#Speeding bullet ofc

[gingerale13]

Some proper fanart for a very cool fic..

This is one of my favorite scenes from Going Through The Motions, a really cool (speeding bullet!) fic by @aussie-bookworm on Ao3

Scout gets stuck in a time loop, it's hilarious

Go give it a read!! Click on the title!!^^

(More doodles + plain vers under cut)

[nugget-jr]

day 4: music the bottom one is based off of song fic 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' by ItsMeYaBoi on ao3

[piccolos-bigtoe]

Hello everypony,,, I've been gone for a hot minute O.o Haven't I.... Anyways heres another fake book cover. I really haven't been in a huge drawing mood, and I miss it a lot. I want to keep practicing these because it's fun and I want to make cool posters for myself and stuff like that. I copied it from another cover (down below...) because the title was too funny. I don't know what a truckers chicken is, I don't know why truckers would have chickens (animal or food??). I looked at the word trucker so much that it's just gibberish to me and I had to check over and over if it was spelt right LOL.

Sniper my queen,,,, release the tatas... Ignore the backgroudn. ofc I know how to draw trucks.. Okay Inknow what ypu'er thinking, dear reader, "Gee whiz Piccolos-Bigtoe!!! ANOTHER speeding bullet drawing? AND shirtless Sniper??? How very original of you..." and you're right, it is original, and I'm not sure if I've done it before now, but I will keep doing it. Lowkey it is my coping at this point,,, I project my personal issues onto them to make writing about it easier.... Blah

I'm going to be real right now with you all.... controversial opinion ahead........ I am not compelled by the thought of soft gentle twink Scout. Before you boo me and throw tomatoes- I think he's fun and cool, and I enjoy others depictions, but I like to imagine him as some an asshole overconfident wanna be hunk, annoying, reactive, always talking up a big game about mostly useless things but he can't handle his ego being bruised. but it's all a facade to hide his true emotions that he feels deep down (BOOO CLICHE!!!!)... </3 I went crazy Sunday night,, wrote like a whole thing about it.

Also I almost got into an accident today because while I was driving home from work some old lady decided to pull out from a parking lot and gave me like 5 seconds to slam on the breaks. Good bye until next time. Which is hopefully soon. I miss drawing

[lix-ables]

Hi~

Can you imagine (and write 🫣) getting off by yourself without telling Minho (ur personal pussy eater) and bring ur finger to his nose, and he immediately recognize the scent of his favourite meal and it makes him hard within milliseconds, so he HAS to eat you out in compensate for having fun without inviting him. He would teases you "Couldn't even wait for my mouth hmm?" And eat you till you become a shaking and crying mess.

WHEW.

Also this is my first time asking im a little super shoi but i love your blog sm and ITS NOT DYING love

MWAH💕

please this is the ABSOLUTE BEST @mnwrld (made me think of you wjdjej) I GOT TO THIS LATE IM SORRY AND AAAAA THANK YOU??? YOU'RE SO CUTE T-T ,,,, also @hanjsquokka @hanjibug AND @j-onedrabbles because there's a TEEEEENY bit of someone here im crying

bf!lino is so pussy drunk, that the thought of your teasing and touching yourself, when he's not around - frustrates him. a lot. (bet he has something in his mind - you can always make up to him)

bf!lino LOVES it when you're getting yourself off in front of him, he's on the floor in front of you, or next to you in bed, he's so close to you, but he won't touch - mostly because he knows how much you need him, even when you deny it. (especially when he's all like "how cute, seems like you don't need my help hm? maybe i should leave the room?"

bf!lino the type to actually buy you and him toys that he can use - for his pleasure, but mostly yours because he fucking loves the way your toes curl every time he puts something else inside you. example, a bullet vibe - he makes sure you have it with you at all times, but this time particularly because you're at your friend's house (jisung's to be more exact) and he likes the way you're squirming in your seat, your eyes pleading him to stop every time he increases the speed of the toy inside you. maybe jisung would notice, and maybe he'd smirk to himself, maybe he'd look at the way your eyes stare at minho when you're at the edge, and maybe he wants in on the fun - teasing you ofc, or maybe just wants to see you on your knees for him and lino , if lino allows it, who knows?

bf!lino the type to eat you out when he's stressed, often telling you to be good because all he wants to see is you on the edge for, well a really long time, and also because he knows you can do it. i mean, you're getting something out of it right?

going back to the jisung thought too, IF say lino allows it, i mean, it's gonna be jisung's hand guiding yours to his length, while lino ate you out, stopping in between making you fuss because you stopped working on jisung's dick. "focus, baby. you don't want either of this to stop do you?"

note. yes i got carried away SO WHAT

[toska-writes]

Clone commandos request if possible. 😁 Could you do delta squad. where on a mission they get captured along with the Padawan, and get protective when they try to separate them or interrogate them.

So i thought about writing a fic based on todays bad batch episode (but I need to get some of the requests done- if you wanna request some Wolffe *wink wink* that’s ok)

“Got your back”

Summary: a mission goes south with the delta squad but they have your back

Paring: The delta Squad/ republic commandos x padawan!reader (PLATONIC OFC)

Warning: slight mentions of injury and imprisonment nothing too bad… the most scary- not proofread

Word count: 1688

Notes: Delta Squad fics are not my “most popular” but ones I always do so much for and I don’t know why

Also I swear to god someone asked to join the Taglist but I can’t remember nor find it so let me know!

"Can you focus for one second Scorch? EVER?" Fixed screamed through the comms, you could see his tense movements from a mile away as the squad ducked once again behind a wall.

Boss could only nod this head, he quickly spun around from where you, Sev and him were hiding to shoot an incoming droid.

"Sorry Scorch I can't defend you this time it's not looking good." You spoke between gasp of your own breath, the adrenaline from the long hours fighting wearing on you and the whole group.

Sev leaned heavily on Fixer from where you could see him, though Scorch as of now was doing a good job covering them.

"Boss," You yelled over the hiss of a smoke bomb going off- the contents of which were going in your eyes and making you cough. "I'm all out of ideas here."

The comando spared you a glance for a second, you feared what his face would have looked like if his helmet was discarded.

Boss looked down at the padawan for a moment. A thin cut ran along their cheek way too close to their eye for Boss’s comfort. He watched their head whip around looking through the fog desperately before a huge bang went off.

After a moment of slight ringing Boss felt the bump of another person against his side. The padawan looked around frantically for the force of the bomb before looking up to the comando.

In a more solemn voice they asked. “Boss what are we gonna do?”

Boss thought about their options then. Backed into the corner of what should have been an abandoned outpost, on of their men injured and the rest ready to collapse from exhaustion. He as a leader thought he was better than this but Boss felt as if he walked his squad right into this trap.

“The missions easy enough for us.” Boss had said only hours before. A knot sat in his stomach but the team needed an easy mission, a break from their last fiasco with the bugs.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[bloodblockadebattlefront]

brainworms

unrelated to the drawings, i guess cont'd from last time, the style everyone uses is really reflected in their character and behavior(ofc) but one of the characterizations i thought was cool was the difference between kagutsuchi and shinatobe as reflected in zapp and zed's fighting habits and builds

shinatobe employs wind, and zed is fairly stable as a character, with a very solid and visually bulky design. his behavior is blunt and straightforward, but flexible enough not to be insulting off the bat, like wind flowing through or around a structure, or water currents running under a still surface. it makes sense that he has a grounded build, in order to brace against and cut through his own wind as he fights(i imagine swimming in water currents would also help with understanding air currents)

kagustsuchi uses fire, and zapp is a volatile character, with a very rangy and angular design. he's very physically expressive and almost erratic, visibly outputting energy, and actively pisses everyone off, becoming the center of attention, like one has to watch a fire in case it gets out of control. it makes sense for him to have a lean build, to imply speed to work with something quick to turn and easy to harm such as fire

like the difference of the split branches can be described as 'mastering something well enough for it to be dangerous when you use it' and 'mastering something well enough not to be in danger when you use it'. and it shows in their personalities

same with everyone else really, klaus is obvious--like brain grid, incredible solidity, first thought is defense and disarming, but with the strength to end the situation definitively when on the offensive. steven is like a combination/generalization of the big dipper styles, ice as an element being both naturally harmful and a natural barrier, and him taking care of threats to libra/covering the back ends of libra's intelligence. kk, even though her profession is a sniper/sharpshooter, is straightforward in confrontation and takes immediate action to resolve a problem when she spots it, like the bullet arts.

[the-kr8tor]

Imagine something like- Hobie, the coolest guy that you know, punk and anti fascist, bunch of piercings, a couple of self tattoos (hehe headcanon) and overall a really not-afraid-to-live guy,

except for motorbikes.

Then he becomes best friends with biker!Reader of COURSE!! And it takes a while to notice that he’s scared of hopping on one. You're is always talking about getting new things for MJ (the bike- hehe) and how yoy changed the plate to a flipping one so you can stop getting speed limit tickets lol.

But then one day you just turn to him and shouts "OH MY GOD! I NEVER GAVE YOU A RIDE!?!?" and he's completely frozen until a cracked laugh comes through and he just dismisses saying you guys don't have anywhere to go, it's gonna rain (it's not), you can do that another time and every excuse you can think of.

You accept his excuses with squinted eyes but you decide to not pry on it, until one day he needs a ride back home from one of the protests he was on because the pigs were getting aggressive. You literally fly to where he is, scared of something happening but he's in one piece once you get there.

But again, he's frozen holding the helmet. So he finally says the truth to you.

"I-I can't do this, love."

You stare at him confused, thinking N possibilities as to why he said that until you see his trembling hands on the helmet and you hold them tight.

"Just hop on and hold tight to me, I'm not gonna speed up, I promise."

He's skeptical, but it's not like he has much choice, the pigs are getting closer to where they are and the few rubber bullets he got gave him a limping leg. So he hops on and tightly hold onto you.

The ride is better than he expected, you did as you promised, holding his arms when you stopped and reassuring him nothing bad was gonna happen and that you're on the speed limit.

Once home, you take care of his limping leg and by the end of it, he's asking for another ride after a week so he can process the first one.

Oh yes he def has some self done tattoos that he may or may not regret bc he was much younger when he did it! (Ofc when you see them you'll be begging him to give you one!)

Lmaooo we all think he'd be into bikes and be an expert at riding them and being a speed demon but we've never considered that he may be afraid to ride one!! That's brilliant, bleaky! Oh the poor baby (he's 6'3" 😂) would be all "nah I'd rather walk" but when push comes to show, he'd be getting on lightning quick 😂 I bet he'd be apprehensive at first but he's not gonna show it to you. It's not like he doesn't trust you behind the wheel it's just he doesn't trust the other ppl driving on the road with you! What if some idiot hits you at full speed? So every time you ride your bike he's all "🥺 be careful okay?" But he won't say it bluntly it's more like "I'm your emergency contact right? Just makin' sure, love" he says with a cheeky smile.

And yess after he gets a taste of the rush while riding on the bike with you, he'd be asking if you can pick him up after gigs (even though he can web swing!)

[practically-an-x-man]

I’m sorryyy I can’t help myself, no pressure ofc but how would you whump my blorbo Barry Allen?

Ooooh, I knew you were going to ask me this and I'm so down for it!! Thank you!!

Hm... we're gonna give him a little mental torment, speedster-style.

So being as fast as he is means time basically has no meaning, right? I mean, you can get anywhere you want in a heartbeat, outrun bullets, save an entire mansion full of people while you listen to Eurythmics- I mean, uh... Flash stuff? And if I remember correctly, Barry even uses the Speed Force to travel through time, so it really has no meaning after a while.

So let's take that somewhere. Barry's used to getting everything he needs in a matter of moments. He likes to think that he doesn't overuse his speed too terribly much, but he definitely uses it often. Waiting around is already a difficult thing for him, and worse now that it just seems so pointless.

But then things go a step further. He's in a fight, and he's losing, and he's panicking, and he just starts moving fast. Faster than he's ever moved, time has slowed to a crawl, it's almost laughably easy to defeat the villain now that he can see everything coming. The fight is over quickly, packaged up and done for the day, all is well...

And he can't turn it off. With enough focus, he can slow down a little, but it still feels like the world is creeping around him through a thick sludge. He's not in danger - he can absolutely find food if he looks, and it doesn't feel like he's running so he's not particularly tired (though I'm sure he'll crash when he's done) - but he's stuck in this limbo where everything else is moving so slowly it's utterly useless.

Did you know that being bored, for long stretches of time without reprieve, can genuinely affect your mental state? I mean, badly. There's a reason modern prisons have all kinds of classes and reform programs and whatever else in place now. And some people still end up a little unstable. Human beings need mental stimulation to survive intact. And right now, moving so fast that conversations and movies and music have no meaning, that books burst into flames when he flips the pages, that there is nothing for him to do but just... walk... Barry is NOT having a good time.

You choose how this one ends. Maybe it only lasts a few hours, and he's rattled and exhausted but can bounce back. Or maybe a single day is months in Barry's slowed-down time, and by the time his friends find a way to kick him out of it, he's feral and nonsensical and effectively just a wandering shell of who he was before. Entirely depends on how badly you want this man to hurt... and knowing you, you want him to hurt badly.

What do you think?

[aspiring-holistic-otaku]

Season 3 Ramble #8 - A is for Anime(solo reprise) ver.3

Hadn't been doing the run-up posting I usually do for my rambles due to work and such but here we are!

How this ramble is gonna go is I'm gonna list my top 3 movies watched this month then top 3 series for same, AAnd now that I actually have a semi decent number of anime under my belt I'm gonna do a quick top ten of both at the end.. after that if you wanna stick around, instead of the usual post ramble ramble, I'm gonna add a bit of the recording I did with the homies, as a sort of prelude and promise that we will have that conversation in future. I really think it's an important and potentially fruitful discussion to have.

But In any case getting into the episode now

TOP 3 MOVIES 

3) Belladonna Of Sadness (1973, 1hr33m, Mushi Production)

Crazy movie. I don't think I can accurately talk about it without it sounding too wHild… I'm still gonna, but I'm gonna open with what Google says about it.

A peasant woman is raped by the local lord on her wedding night. To take revenge, she makes a pact with the Devil himself who appears as an erotic sprite and transforms her into a black-robed vision of madness and desire.

As I said.. wHild… and that's just the summary…the details of the actual movie are like…woah.. but in any case it was great, actually something that'd been on my watch list for a good long while so I'm glad I could actually finally watch it. 

