#librarywent

She did not care. She had seen people be killed, strangers and acquaintances alike. It hardly bothered her, but then again she was never the one delivering the killing blow. Lenora did not need to be the one doing the act when she had the means to pay someone else to do it. Perhaps if she held a knife in her own hands and plunged it into someone, she would feel differently.

"That was an answer to a question I did not ask." Scarred fingertips danced up Ramsay's arm, feigning gentleness until she reached his neck. Her hand was briefly planted around his neck, even giving it a small squeeze --- not too tight. It was like she was checking the ripeness of an apricot. "Will you kill for me?"

Brown eyes widened, unwavering as she stared into a sea of blue. Her gaze alone demanded the answer to her question as her fingertips began idly moving toward dark hair like a sneaking spider in the night. Impulsively, she yanked on the locks, clearly using much more force than she had against his neck. "If I were to point at someone on the street, would you kill them for me? No questions asked?"

Her words were near a hiss, yet they hinted at desperation. She needed to hear him say yes like the way she needed air for her lungs. Lenora's grip on his hair, like her gaze, did not tremble. She stood like a towering rock against the shoreline, unbothered by the storm raging, as she tugged him closer. Their noses almost touched.

"Would you ever kill me?"

she keeps files close to her as she absentmindedly finds her way to one of her favorite SPOTS --- really, with the work that she has just WITNESSED one would be rather forlorn . bella, however . . . .

" 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 ! ! "

beaming, she enters the room as fresh air would. she announces herself with an energetic hand raise - eloquent, musical as if salsa was playing in the background. however, she stops in her tracks.

. . . dios mio ( dear god ) the atmosphere was HEAVY. and he looks. . . well, to put it nicely, he looks like shit.

" will - " her face is serious ; any sign of lighthearted nature has all but dissipated . the heavyness of the folder hits his desk with a muted THUMP. taking a deep breath, bella sighs -

" you look like shit. "

@librarywent ❤️

THERE WERE CHILDREN. Hostages that were actual children. Fay was one of them. There was a slight sense of sympathy for the child, just because he reminded Andrés a lot of Sergio when HE was younger. However, that small hint of sympathy wouldn’t keep Berlin from doing what was necessary — which, RIGHT NOW, was standing guard. It was rare for HIM to be on this duty; it was usually Helsinki or Oslo or even Nairobi, but here he was, taking his shift as usual.

Sweet   boy.   He   was   still   sweet,   so   unlike   Bran   who   now   seems   so   unattached   from   reality,   mighty   and   all.   Jon   wonders   if   someone   had   told   Rickon   what   had   happened   at   Castle   Black   and   why   he   is   now   fearful   he   will   die   again.   But   he   cannot   lie,   so   Jon   does   what   he   must   and   shows   the   scars   of   what   happened   to   him,   they   never   fully   healed,   and   he   wonders   if   it's   there   as   a   reminder   to   himself   and   everyone   else,   that   he   had   been   betrayed,   that   the   red   woman's   magic   had   worked.

  "I   was   lost   to   you   once   and   the   Gods   brought   me   back   to   found   you.   I   will   not   allow   myself   to   die   again."   He   simply   cannot.   He   has   his   siblings   to   protect   now,   as   Robb   would   want   him   to   do,   as   their   father   would.   "You   are   not   going   to   lose   me,   Rickon.   I   know   it   might   be   an   empty   promise   but   know   I   mean   it."

the idiot starters | still accepting.

"I don't feel like anything."

Inexplicably, Mary wants to reach out and brush a strand of hair off the girl's cheek, press a hand to her face, because she knows she's being asked a question she doesn't have a sufficient answer to. Girlhood doesn't sit well on her, never has: a too small coat, a hideous need crouched in her chest. Need to be cared for, need to be entirely and smotheringly alone. Turning her gaze upwards to people uninterested in her. She stays still, feeling the soft fabric of the couch against the back of her legs, and shuts her eyes to the light, to Ivy's waiting face.

"I'm 34," she says after a long moment. "Sometimes I still feel like I'm that dumb 20 year old." 20 and thrilled with fame, devastated by the need to degrade herself daily. Sometimes Mary Dahl feels 16 and desperate. Sometimes, alone and scared in the dark, she feels eight years old all over again.

She opens her eyes.

they climb the staircase to the rooftop of sae-byeok's apartment complex, arms full of all the fixings to make mojitos ... curtesy of the 45 billion won they've just fought and bled and nearly died for. the first thing sae-byeok had wanted was the cold beverage ji-yeong kept teasing her for not knowing, and the first thing ji-yeong had wanted was to sit and watch the sun set. the view they've settled on isn't exactly picturesque. it's certainly no jeju, but at least they can actually see the sun from where they're both perched on the low wall that lines the perimeter of the roof — wide enough that they can let their legs dangle off a little and not feel the fear of imminent death; sae-byeok, personally, thinks they've had enough heights for one lifetime.

she takes another sip of her drink, sweetness coating her tongue and throat. it could be too sweet, but the burn of the alcohol that follows does a good enough job in muddling the taste, keeps it from becoming too cloying. and for all the death and destruction they've born witness to over the last week ( all their lives, really ) and the bustling of the city below as people try to finish their errands before nightfall, a peculiar sense of calm settles in sae-byeok's bone — her frame worn and tired, hunched as she still nurses a wound in her abdomen, but oddly peaceful. she sets her drink down at her side, the one farthest from ji-yeong; there is too little space between them to try to place her drink there.

jonathan knows it’s bordering on blasphemous but...

“i’m thinking about staying in for halloween.” he admits with a shrug. “all the bats will be out. and i don’t really like messing with kids.” arkham isn’t exactly in his up and coming plans, and he’s long since learned there’s no not getting caught - not when it’s halloween. the difficulty level is certainly a challenge many villains find enticing. but jonathan doesn’t have anything grand - would rather strike in the days following, when the bats are all trying to recover from the overhaul of the holiday.