our fair share of excitement." I draw my mouth into a rather cynical smile, and I don't try to hide the sarcastic edge in my voice, because it wouldn't make any sense. I suspect that my mood is shared by Riley and his Scottish friend, whose dark eyebrows seem unable to separate from each other, because they hold the gloomy expression with unbroken enthusiasm that, according to my intuition, has been on his face since he regained consciousness. "Fortunately, you won't miss out on the experience either." I announce pointedly, and as I reach for the camera resting on my vest, suddenly all eyes are focuses on the gadget with intense curiosity, which my skillful fingers peel from the cavalcade of the many pockets with ease. And when the device is finally off of me, my free hand automatically searches for my communicator from my side pocket to prepare for the early morning movie screening. They're in for a real treat.

"How much did you manage to record?" Price turns to me again, and when the wry smile sitting on my lips softens into a single motionless line, he unspokenly understands the sheer ominous graveness emanating from my expression. And since he can guess that my sourness is not for our impromptu late-night slumber party, I know from the deep, troubled wrinkles appearing on his forehead that he understands how horrible the recording can be, which I have collected in such an artistic manner.

"Just enough." I state succinctly, and I don't even need to add more to the introduction of the documented material, because it perfectly sums up my feelings. Pulling out the connector on the side of the communicator, I insert it into the input of the camera, and everyone watches tensely as I conjure up the video with a few button presses, the existence of which may have been forgotten by everyone until I entered, but fortunately, my memory spins sharper than ever from the stress that still lingers in me.

And when the barren road marking the edge of the combat zone appears, looming with blue light, I place the gadget in the middle of the table and flick on the frozen image of the hologram to begin the presentation of the bedtime story. The first few minutes pass with almost disturbing uneventfulness, as our small team confidently moves forward towards the heart of the city that houses only rotting remains. But my attention doesn't waver, and my frustrated brain, demanding answers, focuses more intently than ever before, circling every square millimeter of the footage that is presented to me. Because now that it's finally not preoccupied with the rescuing of my fellow Scotsman, and not the horror of the mission turned into chaos dominates my mind, I have the free brainpower to wonder how long they could have been watching us. They outwitted the expertly hidden traps with such vileness and attacked our group in such close coordination, that it’s almost impossible that this was all just a random phenomenon committed out of an impulse. No. These bastards have been monitoring us from the very beginning.

The video cuts to our parting at the observation point, and even though I suddenly see only the uniforms of the two Hunters and all the equipment lined up on them, it still flashes in my mind with what high hopes and confidence MacTavish reassured me that this whole operation couldn't end badly. How sad that after I continue to stroll to the overpass and take my place, we can admire up close how fast everything went awry. The room watches with tense concentration as the events take place in quick succession, and I still can't find anything wrong with the way the little soldiers skillfully set the traps intended for surprise with nimble movements. But, when the noise of the sound alarm slowly filters through the video with a muffled screech, the first unmistakable wrinkles of confusion and astonishment soon appear on everyone. Because the human-like creatures emerge, and even though they are much smaller than how I saw them through my binoculars due to the distance, I still manage to follow them perfectly as they throw themselves into the line of sensors first with jerky movements and then with frantic haste. That's when the first startled voice breaks out from Garrick, who watches with growing bewilderment as the mouth of the nest slowly begins to pour out hordes of mutants like an unstoppable flood. The pale moving flashes of the hologram are reflected in his dark eyes with a ghostly light, and this only emphasizes the disbelief that is held there even more.

And since I know that the best is yet to come, I direct my focus to the corner of the footage, because the star of the evening will make its impressive entrance within minutes, and I'm not willing to miss a single second of it. For an uncertain moment, it seems as if the smudge on the roof of the ruined building is just a speck of dust floating in the air, but I know that it is that dirtbag. Even I acknowledge this deformed lowlife, because it sneaks out of the ruins with such masterful invisibility that I still only notice its appearance a few fleeting seconds earlier than I did hours ago. And the possibility arises in my mind that maybe it could have avoided the position of the soldiers operating on the ground from another underpass, because there wasn't only one subway stop like that in a city. If these scumbags inhabited the entire subway network, they could have emerged from anywhere that hadn't yet degraded into a crumbling pile of garbage. And this means that we had no chance to surround them from the beginning, because they could have thrown themselves at us from literally anywhere.

Although the video doesn't fully reflect the reality, the mutant and its rider offer at least an unnatural sight as they did in real life, as they stop at the edge of the building and with noble simplicity direct their little buddies who are lying in wait towards MacTavish's team. And now that I have time to analyze the whole interaction more soberly, I notice how the I.H.L.s standing by on the ground look up to their leader with devoted attention, and they move as a team when, they carry out the silent order with almost blind obedience, as if they had been secretly practicing this for some time in their dirty little home. Which still doesn't sound much less unlikely.

"What the hell is going on?" The confused question breaks out from Garrick, and one of his fingers is points at the humanoid monster climbing down on the building, who starts its calm little walk towards the battlefield with such grace and pride, as if it had just gone on a peaceful evening sightseeing. I perfectly understand the Hunter's surprise, because even for the second time I can't find an explanation for the whole surreal event. And this only awakens impatient frustration in my mind, because instead of observing new details, I only find more incomprehensible puzzles.

"What is that?" Laswell fixes her bright eyes on me, and as I divert my searching gaze from the recording for a moment, I carefully study the expression hiding on her face. The troubled fine wrinkles that run between her eyebrows emerging from under her hair look sincere, and the concerned sparks that appear in her eyes don't seem to be the result of contrived acting. Although I have no illusions that this woman can play with her facial expressions as effectively as she can retrieve anything that comes out of our little mouth when needed, but I'm also well-versed in studying others to know when someone is trying to trick me. And now she urges me to answer with the genuine astonishment of the first shock. Based on this, she was kept in the dark at least as effectively as we were. In other words, there is still a corner of this world where the influence of the woman, unfortunately, doesn't reach, and this leads directly to the not-insignificant fact that if there is a human hand in this, then it will belong to one of the highly prestigious members of the higher authority.