Glazing over the plot which the summary does a pretty good job of covering anyways, the visuals were absolutely stunning. They're by Yoshitaka Amano, probably most famously known for his final fantasy illustrations. For the most part the visuals are done in what looks like watercolor paint, which is just wild in my mind,, like wHy?? He definitely pulled it off though which is even more crazy cause a good amount of it was done in an almost slideshow kinda way which I usually don't like but he still pulled it off…crazy…. Should be kinda obvious from the summary but moderate tw. Still definitely strongly recommend.

Small sidenote - in making this ramble I found out that belladonna of sadness is actually part of a trilogy called animerama,, so now I have 2 more old ass movies to look forward to. Hopefully they're just as good or even better…

2) Lupin IIIrd: The Gravestone of Daisuke Jigen (2014, 51m, Telecom Animation Film)

Ever since I watched my first lupin movie 3 years ago I've been locked in. In fact it was such a good watch that I've limited myself to one a year. Thankfully the trend of awesomeness has continued up to this point but enough premature glazing. 

This movie is basically centered on Jigen, as you can probably tell from the title. Just a point of clarity for those who don't know much of anything about lupin, Jigen is basically the gunslinger of Lupin’s crew. So as this is basically his movie, he's ofc facing off against a gunslinger. The title is so named because this guy, the gunslinger they find themselves up against, makes graves for his victims before killing them. Nobody's ever gotten away from him. In fact he's so good that he uses dice to decide how many bullets he'll use to take out his target. Ice cold mf.

Pretty good action from start to finish though I’m a tad disappointed there wasn't more gun-slinging, though from what I gather Jigen’s whole thing is speed, accuracy and efficiency,, so maybe a barrage of bullets wouldn't have made sense. In any case we get to see all of the crew besides goemon, dry cry as he's my personal fav but still solid. The art direction was great from all angles as I've come to expect. Not too much to say cast wise as on Lupin gang’s side there's a cumulative effect of greatness where every time you see them it's generally a continuation of past interactions, as in there's an obviously rich history there. That being said, the dynamic is still great and from what I've seen, you can pick up any of the movies and immediately love them. But anyways, on the other hand, the main villain/organization felt a bit hollow. Which is something I've come to kind of expect with movie exclusive antagonists in general. It's just a matter of time efficiency. I think when it comes to anime movies, you're generally not watching for the antagonist unless they have to do with the main storyline. Otherwise you're kinda watching to see how the protagonist will beat them in about an hour. Though I will say as far as visuals can speak, they definitely spoke volumes in that sense. Also, given the geopolitical climate we're in, I liked the villain/organization and how they were handled... trying not to spoil too much there but if you so much as peek between the lines you probably get it.. In any case definitely highly recommend.

Side note - every lupin movie I watch further solidifies my decision to get into the series… just watching the movies first for some reason…

1) Mind game (2004, 1hr44m, Studio 4°C)

Honestly,, I don't even want to speak on it for fear of sullying its greatness. It's one of those life changing before and after watches fr. This is something I'd been really wanting to watch since ver.1 when I started getting into Studio 4°C through their awesome anthologies genius party and genius party beyond.

I'm gonna default to the anilist description here which is kinda almost decent relative to the sheer phenomenal amazingness of this movie.. but I digress.. so according to anilist..

Audiences will begin to grasp what they are in for early on, as loser Nishi, too wimpy to try to save his childhood sweetheart from gangsters, is shot in the butt by a soccer-playing psychopath, projecting Nishi into the afterlife. In this limbo, God - shown as a series of rapidly changing characters - tells him to walk toward the light. But Nishi runs like hell in the other direction and returns to Earth a changed man, driven to live each moment to the fullest.

The last bit hints at the greatness of this film. Right there that small difference in speech speaks volumes in my personal world of language. It's not just a movie. It's film. 10/10. absolute cinema.

As I said I don't even want to talk about it too much because I don't think it possible to do it justice through mere words, but I'm gonna put a bit more glaze on it before I wrap up the movie list and move on to series. This movie beat out studio ghibli’s, Miyazaki directed, howl’s moving castle in the 2004 Japan Media Arts Festival. Further, this was a debut work for the director Masaaki Yuasa, who would later go on to found science saru studio. I was so moved by this movie that I've decided I will watch everything masaaki yuasa has and will ever direct. 10/10. highly recommend. end of glaze.

hm: under the dog, Mezzo forte, blood: the last vampire, 4°c (sweat punch, short peace from last time)

Top 3 Series

3) Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (2023-2024, 28ep 24m, Madhouse) 

This is something I'd been seeing around for a bit but was intentionally ignoring because for some reason I got it in my head that it was based on this sad little one shot called The hero’s party on their way back home, and I was NOT watching an entire series based on that.

In any case, in talking with my bros recently they all insisted that it was the best anime released in the past year, one of them declaring it was in his top5 all time. So I pushed past my fears and binged it all in a day. V thankful for the bros.

The story here follows an elven mage called frieren and her life after defeating the Demon King and bringing peace to the world.

As you can tell from the summary it's largely a slice of life but it has its fair share of well placed scraps. It fills a certain fantasy gap where you get that day to day rose tinted indigenous peoples’ lifestyle feel, that I think most people would want if they actually lived in a fantasy setting,, not that constantly under threat from dragons and shit usually focused on. And as I said there are some well placed fights. The pacing also felt perfect. Like I almost felt bad binging it because I could tell that once a week watch would've been REALLY good… one of the few series I don't want to read the manga for, I'll definitely be watching weekly whenever season 2 drops..

Great cast though kinda small, pretty brilliant visuals and sound direction. Very very very solid all round, what I'd call supremely balanced tbh. One of the bros put it really well in that he said he has synesthesia so everything has colours for him, and the colours of every aspect of this show came together to paint the perfect picture. Now I don't have synesthesia myself but I could definitely feel, not just see, how well orchestrated it all was. definitely strongly recommend.

2) Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (2007, 27ep 24m, Gainax)

Yes. It's 2024 and I’m just watching gurren lagann and you'll hear why that is if you listen in to the post ramble ramble,, but suffice to say, you can never be late to true greatness and Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann is definitely in that category. 

Firstly I kinda watched it as a meme seeing as last ramble I focused on the supposed relationship between sacred geometry and JoJo's bizarre adventure… if that sounds crazy then you should listen to the ramble… not that it'll sound less crazy but..yh.. anyways I was vaguely aware that gurren lagann focused a bit on spirals so I tapped in for the meme. 

To summarize the lengthy anilist summary,, In a far away future, mankind lives underground in huge caves, unknowing of a world above with a sky and stars. yada yada yada blah blah blah Simon, Kamina, Yoko, and the small yet sturdy robot, Lagann, journey to the world above and find that the surface is a harsh battlefield, and it's up to them to fight back against the rampaging Beastmen. Pierce the heavens, Gurren Lagann!

Again I'm gonna fall back on the words of another of my bros from the session, I think he had it in his top 10 or 5,, but he said he considers gurren lagann to be a perfect starter anime in that it perfectly showcases almost everything the medium of anime has to offer. Action, comedy, philosophy, slice of life, amazing cast, brilliant visual direction, solid sound direction. etc. the term “starter anime” gets thrown around a fair bit and I usually think it's a rubbish term because of how insanely diverse the medium is and how specific different individuals tastes can be,, so like to say this or that anime is a good “starter anime" never made sense.. but when he said it, that was the very first time I actually thought it made sense..

Definitely super highly recommend, a recommendation to pierce the heavens if you will.

1) Akiba Maid War (2022, 12ep 24m, P.A Works)

Gotta say it was a tough call between this and gurren lagann but it won out for 3 reasons. #1 it's shorter, and that's not a lazy pov, I just personally tend to give more ratings to shorter series in general because I think being able to do something amazing in a short amount of time deserves more props than doing so in a longer span of time. personally.. #2 it was FUNNY. AS. FUCK. I'm coming to realize that when it comes to anime specifically, comedy may be my favourite genre. I can't quite put my finger on why but I think it has to do with how far animation as a medium can push physical humor.. idk.. lastly… idek why I felt the need to justify all this…it's my list… but lastly,, and most importantly. maids. enough said..

The story here follows the dealings of different maid cafes in the town of Akihabara. I say dealings because in this show the maids basically act like Yakuza, having turf wars, extortion rackets and drug trades(just a point of clarity for those who've never heard the term, you've probably guessed but Yakuza are basically Japanese gangsters). In any case this is all under the table as they pay off the police and act the usual cutesy part in front of civilians. That may be a bit of a spoiler but a gif of it was going around a lot last year i think,, with this one maid gunning down a bunch of other maids and it was made to look like an idol rave with the glow sticks and everything + the “twist" if you can even call it that happens in episode 1 so it's not like some major turning point spoilers + "wars” is literally in the title, so with all due respect, you can bite me.. 

In any case, as I said this shit was funny ASF, mainly because of the opposing imagery of maids and yakuza they somehow pulled off perfectly.. like I can't begin to explain how crazy it is to see maids cussing each other out with the most obscene language, fighting it out in the craziest brawls, then turning around and going “welcome home master”. 

Fairly small but very strong cast, all funny in their own unique ways from the hardened criminal type to the frightened newbie. the visuals were great, sounds direction solid, I really really loved the op and ed, cause they just perfectly matched the shows energy. Kinda episodic for the most part but that fit the crazy, “you'll never guess what happens next” energy… Just great overall like wow.. a bit surprised I haven't seen it around more but I realize comedies don't tend to get that much ratings on release, if they do get attention it's further down the line as a “hidden jewel".

But in any case yes. 10/10. definitely highly recommend. please go watch this. have a good laugh, give thanks for life and go see the beauty of the world.

hm: Flying Trapeze, Goodbye Mr. despair (from s2)

Top 10 Movies (no order)

A Silent Voice, Memories (anthology directed by katsuhiro otomo), One Piece Movie 6: Flower Island, Tokyo Godfathers, Mind Game, Ocean Waves, Nausicaa Of The Valley Of The Wind, Sword Of The Stranger, the Lupin movies (just watch all of them lol), Maquia: When The Promised Flower Blooms

hm: Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop, Animatrix, GITS Innocence, Wolf Children, Princess Mononoke

Top 10 Series (no order)

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, Akiba Maid Wars, Nichijou, Hyouka, Mononoke, Sonny Boy, Tatami Galaxy(all spinoffs, movies, everything.), Steins;Gate, Dorohedoro, Angel Beats, Durarara!!(all seasons)

hm: Baccano!, Pluto, FLCL up to Progressive, Cowboy Bebop, chainsaw man

[iobartach]

okay but since the thought won't leave me alone, let's place down here a quick one about miguel's agility / speed ;

sooo... he can catch an arrow barehanded?

ofc, we don't know the distance or the speed of the arrow, buuuut, for a rough baseline, let's lean on this short, which claims an arrow can reach up to 200 miles per hour, to say at a... decent, 25 feet range? he's got a fair chance at grabbing it out of the air, which... again, according to the vid...

...posits that that's already beyond human to do, as you might expect of a half-spider lad ---

but!!! he does have his limitations, especially given that lack of a spider-sense ;

a bullet's still gonna hit him, and take him down for a time....

....as would a stab to the chest, even through the armoured suit --

the takeaway here is that surprising him is crucial

[mugs-n-cans]

happy pride mod max!!!

Awwww thank you!

My wish for pride this year (as guaranteed to me by my transgenerness) is converting more people to speeding bulletism.

For the occasion, I am dropping my speeding bullet playlist! Ofc featuring some of the songs sent by ya’ll!

(sorry if some of the songs are goofy it’s that scout energy)

the blessed playlist

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Nine

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

Leona gets involved in an exciting adventure and receives surprising help.

Hello!

I have a few Trigger Warnings for today's chapter: Blood, violence, weapons, gore, viscera, death, and extensive injuries.

Have fun!:)

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform

I.H.L. - Infected humanoid lifeform

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

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

Everything is happening so fast that I can only stare in shock at what unfolds before my eyes through the binoculars. A whole dozen deformed creatures emerge from the smoke rising after the explosion, and they throw themselves among the debris of the street at such a speed, that the soldiers who took cover hardly have time to retreat before one of the beasts, which looks as heavy as a small elephant, snarls and throws itself at the wreck that has served as a hiding place for them. And it's only thanks to MacTavish's lightning-fast reflexes that the bear-like monster doesn't tear one of the scattered soldiers apart, because the Hunter appears in front of the mutant so suddenly, that I'm unable to follow him with my paralyzed brain. With his bare hands, he fights back the shovel-like, huge paw that is about to strike, so that when the enraged creature stands up on its two hind legs and attacks again, he hits the vital organs with a couple of well-aimed shots and takes the behemoth down.

However, they don't have time to enjoy this small victory, because more and more I.M.L.s appear, and as I glance at the entrance to the nest, I realize that, judging by the number of mutants constantly pouring out, they certainly won't have a chance to rejoice for a while. But if this all continues like this, it's also doubtful whether anyone will survive long enough to see a happy ending. A desperate fight begins, and the soldiers flee to get some cover behind the many ruins spread out on the street, from where they attempt to pump the monsters galloping towards them full with bullets. And I'm trying to process what happened through the astonishment taking over my limbs. The I.H.L.s walked through those fucking bombs, willingly and with great joy, to defuse them for their friends who showed up next. Not only did the I.M.L.s not kill the humanoid abominations, they welcomed them into the warmth of their nice little family, and now they even seem to be working together. Which is a fucking wild assumption, even for my imagination running rampant with stress, because so far there has been no example of this in the last fifty years. These bastards are incapable of intelligent actions, let alone outmaneuvering those who hunt them. What the hell is going on here?

"It's Hunter 0-15! Everyone stays in position! They can't go any further!" I hear Riley's command on the radio, and the raw anger in his voice is the testimony that the hell that broke loose has also caught him desperately unprepared. All calmness is lost from his words reaching my ears, and because of this, my pulse skyrockets and tries to breathe some life into me, because it slowly reaches my awareness that the situation will soon become difficult for me as well, even though I am far away from the events.

