huntingeden-blog

[huntingeden-blog]

SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS SENTENCE STARTERS.

❝ What the hell happened? ❞

❝ I set the car on fire. ❞

❝ You’re gorgeous. ❞

❝ It’s their blood. ❞

❝ Where are your guns? ❞

❝ You’re better than me. ❞

❝ Put your hands up! ❞

❝ You’re fucked from birth. ❞

❝ Are you pissed at me, baby? ❞

❝ Why would I be pissed at you? ❞

❝ Of course we’re friends.❞ 

❝ Come with me. Please. ❞

❝ I wanna jump inside your pants. ❞

❝ Are you looking at something? ❞ 

❝ Why did you kill all of those people? ❞

❝ What’s with your sour fucking puss? ❞

❝ Are we gonna have a peyote party? ❞

❝ Friends don’t make their friends die. ❞

❝ Are you nervous because we’re killing a chick? ❞

❝ I’m going to be over to kill you on Tuesday. ❞

❝ Maybe the world just doesn’t understand you. ❞

❝ Poodles always look like they’ve been crying. ❞

❝ We all gotta dream, don’t we? ❞

❝ Have some pride in yourself. ❞

❝ Fuck the cops! Fuck them! ❞ 

❝ You ever shoot a guy in his eyeball? ❞

❝ Sorry if I haven’t been a very good friend to you. ❞

❝ Don’t ever say I never do anything for you. ❞

❝ Seriously, just fuck off! I’m not in the fucking mood! ❞

❝ I stabbed a guy in the ear once. Ice pick, right in his fucking ear. ❞

❝ You think I’m not serious just because I carry a rabbit? ❞

❝ Are you out of your alcoholic fucking mind? ❞

❝ You’ve eaten too many hallucinogenic cactuses tonight, [ name. ]❞

❝ I don’t have a drinking problem. I just like drinking. ❞ 

❝ Sorry for hitting you in the face so hard. ❞

❝ Sometimes I think God’s gone crazy. ❞

❝ No shoot-outs, no pay-outs. Just human beings talking. ❞

❝ You might want to stop drinking if this is how you’re gonna behave. ❞

❝ It’s impossible for someone’s head to actually explode, isn’t it?  ❞

❝ When are you gonna get a job that’s not just stealing from people? ❞

❝ This guy just telephoned a psycho-killer to come psycho-kill us! ❞

❝ God loves us. I know it. He’s just got a funny way of showing it sometimes. ❞

❝ I didn’t mean to break his nose. His nose was just in the middle of where I was punching. ❞

[huntingeden-blog]

earthsepione·:

“This is a no mope zone,” Ruth says, sitting down with a notebook and a ridiculously large mug of tea (with a travel lid). She sits down across from Eden, and gives her a pointed look— never one to waste her expressions, even if the other woman can’t see them. She’d probably hear the ‘don’t have a pity party’ tone in Ruth’s voice. 

“You’re a fuckin brilliant agent, Edie, you’re top tier among dozens of agents who can see.” She takes a loud and obnoxious sip of her tea. “Vy nie toĺki vialiki zabojca, alie vy taksama nievierahodna šmatmoŭnym,” she says it casually, but wonders if Eden would pick up that she’s laying the compliments on in a nice thick layer of icing (not that any of them are untrue).

     “Pretty sure I can mope wherever I want.”  She feels exhausted, like those eyes of Ruth’s are burning through her even though Eden can’t hope to see them.  Just an itch against her skin that she has to stop herself from rubbing at, trying to chase away with her trembling fingers.  Instead she picks at her own nails.  Tears at them in small amounts.

The compliments always fall on deaf ears in some shape or form.  Bad joke when you’re blind -- but shit.  Eden’s terrible at feelings, wretched at the way that people let out their kindness so easily and expect nothing (or something terrible) in return.  Still, she tries to send Ruth a thin smile.  “Tapadh leat, ach chan eil sin a ’cur às do na h-àrdan.”