"An I.H.L." I finally give the curt answer, and despite the fact that I don't indulge in further explanations, she still understands how terrible news this means for us. Because she snaps her head back to the unfathomable chaos unfolding on the recording with such speed that it makes even me dizzy.

The tension is palpable in the silence that slowly fills every corner of the office, and nothing else echoes from the white walls than my panting and pounding footsteps, which are filtered through the video, as I wander the deserted streets in search of MacTavish. And although the camera shakes wildly as it tosses and turns in the middle of my rush, it's still possible to follow my path perfectly to the location of the Hunter with the mohawk. And when I finally arrive, from the wall of the building that serves as my hiding place, only a part of the view that greeted me upon my arrival can be seen, but it's enough for me to catch on my periphery, how the Scotsman's fists are clenched with painful force in his lap, as a blood-soaked hand appears in the tumult of many feasting monsters. There's no doubt that he blames himself for his team's unfortunate end, and I'd love to give him a little of my selfishness to ease the paralyzing pain and disappointment in his eyes. Because even though I know that he isn't an innocent sheep either, he doesn't deserve to fall into despair like this because he couldn't avoid the slap that this unfortunate situation gave him.

The time comes for my dramatic entrance, and the sight of the mangled bodies of dead mutants on the ground still fills me with morbid joy. But I don't have to wait long, because soon a completely new excitement occupies my attention, because the mutant-riding scum appears again in the alley, preparing to attack. Riley's body imperceptibly tenses up from the sight, and I only take a furtive glance at him. Every cell of him radiates pure rage, and I haven't been able to catch this reaction yet, even though I've tried quite enthusiastically to rile him up previously. His fingers, which are still covered in blood-soaked gloves, are squeezed around the thick table top, and when the large piece of furniture creaks from the fury directed at it, for a moment it feels as if he would want to tear the furnishing apart with his bare hands. And I have a suspicion, that although the helpless anger felt due to the injury of his comrade and the failure of the mission may also contribute to his sore mood, my keen little senses tell me that something else is going on here. Because it's only when he catches my searching gaze, that he manages to steer himself back into his usual cold indifference with great difficulty. My eyes just narrow cautiously as, unusually for him, instead of any kind of unfriendly remark he turns his attention back to the video, where he has now also made his brilliant appearance and sets off on the way back, hauling MacTavish on his shoulders. And from this strange reaction, I quite understandably come to the conclusion, that something is very fucking wrong with him.

As soon as the recorded material ends, the footage shown on the hologram freezes again, leaving behind nothing but confusion, anger, and sinister silence. It's no wonder, because countless things happened in this video that no one could have foreseen, not even in their wildest dreams. The mission, which started as a simple nest extermination, concluded in such an ugly massacre that ended with the death of a dozen soldiers, after which we returned home with their few survived, but tormented companions, without answers. And this will be a hard pill to swallow for everyone. Including me.

"What the hell was that?" Garrick finally speaks after digesting what he has seen for few tense moments, and his voice is filled with the same anxious temper that slowly appears in definite outlines on the faces of his captain and Laswell as well. And his look says that he wants to ask a thousand more questions, but after the information he received, which is shocking, to say the least, he can only formulate this one sentence, because suddenly he isn’t capable of doing more.

"I don't know, but it sure wasn't normal." I state immediately, and at this point, my brain feverishly begins to organize the data so that I can present all my grim observations and assumptions to the small team that have formed in me so far. And there are quite a few of them. "They carried out an organized attack. They bypassed the traps and followed orders. And that bastard used a specific strategy and a weapon." I summarize the essence briefly, emphasizing each word, and although I could list a whole bunch of other smart observations, it wouldn't change the fact that this damned monster surprised us all with something completely new.

"But how?" Garrick asks his next anxious question, and his mouth is pressed into an angry line that rarely surfaces on the man's face. A thick vein appears on his neck as his entire being begins to radiate wild waves of irritation, and it seems as if he's considering to reach through the footage and grab that infected piece of trash to end its little fun with his own two hands.

"I have no idea." I finally answer, and with a tired sigh I straighten up, browsing through all the knowledge I've acquired over the years to put together everything that started this whole sinister train of thought in me. "The virus also attacks the structures of the brain that enable a person to see cause-and-effect relationships and consequences, logical thinking ceases completely. The instinctual level remains, because this is beneficial to the virus. It drives the host to spread it and survive. An infected person is unable to follow orders because they cannot interpret verbal or advanced non-verbal communication codes." I explain, and the vast amount of research data that I have been lucky enough to come across over the years flashes before my mind's eye, based on which the leader of the small mutant team is such an incomprehensible and no less dangerous enigma, the solution to which must be found as soon as possible, if we want to enjoy our approximately peaceful life in the future. Because I'm sure that if there is one such individual, there are more, and it's only a matter of time before they decide to play soldier and attack the first colony that gets in their way.

"But they still followed I.H.L.'s." MacTavish breaks his silence for the first time, and the annoyed lines on his forehead deepen as he articulates his observation, and they continue to hold their position on the Hunter's face with almost inexorable stubbornness.

"That's exactly the problem." I confirm the essence perfectly captured by the man, because this is exactly what further complicates the already tangled events. "That I.H.L. showed intelligent behavior that contradicts everything we know so far. It took the I.M.L.s ten years to gather into hordes, and it took the infected humans only a year and a half to get further?" I formulate the problem that has been maturing in the depths of my brain since I first had the opportunity to look back a little and understand what I witnessed. And my suggestion seems to set off a spark of suspicion in the other members of the small group as well, because the anger on their faces softens and a completely new kind of gloom takes its place when they understand what I want to imply.