MacTavish's little soldiers continue to fire at the mutants from behind the rubble, and although they are surprisingly effective at killing the demonic creatures, and they manage to eliminate some of them, this isn't nearly enough for most of them to stay on the ground permanently. Again, a loud explosion shakes the street, which has turned into a picture of frenzied killing, and I'm also forced to close my eyes for a moment from the flashing lights. And by the time I turn back to follow the actions, the foglike smoke that has appeared lulls me into a false calm with its immobility. Because when it starts to disintegrate, it reveals the corpses of the monsters torn to pieces, but soon more of their friends arrive to take their place. It's as if they are besieged by an endless stream, and despite the soldiers fighting and shooting at them incessantly, the dozens of monsters that keep popping up create this feeling, which causes unimaginable panic to run through my every nerve fiber. As if the mouth of the nest would open straight into hell, where more and more vermins ready to kill would pour out. And the whole struggle suddenly seems like a completely hopeless suffering.

Maybe that's why the Hunter with the mohawk can decide to take matters into his hands and rush towards the beasts alone, entrusting his team's survival to his abilities. He can also guess that if even one of the I.M.L.s gets close enough to his comrades, that unfortunate person will suffer the most painful death imaginable. And although he has the repertoire with which he can take out these bastards, his lethal power is in vain if he is outnumbered by the enemy. And this isn't a good thing, to say the least.

"Cover me!" MacTavish says on the radio to his comrades behind him, who obey his instructions without hesitation and get ready in a second to target anything they can. And as the man steps out of his cover and sets off towards the diabolic creatures with a determined momentum, my stomach shrinks from some unknown unpleasant grip, because the only image that appears in my mind is the promise of the Hunter's dead body frozen in blood. And although I trust him and his experience, I'm unable to banish this simple intuition from my subconscious, which is slowly torn in two by the claws of worry and terror.

Despite all the risks, he directs his weapon at the incoming beasts without a moment's delay, hitting them with brutal precision before they can get even a little close enough to attack. And when one of the degenerates, throwing itself over the defeated cadaver of its companion, comes within arm's reach of the Hunter, he frees one hand and swings his fist at his attacker, and hits the brute’s bare, skull-like head with such force that even though I can only see the image through the lens of the binoculars, but in my ears I hear the imaginary crunching of bones. The I.M.L. falls to the ground, and as it lies down in the dust, I see its blood-soaked face, mangled by the blow, in which MacTavish makes a hole with a well-aimed shot just to be on the safe side.

Even I'm amazed at the efficiency with which he exterminates the wretched swines, an although they continue to advance towards the small group with unstoppable anger, still hope awakens in me when the man I have known so far as harmless and friendly shows that it’s no accident that he belongs to S-class. Even though it seems stomach-churning, as minute by minute he enriches the road decorated with black blood and wrecks with more and more unrecognizable limp bodies, I still hope that this pace won't leave him and he sends all these bastards to the other world.

Still, when a mutant larger than its previous buddies appears and, pointing its horns at MacTavish, rushes forward, cutting through the carcasses lying in the filth, my blood runs cold. A skillful little soldier begins to shoot, but it doesn’t make a difference, for the beast charges forward furiously and unrelenting toward its goal, and when it arrives and strikes with unstoppable momentum, it's just a hair's breadth away from slicing open the chest of its victim, who is lucky enough that his vest absorbs the lion's share of the attack. Taking a few steps back, the Scotsman lowers his weapon onto its sling, then pulls himself together to grab the bone growths that are about to strike again, before it can stab him. He fixes his booted feet on the ground to hold back the enraged monster, who tries to push forward toward his chosen prey with muscles tensing under the pale, scarred skin. For a nerve-wracking moment, when the Hunter's legs slide backward in the dust, it seems that he might lose his balance and the fiend will get to him, but this horrific illusion lasts only for an uncertain second. In the blink of an eye, he regains control and pushes his attacker by its horns, then reaches into his tactical vest, grabs a large hunting knife from there and places it in the head of the mutant. The blade sinks right up to the hilt into the creature's skull as easily as if the man just wanted to cut a birthday cake, and he pulls it out with at least that much ease, so that he can continue the fight undisturbed.

And as soon as I see the large body spread out on the ground, I let out the air which I didn't know with what despair had stuck in my lungs until now. I hastily shift my gaze through my binoculars to assess the less-than-ideal state of the battlefield, because at this point the eventual outcome of this fight becomes highly doubtful. And I'm not greeted by a prettier sight from the intersection either, and although I see some of the monsters fall on the road limply, another one inexplicably appears in its place, which throws itself to the soldiers firing from their hiding places. And even my mind, confused by the chaos, knows that we have stepped into a real wasp's nest, because it has long since gone beyond the limits of a routine nest extermination. This is something completely different that we walked into completely unprepared.

I continue to observe the chaotic scene of the battle, and I'm just about to make up my mind to create some workable plan that could help me to survive, when something in my periphery suddenly moves on the battered roof of one of the ruined buildings. Reflexively, I turn my head in the direction of the phenomenon, and concentrating all my attention there, I try to assess with my sharp little eyes, what the figure slowly creeping out from the shadows and appearing almost out of nowhere could be. And when the silvery light of the moon finally envelops the stranger, my eyebrows meet in confusion at the sight materializing before me. Because for a split second, it occurs to me that I might have fallen victim to a hallucination caused by fear and stress, because I can't find a sane explanation as to why the I.M.L., with a body woven with lean muscles, appears with a human-like creature on its back peeping ever so slowly through the stumps of half-destroyed walls covered with vegetation.

But, when I understand what I'm seeing and my brain starts to work on interpreting the visual stimuli received through my eyes, a completely new kind of astonishment comes over me. It defies all known facts as the mutant and its rider stalk towards the edge of the building with almost stoic calm, and just the wording of this observation is enough to make me lean forward, holding on to the handrail, to see if I can get a better look at this impossible picture. The I.H.L. sitting on his cute little pet looks down on the events taking place in the turmoil of the street as superiorly as if it were just watching a movie, and although I can't see its face clearly, I can still perfectly measure up that its features have remained much more human-like than those of its other infected friends. While the other infected humanoid creatures only resembled their late selves in traces, and like the other monsters they took on an amorphous form littered with ulcers, growths, and superhuman muscles, which probably makes their appearance resemble a wraith from a nightmare, this individual remained surprisingly human. Only a few tumors and scars decorate its body, swollen with developed muscles, and its unwavering and proud posture is definitely different from the horrible nest dwellers.

However, I don't have time to analyze the creature any further, because when it raises one hand and points it towards the soldiers and Scottish Hunter fighting at the end of the road, I suddenly forget to muse on the events that took place so far. Because at least a dozen I.H.L.s drag themselves out of the alley that runs next to the building with slow movements, and at the silent instructions of their leader puffing above them, they begin a clumsy but all the more determined stealth towards the unsuspecting troops. And at this point, my mind finally snaps out of the paralyzed contemplation and instead postpones my further smart observations, and my hand hastily reaches for the radio resting on my tactical vest so I can warn MacTavish before the bastards can surprise them.

"MacTavish! I.H.L.s are approaching you from behind!" I shout with an almost desperate urgency, and I tensely aim my eyes at the man, who continues to fight with restless momentum against the ever-coming mass of enemies. An icy terror shoots through me when I don't see any reaction from him, and only one of the soldiers turns back for a moment to check the authenticity of the information coming from me. And when he notices the lanky figures slowly emerging from the shadows of the walls, he quickly spins around and waves his hand to the rest of his comrades who have retreated to cover.

"They're behind us!" I hear the soldier's nervous voice in my ear, and now they all think it's better to turn around and deal with the new threat that is approaching them with dangerous certainty. Even so, the restlessness of the soldiers doesn't break the Hunter from his murderous activities, and he continues to wipe out the monsters showing up from the intersection, despite the fact that by now he is doing this by himself. And I frown in confusion, since he gives no sign of being aware of the catastrophe that will soon begin.

It seems I'm not the only one who notices this, because one of the soldiers hiding close by suddenly jumps up and motions towards the Hunter, no doubt trying to shout over the noise of the active battle. And when he doesn't succeed, he hastily leaves his hideout and sneaks closer to try to warn his superior again. This message finally reaches its destination, because the Scottish man puts down the mutant coming towards him in a fraction of a second, only to look back and face the creatures that are about to pounce on them.

But then it's too late, because the monstrosities, who have been advancing calmly up to this point, suddenly find their anger and attack the small group with all their uncontrollable bloodlust, and the Hunter and his men are now forced to defend themselves from two directions. The soldiers immediately start firing, but all efforts and even the Hunter fighting at their side are in vain when a handful of people don't stand a chance against these wretches. Since when the I.H.L.s reach them, the real carnage begins, and in the blink of an eye, the hopeless struggle thus far turns into total hell. They unstoppably burst into the combatants, and as one of the deformed creatures throws itself at the man shooting from behind a chunk of concrete, it grabs its victim by the neck with indefensible speed with its grotesque, spider-like long arms, and tears off the unfortunate soldier's head with playful ease, as if it had just tried to rip off a piece of grape from its cluster. And the acid rises in my throat at the sight with unforgiving force, and holding my hand in front of my mouth, I swallow back the contents of my stomach that want to burst out, which was led toward the outside world by fear so graciously.

I can't hear it, but it's enough to see MacTavish's mouth open in agony to feel the surprised fury in the scream that leaves the man's lips. But the fun isn't over yet, as the chaos of the night that turned into bloodshed is cut in two by a bone-chilling roar that draws my attention back to the unknown being who started this whole fucking event. And that bastard climbs down the side of the building where it had been observing up until now, sitting on top of the mutant behemoth, and gallops towards the group fighting desperately with its chest out. And my hands reflexively find my radio to do something, to warn someone who knows how to prevent the horror that is slowly unfolding before my eyes.

"MacTavish! There's one more coming up from behind!" I yell into the device at full volume, and I look again for the mentioned person, but instead of responding to my call, he throws himself into eliminating the beasts with even more aggression than before, like a cornered wild animal. And the unpleasant realization dawns on me that this cannot be the work of chance, and that he is not deliberately ignoring my call, but that some accident has happened with his communication device. And this, if possible, pushes me even further towards complete panic, the like of which I wasn't lucky enough to feel even in the forest. That's why I decide it's time to tell someone else about the mess the team got into.

"Riley!" I call for the masked Hunter, ignoring the panic that mixes with my voice that breaks through the radio. Because my instincts are taking over my brain, and it screams inside my skull that if my Scottish friend doesn't get help soon, I'm going to watch with my own two eyes as that fucking beast-riding mutant bastard guts him. And this is just enough to drive my body to the verge of dizziness. "MacTavish's team is surrounded, they need help!" I exclaim, and I shift my frantic gaze to the intersection through my binoculars, just in case Riley and one of his partners appear in the heat of the madness and rush to help.

However, for a nerve-wracking moment, no answer comes, and although I can hear the soldiers messaging each other in broken voices, none of them are the deep, British-accented ones I'm looking for. And that disgusting foreboding creeps into my skull, which tells me that something terrible might have happened to the other man, which prevents him from answering. And this possibility triggers even more ominous thoughts in my brain, which is already falling into a deeper pit of stress. But, when I hear the crackling of the radio in my ear, I almost instinctively feel a sense of relief, because I wouldn't be able to process so much crap in one night.

"Roger that. Stay where you are." Comes the rather concise reaction, and while his tone doesn't surprise me at all, his words are even more so. There is such a measured indifference radiating from the man over the line as he directs this firm instruction at me, that it instantly raises my blood pressure. Because I get the feeling that, he's belittling my concerns and disregarding my observations, and ignoring my entire report, as if it were nothing more than the unnecessary squealing of a silly little girl. Although I can accurately assess the superior confidence with which the demonic monster approaches our mutual friend, who is slowly running out of space to protect himself from threats.

"Riley, I'm not fucking kidding!" I snap at the man fiercely, and my fingers tighten around the radio with such force that I'm afraid it will crack in my grip. "There's a fucking I.H.L. riding a mutant, and it directs the other bastards there and they're cornering MacTavish and his team!" I explain to him, leaving behind all my pride and arrogance, which I have been so happy to convey to him during our conversations. With this, hoping that he will also understand the seriousness of the situation and will finally rally his people, and help the Scottish man so that we can get out of this cesspool together. Because the only chance of survival here is to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Whether this is the orderly and correct step or not.

"Continue to observe and hold your position!" He raises his voice now, informing me of his previously perfectly worded order a little more irritatedly, with which the problem so far wasn't that my brain cells couldn't process it. And I stare blankly into the distance, with my flaming eyes fixed on the man even through the ruined buildings covered with plants, because I'm unable to understand what is so damn hard to understand in the fact that without his help, his friend will soon kick the bucket. As I take another look at the battle taking place in the street, and see how the multitude of monsters and degenerate creatures are slowly closing in on MacTavish and his two companions who are still alive, my chest tightens with a stabbing pain. Too many enemies are arriving, and there is no end in sight to the bloody mess, and although the Hunter is heroically trying to stand his ground, it's perfectly clear that their chances of survival will soon be zero if something is not done urgently. And it seems that the man is also aware of this, because he nervously turns his head behind his back, looking for an escape route, so that when he notices the entrance to the small alley stretching to the left, he signals to his men to order them behind him. He keeps his weapon on the beats attacking them, trying to hold them back until he manages to fish out a grenade from his vest, and then throws the useful little bomb into the small gang of mutants. The force of the explosion causes the bastards to fly apart like startled birds, and those who are still hit by the detonation are blown into discrete pieces. It seems that MacTavish takes advantage of this momentary distraction, because by the time the dust and smoke clears, there is no sign of him and his friends. And even though I lose sight of them in this way, it still makes me more anxious to wonder how much time they will gain with this stunt before their pursuers catch up with them again.

My concerns are soon answered, because the mutant-riding I.H.L. stands only with immeasurable calmness at the edge of the scene of destruction, only to retreat for a fleeting moment, surveying its sweet little beasts with quite deceptive apathy. It gives the impression as it runs its milk-white gaze over its remaining bloodthirsty companions, as if it would just count how many chess pieces it has left, which it can mobilize in order to inflict maximum damage. And when it’s convinced that there are still enough scumbags that it can unleash on its victims, it once again directs the dozens of monsters towards the escape route used by the Scotsman with that eerily sensible gesture, and the brutes throw themselves onto the designated path with murderous enthusiasm. But it doesn't stay idle either, no. As soon as the last of its kind is swallowed up by the darkness of the side street, the monster below it suddenly moves and dashes after them with amazing speed. And it doesn't take much logic for me to figure out that this is going to be a hide-and-seek with an easily fatal outcome. And this gives me enough justification to try asking for help again.