[huntingeden-blog]

stitchbond‌:

“of course it is. you’re the only one who calls me after five in the evening,” arthur points out idly, phone tucked against his ear. he’s more focused on the work at the moment, making sure all the measurements he took tonight were legible. they are, of course, and he has a spreadsheet for most of the members of olympus by now, adjusted as necessary. when you mainly work with one group of people, you might as well have a cohesive database of information about them. to streamline the process, in the way he streamlines a lot of things in his life.

he’s just about to ask what she means by weird as shit, and is greeted with the click of the receiver.

great. that’s not disconcerting in the slightest, gift or not. still, though, he pushes himself up from his desk and heads for the door. he does trust that eden wouldn’t send anyone to kill him, so he doesn’t even have to worry about a weapon. despite what she portrays to everyone else, he knows when she has a soft spot for someone. and it’s fair enough. he certainly has a particular kind of kindness for her. it is like her to order food for him, knowing that otherwise he’ll order food at odd hours, still used to the constantly shifting hours of the assassin world.

still, though, he sets down his phone next to the door and unlocks it, yanking it open. he gets the door open about a half-inch before realizing exactly who it is, and then he laughs aloud, grinning despite himself. retirement has made him a little more open like that. less to hide when you’re just living at home, making clothes and testing out new materials to reduce the impact of bullets. “did you just assume i hadn’t gotten dinner yet?” he glances around, even as he opens the door and steps aside to let her and almond come in. “i mean, you were right, but still.”

sure, all of this is cheesy and ridiculous and assuming.  eden can’t help it when she’s hard almost all the time.  a sharp personality, a brutality built into her against assassins and targets alike.  she doesn’t like being treated gently.  it speaks of a dismissal that eden feels into her very bones and has to writhe against for her own fucking sanity.  it never matters to her how kind they mean it, what they want her to take from it, and never think about how it might really make her feel.  so it figures that the one person to treat her like everyone else is the one that eden herself has developed a softness for.  

thing is, arthur is her person.  they’ve never tried to put words on it from fourteen all the way to thirty five, a full twenty five years of knowing they give a shit about each other while equally keen on how little they really need to talk about it.  arthur took a chance.  eden was a good pay off.  that’s how it goes, and how everything else was built.  now it’s more just surprising each other, arriving when they do or not expect with or without gifts.  almost like a normal family.  almost like eden didn’t jab someone with her can while walking by and left them bleeding to death, unaware in some fancy restaurant in venice last night.  like she didn’t instantly get off of the plane, order her bag brought over by van and grabbed a pizza while taking an uber to his place.  

there’s no way to ignore her goofy grin when arthur laughs though.  how almond rushes to him, doesn’t leap on him but stops at his legs with a wagging tail as eden releases him and takes herself inside.  it’s a pathway she’s walked far too much to hesitate, even without cane or dog immediately available.  “you don’t eat like a normal person.”  eden tells him as she sets the pizza down on the kitchen counter.  “besides, i don’t think you can say no to your favorite toppings even with a full belly.  stop lying to me and make us some drinks.”

[huntingeden-blog]

mgodernized‌:

he didn’t enjoy his time at the headquarters. the uppity fucks and over confident young ones could irk him real good. he was a good person… wasn’t he? does he care for that sort of thing? not entirely. looking to the tar mimicking liquid in his cup with a face of disgust would only be interupted by the familiar figure beside him. 

eden was a special one. favorites were never allowed in the organization they belonged too, but as always: caleb could care less. his brow raises when hearing the muffled tones from the other. it didn’t seem in her nature to seem so defeated. 

caleb couldn’t help, but smirk. it wasn’t an underestimation, more a relation to the many years of error in his own career. looking to Eden for the moment with a sympathetic look, only lips fail to push down a smirk. he lets out a soft chuckle while putting his surprisingly shitty coffee mug down. “Look, Kid. This shit happens,” he begins while gently nudging her, “You can’t let it get to you because thats when you really slip up.” 

taking a sip of his coffee to break the silence only furthers his irritation. “For fuck sakes, we’re working million dollars and they can’t make better shit than this?” 

     “yeah?  does it?  because i’ve been in this game for over a decade and this shit doesn’t happen to me.  even my fuck ups are successes.”  she knows how that probably sounds -- a humble brag worthy of an eye roll.  but who’s fault is that, hers or arthur’s?  the son of a bitch trained her better than she could’ve ever hoped for.  her issues became assets.  no one else could’ve done that for her except caleb maybe.  always a soft spot for her, a spot that has her prickling now.

soft spots are for experts, people worthy of the old guard’s attention.  eden doesn’t believe in seniority anywhere else than olympus because in olympus, it was earned.  eden earned that shit.  this feels like ten steps backwards, feels like how his coffee smells when caleb sets it down and presses his arm against hers.  with no other sensation it’s just about all eden can feel.  every inch of fabric on fabric.  all the acrid edges of over brewed beans.  

her nails dig into one another.  worming, writhing hands.  