"It doesn't seem very likely." The captain agrees, directing his eyes back to me, and with this, he puts into words the uncertainity that is slowly but surely digging its sharp little claws into everyone's head. And I know that even without my little scientific lecture, they've seen enough mutants to realize that there's very little chance that there's just Mother Nature's graceful hand in this whole fucking upheaval.

"Because it's not." I affirm their unspoken doubt, and with that, the dilemma is also put on the table, which has been settling on my consciousness like an oppressive ghost for some time, to further feed the frustration raging inside me. "The virus is still the same as it was fifty years ago. It has undergone a slight mutation, but the infection itself is the same. The same way of spreading, the same course, the same effect." I list the facts, pointing my index finger meaningfully at the still motionless recording emerging from the communicator. "This is not the work of nature here." I give the final push to my long-winded argument, thereby also cementing the friendly thought in them that this excitement is probably the gift to those who shove them from one dangerous action to another as their lapdogs.

"Are you sure? " Price asks, his deep voice ringing with a seriousness that leaves no room for any jokes or uncertainty. He also knows exactly that if this is true, then we are embarking on a complicated game that won't only be difficult to untangle, but also downright life-threatening, and not only because new kinds of monsters are lurking on us. Once someone starts pulling out the skeletons, there is a fear that the whole closet will topple over. If we go down this road, we may come across information that makes mutants not the only threat.

"Quite." I state firmly, and I keep the man's gaze unflinchingly, sending the message with every inch of me that I couldn't take my rather dangerous little accusations more seriously than this. And I know that they have enough experience with higher management to agree with me, as they have experienced firsthand what radical methods they are willing to resort to if the need calls for it.

"Woods is right. I've never seen anythin' like the bastard who tried to kill me." MacTavish joins in, thereby confirming the I.H.L.'s unusual nature. And I'm sure that in the couple of years he spent in the profession, he was lucky enough to meet enough monsters to know that our new little friend, who almost stabbed him to death, is a far cry from his usual playmates.

"We don't have enough information to know anything for sure." Price notes cautiously, and despite the tense edge appearing in his tone, he remains perfectly stern, as a true leader does. Although I know that he would rather break the neck of whoever is responsible for this whole fucking mess. "But it's certain that we got involved in the shit that someone else stirred." He adds, and smooths one of his large palms meaningfully on the top of his table, almost illustrating the pile of crap we stumbled upon. And I don’t doubt that everyone agrees with this observation, even if it's only indicated by a silent nod. Because it's more than shady that they send a private unit to an operation with such great urgency, which was selected precisely so that the small problem could be eliminated under the radar and with the greatest possible discretion. A government-run unit would also have been able to exterminate a nest, but since then there would have to be official reports, where the fact of our new mutant-rider friend would have appeared, and then the story would have been over. And Shepherd didn't run this circle by chance. He's hiding something. And I'm really good at recognizing that, because I, myself, have done that for years myself.

"If this is the work of humans, then there is a trace left somewhere." Laswell joins in, who up until now had been shrouded in gloomy silence digesting the barrage of very steep assumptions and accusations that unfolded during the conversation. But it seems that now she too has found her determination again, and is springing into action with corresponding vehemence. "I'll look into it and let you know as soon as I find something. We have to get to the bottom of this." She states in a tone that excludes all doubts, and almost immediately gets to work as she reaches towards the camera to disconnect it from the communicator with a simple movement and puts it in the pocket of her vest. "Until then, stay alert. Nothing can get out of this." She issues her instructions for the last time, and then, when she receives a nod of agreement from Price, she rushes towards the door of the office and storms away with the same fervor with which she entered the base before our whole disastrous adventure. And I hope that this momentum will help her find something useful, because I have an intuition that we cannot sit on this topic for long, because it will soon escalate into such bloody consequences that could easily cost millions of lives. And although I didn't advance to sainthood either, my pretty ass is also included in these millions, and I specifically fear for my own safety.

"I think this much excitement will be enough for today." A tired sigh leaves the captain's mouth, and he only strokes his bearded chin with his fingers, trying to pull himself together after the information-saturated discussion. For the first time, he seems really exhausted, and it occurs to me that he may have been awake all night waiting for us to return. "Go rest. Kate definitely won't be back for a while." He directs his words to our trio, who have just returned from the mission, and although I can feel the fatigue eating into my limbs, my brain is still as alert as if I had poured a bucket of coffee down my throat.

And as I look at MacTavish, I realize that I have to agree with the captain, because even if my still actively working brain is not interested in sleep, the Scotsman, despite my professional regeneration, would need to finally position himself horizontally. But what surprises me more is when Riley moves next to me with unexpected suddenness, and without any further comment, he strolls out of the office, as if he would have some desperately important business to attend to somewhere else. Although I could believe that the only reason he leaves this abruptly is because he is burning with the desire to check his surviving little soldiers, but since the beginning of the whole meeting he has been behaving so unusually that his hurries disappearance just deepens my suspicions even more. And I can't get rid of the thought that something is definitely not right with him.

But I can't dwell on this any further, because I feel a warm palm on me, whose strong fingers gently squeeze my shoulder, directing my attention from the doorstep back to the interior of the room. A sincere smile spreads across MacTavish's face, and even though the light eyes are still filled with sadness, they look at me with such warmth that even my rough little heart immediately begins to pay attention.

"Thank you for comin' for me." The man says, and his heavily accented voice is mixed with genuine thankfulness, and I have no doubt that he means it, because gratitude flows from his every fiber, which makes my dark little soul sensitive for no reason. I don't want to share with him what motivation the image of his bloody death in my head and later the sight of his mangled body gave me, because I'm afraid that I would reveal too much about how close he and his small team came to my heart. My pride still doesn't allow me to be emotional, but it's still nice to see him alive and together. Mainly because I'd hate it if my two-person cheerleading squad was down to one.

"Don't forget about your gratitude when it comes to my training." I utter with a rather cheeky undertone, and I let that faint, but no less superior, small smile appear on my face, to finally divert my attention from the memories of the Hunter's injuries, because I can almost feel the wet touch of the warm blood under my fingers even now. And I was never moved by either blood or violence, but the fact that something terrible happened to someone I'd rather see alive is a completely different matter.