"Riley!" I call for the man again, and I know that there is real desperation and anger in my voice, but the urgent feeling that with every passing minute, we are getting closer to the bloody highlight of this whole nerve-racking mission doesn’t let me rest. And when a few painfully long seconds pass and there is still no answer, my teeth clench so nervously that my jaw almost aches from it. What the fuck?

"MacTavish has left his position and is now being chased by a herd of mutants. If someone doesn't help them, they will most certainly die." I try again, now perhaps more impatiently than necessary, emphasizing each word separately. But again, I don't get any reaction, from which I can directly conclude that the man is probably swimming up to his knees in the carcasses of the beasts, and thus he can be in exactly as dire of a position as his friend with the mohawk. Because I know he wouldn’t deliberately ignore my warning about the suffering of his dear friend, considering how fiercely he defended his little unit from my harmful little scheming.

From this whole helpless situation, the image of MacTavish's mangled body, lying in the dirt swimming in blood while a beast feasts on him, flashes before my mind's eye inexplicably. The vision projected in my imagination seems so real that the pressure, which was benevolently suppressed by the compulsion to follow the events, once again returns to its well-accustomed place in my throat. Just the thought that the life of the man, who effectively sneaked into the corners of my dark little soul even during our fleeting time together, would die in such a violent and painful manner fills my limbs with unbearable pain.

And as I take in the sight of the gaping nest at the intersection and the monsters rampaging around it through my binoculars again, the very definite idea begins to take shape in the winding paths of my gray matter, that maybe it's time to leave my position that lulls me into the illusion of safety. Although all my survival instincts protest against the idea, I still have the best chance to rush to the aid of the Scottish Hunter, because his other comrades, just like him, are still fighting desperately for their lives. And this simple fact seems like such a logical step, which nevertheless sufficiently triggers the raging waves of adrenaline in my body. And the smile that makes its way to my face breaks out of me almost hysterically when I realize how far I have strayed from the selfish little ideas of my former self at this moment. Because while previously no one could have persuaded me to commit such a stupid and irresponsible move, now the voice in the deepest part of my skull is reviving, which drowns out the sounds of my selfishness, and which screams for me to pull myself together and finally do something. I've never been a coward, I've always been manipulative and calculating, so it's time to act before the terror in my stomach wins. Shit.

"I'll go after him." I announce my sudden decision with surprising ease, as soon as my fingers find my radio again. It's quite obvious that even though I could flee in silence and maybe even survive, every cell in me is furiously protesting the fleeting idea, as if the suggestion itself were a disgusting disease. And thinking rationally, I'm most definitely not going to get out of here alone tonight, so it would be best if I would actively do something so that I and my little friends can get through the night. Even if I put my own skin at risk.

"I told you not to leave your position! This is a command!" Riley's voice suddenly echoes in my ears, and I find it quite funny that breaking his instructions is what finally prompts him to react. I'd like to think he's sounding so aggressive over the radio because he's worried about my safety, but I know he probably just wants to avoid explaining how I died if I would actually bit the bullet during my rescue operation. And while my realistic self understands why he insists to idle my time away here, the fact that he would rather keep me at this fucking observation point than let me do what I'm willingly offering helps the poison spread through my veins. Now is not the time when he can flaunt his dominance, because once I have a rock-solid determination, very little will distract me from it. And the role of the strict Hunter is not one of them.

"I couldn't care less about your order, Riley." I throw my remark at him determinedly, and although I know that this will probably only fan the flames of his temper even more, unfortunately, this die is already cast. "I won't let him die." I explain to him my brief reasoning behind my sudden decision, and before I can even wait for his answer, my hands glide with automatic movements towards the communicator hidden deep in the side pocket of my pants, and with my clever little fingers I call up the map of the whole damn city so that I can look for the man with the mohawk on it. And when the little red dot marking him with his call sign appears, as he flees diligently heading west, then I already know what the target direction of my little action will be.

"Woods! Stay in your fuckin' position!" The masked man reprimands me again, but I only deal with this matter with a sarcastic snort, because at this point he already should know that he won't stop me with this, because he hasn't been able to divert me with his threats so far either. And only a hidden corner of my consciousness grasps the unknown and impatient tension, which until now I haven't heard in his deep voice, but I don't pay any importance to it now. After all, at this moment, the interpretation of his behavior, unfortunately, fell back in the order of priority. And because of this, I decide that I'd rather not waste any more words on this futile verbal battle, because I will get to where I need to be that much later.

"I'll let you know when there's a new development." I send him one last message, so that I can finally surrender to the impatient nervousness in my muscles, which pushes each of my limbs towards action. And although panic is still actively working in my veins, my realization gives me enough impetus to finally move. I push myself away from the handrail that has provided me with firm support until now, and sliding my binoculars back into their holder, I turn my back on the active battlefield, where the sound of loud gunfire and inarticulate howls still fills the space. I grab my assault rifle slung over my shoulder and start with hasty steps towards the stairs leading down from the overpass, crossing the broken concrete road. Even I'm amazed at how springy my movements are, as I take the steps in twos, only to start running immediately after a final check of my communicator.

I decide that I might have better luck avoiding the monsters whose after MacTavish if I try to approach them one street up, because the mutants are definitely working on cornering him. And if the beast-riding bastard is there with them, then unfortunately for the Hunter, but to my luck, maybe his trashy friends won't wander away from there. Because, even though I was suddenly promoted to a one-man relief army, my common sense and will to survive didn't leave me. I run across the wide road, from the end of which the sounds of the battle still reach me, and even though I still hear the memory of Riley's deep voice filled with anger, I only take one last look at the events taking place at the intersection. I will care about the man's rage when everyone is back in the safe and calm confines of the base. Maybe I'll even be happy if he scolds me.

A narrow stretch of road between ruined buildings appears in front of my eyes, and when I realize that the next part of my journey will lead to it, I double my speed and throw myself into the side street surrounded by crumbling walls. I'm greeted by nothing but ominous pitch darkness, and my nose is suddenly filled with the smell of wet vegetation and gunpowder traveling on the back of the wind, but I'm not deterred for a moment by this archival horror movie environment. It takes some time for my eyes to adjust to the world of the alley dominated by shadows, and for the few seconds until this happens, I continue sprinting without waiting, because my heart beating in my ears and the adrenaline bubbling in my veins tells me that there is no time to hesitate. But thanks to fate, my pretty little eyes overcome this obstacle after running a few meters blindly, and from then on I continue on the desolate road with full confidence.

My lungs are filled with decades of dust kicked up by my steps, and the fine crumbs of plaster peeling off the crumbling walls slowly fill my mouth, but even in spite of this, I hurry along the narrow and ridiculously long street. Sometimes I jump with the elegance of a gazelle over the many abandoned belongings and objects lying on the ground that are rotten beyond recognition, and my mind, focused on the task, doesn't stop to think about what a piece of cloth of dubious origin or an obscure outline that appears suspiciously might be. And I'm terribly grateful for that, because now I don't feel like getting into that kind of nostalgia.

When the claustrophobic feeling from wandering in the depths of the alley would finally start to get on my nerves, my small path suddenly ends and I get to another wide concrete road, in the middle of which an overturned large vehicle is lying still. And although most of the paint had peeled off, there are still a couple of yellow scale-like remnants left on it, from which I can deduce that it must have been a school bus once. And I prefer to direct my gaze to the hologram glowing in blue on my communicator, rather than to the windows that look like many screaming mouths, through which I catch the decaying frames of the torn seats for a moment.

I search for MacTavish's blinking little dot on the map again, and when I find it three streets down, pulsing unmovingly in one place, worry fills me. Because the fact that he decided to take a rest in the middle of his escape can mean two things. Either he managed to kill all the mutants, or something is actively preventing him from leaving. And if it's the latter, then I have to hurry because it could lead straight to his death.

I quickly identify the small, one-way street where I will continue my way, which is located one street directly above the position of the Hunter, so that I can leave behind the haunting ruins of the school and begin my frenzied sprint once again. My whole body continues to be doped by the ever-growing waves of adrenaline, which drives away the dryness that bites my esophagus, the burning tension in my muscles, and every other sensation, and pushes me further into the emptiness of the seemingly endless street. The moonlight colors the once serene surroundings in silver and lends a quite eerie atmosphere to the silence, which slowly envelops everything. The sounds of the battle in the combat zone behind me had long since disappeared, and nothing remains but the dull noise of my boots pounding on the concrete and the sound of my hurried breathing.

Every minute, I return to the map looming in blue with my eyes, and as the red dot marking the man with the mohawk, still blinking frozen in place, gets closer and closer, my heart rate soars to dangerous heights. Because I have a strong suspicion that my first hypothesis was correct, and that the being leading the mutants really directed all of his minions towards the Hunter, and that's exactly why MacTavish has been stalling in the same place for minutes, and that's why luck has so far spared me from running into stray I.M.L.. And this realization is a sufficient warning for caution, because at this point it becomes clear that I will have to come up with a tricky little tactic if I want to save not only the man and his friends, but also my own skin.

And when I finally see the end of this damned street, I rather take back my momentum, because I hear the unmistakable deep, rasping and definitely otherwordly grunts and growls, the likes of which only a single lifeform can emit. With cat-like steps, I sneak closer to the end of the street to look for a temporary hiding place, snuggling up against the side of a building dotted with decaying old plaster. I slowly and silently slide my communicator back into my pocket, as I suspect it will be obvious where the Scotsman and his companions have been confined. Resting my palm against the wall, I lean out of the my hideout, and when I see the mob of beasts, my eyebrows nervously furrow. Because a good thirty meters away, they are peacefully huddling in front of an alley, from which the muffled sounds of fighting are heard. And they have every reason to be calm, because the mutant-riding I.H.L. does the same, and observes the events of the battle that emanate from the dark alley with deep indifference. As my gaze glides across the gathered herd to assess how many of them are there, I see a small group of monsters circling the ground with great interest. And as soon as one of them moves, I can finally see what occupied them so effectively. Although there is only a blood-soaked, mangled corpse lying on the ground, I only need to look at the uniformed leg dangling from one of the beast's sharp, needle-like teeth to know that by now MacTavish may be the last survivor of his team. And I thank the stress hormone working in me for kindly suppressing the first friendly waves of nausea, because I don't want to be caught just because I do a technicolor yawn.

And before I can analyze the situation further, I hear a loud bang of a gun firing, which is followed by sick silence. It seems that the little fucker riding the beast could have been waiting for this, because it seizes this opportunity and decides to join the party, raising an object that looks terriby close to a spear in its hand. My chest suddenly tightens as my brain takes in the facts, and then the decision is born in me that I have to act now, or the Hunter, who may have run out of ammunition and weapons, and may be injured and exhausted, won't be able to stand his ground against this scumbag. Even if every fiber of my being hopes the contrary.

And this, instead of causing me to fall into despair, in some inexplicable way rekindles the bubbling energy in my veins that I last felt when I locked eyes with that fucking wild boar. And although I thought that my body wasn't shaken for a moment by that faithful meeting, I'm still glad that this image is etched in my memory. Because now at least I will benefit from the unquestionable determination that once again overwhelms me, and now even though not my survival depends on it, I let this unknown force lick my insides with angry flames. And my brain in a heightened state magically comes up with the plan that I have to implement. And for some reason, I have no doubts about its success.

My fingers nimbly fish out the flash grenade resting on my vest, and its other two much more destructive brothers, because it seems much more logical and poetic to shred these garbage into confetti, as they did with the unsuspecting soldiers. I emerge from the cover of the wall for the last time, and I see that the monsters are still waiting for me at their dinner table, stuffing their faces, and this suddenly makes me want to kill them even more. My body moves almost by itself, and I aim my weapon with automatic movements, then throw the flash grenade between the gathered mutants with such precision as if I had been doing this all my life. I quickly hide myself behind the wall again, and the bastards don't even have time to process what's happening, because as soon as the sneaky little gadget hits the ground, the blinding light that escapes from it momentarily covers the entire ruined street. And when a deafening whine-like sound erupts from them, I know that my vile little distraction was effective.

I grasp the opportunity, and I don't give them time to recover from this, but I activate the two companions that are more powerful than the flash grenade, and I send them flying on their destructive journey straight between the paralyzed, frozen creatures. And although I once again retreat to the protective shield of the building, when the hand grenades land, they explode with a well-known boom, after which nothing remains but the air movement and the mass of dust flying with it. Thus, even in the shelter of my hiding place, I hear the wet splashing of torn bodies of the beasts and the sharp thump of the debris hitting the ground, and I take this as the sign that I can finally make my entrance on the blood-covered stage.

I step out onto the concrete road with every inch of my body filled with determination, and I see, through the dispersing smoke, that my little surprise has indeed achieved the necessary effect. The remains of bodies mutilated beyond recognition lie on the ground, and even the luckier ones, those who are still moving and writhing on the mangled leashes of their own limbs, will no longer pose a threat. I briskly cross the street that has become the site of bloodshed, and my boots clatter with a disgusting sound in the dirt soaked with dark body fluids, but instead of being repulsed by the whole sight, a small joy awakens in my soul, because they all deserved it. Each and everyone of them.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the entrence of the alley, and when I arrive, I lose momentum for split second, and I pause to survey the scene unfolding before me. MacTavish might have been able to struggle heroically against the enemy until now, because the narrow street is covered by the many lifeless corpse of I.M.L.s, and it must have been a miracle of God that he survived in this hot water until now. But now, backing towards the end of the dead end alley, his hands are pressed to his stomach, where the remnants of his tactical vest and T-shirt hang in jagged pieces, giving a clear view of the long, claw-like cuts that run across his torso. A painful moan escapes the man, and his gaze glowing with weak red light is fixed on the beast towering over him, and on the deformed creature sitting on it, who is preparing to finish its cruel work with its spear raised high. And this awakens such anger and hatred in me, the heat of which burns my insides alive, and along which the energy burns even more strongly in my veins, sending a single message to my brain. Kill it. And it doesn't have to be said twice.

