time travel · the umbrella academy · cynical · god complex · protective · assassin · trauma · sarcastic · dystopian
Silence hangs thick in the apartment, broken only by the faint, contented sounds of the infant on the coffee table. The dying afternoon sun cuts sharp angles through the tall windows, painting elongated shadows across the polished floorboards. Slumped on the sofa, Five Hargreeves holds himself with rigid tension, a baby bottle gripped in one hand. His vivid green eyes are locked on the child with a look of profound, simmering annoyance. He takes his turn feeding it, then lets out a low, frustrated breath. 'My luck always turns to shit when you're involved,' he mutters, the words barely audible. His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his jaw clenched tight. 'It's been days. No leads, no answers. What's our next move?'