"I can't promise anythin'! " He grins as his big hand slips off my shoulder, and it seems that life has returned to him for a minute because of my teasing, since the troubled wrinkles on his forehead are reduced a little, and with this, he regains his healthy glow. And this suits him much better than the mournful misery that dominated his expression not long ago, because it also awakened compassion and pity in a disgusting way in me.

"You were good." Garrick chimes in, who finally seems to have recovered from his stunned silence, and an appreciative light flashes in his dark eyes, which only further feeds the idiotic warmth inside me, for which, despite all my objections and denials, I could kill to continue to feel. Therefore, to gather myself, I straighten up and stretch my tired limbs, like a cat that has woken up from its pleasant afternoon siesta. And I suddenly feel the desperate need to take a shower, because even if I won't be able to sleep because of the hundreds of thoughts raging in my head, my aching muscles still deserve the caress of hot water.

"I know." I reply lightly and without any modesty, but it occurs to me again that if the masked Hunter doesn't jump in so kindly to help, then I wouldn't be able to think about my relaxing bath right now. And this suddenly reawakens my restlessness caused by his behavior, and I don't even understand why I should be so interested in the fact that he acts even more rigidly than usual. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, due to my observations that turned into a hobby, it became a habit to analyze him, and every new tidbit he shows appears to me as another puzzle waiting to be solved. And this is just a bone for my overworked brain to chew on. And at this point, I decide that maybe it's time to step down before I can weave this fucking cavalcade any longer. "That's why I'm leaving now. That's enough for one evening." I declare, and now I don't even try to hide the exhaustion in my voice, which is pulling at every fiber of my body like heavy weights. This gives me enough momentum, and guided by this, I set off with one last wave to my other three little friends, already standing under the warm stream of water in my imagination.

"Get some rest." Price calls out after me, and as I turn back and meet his gaze for a moment, I find the unspoken message in his eyes, which conveys to me that I should take advantage of the rest now, because I won't have the opportunity for this luxury, if Laswell returns with the intel. And I can fully agree with this intuition, so without any further comments I say goodbye to the small group with a curt nod, and then go on my way down the deserted corridor bathed in neon light.

And as I get farther and farther away from the captain's office with my sluggish steps, and the empty silence of the base engulfs me, my thoughts return to the events of the evening. And interestingly enough, now my nerves are not obsessing over the new mutant threat, but rather Riley appears in my brain once more, as he towers above me in the dark street, staring down at me with his wild eyes glowing in red. And I can still feel the uncontrollable power emanating from him, which awakened the tingling sensation in my stomach, that appears in some inexplicable way near him. I can't pinpoint what it is, but it keeps drawing my attention back to the man, as if his whole being would be a magnet that my mind can't resist. I could justify this by saying that the relationship between the two of us is far from peachy, and that is why I dedicate so much time to studying him, but a small voice in the hidden recesses of my subconscious tells me that there is more to it than that. And even if I bend and break, I can't articulate what this motivation is that pushes me towards him, apart from my pettiness and my morbid curiosity.

My boots echo with a muffled pounding on the walls of the lifeless base, and by now those who came to help our returning defeated group after our arrival have also disappeared. And I'm a little sorry that I can now make my way to my room alone, because that way there is nothing to distract me from my train of thought, which is quite irritatingly focuses on the masked Hunter. And as the road leading to my little room appears in front of me, I stop dead in my tracks for a second. Because to the left of me stretches the corridor, at the end of which Riley's door is located, with a dull light filtering under the threshold, which makes it clear that even though he was running away so enthusiastically earlier, he still couldn't rest. So I was right to guess that he didn't rush off in such a hurry because he was worried about his men, which begs the question of what could make the always stoic man act with such unusual urgency. Because normally, he would have long since started an enthusiastic discussion with Price or thrown himself into work, but now he was gone with a haste that is rarely seen. And when the rather recent memory of his fingers closing with terrible force around the top of Price's large desk flashes through my mind, my legs almost automatically change direction and carry me forward toward the man's door, even though I know it's probably an even dumber idea than playing a one-person rescue squad. Still, the desire to calm my uncertainty is stronger than the warning voices in my skull, and the doubt inside me gives me the impetus to gallop through the dark walls with unbroken determination.

And when I arrive at the door, without thinking, one of my hands goes up knocks softly. Unmoving silence greets me for a fleeting moment, and it occurs to me that I may have misjudged the situation, and perhaps the man really left earlier because of some urgent plan he couldn't postpone. But then the sound of heavy footsteps hits my sharp little ears, and a second later the entrance to the apartment opens before me. And I raise my eyebrows in confusion as I catch a glimpse of the pair of glowing crimson eyes fixed on me, and the man's previous strange behavior immediately makes sense. Because the fact flashes in my mind that since my arrival I've been lucky enough to recharge all of his little friends, except for him, thanks to which I can now enjoy every threatening wave of hot energy flowing from him. Although I know that S-class Hunters, and perhaps he even more so, are able to reserve their small stores for a long time, especially if they don't use their ability often, but this is a game that cannot be dragged on indefinitely. Tonight's party seems to have pushed him over the edge, in a direction that has the potential to turn him into a raging lunatic. And a fierce spark of rage awakens in me when I understand that he would rather drive himself to madness than let my evil little hands help him. Why else would he have dragged this shit until now?

"What are you doin’ here?" The legitimate question comes from him, and his deep voice sounds more hoarse than usual, as if he would have to force himself to pronounce this simple sentence calmly and humanely enough. And it's undoubtedly true, because he hasn't regenerated for two and a half months, and even professionals like him suffer from it. No matter how strong he is, it doesn't matter if he is capable of taking down an entire colony with his two hands, he cannot escape the curse of his kind, which sooner or later drives every Hunter close to a Healer. He is no exception to this, even if it hurts both of us to admit it.