Before the scumbag can even make its next move, I grab my assault rifle and aim it without hesitation to pump the bastart full of bullets. My gun fires with a series of loud bangs, and I manage to surprise the mutant, because by the time it realizes what's happening, the fired bullets are already piercing through its body, and maybe even Riley himself would be proud of how efficiently I take I.H.L. down with my sharpened senses. A shrill scream erupts from it, then with a dull thump the human-like creature turns from the throne it had occupied until now, and as soon as it sprawls on the dirty ground, its pet also notices that something is very wrong. The mutant turns with such fervor, as if it were genuinely enraged by my intervention, which it might be. But I'm not frightened by the way it snarls and focuses all its attention on me, because when it lunges towards me and wants to get up on two legs to throw itself at me, I deploy my mean little rifle again and shoot the fucker with deadly efficiency, focusing on its chest, because the useful wisdom that I learned during my training appears in my brain. And I know from this that if I cause enough damage, it will fall to the ground. I don't have to be disappointed in the knowledge I've acquired from my teachers, because when a bunch of bloody gaping holes cover the brute's broad chest, it falls in the filth next to its master. As I unwaveringly walk towards it, and when with its last breath, the milky white eyes resting on its wrinkled, tumor-distorted head look up at me, then I decide to take pity on it and free it from its suffering, and I present it with one last bullet to its skull. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that it's over and I've killed both of them. And then the murderous red fog clears from my mind, and all my attention shifts to the Hunter kneeling at the back of the alley.

"MacTavish!" I shout, and I don't even try to get rid of the worry in my voice, because my nervous system is too overloaded to be able to work on such stunts. Instead, my body moves almost automatically, and I hurry through the narrow alley covered with corpses, shoving my weapon over my shoulder. And the closer I get, the more my anxiety increases, because this way I finally have the opportunity to measure the man's not-so-rosy state in detail.

"Woods... " He moans, and as he looks up at me, and the reddish glow in his eyes suddenly dissapears, which prompts me, when I finally reach him, to stumble and fall on my knees next to him, frantically directing my bright eyes at the injuries on his stomach and chest. “Why are you here? " He asks the completely logical question, yet impatience awakens in me from the way he is trying to question my actions through his pain.

"I came to save you." I tell him quickly and matter-of-factly, pushing his body back towards the wall of the alley with trembling hands so that he can rest while I assess the damage. The large cuts on his suntanned skin show off in an angry red color, from the deep furrows of which crimson blood gushes out, soaking what is left of his clothes. And as soon as I see the characteristic texture of the raw meat emerging on his belly, I don't hesitate any longer, I pull myself together and finally get to work. I can now perform what I was brought to do. Fuck!

"Leave me here..." He pleads with a his face distorted by pain, and as he closes his eyes, his head falls back and connects with the bricks with a soft thud, then I place my palms on his wounds without any delay, and fixing my gaze on his body, I aim the tensely bubbling waves of my energy towards him. "Go... Run..." He starts again with the martyr, self-sacrificing speech, and my teeth clench with such force from frustration that I feel my jaw ache from it.

"Shut up, Soap!" I glare at him, and even I myself don't notice what's slipping out of my mouth, but it's just enough to grab the Hunter's languid attention for a moment and snap him out of his self-pity. Only the beginnings of a cheeky smile appear on his lips, but before he can share his witty comment with me, suffering takes over his features again. And I take advantage of his silence to focus all my attention on healing, and as the complicated system of blood vessels, muscles and organs appear in my brain, and then the gaping cuts running across them, I close my eyes and cling to the damaged tissues with my own energy. In my mind, I watch how the torn blood vessels slowly but surely connect again, and I see how the torn fibers of the tissues intertwine, and gradually everything takes on its original, undamaged and flawless state. As the gashes of his wounds slowly disappear under my palms, the muscles that have been tense from agony also relax, and when a relieved sigh escapes from the man's mouth, I know that this will be enough for now. He probably won't die now, and although he still will be weak from the blood loss, he's just well enough to make a break for it. Because my womanly intuition tells me that my entrance was so radical that it will soon attract the scumbags who might have been idly looking around the area until now.

"Pull yourself together, MacTavish, we've got to go!" I warn the man in a firm voice, and shuffilng next to him I reaching under his arm to help him stand up by spreading my hand on his back. Surprisingly, the Hunter obeys my request right away, and hisses as he struggles to a standing position with me, putting his weight on me until he manages to pull himself together ready to go. "We have to get to the cars!" I tell him the facts, which represent the only possibility for survival, and which our other comrades have probably already set their sights on.

MacTavish acknowledges my proposal with only a weak nod, then sets off with me towards the entry of the alley as fast as he can, and I hastily lead him over the cadavers of so many beasts lying in the dust. As we pass the monster-riding F.H.L., I take one last look at its lanky, frighteningly pale body. And so, up close, it's even more unnatural how humanlike the mutation of the virus left it. I can't think of a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon, but since now is not the time for scientific reflection, I will save the whole problem for a later date. In my small room at the base, after a warm shower, I will stretch out in my bed and create hypotheses.

But when we reach the opening of the alley, the demonic growling sounds reach my ear canals again, signaling the approach of another fucking difficulty. These damned bastards never seem to run out, which awakens the suspicion me, that by size of the nest here, something really shady is behind the whole operation. Because it's quite certain that it wan’t the magically accelerated development of the virus that caused this whole tragic circus.

But before my thoughts can go any further, we step out into the street, and with that, we come face to face with the reception committee, who, breaking out of their mourning over the remains of their dead comrades, fix their eyes on us. And when the angry bloodthirst flares up there, I already know that there is still one more obstacle to go before we can even get to the end of the whole pile of shit. I push MacTavish's body against the wall of the building lining the side street, and he just leans against the hole-filled plaster with a weak groan full of suffering. He tries to say something to me, but before he could even start his sermon, I already have the gun in my hand again, and with all my remaining concentration I try to shoot down as many of the beasts swinging towards us almost simultaneously as possible.

And when life intervenes, and after a few shots I run out of ammo, I reach for the supply on my vest with hasty movements, but when the new magazine is just in my grasp, a beast appears in front of me, and I reflexively jump back before it could cut me open with its knife-like claws. And even though I thank the reflexes of my kind, my joy doesn't last long, because during my little maneuver, my foot skillfully finds one of the many pieces of debris lying on the ground. And as the piece of stone drifts under the sole of my boot and knocks me off my balance, I fell on my ass in such a beautiful curve that under other circumstances I would surely get a funny remark from my Scottish friend. But he holds into against the brick wall, hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, and doesn't pay attention to my clumsiness.

I fix my eyes on the monster attacking me, who has now been joined by a couple of its no less-dangerous friends, to end my life together. And I, keeping my eyes on them, reach for another magazine, because I cleverly dropped the previous one in the middle of my landing and released it somewhere among the other rubble. But by this time, the stress makes my movements properly uncoordinated, and although my mind is clear and continues to urge my body to act, my fingers suddenly become clumsy, even though I have already done this a thousand times with my masked trainer. It shouldn't be a problem for me to change a magazine, but as my brain takes in the mutants who are menacingly stalking towards me, waiting to pounce, then almost a short circuit occurs in every corner of my head. And the sly little voice in the back of my skull tells me that the effect of the adrenaline is diminishing, and that the energy I spent on healing the Scottish man is slowing me down at the moment.

However, after a few torturous seconds, my hand finally succeeds, just as the beast that wanted to slice me up gets tired of the slow, sinister stalking and swings towards me, springing into the air. And I aim my weapon at the monster as fast as I can, but before either of us can succeed in executing our attack, a metallic flash appears out of nowhere and hits the monster's head with such force that it splits apart with a gut-wrenching crack like an overripe melon. The dark blood of the mutant splashes on my face, but I'm unable to deal with it, because my mind is much more occupied by the very sinister figure that appears behind the beast falling to the ground.

It takes me a moment to comprehend who has come to save us, and when I finally realize that it's Riley, an indescribable shock washes over me. Because despite the fact that I voluntarily put my life on the line against his firm orders, I'm sufficiently surprised that he's still here. And as his furiously widened, red-glowing eyes survey my form sprawled among the debris, and then move on to his friend, who has fallen to the ground along the wall behind me, dirty with blood, then such a dangerous, ice-cold fury begins to flow from him that it freezes the blood in my veins. And although only the pale shine of the moon gives us some light, I can still clearly see the strained line of his broad shoulders, which makes him look quite like a predator ready to pounce. Even though for a fleeting moment it seems as if he wants to say something, he turns without a word in the direction of the mutants who are still carousing here, and then concentrates the poison that is surely raging inside him on them. And that's when I manage to observe what did he use so skillfully to free me from the bastard attacking me, and his makeshift weapon makes my eyes widen in an almost comical way. Because he lifts the traffic signpost with such ease, as if it were a twig, and with even more effortlessness and faster than that, he hits the devilish creatures leaping towards him with the piece of concrete at its end. And when I understand that this guy tore a fucking traffic sign out of the ground with his bare hands, in order to continue fighting with it, then, in addition to the surprise, something completely different reaches my nervous system, which is struggling to process the events. Because there is something quite animalistic in the way his body pulsates with power as he kills his enemies with the brutal strength and unstoppable momentum of a big cat. I feel a dull tingle in my stomach in an irrational way, and my mouth besomes dry in a fucked up manner as I stare at his strong figure rampaging and killing.

And scolding myself, I divert my attention from the massacare unfolding in front of me before I can even analyze how artistic I find the line of his broad back in the middle of the fucking bloodshed, as he beats down and degrades the I.M.L.s that come in front of him to pulp. Instead, I break out of my observation and get up on my feet again to hurry with quick steps to MacTavish, who is now lying limp at the bottom of the brick wall, immersed in the beneficial darkness of unconsciousness. My fingers carefully slip on his neck, and as I feel the slow, even pulse under the urgent searching of my energy, I calm down and turn back to our savior.

Riley takes care of all the mutants present with surprising speed, and then, when he has mutilated them all beyond recognition, he casually throws away his weapon and it lands with a loud crash on the street, which has now turned into total bloody chaos. It seems that he was able to release the accumulated tension, because when he turns his gaze to us again, he looks far more relaxed, and he strides towards us with confident steps, sizing up our little couple with his eyes. And when he stops next to me, he bends down without comment to throw his Scottish comrade on his back with a rather light movement, as if the well-built man was nothing more than a rag doll. And this is probably the case, if I only consider the way he got his previous weapon.

"Let's go. The others are waitin' for us at the edge of the combat zone." He says briefly, and even I'm surprised at how flat his deep voice sounds, despite the fervor with which he began the slaughter just minutes ago. And I'm not going to present him with an apt remark, but with a silent nod, I agree to his suggestion, because I also can't wait to finally be able to leave this fucking place. And if he hastened so enthusiastically to save us, then I won't talk back to him, thanks to whom my head is still in place. At least for a while, for sure.

The smoldering eyes of the masked man scan my face for a fleeting second, as if searching for something, but then, after a brief nod, he sets off in the direction of the road back, and starts running as fast as if he hadn't fought for half the night and wasn't weighed down by the one of his companions. And certainly, for a Hunter belonging to the SSS class, all of this doesn't pose any particular difficulties, yet for the first time, I'm amazed at the cold professionalism with which he handles this whole situation. After all, it occurs to me that this whole mission ended in a complete disaster, which no one could have predicted. The responsibility for this rests on his shoulders, despite the fact that even he can't predict the future, and even his super-sharp Hunter senses couldn't foresee the series of mishaps and sad accidents that would follow each other during the night. And the fact that we are now in the ruins of the deserted city, fleeing together towards the edge of the combat zone, is also only thanks to the immeasurable benevolence of fate.

We get back to the road we marched down at the beginning of our operation surprisingly quickly, and I'm filled with immeasurable gratitude that I can finally leave this godforsaken pile of ruins behind me, which only enriched me with a lot of new and quite pleasant experiences. Without a doubt, I overachieved the task imposed on me in a quite reckless manner, and I have no doubt that because of this, the man who continues to advance steadfastly in front of me will have an unsolicited word or two for me. But that's the least of the problems I experienced during the night, because his small punishment is dwarfed by what I saw. Because here something quite large had slipped by the wayside, which even Laswell's omniscient little information couldn't have avoided. And suddenly I remember the camera still merrily recording on my chest, and I thank my foresight and her clever procuring skills, because if Price doesn't see with his own eyes what MacTavish and I were able to experience in this goddamn place, then he won't believe it. If someone were to tell me that the I.H.L.s and the I.M.L.s united under their mutant-riding leader and surprised a team of trained Hunters and soldiers who had been through dozens of missions, then I would also offer that person a special medicine to stop imagining things. But this was different. This was reality. And nothing proves it better than the unconscious Scottish guy traveling on the back of the masked Hunter, who suffered this story firsthand. And the dull throbbing in my limbs, left behind by the long-gone adrenaline, is a very nice reminder that I, too, was lucky enough to admire this horror on several occasions. And although, for now, my brain can't dwell on this, I'm sure that I will have a thousand assumptions while watching the nice little recordings. Because we need to find an explanation for this.

When we finally arrive at the edge of the combat zone, and the waiting vans appear in front of me, my heart beating in my chest finally slows down a bit. The members of the Watcher team anxiously survey our arriving small group, and I look at the handful of survivors who remained from the original fifteen-person team that sneaked into the city with a similar gloom. And these four unfortunates have also seen better days, and even though all their limbs are intact at least, I know that as soon as we return to the base, I need to treat them immediately, because they have plenty of injuries to take care of. And this is another cruel stab in the festering wound caused by the events.

"Start the countdown when we leave. We don't leave it up to chance." Riley gives his first instructions to one of the soldiers left behind, who with a quick nod pulls out his remote control and then jumps into one of the vehicles with his companions. And I follow the masked man, who opens the back door of the other car with fast movements, and then, entering, lays his friend on the ground as carefully as if he were made of glass.

None of us waste any more time waiting, because the next step is to escape from here. We also get into the van, and after I find my seat, I lean forward and slide my hand on my patient's neck again, checking his vitals in a quick second, which flickers reassuringly steadily under the curious touch of my energy. Fortunately, I arrived in time to save him, and thanks to Laswell's pampering, I came here full enough to be able to save the man's life. But if I got there even a minute later, or Riley didn't come after us to help my stupid self stuck in the corner, things would be different now. And now, for the first time, I don't find it difficult to admit that even though I don't regret for a minute that I defied him, my dark little heart beats gratefully that nevertheless he rushed to our aid. Even if his efforts were more for his partner than for me.