     “arthur probably never fucked up like this,” eden mutters.  free of all code names when those strict about anonymity, a rule rarely recognized are all gone to their homes for rest.  “maybe you, but not arthur.  no one talks about their failures here.”  it’s a teasing jab.  she hardly means it -- caleb’s a unique one.  his kill count is warranted as astounding for a reason, and his skills are something she could never touch even if she wanted to.  a good reason to like him, eden thinks.  a strong reason.

rubbing her hand over her face, she sighs.  tries to roll her eyes for him.  “coffee budget is a dollar a month, didn’t you get the email?”

[huntingeden-blog]

WHEN: 2:00am MISSION: n/a WHERE: olympus hq WHO: open

she doesnt’ fuck up often.  that’s what’s really impressive about her, the proof of her training and her mentor.  of all her skills, eden is excellent at killing and translating in equal measure.  less of a dichotomy and more of symbiosis between the two -- she’s made sure of it.  each skill matters.  some assassins speak more than one language, but none speak as many as she does.  and her kills are as clever as they are silent most of the time, with the target rarely aware of what’s happened before it’s far too late for them to survive.  

except this time, someone must’ve tipped off the target.  gotten them far fucking away before eden could make her move, just leaving her dodging bullets and sticking anyone who got close enough for almond to pin them down.  it’s not a catastrophic failure because someone else will try again.  more that therein lies the issue.  someone else will take a mission she should have been able to nail in one.  killing isn’t difficult.  

killing old men who can barely run?  simple.

no better reason to sit at the cafeteria so late at night, head in hands and almond across her feet in the still, ice cold silence around her.  broken only by footsteps that eden thinks are meant to be silent.  maybe sneak up on her, or sneak around her.  stupid.  most people can’t do that to a person who hears like a goddamn fox on meth.

     “i don’t want to hear it,” eden says without pulling her head from her hands.  “frankly, let me mope in fucking peace.”

[huntingeden-blog]

WHEN: 6:15 pm MISSION: completed WHERE: arthur’s home WHO: @stitchbond

     “bàs marbh, it’s me.”  she has to keep her voice down.  it’s crucial to the mission, too loud and there’s no goddamn chance that anything will go to plan.  as eden walks in a slow circle she moves her phone from one ear to the other and pinches it there between shoulder and cheek.  below, almond brushes against her leg.  curiosity in the way he keeps folding against her and her motions -- he knows this place.  they’ve performed missions here time and time again, so she knows what he’s asking.

why haven’t they gone inside yet?

with her cane hanging from her wrist it’s sheer instinct that keeps her footing steady as she hears arthur’s sluggish, work drunk assent from the other line.  despite herself, eden laughs a little.  rolls her eyes with no one to see it and comes to a halt.  “my mission is going weird as shit so i’m gonna be in town a week from now.  but i shipped you a souvenir as an apology, and it’s time sensitive as it’s food.  got the alert it was delivered, so go to your door.”

without waiting for a reply, eden hangs up.  puts her phone back in her pocket and adjusts her grip on the great cardboard box she balances on one palm.  the other hand comes up to steady it just as she hears footsteps, the turning of a lock.  twisting of a door knob.  and when it opens, she grins brightly, smugly from above the pizza box and wafting smell.  no doubt almond smiles up too -- soft spot for the old man.

    “surprise, bitch!”

[huntingeden-blog]

solocowboy‌:

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗: 𝟷:𝟶𝟸𝙿𝙼 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚗/𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎: 𝚜𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚘𝚜𝚎, 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎.

the blues was the only form of music caleb found himself to enjoy. the guitar, soulful voice and slow melody made him feel right at home. his eyes carry out onto the road - well, shit. awkward silences could only get worse over time. he’s reminded of a face wound when his face crunches, the heat was out for revenge, and being trapped in a car didn’t help.

“well, look… “ he says to the other while the tang in his voice hangs in the air. “it could be a whole lot worse. we didn’t get our ID in time to catch a flight, but we’re only a days drive away.” Caleb was a person who looked for the best and mostly settled with it. adjusting his figure against the seat, his eyes draw to the stingents of blood that remained on his fingers. 

all he knew, after every mission was that the target deserved it. his fingers tighten around the wheel. he looks over to the passenger seat for a brief moment while offering a polite smile. “don’t worry. we’ll patch up once we hit the motel.” it was all routine, they knew how to make the world their own. he only wondered how long he would be able to keep up with the other. 

eden has her legs kicked onto the dash, an angle that often gets them smacked down for risk of breaking on a crash and put right back up when the driver, every driver, takes their eyes from her.  it’s a casual thing.  contrasted with crossed arms that represent the dichotomy of an arm wound and being far too pissed off to have words for it.  

caleb has the words.  hell, caleb has too many words and too soft and attitude, it’s driving eden up the goddamn wall.  having to put almond in the back of the car for sake of space sure as shit wasn’t helping her any.  that thrum of nerves has been built into her when she’s separated from her dog at any distance.  a good boy.  never in anyone’s face unless eden hits the ground, knocked out, and that’s the only way almond knows to get her moving again.   