"You look like shit." I remark simply, and although I’m able to suppress the anger that is growing in me, I cannot push the mockery out of my voice, which infuses my words like poison. I'd like to think we've gotten over this animosity, but I'm not naive, I know I'm not the favorite person of this tough guy, but he can't be so stupid as to put his little comrades' safety in jeopardy. And although I understand why he tries so vehemently to push me away, because I suspect that despite my saint-like behavior so far, he still very much remembers how our little relationship started, but now even I admit that in this situation we both need to get rid of our pride.

"Go back to your room." He cuts the conversation short, or at least tries to settle the matter quickly, but unfortunately he still can't deter me with his grumpiness, because he hasn't achieved any lasting change in my charming personality with this attitude so far either. For the second time tonight, it seems, the time has come when I must remind him that, although I have been somewhat tamed by the grace shown by his team, my self-esteem and determination are still stronger than his intimidating aura, which he tries to project at me with every cell of his being.

"I always forget how much better you think you are." I reply to him and, tilting my head to the side, I hold the stare of his vivid red eyes, which shine with such unnatural sharpness in the dull light escaping through the opening of the door, as if he weren't from this world, but rather some kind of demon released from hell. And I reluctantly have to admit to myself that instead of fear, a completely different kind of tingling wells up under my skin from his flaming gaze. "But maybe you could let go of your pride now. Unless, by the morning, you want someone else to be blamed for the reduced team besides the mutants." I suggest cynically, highlighting the simple but unpleasantly probable fact with deliberate cruelty, that his stubbornness doesn't protect anyone, especially not the members of the base's tight-knit family. With this whole tug-of-war, he risks snapping the last string of his sanity and slaughtering those whom he tried to protect until now with his own hands.

And it seems that my little comment hits its target, because even though I don't break off our stare-down duel even for a minute, I can see in my periphery how his fingers clench irritatedly around the door, and when the wood creaks under his hand with a low scream, then I take a brave but simple step closer, and he follows my movements with narrowed eyes. Even though I can't see him fully, I can still feel the burning heat of the angry force emanating from him, but that doesn't distract me from my goal. Because although I hide this deeply even from my rational self, it's not just my doubts about my safety that urge me to lend a helping hand. But also that unknown pull that draws my attention to him, as the light of a lamp lures the unsuspecting moth.

"It's amazing how tough you are. But you’re only screwing yourself over. And the others." I note, pressing the last few words significantly, highlighting the fact that not only his pride is at stake here, but also the lives of those he will crush when the blinds come down in front of his brain after he runs out of the energy. "Let me help you." I plead with him, and the nasty edge that has been residing in my voice softens, trying to make it known that, for once, I only want to support him without any ulterior motives or malice. Which would be my job anyway, but in light of the fact that he saved my life, maybe I even owe him that much.

It seems that I might have succeeded in making him come around, because after a nerve-wracking second of silent hesitation, he steps back and opens the entrance to his room wider in front of me, offering me the way in. And I, without any wait, venture into the realm of his modest home, ignoring the smoldering gaze that follows me unceasingly, the heat of which almost burns my back, as I slowly invade the lonely silence of his quarters. And although I try with every fiber of my being to impose a nonchalant calm on myself, it's impossible to forget how the whole room is filled with the fiery temper that rolls off of him in steady wawes. Therefore, in order to reinforce my confident indifference, I scan through every little corner of the room with my curious eyes. It's only a fraction bigger than my humble abode, yet despite the neat order, it radiates a homeliness that makes me want to question whether the Hunter I know for his unfriendliness and coldness even lives here. And although the furniture is quite simple, I still discover one or two personal relics and some pictures taken with an old camera. In most of them, he is posing with his friends, but there is one photo that stands out from the rest, and even though I can only make out the blurred figures of a few people from this distance, I still capture an older woman, whose face, adorned with a warm smile, almost radiates something quite intimate, which only the close family members can show to each other. And I have to forcefully divert my searching gaze from there, because I know that I'm poking my nose into a corner of the man's life that I have nothing to do with in the slightest. Not even if the curiosity awakened in me eagerly demands to know who the relative he holds in such high esteem could be.

However, I can't survey the surroundings any longer, because I hear the thumping of his heavy boots as he approaches me, after the door closes with a soft click, and as he walks past me and heads towards the bed resting at the end of the room, I follow his path intently. He's still wearing his uniform stained with dark blood, but he's already gotten rid of the tactical gear, and for some reason, without the many supports and straps, the restrained aggression that dominates his body becomes even more noticeable, as he throws himself into the soft comfort of his bed with measured movements. And as soon as he has settled down, he focuses his expectant stare on me, which, despite the fact that his insides are probably torn apart by irritated impatience and pain, is still filled with indifference. And his ability to protect his image and self-respect, even when he certainly feels as good as washed out shit, is worthy of recognition.

And I don't waste my time, but amble closer cautiously so that I can join the man sprawled out on the bed with deceptive relaxation. He follows my every move with keen attention as I crouch down next to him, as if he would suspect that at any moment I will attempt something evil against him after allowing me into the intimate recesses of his quarters. And although the idea of getting into someone's personal space and later using the knowledge gained in this way against them is not completely foreign to me, this is not what drives me now. The dark bedding rustles and crumples under me as I turn towards him and hold out one of my pretty little hands so that we can finally get down to what the ugly little voice in my subconscious brought me here for. His crimson eyes settle on my hand with suspicion, as if it alone could commit unimaginable horrors. Which in itself is a flawless truth, but it's also true for him, and I'm guessing that his hands have seen a lot more violence than mine, and unfortunately, because of that, none of us are innocent enough for this charade.

"I'm going to need skin contact, Riley." I inform him with my tone spiced with a drop of sarcasm, because I doubt that he is not aware that he will have to allow my ugly little hands to touch him in order to recharge him. Even if I can understand how this fact fills him with resentment, unfortunately now he will be forced to let me get close so that I can do my job.