And instead of brooding, I decide that it's time to regenerate the man with the mohawk a little, because by the time we get back, he should be alert enough to stand in as a witness to tell the story of what happened tonight. I gently place my palm on his neck and direct my force in even waves toward the unconscious MacTavish to breathe life into his exhausted body again. And when Riley throws himself down in front of me after the van takes off with full throttle, my troubled gaze meets his now familiar chocolate-colored eyes. And with an almost habitual sense, I decipher the thoughts swirling in them, which now pose even less of a challenge. Because in his stare, there is exactly the same grim restlessness that has settled in my head.

For a moment, an orange light paints his face as the bombs left behind explode in the distance, and none of us need to say a word to know that tonight is just the beginning of something terribly messed up.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 30. Ready for it

Previous chapter

Masterlist

She's backkk

Whatever is bothering dear Pietro??

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, flirty flirty bants, mentions of PTSD, canon-typical violence.

Lagos, Nigeria

I tightened my ponytail, adjusting my position atop the motorcycle.

“Eyes on target folks,” Steve spoke over the comms before telling Sam to tag a garbage truck. I narrowed my eyes, spotting his strange bird-like robot shooting through the sky.

“That truck is loaded for max weight and the driver’s armed,” Sam said.

I started the bike as my mind ticked over, revving the engine. “It’s a battering ram,” I murmured over the comms.

“Go now,” Cap said. I released the break, speeding toward the café where Nat stood from her table abruptly. “He’s not hitting the police station.”

I grabbed Natasha’s arm, dragging my foot on the ground to slow down marginally before pulling her onto the bike behind me. I heard the crashing and saw the explosion of dust in the air as the truck rammed through the gate of the Centre for Infectious Diseases. A blur of silver and blue zipped by me, following the others into the wreckage, my lips tugged upward slightly. “I’ve got eyes on Rumlow,” I spoke spotting the black zipline from the south of the building, extending to a truck.

“He has a biological weapon,” Steve informed.

“We’re on it,” Nat responded as we closed in on the men surrounding the truck. “I’ll take the left side you take the right?”

 I nodded, turning the bike sharply to allow her to leap off before I sped up and dropped the bike to the ground, rolling off of it as it pummelled toward one of the guards. Another turned to me after hearing the commotion and ran forward, cocking his gun and aiming it for my head, the shot never made it through the barrel as I sent a widows byte shock into the center of his chest. I grabbed him and used his as a pole to vault and kick the next guard in the chest, when the first was down I blocked the punch that was thrown my way and grabbed a hold of his wrist, in a single maneuver I ducked beneath his arm and pulled it to the left causing the bullet he fired to hit his colleague who had been running at me from behind.

“How many of these fuckers are there?” I muttered to myself.

I could hear Natasha fighting someone beside the truck but spotted another of the guards on the roof, readjusting his gun to aim it at her. I jumped onto the bonnet, yanking his ankles to make him fall onto his back, disarming him was easy but he certainly put up a fight until I slammed his head against the windscreen, cracking it and rendering him unconscious. I glanced to the side to check Natasha’s position when a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Rumlow’s dark, fury-filled eyes met mine as he yanked me to my feet by my hair. I pulled the knife from my leg strap, jamming it into his thigh and twisting, prompting him to let go of my hair. When I was freed from his grip, I turned to strike him in the neck, the only exposed flesh I could see. He blocked my attack grabbing a hold of my arm, I twisted to kick him in the side, but he held tight, so I punched him in his bleeding wound, he groaned; part frustration, part pain. He threw another punch which I dodged easily, punching him in the ribs when he was turned. His elbow came back hard into me, but I landed two more punches before he managed to get a hold of the back of my neck. I slammed my fist into his arm again and again, but he didn’t even flinch, yanking my head back. His rough gloved fingers dug into my nerves, sending pain shooting down my neck. In retaliation I jammed the base of my palm beneath his chin, sending a shocker into his neck. His grip only tightened, making my eyes narrow. He laughed dryly.

“I don’t work like that no more, Pimenova.” He shouted yanking me downward by my neck and forcing me to fall through the hole atop the truck. Two men were sat by my feet but I paid them no mind, glancing up to see Rumlow peering down at me with a look of maniacal glee in his eyes as he pulled the pin from a grenade. “Bye-bye, Nadia.” The metal clinked as it hit the ground by my feet. Rumlow slammed the entrance closed, ticking filling my ears. A split second passed before I was on my feet, grabbing the first guard who stood by the barrel of his gun and slamming it back into his head. I heard shouts of my name over the comms as I twisted the second man’s arms and pushed him in front of me to block the brunt of the explosion that followed shortly after.

My body slammed into the metal doors at the back of the truck before being launched outward onto the hard ground, a ringing in my ears blocking out the chatter on the comms. Grass tickled my cheeks as I lay there coughing my guts up, eyes fluttering as the light blinded me. I let out a cut-off grunt of pain as I moved, struggling to lift my head into my hands. I heard another call of my name, garbled like I was underwater. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I blinked hard to force my eyes to adjust to the light. Blurry red hair filled my line of site.

I pushed off of the ground to sit up more. “Nat, Nads, come in.” Steve addressed over the comms, worry evident in his tone. I gave Natasha a thumbs up before rubbing my hand over my face, the ringing sound finally clearing.

“We’re here, Nads is okay.”

“Rumlow’s in an AFV heading north,” Steve responded.

I accepted Natasha’s hand, letting her help me up. “I’m really beginning to not like that guy,” I muttered. A streak shot by me before my face was enveloped within warm hands. Pietro’s bright gaze tinged with concern as he scanned my face.

“What the hell happened, are you okay?”

I held onto his elbow nodding fervently. “I’m fine, I promise, you need to go after Rumlow.” He seemed unconvinced but nodded at my words eventually, after a final nod from me he shot off after the truck. I ran toward the discarded motorbike, pulling it up. “Come on, I’ll drive,” I called to Nat who shook her head playfully at me as she hopped onto the back of the bike.

“They’re splitting up.” Sam’s voice filled my ears. I sped up, navigating through the entrance of the market.

“We’ve got the two on the left,” I responded bringing the bike to an abrupt stop and launching onto the bonnet of a car before running over it. I could hear Natasha’s footsteps close behind me as I ducked and weaved through the stalls, vaulting over a cart that got pushed into the way. I had the two men we were tailing in my sites, but they diverted down a side pathway.

“He doesn’t have it. I’m empty.” Sam said only making me run faster. I dodged civilians as I moved to run parallel to one of the men, curving and jumping onto a table to tackle him to the ground, we both rolled through the dirt after the collision. He pulled a gun from his belt but I grabbed his hands before he could aim, pulling his arm up and forward to punch him in the stomach. With a swift turn, I slammed his hand onto the table hard making him drop the gun. He managed to kick me in the stomach, making me stumble slightly but I caught myself quickly, running at him and stepping onto his bent leg to jump up and lock my legs around his upper warm, swinging myself down, causing him to be thrown back into the dirt. I landed on my feet again, pulling the gun from the belt, but the cocking of a different gun stopped me in my tracks. I turned to see the other guard holding Natasha around the neck, gun aimed at her head. I turned to aim my gun at the man behind her.

“Put it down.” I narrowed my eyes at him, pulling the slide back, a metallic click sounding between us. “Put it down. Before I put her down.” He pressed the gun further to her head. I calculated the time it would take me to pull the trigger allowing for his reaction time.

The previous guard cleared his throat, causing my eyes to flicker toward him. “Drop the gun or I’ll drop this.” Between the tips of his fingers was a vial of red and yellow liquid; the specimen they’d stolen from the disease center. I swallowed heavily, eyes flickering between the two men before I met Natasha’s gaze, the slightest twitch of my expression was all it took for her to nod, Sam’s strange bird robot descended a moment before I shot the man behind Nat in the head. The robot shot the other man causing him to drop the vial but before I could react Pietro shot by me, the wind tousling my hair. In mere seconds he was standing before me with the object in hand.

 “Fucking hell.” I breathed out. “Payload secure. Thanks, Sam.” I added glancing toward his robot.

“Don’t thank me…”

I rolled my eyes moving to help Nat up. “I’m not thanking that thing.” I nodded toward the metal bird that was still hovering by my head.

“His name is Redwing.”

“Good for him. I’m still not thanking it.”

Sam tsked. “He’s cute, go ahead, pet him.”

I ignored his teasing approaching Pietro who smirked at me before nodding toward the vial between his fingers. “Pretty hot, huh?” I raised an eyebrow at him opening my mouth to respond but a load explosion sounded nearby, windows shattering and flames filling a wing of the large building beside the market. The force of the wreckage threw Pietro and I backward, the vial flying out of his hands, I launched forward, dropping and rolling across the gravel to land beneath it. My heart was thudding against my chest, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding when it was safe in my grasp. When I moved back to my feet Pietro was more focused on the building that was in flames than the fact that whatever was in the bottle could’ve just spread. When I looked upward, I realized why. There were people screaming and running around from within the fire.

I heard Steve ask for fire and rescue, but I felt rooted to my spot.

Wanda was devastated. That much was evident even in her silence that stretched the whole trip back to the compound.

We’d stayed after the mission was complete, assisting search and rescue to evacuate as many people as possible. No one made it out unscathed, those that survived were barely holding on.

She was just trying to help. Rumlow had a bomb vest, a lot more people would have died if she did nothing. That is what we’d all told her, though it was obvious she didn’t believe us.

Pietro wasn’t unaffected by what had happened either. He’d looked almost haunted as he watched the flames emerge from the windows, heard the screams and pleas for help. I kept a close eye on him on the way back, attempting to decipher what he was feeling. When we arrived at the compound barely a word was exchanged between any of us, there was an air of exhaustion and defeat hanging around that no one wished to linger in. I strayed from Pietro then, opting to head to the bathroom after I’d watched him wander down the hall to his room. I scrubbed the dirt and defeat of the day from my face, deciding to shower after, eager to check on Pietro before I worried about ensuring my hair no longer smelt of smoke. When I could no longer feel the grime clinging to my cheeks, I made my way down to the kitchen to find Steve leaning over the bench, wringing his fingers together whilst staring off into space. I paused in the doorway surveying him for a long moment, he was so out of it that when I spoke, he jumped slightly, evidently startled by the sudden presence.

“If you think any harder your head will explode.”

He pressed his lips together in a sort of tired smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m guessing everyone else has retired for the night.”

I nodded slowly. Noting the look in his eyes, guilt and… maybe sorrow. “It was a shitty day,” I spoke. Moving to grab a plate from the cupboard and select an assortment of foods; some berries from the fridge, a bread roll, some cheese, and a bottle of water. He didn’t speak as he watched me assemble the items. The only acknowledgment was a quiet hum from him.  I walked toward the doorway, glancing back at him. “I know that you’re the leader of this strange motley crew… but not every loss is yours to bear alone.” I looked down for a second before meeting his eyes. “You should know that, Steve.”

He swallowed heavily, nodding once, twice. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… a shitty day.” He nodded again.

“Feed yourself and go to bed. Tomorrow might not be so bad.” I told him, gesturing toward the second plate I’d left out on the bench filled with food.

Steve smiled at me again, but this time it seemed more genuine. “Thanks, Nads. You know-” he paused momentarily, as if searching for the words. “I’m glad you gave us a chance that day.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Even if you weren’t convinced we had much of a team back then.”

I shrugged gently. “Well, I guess I didn’t have anything better to do.” His chuckle followed me down the hallway and despite my nonchalant exterior that he seemed to be able to see through in that moment, I smiled to myself when I was out of the room.

A dim glow could be seen under Pietro’s door, letting me know he’d yet to go to sleep, though I had suspected as much. I knocked gently waiting for him to invite me in before I opened the door. He didn’t look up from his lap as I entered. “We talked about this. You don’t need to knock, just come in.”

“Well, I’d hate to walk in on you when you’re indecent.” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood a little. He didn’t respond to my words, continuing to look down. That was when I knew something was really wrong, I’d given him the perfect foundation for a dirty joke, and he hadn’t so much as given me a suggestive look in response. I swallowed heavily, glancing at the door for just a moment, considering giving him some time alone. Maybe he wanted space to think. However, I knew that my instinct to leave was more out of a hesitancy to be vulnerable than anything else and I wasn’t doing that, not to him, not anymore. I took a step forward, if I left now, he’d make himself sick with the thoughts occupying his mind. He’d fought for me to open up before to save me from drowning in my sorrow, I could do the same for him.

I sat down on the bed across from him, placing the plate between us. His hair was dry, debris still clinging to it, indicating that he’d also yet to shower. “What are you thinking about.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, still looking down at his lap. I reached out for him, placing the palm of my hand against the side of his face. Thumb caressing his cheekbone gently. “Pietro,” I whispered. When he finally met my eyes, his were brimming with tears. I sat the plate on the side table, moving closer to him. Both of my hands fell to his then, grasping them as I attempted to decipher the look on his face. “Please tell me what’s going on in your mind.” He attempted to blink the tears away, but they did not go so easily. “The way they were screaming, the crying, the crumbling building… I-it was just like Sokovia.” I tightened my grip on his hands, nodding at his words. “She only wanted to help; I know that. But that’s also what we thought we were doing when we were working with Ultron.”

I said his name quietly, hoping that if I began to speak the right words would come to me.

When he looked up at me then the emotion in his eyes devastated me. His eyes were shining with the tears that sat along his waterline, soon joining those that had begun to stream down his cheeks. “How do you do this?” I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, unsure what he meant. “How do you know the right thing to do? We keep trying to help but it seems like we only make everything worse.”

I let go of his hands to wipe the tears from his face, with one I pushed the hair back from his head. Letting the other linger on his cheek. “We don’t. None of us know what the right thing is, all we can do is try, just like you.”

“But how are any of us supposed to know? It’s not right, having the power to just decide what should be done. Maybe we shouldn’t have so much power…” He hung his head.

“I don’t know, Piet. I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer.” He squeezed my hand before pulling me forward until I fell into his body. His arms enveloped me, holding me tightly to him. The pungent smell of smoke filled my nostrils, engulfing me even more strongly now that it was not just me who smelt it. I ignored it, running my hand through his hair. “Please don’t torture yourself,” I murmured against his neck. He buried his face further into my hair.