     “sure,” she says finally for the sake of politeness.  not eden’s best suite, but there’s always an itch from arthur’s attempted upbringing when she begins to fall into bitch mode.  “i love car rides.  three punches on the window means i need to throw up, for the record.”  

that’s half bullshit.  only a back seat issue, but eden figures he doesn’t need to know that right now.  the music is a reason to earn that comment, lingering and exhausting when she could have a book playing right now.  there’s the cost of using your phone to eat a bullet.

     “you a doctor, doc?  gonna give ruth a run for her money if she finds out.”

[huntingeden-blog]

hadeskills‌:

when: 2:01PM mission: n/a where: olympus hq who: open to anyone.

he really doesn’t know why he keeps going on missions. he’s surprised he doesn’t have a metal hip by now with the amount of falls he’s taken in the last month. if he wasn’t feeling his age before, he sure as shit is feeling it now. marcus lays flat on the floor of his office at olympus, cigarette between his lips and hands folded on his stomach with not a care in the world who sees him. really, he’s hoping no one will, but with the volume of requests to train this agent and that, he’s not holding out for the peace.

and just his luck– he gets a knock on his door. ( he’s surprised they didn’t just walk in. ) good, he thinks to himself. it’s not caleb. “come in.”

when she comes back, she makes her rounds.  that’s just a habit ingrained into eden by now -- formerly instinct to show people she was alive.  she made it.  another kill without a fuck up, look at her.  now it just feels wrong not to do this before heading off to wherever she’s planning to sleep tonight.  arthur’s.  always his, but at least in her head she can pretend there’s an illusion of other options just as appealing.  eventually she gets to the old man’s door, more old man than her old man, and pounds on it with the edge of her cane.  

     “hey,” she says the second he gives permission.  door thrown open as almond guides her in, slipping out of her grip to push the door shut with his nose.  “wow where is your voice... coming from?  i’m genuinely worried to let my cane hit the ground now so can you just.  holler again.”  

christ, what a weirdo.

[huntingeden-blog]

soloaphro‌:

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗: 𝟷𝟷:𝟶𝟺 𝙿𝙼 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚗/𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎: 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎

“thanks.” genie says with a smug look, placing the unmatching pillows on the couch. one day she would have a home of her owns, only for now she would sleep ( far too comfortably ) at the homes of others. holding a wounded hand to her side, an obvious poorly wrapped cast and all the while it was her signature. 

it was rough out there. a titan ; never respected compared to the others. always feeling underestimated and having something to prove. she was raised by them, the deadly and the greatest, and managed to still feel out of place. her eyes look up to the figure who had been in her life for the long while, she trusted them enough to ask. 

“i won’t be here long. just waiting for my call-in,” she notes softly only this wasn’t the first time they had this conversation. grunting lightly when tugging at her injured arm. faded brused eye and god knows what else continued to ache. sitting down on the side of the couch that wasn’t coated in various blankets. reaching for the glass of whiskey on the table, she takes a quick swig as pain forms in the features of her face. “how about you? anything?” 

    “yeah, no worries.”  it’s not like eden actually owns the place, but arthur is off doing a very late fitting on another member of the mountain which means that eden is in charge.  in her eyes, at least.  no one else is here to argue and genie sure as shit won’t when it’s benefiting her with a couch and pillows and a bunch of blankets that eden scrounged.  she has no idea what they look like.  went with the softest ones, a not hard choice when arthur always buys the best quality in the world.

she’s here for similar reasons after all.  pressure damage has bruised a few ribs and on ruth’s orders, eden’s temporarily grounded.  her wheezing breaths would be a tell from a mile away for anyone smart enough to know that they’re in danger just for existing.  and eden’s targets?  they’re always the paranoid types.  the ‘scared of everyone but a blind woman’ types, so she cant have a single thing out of place.  shitty.  at least now she has some company on these fitting nights.

    “no rush, arthur loves people.”  eden lies as she settles down on the floor.  this is a game they’ve played before, a game she’s good at following along with.  already she’s scrounging for her phone until almond, always keen, nudges it closer to her hand.  “well i’m grounded and pissed, so i’m gonna tell you to go see ruth so she can ground you too.  we’ll be angry together.  anyway -- i’m also hungry as shit so i thought i’d order us a few pizzas.  interested?”