He casts one last unfriendly look at me, then quickly frees himself from one of his gloves, and a strong hand appears from under the textile decorated with a skeleton pattern, with dark veins stretching under the unnaturally pale skin, through which the traces of the many scars left from the past run with faint lines, only silently testifying to the excitements in which he undoubtedly took a part in. He reluctantly offers me his hand, and my fingers firmly wrap around his large palm almost immediately, and I'm surprised for a moment by the burning heat emanating from it, which slowly creeps along my skin following his touch. And this small interaction is enough for me to gauge how close he has strayed to his limits even without the help of my ability, and it gives me enough motivation to close my eyes and begin the regeneration, before I can dwell on how surprisingly pleasant his long fingers tightening around mine feel.

When my energy carefully stretches out towards him, I get lightheaded for a minute from the demanding, aggressive pull, with which the power raging in the man clings to me almost instantly, like a starving wild animal that has finally found a tasty morsel. And I have to concentrate more than I would normally to not give in to this violent pull, because an SSS-class big boy is able to suck all the energy out of me in a careless moment, before I even have a chance to recover from the attack. The complicated system of blood vessels running through the Hunter's body is revealed in my mind's eye, and only a few areas peppered with dark spots show that he didn't get through the night without minor injuries and bruises. Although he is undoubtedly a human killing machine in terms of his abilities, today's events caught him by surprise, and I can guess that he got these passing bruises when he was trying to protect his men from the monsters that was attacking them. And with that, the mission filled with pointless death appears in mind for the hundredth time since our arrival, which I don't think I'll be able to get past any time soon. It would be foolish to forget this whole parade, because it delighted me with new experiences, the fruits of which we will soon reap if we don't get more information. But the little conversation I had with Riley before rescuing our Scottish friend comes to my mind, perhaps with even more enthusiasm. Although he now sits next to me with an almost eerie immobility, and lets my cunning little gift soften the furious flames of the power that simmers in him in slow waves, I can't get over the fact that he hasn't yet punished me for my disobedience. I don't feel any particular desire to remind him of my reckless opposition, but I'm still curious to see how he will retaliate for my little rebellion.

I break out of my concentration for a moment, and I raise my searching gaze to his face again, only to meet his closed eyes emerging from under the mask. And I take advantage of this stolen moment to observe his features as closely as I haven't had the chance to before. In the yellow light of the lamp on the bedside table, his eyelashes look golden, and they cast shadows on the skin covered with blurred dark paint as they flutter when the cooling waves of my energy wash through his body. The sharp line of his nose can be seen under the black fabric, and as I peer down and recognize the shape of his lips parting in relief, I feel the burning tremble that has appeared with disturbing frequency around him lately. But I can't tear myself away from him, because my eyes slide on his chin, then on his textile-covered neck, and when his Adam's apple moves, when he swallows after a barely audible sigh, my mouth dries up with maddening speed. I feel like it's time to finally occupy my mind which drifted on a dangerous path, before the warmth in the pit of my stomach has time to get cheeky. Because I don't understand at all what is happening to me, and it annoys me more than anything that I feel the control of my brain slipping out of my hands.

"You won’t punish me?" The question that occupies my mind breaks out of me, because although I'm not afraid that he will snap my neck because of this, I can rightly assume that he will honor my little indulgence with some kind of retribution. Of course, this may seem like an almost masochistic move on my part, but it's still a safer and more predictable area than the series of thoughts buzzing in my head caused by just observing his face hidden under the mask.

His eyelids open slowly, as if I had just disturbed him from his peaceful slumber, and when his usual brown eyes are focused on me again, the lazy sparks dancing in them almost take my breath away. It seems as if heavy weights have been lifted from him, and as the tension ready to jump disappears from his muscles, and his body relaxes, his aura becomes quite human. As if sitting next to me wasn't the fearless, grim, and always terrifying Hunter, but the man who calls MacTavish Johnny, who sometimes disappears into Price's office and reappears with the scent of whiskey and tobacco smoke trailing after him, and who responds with a low snort to one of Garrick's lame jokes. He almost becomes a different person, and this makes me wonder why he allows me, exactly ME, to see this side of him. I doubt he is aware of how carefully I have observed him so far, but he certainly knows the dubious messages he is sending with this. It might make me believe that he doesn't hate me nearly as much as I had assumed.

"Theres no need to." He states finally, and his voice now rings with a much healthier depth, indicating that my little trick is slowly starting to reach its goal and pull him back from the edge of the abyss, where he voluntarily danced close to. But this answer is far from enough for me, because again it's just a short sentence that scratches the surface of the problem. I know that he is comfortable with settling the matter with that much, but it never was my strong suit to settle for speculation, so I decide to keep pushing.

"I thought disobeying orders was a serious offense." I vocalize this tiny detail, raising one of my arched eyebrows, conveying perfect disinterest with my whole being. Although I appreciate that, contrary to my previous experiences, he is not coming up with some vile and mean comment to let me know his dislike, but now I'm curious about more than just his curtness. Mainly because my disobedience has annoyed him terribly so far, and I doubt that this current transgression of mine would leave him unfazed, which could have ended much uglier if he hadn't decided to show up.

"It is." Comes another rather informative answer, and when I'm about to open my mouth to tell him how talkative he's become in the wee hours of the morning, his fingers tighten around my hand, almost warning me that he hasn't finished yet. "I thought about leaving you there." He says dispassionately, and with this tiny little sentence, he lets me know exactly what I was already aware of. And when I left the overpass, I departed with this knowledge, because I never even considered that he would come after me. But nevertheless, he stepped in when he was most needed.