At some point we separated, agreeing that we both needed to shower, I hoped that the hot water could wash away some of the tension in him. The warmth of his hand filled mine when I turned toward his bedroom door, planning to make my way toward the shower nearest my own room. He tugged me back toward him slightly and he didn’t need to speak, I could see it all over his face. Even for me, someone not always the most adept at understanding others, it was evident that he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone right now. Despite myself, I went easily, with only some hesitation and then I followed him into the bathroom and began to peel off my clothes as he fiddled with the tap in the shower. He pulled his shirt over his head, not meeting my eyes as he began to undo his pants. I stepped into the hot shower whilst he removed his underwear. A moment passed and then I heard the door glass door close and felt him move closer to my back. I opened my mouth to say something, but the words died on my tongue when I felt his finger graze over the scar that traveled from the top of my shoulder blade to the middle of my spine. It had faded over the years now white and barely visible unless someone stood as close as he did.

 When he spoke his voice was quiet, it didn’t sound like he was crying anymore but he certainly did not sound like himself. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“It’s old.” I matched his volume, barely audible over the spray of water hitting us.

“The Red Room?”

I nodded. “I was little.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, as if it were explanatory; contextual.

He asked me how it happened.

I told him it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t feel important to me now, not when his eyes had looked so very devastated while we’d sat on his bed. The Red Room and its various inflictions were the furthest thing from my mind.

“It does.” He was absolute, there was a seriousness in his voice that confounded me. I wasn’t sure why he seemed so prepared to die on this hill, but I wondered if maybe it was merely the easiest distraction for him right now. A momentary respite from the thoughts and sorrows plaguing his mind.

I swallowed, tilting my neck from side to side to relieve the pressure. “I was on assignment and back then hydra agents had a penchant for killing widows and taking the credit for our assassinations. I was young, inexperienced, too slow to realize he was behind me. The agent was a shit shot but the bullet shattered a glass door, and I went rolling through it when we were fighting.” Soap-suds covered my shoulder blades as he ran his hands over my tender muscles, cleaning the dirt from my flesh as I spoke. “They had me back in training the following day and some of my stitches popped, they refused to redo them because they wanted the scar to be a reminder of my weakness.” I heard Dreykov’s voice saying those words to me as I spoke to Pietro.

“How old were you?”

“11.” He stiffened, hand stilling on my shoulder. I looked down at my feet “I couldn’t complete the assignment… there was another girl with me, an older Widow. She killed him… because I couldn’t.”

I felt Pietro step closer to me. “You shouldn’t have had to.” His voice was thick with something I couldn’t understand. “They gave you scars because you were a child who did not want to kill.”

“They had to break me so that they could mold me into the person they wanted me to be.” I turned to face him, taking in the pensive look on his face. My hand fell over his bicep, thumb rubbing back and forth as I scanned his face for signs of how he was feeling. “It was a long time ago. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “Pietro,” I murmured.

It was a long while before he spoke. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you ever again.” His arms wrapped around me tightly, pulling my chest flush to his and burying his face into the crook of my neck.

“Well, that’s a bit of a tall order, considering our line of work.” I rubbed my hand over his back, gabbing the shampoo from the shelf and massaging it into his silver hair. When I was done, I directed him under the water spray to wash the soap from him, running my hand through his hair to help it along. He gazed down at me the whole time.

“You know you’re very distracting, hm?”

I asked him what he meant.

“It is very hard to be sad when you are naked in front of me.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. I rolled my eyes playfully at him. “You’re an idiot.” His smile grew slightly. “But I don’t want you to be sad so maybe that’s a good thing.”

That night as I lay beside him, stroking his hair because he’d asked me to, and if this brought him even a semblance of comfort, I’d do it, I remained awake for a long while. For a time, I gazed upon his face, studying each of his features from the tip of his nose, along the bridge, and then across his dark eyebrows. He grasped the back of my shirt tightly in his hand even after he’d fallen asleep, his arms wrapped around my middle, head a comforting weight against my stomach. He’d slept like this nearly every night since I’d returned from Brazil. I wondered if it was his way of ensuring I couldn’t slip out whilst he slept again. He’d told me he forgave me for my sudden disappearing act, and I believed him. He truly didn’t seem to hold it against me; however, it was evident that our abrupt separation had not left him unaffected.  I thought about what he’d said earlier, how do we know what the right action is? It certainly felt like a lot of our actions lately had been the wrong ones.

In the morning, I took my time wandering down to the office Dr. Norris had been meeting me in.

“How have you been feeling since we last spoke? Still no sudden episodes?”

I shook my head, fiddling with my fingers. “No…”

“You seem unsure?”

“There haven’t been any episodes, but I have been remembering things. It’s not as overwhelming as it was before but things are coming back to me.”

Norris made a note in his booklet. “That’s good, Nadia, it’s what we’re trying to accomplish, we want to deconstruct Hydra’s conditioning to free your mind.”

I nodded slowly. It was bizarre to me, having things come into focus the way they were, without all the pain and loss of reality. The calmness with which these things returned to me almost made me disbelieve that they were really mine. Truthfully the images that I saw in my mind disturbed me, partially because it was incomprehensible that I could have merely lost so many years of my life from Hydra’s conditioning and also because I wasn’t sure how to piece them together. How did any of it fit into who I am now? There is a whole life with these recurring characters whose faces I can never quite make out with complete clarity, and it is so foreign to me, but my mind urges me to open myself to it. There is a part of me that begs to be connected to this unfamiliar past.

I still couldn’t bear to listen to that song, dream a little dream of me. It didn’t bring on an episode anymore but whenever I heard those notes, the soft humming of the woman’s voice would always follow, the remnants of who I had once been.  Letting go of it seemed the only logical answer to me, it was in the past. I am not that child anymore and I will never be her again. Holding onto it would only make everything worse. That was what I should do, let go, let the memories pass through my mind, and then release them. It was for the best.

However, when I lay in the quiet of the night, with nothing but my mind and Pietro’s gentle breaths to keep me company, I could not help but fade into it. Let the humming fill my ears, let it warm my chest like warm milk and honey. F.R.I.D.A.Y. hadn’t been playing the city sounds lately, I hadn’t asked her to. Pietro was enough of a reminder of where I was, and the dark walls of the Red Room were not the ones I lived in when I lay warm beneath my blankets.

“If Hydra were trying to recruit you, why would they try to kill you?”

The question took me by surprise, pulling me swiftly from my thoughts. I met Pietro’s eyes from across the table, furrowing my eyebrows as I thought for a moment about his words. “I suppose when I was a widow, I was just a faceless soldier, we did not have individual identities we were just assassins. Or perhaps it was their inability to kill me that sparked an interest.” I shrugged slightly before raising an eyebrow at him. “Why do you ask?”

He shook his head, looking down at his hand. “It was just on my mind.” I gnawed on my lip.

“I don’t pretend to understand how Hydra thinks and it doesn’t really matter now.” I reached across the table to touch his hand for a second before pulling back. “Put it out of your mind.” There was something in the look he gave me that stuck with me. I furrowed my eyebrows ever so slightly, mentally checking each corner of his face for a tell. It wasn’t clear to me what it was, why I felt the need to do a double-take. I shook off the strange feeling, doing as I’d told him to and putting it out of my mind. It’s just my perpetual paranoia, echoes of the life I’d lead.

Pietro nodded, not meeting my eyes for a long moment but when he did the small smile, he gave me made me forget all the strangeness and the air of exhaustion that lay thick over the compound. His hand slid across the table to chase my own, fingertips grazing over the smooth flesh. I watched intently as he pulled my hand to his lips to press a whisper of a kiss against my knuckles. Even when I was shaking my head at his sappy antics my lips still curved upward. My inability to bite my smile had his own growing. “You’re really very beautiful. You know that?”

“You’re just realizing?” I taunted, biting my lip to contain my amusement.

He shook his head, a breathy laugh falling from his lips. “No. No, I’ve known that since the moment I laid eyes on you, it’s very irritating.” I snorted, rolling my eyes playfully. He tugged my wrist suddenly, pulling me to stand between his legs. My forearms rested over his shoulders as he held my hips, fingers pressing gently into the flesh. “Every time I look at you, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, smile fading as I became aware of my heart thudding in my chest. “Sorry,” I murmured.

He laughed a little. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel crazy.”

“You don’t have to try.” Pietro pulled me closer to him, his chin grazing my ribcage as he looked up at me. I swallowed heavily as his hand slid down my leg to rest over my thigh which was revealed by the soft shorts I wore. His fingers flexed over my flesh, fingertips pressing into the back of my leg teasingly, just as he’d done to my hip. “You still haven’t told me how hot it was when I caught the vial.”

I shook my head yet again, taking a step back, he let me go, hands drifting from my body leaving it cold. “You are astoundingly sure of yourself.” His eyes mapped the path of my arms as they crossed over my chest. “It’s very irritating.” I mirrored his earlier words. He smirked at me.

Before I could even comprehend it, he was up and our chests were flush, he held my hip in one hand, the other tucking a lose strand of hair behind my ear so he could whisper in it. “I think you like it.”

I clenched my jaw, willing the smile to subside before narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t.”

His grin only grew. “Oh, this again? You know how much I love it when you're mean.”

“You’re sick in the head,” I spoke turning and beginning toward the doorway, I barely made it a step before he’d spun me, pressing my back against the wall and claiming my lips with his. The moment we made contact my façade dropped, the previous game seeming much less fun in comparison to this. My hand slid into his soft hair, tugging slightly causing him to hum, my other hand pulled him closer by his shoulder. My back flattened against the wall with the force of his body, knocking the air from my lungs but that was the last thing I was focused on.  He pressed kisses all over my face causing me to laugh and attempt to dodge his incessant pecks, it was no use as he held me tightly and kissed me again and again. “Pietro!” I attempted to speak between his onslaught and my laughter, but it was very difficult. When he found my lips again, I squeezed his arm slightly. “Not here.”

In the blink of an eye, my back was hitting the soft, cushioned surface of his bed. I maneuvered my way on top of him, pinning him down to allow myself some respite. He smiled up at me adoringly. I let his arms go but remained straddling his middle, hands planted against the duvet as I hovered above him, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly at him. His smile grew. Out of my peripheral, I saw one of his arms raise and I expected him to attempt to flip us or offer a suggestive touch, yet his palm planted itself firmly against my spine, smoothing up and down the arch of my back. His other hand wrapped around one of my forearms that lay by his head, not a tight grip but a comforting presence that left a warm spot in its wake. After a long moment of adjustment, I let my head drift down toward his, pressing a tender kiss to his lips before resting my forehead atop his. It was intimate, exceedingly so, and perhaps at one time it would have frightened me, sickened me, but it was Pietro. That thought alone soothed any doubt that crept into my mind. My eyes fell closed.

“You were wrong, you know?” He hummed questioningly in response to my words, prompting me to continue. “Yesterday you said that you keep making things worse, but you’ve never made things worse for me.” There was a long silence between us and when I opened my eyes again his content expression had faltered, a break in his moment of serenity.  I studied his expression for a long while. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head immediately. “No, no of course not.” His hand came to cradle my cheek. The words were frantic as though he really needed me to hear them, but he still seemed withdrawn. “I just- it’s been a long few months and my head is all over the place. I’m sorry, everything’s fine. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

I narrowed my eyes, unconvinced by his words. That niggling feeling from before returned. I sat up, letting his hand drop from my cheek. He chased me, sitting upright as well, hands now resting on my thighs once more.

“Pietro…” I swallowed heavily before placing my hands on either side of his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Didn’t we agree that we would tell each other the truth, I’m sorry that I haven’t always done that but I’m trying now. Really, I am, please don’t start keeping things from me.”

The way his face fell further into something distraught had me re-evaluating my words. Was it what I’d said or was there something deeper eating at him? He glanced between each of my eyes before swallowing heavily. Finally, he opened his mouth to respond but the familiar voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. filled the room before he could speak.

“Captain Rogers wishes to speak with Pietro in the conference room at his earliest convenience.”

I sighed softly, moving to my feet and offering him my hand to help him up. He looked to the door and then back at me, eyebrows furrowed. “We can talk later.” I crossed my arms over my chest, nodding once at him, forcing a tight-lipped smile onto my lips. He shot me one final glance before leaving the room.

[kanaglows]

Hellllooooooooo new blog <3 (I’m fairly new too dw) your masterlist is so pretty lmao. anywayyyyy can I request Leo/need (separately) with reader who’s in wonderlands x showtime? Only if you want to ofc sorry if it’s a little weird. anyway enjoy it here, it gets easier with time and it’s totally worth all the work <3333

Your wish is my command *bows*

Note: gender-neutral reader

Style: Bullets/Hcs

Leo/need X Reader Who's In WxS

Ichika Hoshino

Ichika wasn't really surprised that you're part of such an eccentric theatre troupe since she's so used to you cheering people up

The first thing she did when she found out that you're in WxS is complement you, she found it super cool that you're able to act

Unfortunately, Ichika doesn't like noisy places like Phoenix Wonderland so she can't frequently attend your shows but she tries to make up for it by inviting you to eat lunch with her at school.

When she does decide to attend your shows, she's absolutely BLOWN away every time, when did your singing voice and acting get so good? It must be Nene's help.

Ichika likes to pay you back for your amazing shows by writing songs for you and then performing them to you whenever you two hang out.

She feels like her songs are a bit too cheesy sometimes but seeing you get so happy after hearing her songs eases her worries <3

Saki Tenma

She was SO excited when she found out that you're a part of WxS.

She already visits Phoenix Wonderland a lot already but knowing that you perform there made her go more frequently.

Literally told everyone to start going to Phoenix Wonderland just because her partner performs there.

Whenever you go to her house to rehearse with Tsukasa, she asks if she can watch, she wants to take in all the stardom while she still can.

Saki tries to impress you a lot. "Y'know, I learnt how to juggle in hospital, maybe you should let me be a guest star" she smirks. She obviously forgot because she dropped all the balls on the floor within seconds 😭

Honami Mochizuki

"You're in Wonderlands X Showtime? I think my classmate, Emu, is in your troupe!"

She immediately brings her friends with her to see your shows

Honami can't always attend because of her job as Kanade's housekeeper but if there's a time when she can come, she definitely will.

She brings apple pies with her to share with you after a show

Before shows, she takes a nice walk with you and her dog to ease any nerves you may have.

Shiho Hinomori

Shiho found out that you're a WxS member through a path of embarrassment. She was looking for some Phenny merch at a Phoenix Wonderland stall when she got jumpscared by you.