"Yet you came after us." I emphasize the obvious, because in the end, despite the fact that I managed to save the Hunter with the mohawk from an early and brutal death with my suicidal action, he had to intervene so that I wouldn't end up dying together with his Scottish friend. And I'm not so naive as to believe that it was his concern for me that led him to the dead-end alley. "MacTavish is lucky to have such a loyal partner. I might even envy him." I note, and I curve the beginnings of a mean little smile on my lips, because that way it might be easier to silence the evil little voices that arise in me, which whisper that Riley would have left me to my fate with the greatest peace of mind, if MacTavish's life had not depended on his appearance. There is such a close bond between the two Hunters, the origin of which I don't know, but I'm aware that they would put their hands in the fire for each other, which is why it's perhaps understandable why he can let go of my punishment so easily. Because I suspect that if he hadn't been almost neck-deep in the remains of the mutants, he would have intervened at the start of the chaos at the beginning of the combat zone.

But before I could delve deeper into the mass of dark little thoughts born in my own brain, mocking me for having the faint and silly idea even for a minute, that maybe he didn't just come to the party of my private rescue mission for his friend's sake, the man's body moves towards me in a rather surprising manner, and I freeze instantly. Every part of me is prepared for the counterattack by the instinctive reflex of defense, and my nervous system is almost automatically attuned to forming a blood clot in the snaking vascular network of one of Riley's vital organs instead of friendly regeneration if the need arises. However, when the brutal attack I expect doesn't arrive even after a few nerve-wracking seconds, I shift my confused eyes to his face. It's only a few centimeters with which he brings his broad shoulders closer as he leans down to me, but even this tiny movement is enough to make me unsteady and focus on the Hunter's body language with every nerve. And when I don't find anything in his mannerisms that would indicate that he wants to kill me, I only stare with growing puzzlement into the pair of brown eyes in which golden sparks swim from the lamplight.

"I didn't go there just because of Soap." He declares, and there is such a significant weight in his voice that I feel that my heart, which is hammering in confusion, skips a beat. Because with this simple expression, he drives away all the clouds of gloomy theories fighting in my head, so that nothing else remains after it, but honest surprise, which I'm unable to stop before it also appears on my face. And I must give a comical sight as I stare at him with slightly parted lips and eyes wide with astonishment, but despite this, he doesn't let my gaze wander and maintains eye contact with unbroken determination, as if he hadn't just made the most benign comment that he has ever said to me. If it weren't for the pull of the smoldering power inside of him, interlocking with my energy, I would quite simply think of this whole absurd scenario as a dream image created by my brain. But it's real, just like the bitter smell of blood and gunpowder emanating from the man and the fiery touch of his skin under my palm.

It takes me a few seconds to snap out of my shock-induced stiffness, and when my gray matter manages to grasp what Riley just said to me, I straighten up in my seat with an amused sigh. For this one confession amounts to a peace treaty, which he nobly offers me, no doubt as a reward for saving his Scottish friend. But I don't care why he had the motivation to tell me this, it doesn't take away from its importance.

"Just be careful, Riley." I utter with a mock warning in my voice, as I regain my confidence and lean forward a hair's breadth, boldly reaching closer to him. And as interest flashes in his eyes, a cheeky smile appears on my lips. "You might end up liking me." I cock my head to de side with sassiness, and when neither anger nor contempt follows my little comment, I know that maybe he wouldn't mind so much if that happened.

And although silence reigns in the room again, and only our shadows dancing on the wall in the warm light break the immobility, this peace doesn't weigh on me suffocatingly. I turn my attention back to the visible network of blood vessels beneath my closed eyelids, letting the waves of the now-calmed power of the Hunter lick at every fiber of my body. For the first time, I feel that neither of us is in a hurry to get rid of the other's company, which lays the hundreds of thoughts in my head to rest. And for a little while, the sounds of exhaustion that are slowly growing inside me are silenced, allowing me to enjoy this idyllic moment.

⃰

My body shakes with another wild wave, as the torturous claw of hunger digs into my stomach again, pulling my insides with such force as if an elephant was trying to press down on my chest. I angrily kick off the blanket that is clinging to my skin drenched in cold sweat, because every square centimeter of the textile that touches me pricks me with the sharpness of a thousand needles. As if I were in a torture chamber where everything wants to make me suffer, instead of lying in the comfort of my soft bed. The air flows into my lungs with moist heat, and with each breath, I get more and more dizzy, because I feel my trachea sticking together from the sticky, disgusting dampness that settles in the silence between the walls of the room.

Of course, my brain, hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, knows that everything is exactly as normal as it was before this hell started, when I returned to my room and after a nice shower, I threw myself on my bed and fell asleep. Because maybe I managed to sleep for a few hours, when with the first rays of the sun, that well-known pain woke up in me, which didn't mean anything good at all. Although it's not surprising that the unrelenting feeling of hunger appeared in me, because I actively worked for my energy to be drained sufficiently. MacTavish's healing and regeneration, Riley's recharging, and the recovery of the other little soldiers meant just enough stress for my little ability, which even though I started the mission with a full stomach, my body couldn't tolerate. And now I get to enjoy the aftermath of this, since Laswell isn't here to give me the only thing that could help this damn situation. The woman is now digging and researching for information somewhere within the walls of the colony, and she will most certainly not come back because I whine because of my rumbling stomach. And since only the all-knowing boss of the base knows the code to that fucking door that stands between me and my snack, I'm forced to wait here writhing until she gets back.

My canines sting with a sharp pain as I think, that I actually have dozens of opportunities to alleviate this suffering, but even my dulled mind is aware that I shouldn't betray the team's trust in me. And even in my current state, I find it quite ridiculous that my instincts can be crushed by the image of the Hunters, because before I arrived here I would have quenched my thirst behind a club with the help of an unsuspecting idiot a long time ago. There would be plenty of such silly little fools here, and all I would have to do would be to lure one of them into a dark corner, stun them, and that's it. They wouldn't even feel it. They wouldn't even know about it. No trace would be left.

And as another torturous spasm twists my insides, I hiss weakly and grip the skin of my stomach, because it feels as if an iron fist would try to tear my intestines apart. My nails tear at the skin of my belly with desperate force, as if that would ease the torture. Although the aching caused by my own abuse doesn't reach my senses, the sweet smell of the blood coming out after my fresh wounds is even more so. Its seductive aroma snakes into my nose, and I impatiently raise my hand to my mouth to clean the crimson liquid off with my tongue. But that doesn't help one bit, and the couple of small bites I stole from myself only push the claws of hunger that stab into me like knives even deeper.

Time crawls forward on leaden feet, and I might even lose consciousness for a while, because by the time I regain awareness, and the fever has subsided from my brain enough to be able to perceive the outside world again, then I become aware that the darkness of the night has engulfed my small room. And it occurs to me that if no one has tried to find me until now, then the woman probably hasn't magically appeared since then either. But the impatient hunger is now demandingly straining inside me, and keeps shouting in my head to go and find something that will finally make this pain go away. And nothing seems like a better idea to my confused mind, which eagerly urges me to move and look for food.

With hasty movements, I peel myself from the tangled fabrics of my sheets and rush to the door with my newfound momentum to tear open the entrance to my room. And as soon as I step out to the hallway, I shiver from the cool breeze that caresses my feverish skin that emerges from under my t-shirt and shorts. I set off almost automatically through the deserted corridors of the base, as if an invisible leash was guiding me towards my goal, promising that at the end of my journey, I would find something that would finally be able to free me from the pain piercing through all my limbs. And for a fleeting moment, it crosses my mind how eerily empty the entire base is, but I can't do anything with this information. Maybe it's better this way, because even my twisted brain understands that if I saw an unsuspecting victim, I wouldn't be able to control myself. I would throw myself on them, sink my teeth into them, and drink from them until the last memory of the hunger tearing at my stomach vanished.

Those few minutes seem like millennia until I finally find my final destination, wandering through the maze of uninhabited corridors, and when the door of the infirmary finally appears in front of my eyes, an almost aggressive temper takes over me. Food is within arm's reach, and nothing can stop the angry voices raging in my skull. This vehement impulse takes me to the threshold of the medical room, and I have no capacity to understand why the door is open, when I almost tear it from its socket and open it, and it obeys my aggressive attack with a loud creak. Without thinking, I enter the noiseless, empty space of the room, and in an instant, my nose senses the faint remains of the scent of blood even through the smell of the disinfectants. And I feel like a wild animal looking for its prey as I catch sight of the beds resting against the walls, ready to pounce on them as soon as I find the source of the delicacy. My clever little nose leads me all the way through the dark room to an abandoned, neatly prepared bed, and I reach for the white bedclothes with impatient haste to pull them from their peaceful position. Although only the dull light of the buttons of the many machines shines in the blackness of the night, it's not a problem for my eyes to discover the few small, brown spots that rest on the mattress laughing at me. If I had an ounce of self-respect left in me right now, I'd find it pathetic that I messed up a fucking hospital bed just because I sensed that the unfortunate injured soldier had left behind a little crumb of that delicacy for which every nerve in me screams with ever-increasing despair. But now I have no self-respect left, only hunger.

The disappointment that settles into my consciousness stops me for a fleeting second, and when I realize that it wasn't my dinner that greeted me under the sheet, then a thick, red fog descends on my brain. Every part of me fills with the heat of this smoldering passion, and it moves my body almost automatically to action, which carries me all the way to the fucking password-protected door. As soon as that damned thick metallic thing appears in front of me, I don't even try the panel, because I know that my fingers wouldn't be capable of the fine motor movements required to press the buttons. On the other hand, the fury in me warns me that there is another way to get in, I just have to try hard enough. And with the keen senses of a hunted beast, I look around the infirmary, so that when my eyes stop on the chair resting next to the doctor's table, I can cross the distance between me and my improvised weapon without hesitation. The heavy piece of furniture seems as light as a feather as I pick it up, and I know that the strength I have when I storm back to the door with the chair is due to the blessed effect of the stress hormones working in my muscles. Without any delay, I raise the seat up, and as I slam it down, the plastic squeaks between my hands. I strike again and again, and with each blow, I only get angrier, and the infirmary's quiet peace is filled with a series of furious snaps and cracks. I feel my mouth contort into a snarl as I methodically destroy the furniture, and the irritation bubbling up inside me doesn't let up until my weapon is shattered into pieces, and I'm left with nothing but the mutilated legs of the chair in my painfully clenched grip.

It takes me a few seconds to realize that I can't continue my assault against the door any longer, and then carelessly tossing aside the shattered pieces of the furniture, I move closer to see if I managed to damage the goddamn metal. But it still looks back at me unscathed, laughing at the miserable and pitiful way I tried to break through it, and I know I never had and never will have the chance to tear down. Only one or two faint scratches are visible on it, and nothing else shows how indignant I attacked it. And that gives me enough motivation to charge at this damned garbage with my bare hands. My fist collides with the door with a dull thud, and not a single spark of the pain radiating from my hand reaches my brain, I just beat the entrance to the storage room with increasing distress, becoming more and more anguished with each passing minute at the sight of my failure. And when the suffering rips into me again, and another agonizing wave of hunger grips my stomach, I fall to the ground along the cold steel with a tortured whimper. My attempted break-in resulted in nothing other than the rapid deterioration of my already poor condition. My pulse is pounding in my ears, and with each heartbeat, the violent grasp that holds my insides in an iron fist becomes more and more suffocating. Fuck….

Suddenly, the rhythmic noise of my panting is interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and I break out of my paralyzed self-pity to turn my head towards the gaping entrance of the infirmary in a daze. Although my brain is still not on top of the situation and is slowed down by the dull confusion left behind by the disappearing poisonous fog, I would recognize the outline of the tall figure I see stopping at the doorstep out of a thousand. Riley stands there in the embrace of the darkness behind him, like a spirit freed from the underworld, and as I weakly lift my eyes to him, I can only focus on the skull that glows with eerie vivacity, and I remember that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he snapped my neck.

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