"Shiho?" you said from behind her. Girl literally JUMPED out of fear 😭"(N-Name)?!", she had been caught red-handed buying Phenny merch, how humiliating. She hoped that this wouldn't too awkward. "Hi! I didn't think you would be here" you exclaimed, ignoring the current situation she was in. Shiho was relieved when she realised that you weren't gonna further embarrass her.

You become immersed in conversation and she finds out that you're a member of Wonderland X Showtime.

Since she visits so frequently, she thought she could stop by to see one of your shows sometime. She was just a bit worried about bumping into that thing (Tsukasa).

Nonetheless, she still attends and watches your shows. If Tsukasa approaches her though, be prepared for her to run away faster than the speed of light.

[bnuuybee-writes]

May- may I- may I offer you a headcanon-

Mitsuri, who is trained in defensive and evasive driving

Mitsuri, who after a mission with her fellow hashira, rescues them in a beat up, old ass Pontiac with the bass *blaring*

Mitsuri, who's speeding down the highway at 95+ miles an hour with three of her fellow hashira in the backseat and one in the passenger seat while "Speed Drive" by CharliXCX is blaring from the stereo

Mitsuri, who gets herself and her fellow hashira back to base safely... with a speeding ticket as well-

Just a fun little writing prompt for you if you want, no pressure ofc! <3

Street Racer Mitsuri

author's note: omg hi betchhhh!!!! yes I needed some sort of prompt aksjdfalksdjf so I see your defensive driving mitsuri and raise you street racer mitsuri kanroji. Little bit different, but smth that I wanna see. This is gonna be a bulleted list of HCs and a possible snippet of a scenario so here we go! This is also going to be a modern AU where there are two rival gangs - the Kizuki, headed by Muzan, and the Hashira, headed by Ubuyashiki. Y'all already see where this is goin' so lets do it. Also, this goes hand in hand with @frickinsleepdeprived's "Ride or Die" AU! Go check out the teaser on her blog, it's amazing!

Nicknames: Mitsuri - L'amour; Muichiro - Daydreamer; Sanemi - Windbreaker; Obanai - Ouroboros

Content warnings: Talks of police officers, street racing, brief gang violence, speeding, defensive driving, Akaza gets hit with a hot pink audi, est. relationship with Obanai and Mitsuri, Mitsuri throws Daki like a sack of rice

No one would expect Mitsuri Kanroji to be a street racer. Least of all her fellow gang members.

She's the bubblegum pop, preppy, happy-go-lucky girl who Obanai sticks to like damn velcro.

So why the fuck is she speeding down the highway in a hot pink Audi RS 7 that has a 500 horsepower engine? Without someone racing her all the way down?

Simple - someone decided to fuck with her boys. And she has to show those Kizuki fuckers what's good.

She got the call from Tengen. He got a call from Muichiro that Sanemi and Obanai got into it with a couple of Kizuki. However, Uzui and his old ladies are out on the other side of the county.

Thus came in Mitsuri, weaving through highway traffic like a bat out of Hell with bass boosted and Speed Drive on full blast.

Hands grip her steering wheel that's covered with a hot pink leopard print cover. It's worn at three and nine, given that's how she drives.

She's raced for pinks before, managing to earn herself quite the collection of toys. But this one, the 2016 hot pink Audi RS 7, was her baby. It's her first car that she flipped into a street racing one. Of course it's her baby.

(Scenario under the cut!)

Tires screech as she drives right into the abandoned warehouse, eyes squinted and determined. The Kizuki turn away from their opponents who were already on the ground.

"Oh SHIT," One of them manages to shout before the force of the car makes him go flying into a wall. The third Upper Moon groans as the fourth goes to help him before being tripped. Windbreaker, aka Sanemi, grabbed his ankle and twists it. A sickening CRACK comes from the appendage, making Gyutaro scream. Daki immediately stops what she's doing and rushes to her brother as Mitsuri steps out of the car. "You pink skank!!" The young lady shouts, brass knuckles coming for Mitsuri's head... But her fist is caught in a poker-faced grip. In a flash, Daki is on her back next to the car with a heeled foot on her chest.

"You're lucky it's me here and not Ubuyashiki, sweetheart," Mitsuri says with a hardened glare, "Touch my boys again, any of you, and I'll track your asses down."

Obanai looks up from his place on the hard concrete floor, holding himself up with his arm. His head was bleeding, nose probably broken, and mouth scars reopened...

But dammit if Mitsuri didn't look dead sexy when she took charge.

"That's my girl..." He muttered, feeling a "dude really?" look from an exasperated Sanemi. Meanwhile, Muichiro rushes over, sporting a black eye and busted lip. He grabs onto Mitsuri's jacket and hides his face in her shoulder. She wraps her arms around him in kind and kisses his head.

"It's okay, Daydreamer... I'm right here, L'amour's right here..." She whispers, carding her fingers through the younger's hair. She opens the door and ushers Muichiro inside the passenger seat, then goes to Sanemi and Obanai.

"You two are paying for my gas," She says as she helps the boys into the backseat, "And my speeding ticket."

"Your what?" All three boys asked before she pulls out a pink slip between her fingers.

"He let me go easy, but next time, it'll be an instant revocation of my license. So you are paying for my speeding ticket for picking a fight with Kizuki in the first place," She lectures as she gets in the driver seat.

"We saw them and followed!" Sanemi argues as Mitsuri backs out of the warehouse, leaving the wounded Kizuki to clean up their own mess.

"Just 'cuz you could doesn't mean you should, Windbreaker," Mitsuri sighs and gets back onto the highway. She can hear Muichiro mutter a "told you" from the passenger seat, earning him a "oh be quiet" from Obanai. This makes Mitsuri shoot a glare at them from the rear view mirror.

She then sighs and powers on her Apple Carplay, scrolling through songs as she idles outside the warehouse. Then, she settles on one, pushing the button as Charli XCX plays through the speaker.

As Sanemi groans, she gives a sharp snap! of her fingers, "Driver picks the music. Backseat shuts his piehole."

And with that, the four drive off into the night, hyperpop and Rhianna blasting through the speakers as she calls up Shinobu.

"Hey, Mariposa?" Mitsuri starts, "I got quite the cleanup for you..."

@frickinsleepdeprived @dilftaros come run in here and get yall juice hehehe

[ankhlesbian]

toxic yuri: shin kamen rider edition

Fandom: Shin Kamen Rider

Pairing: Ruriko/Hiromi ofc

Rating/Length: T for violence, ~1.5k words

AO3 Link: here

My gift for the toku femslash exchange ^_^

Ruriko and Hongo have a plan for taking down Hachi-Aug.

It means Ruriko will have to confront Hiromi, on her own this time.

Ruriko is always prepared.

The elevator doors opened.

The roof was nothing like the foyer the two had last met in. It was dimly lit. There was no perfectly spaced, sophisticated furniture. No rows of expensive swords. No wasps of pure gold adorning the walls. 

Perhaps the roof was more honest to who the woman on the platform was.

“Thank you, Ruri-Ruri.” The woman purred. “I do appreciate the invitation.”

She began her descent.

“Feel like returning to the Organization?”

Ruriko matched her movements, moving towards the center of the roof.

“No. I feel like a fight.”

“Oh dear.” The other woman chuckled. “That’s a shame.”

 She stopped at the bottom of the platform, not moving any closer to Ruriko.

“Up here on the roof, your bodyguard can’t pop in on his bike to save you.”

Six of the woman’s drones were arranged around her, forming a V to encompass Ruriko. The man in yellow stood behind them all.

“Doesn't it scare you? Going solo?”

“Of course I’m scared. But I’m always fully prepared. You should know, I believe in the man called Kamen Rider.”

For a brief moment, the woman’s face twisted into something ugly. Then the honey-sweet veneer was back.

“You can’t believe in people. In the end, they will betray you. That’s why we need people like me to keep them in line.” The woman gestured with one gloved hand, sweeping it over her entourage of drones.

Ruriko was silent.

The woman smiled.

“Of course, I’m sure you know that well. You are a traitor, after all.”

“I didn’t come here to talk.”

The woman cocked her head.

“Of course.” She straightened and smoothed out her kimono. “I apologize for my rudeness.”

She summoned the man in yellow to her side. Handed off her haori. 

“I would be quite the poor host if I left you wanting.”

The man in yellow knelt, holding out a sleek katana. The woman freed one arm and drew it from its sheath. The man in yellow returned to his place. The drones stepped back. A straight line, a wall, behind her, standing perfectly still.

“You aren’t like me, Ruriko. Not anymore.” Hachi-Aug said. “I’m better than you. You can’t win.”

Ruriko’s hand slid into her coat.

“I’m going to make you cry. Make you beg for your life. And after that, I’ll take your toy and make you beg for his, too.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Hachi-Aug spun, the thin blade of her katana arcing around her in a perfect crescent as she leant backwards. It glinted as it caught the light of the moon above them. Six halves of three bullets clinked to the ground around her.

“Oh dear. You should know, guns don’t work on me.”

“They don’t need to work.”

Ruriko drew another pistol. She held one in each hand.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

The shots were swift yet careful, mindful of the civilians behind Hiromi. If any of the bullets hit their mark, they had no effect.

Hachi-Aug lunged forward. The first swing was diagonal, seamlessly cutting through the barrels of both of Ruriko’s guns. Ruriko dropped the guns the instant before the katana touched them, stumbling backwards with the wind that Hiromi’s unnaturally fast movement brought in its wake.

The second swing was aiming for Ruriko’s neck.

Hachi-Aug’s vision was blanketed in brown. She didn’t falter, carrying out the intended swing. It sliced through Ruriko’s coat, torn off and thrown into the air as a distraction. It fell to the ground gracelessly, crumpling onto itself in an ugly little pile.

Cold metal pressed against Hachi-Aug’s neck, recognizable even through the layers of fabric. A third gun.

Hachi-Aug’s katana slipped from her fingers. It fell, uncontrolled, clattering against the concrete.

“It’s over, Hiromi.”

“It’s barely begun.”

Hachi-Aug moved with speed unmatchable by a mere computational organism. Her right elbow slammed into Ruriko’s fingers with a crack, knocking the gun away. Her left foot slammed into Ruriko’s stomach, sending her flying. She slammed into the wall beside the elevator. Ruriko was left in only a black turtleneck and tight, black pants. She had more ammunition. She did not have more guns.

“That coat was disgusting. Brown isn’t your color, Ruri-Ruri. Yellow would suit you much better.”

She didn’t bother retrieving her sword. She advanced, predatory. She knelt in front of Ruriko’s battered form.

“We’re even now, “ she cooed. “Both of us without weapons.”

She grabbed Ruriko’s hair and yanked , pulling her face close. Blood dripped down Ruriko’s forehead.

“Have you had enough? This rebellion of yours is vulgar.” Her lips were so red and so falsely kind as she smiled.

“A world where people can’t make their own choices is just as vulgar.”

“You would think that, Ruri-Ruri. You just want to see people running around crazy, their emotions bare for all to see. Since you don’t have any of your own.”

The Habitat Realm, where one could tell no lies.

Hachi-Aug punched her. Blood spattered onto her glove. She didn’t let go of Ruriko's hair. Her head snapped, chunks of hair torn loose by the whiplash.

Ruriko licked the blood from her lips. Her eyes were dark.

Without warning she threw herself forward, forehead cracking into Hiromi’s, the weight of her body careening them backwards.

Hachi-Aug’s grip carried Ruriko down with her. Her other hand was pinned beneath her back. Ruriko snatched at her wrist with broken fingers, grip unerring. She pinned her hand above her head, knees tightening around Hiromi’s hips to keep her still. Hiromi’s pigtails were splayed around her on the concrete, the black strands frizzy and damp with sweat.

“That’s not what I want. You don’t know what I want.”

“Of course I don’t!” Hiromi spat. She was breathing heavily. “You won’t tell me. Wouldn’t tell me. You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.”

She managed to get one leg free, tearing at the seams of her kimono. She flipped them, pressing Ruriko into the ground.

“You would have stopped me.”

“You could have asked me to come with you.”

Her hands went for Ruriko’s neck.

“I just did.” She wheezed.

“You didn’t ask then .”

“You would have said no.”

Ruriko’s elbows and knees were relentless as she writhed beneath her. It was enough to bruise her in this form.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know.” Ruriko’s eyes met hers. Her face was smeared with blood and grime, but her expression was nonchalant. As if she wasn’t moments away from being choked to death.

Hiromi had no retort to that, because Ruriko was right.

“You still could have asked.” She knew her voice was wobbly now. “Then maybe I would have known you cared.”

She tightened her grip. Ruriko’s attempts at escape weakened.

“If you had stayed they could have helped you. Enhanced you, too. You wouldn’t be so weak right now.”

“I am not weak. I wanted to find my own answers. To find the meaning of real happiness. That is not weak.” Her voice was barely a whisper now. Her face was still blank, pale now, white as a ghost.

“I’m going to kill you. You’re going to die.” Hiromi said it like it was a command, leaning in so close she could feel Ruriko’s shallow breath on her face, tickling her lips. “How about some tears? You still have time to beg.”

Hiromi squeezed, squeezed so tight it felt like her fingers would break skin, would touch Ruriko’s blood and flesh and bones in a tantalizing intimate way. Ruriko would bend to her will.

“I won’t die.” Ruriko’s voice was so faint. “Not here. Not yet.”

“Your bodyguard isn’t going to save you. Nobody except me is going to save you.” Her pigtails dangled, framed Ruriko’s face, the strands against her cheek moving as Hiromi spoke, a facsimile of a caress. “You just have to ask. Tell me you want to serve me. To obey me. Tell me you won’t leave me alone again. Tell me, Ruri-Ruri! ”

There was no answer. Ruriko was still. The world slowed down, froze for a staggering moment. A moment where Ruriko was gone, truly gone, and Hiromi was truly alone.

Hiromi tore herself away from Ruriko like she was on fire, like the very feel of her scorched through her layers of clothing and her inhuman skin and right to her soul. She was panting, eyes darting around wildly. She was glad her drones could only see her back.

The world unfroze.

Ruriko took in a long, rattling breath. Her eyes found Hiromi’s as she pulled herself to her feet, one halting movement at a time, until she was braced against the wall, barely standing.

“I won’t die here.” She said, “Because you won’t kill me.”

And then there was an explosion, and her drones were gone, and that Kamen Rider that Ruriko had chosen to believe in was between them.

“Surrender. For Ruriko-san’s sake, too.’” He said.

The woman sneered.

“That angle is going to backfire. I just want to make Ruriko cry.”