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heavenlymorals · 7 months ago

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In Defense of Bill Williamson: A Curious Case Of Hear Me OUT-

Warning: this post contains mentions of rape, homophobia, and period typical attitudes.

The first time I played RDR2, I was very curious and went into Sonny's cabin. If you know, you know.

I was horrified over learning what happened to Arthur and the shock of it all was impalpable. The fact that Rockstar put in such an encounter was diabolical, but either way, it happened, and I was pissed and heartbroken for Arthur. Out of all the encounters that happened in this game, all the awful encounters, this is the only one that did not get a journal entry- mostly likely due to the trauma of getting raped and the shame of it as well- let us not forget that Arthur is a man, a very tough and burly man, living in 1899 America. The likelihood that there would be any support for him is nigh on none.

I fed Sonny to the alligators (obviously) later and more or less forgot about it because I avenged my Arthur.

Then Bill came along.

"I met a guy at the swamp who seemed to know a lot about you. I mean A LOT about you…"

I was pissed and it was the first time in the game that I heard pure, unadulterated hatred in Arthur's voice as he more or less growled at Bill to go away. From then on, I always antagonized Bill for seemingly mocking Arthur like that for getting raped.

But then I played again and again and played Red Dead 1 too and learned that Bill is gay. Even though it isn't said outright, it is implied so heavily that it would be laughable to suggest that he liked women.

So after a while, my reaction to Bill's words changed. I pity him now.

Now I know what you are thinking- Heytham, how the hell can you pity a man who mocked a fucking rape victim?

Because I don't think Bill thought Arthur was raped.

Here is how I came to this conclusion (feel free to disagree with me, but here is how I came to this conclusion):

Being a homosexual in the 1800s was a very isolating and daunting experience, with the threat of jail time and even death. Society was super judgemental and cruel to people who did not fit into what was expected of them, so being a homosexual would feel like hell on Earth because there wasn't a real way to express this attraction beyond longing and secrecy, which would make finding other gay people hard to do.

Beyond just isolation, homosexual actions can ruin careers, which we can assume is one of the reasons that Bill got dishonorably discharged ("deviancy") alongside attempted murder. Crazy to think that "deviancy" is on the same level of attempted murder and was probably shamed more, but that is neither here nor there.

Even the gang wasn't really accepting of Bill's sexuality, which speaks a lot about the gang's supposedly "progressive politics", as they aren't really politically progressive and more so idealistic in the romantic standards of 1800s America. In terms of Bill's sexuality, it felt more like a outta sight, outta mind sort of deal. Bill is the butt of jokes and his sexuality is too ("Is he gonna kiss that guy or punch him", "Bill and Phil", "He likes to do a lot of things with men on their knees (RDR1- John says it to purposely shame Bill more to the people he works with)")).

When his sexuality seems to be a bit more upfront, there is agression and disgust. The biggest example of this is Arthur's reaction to Bill wanting hair pomade. He sounds disgusted and mean and the sneer in his "Yeah, I'll get you your hair pomade…" is very telling that Arthur thinks that Bill is asking him for pomade for gay sex because of the way he reacts to it- he already has a disposition to thinking this is why Bill wants the pomade and it disgusts him, even though he does it anyways.

To give Arthur the benefit of the doubt, I'd be pretty weirded out if someone asked me for lube, but Arthur didn't know if that is what Bill actually wants. He could very well just need it for a job that requires him to look nice, which happens in the ball mission. The point is that he had a disposition and that disposition made him react in not only a bewildered way but a disgusted way. Im serious, just listen to that interaction- I don't think I am reaching.

In any case, it is quite obvious that Bill feels isolated and that isolation makes him awkward and aggressive around men that he does like (Kieran) and overall just angry at the world because of it, amongst other things. He has no one to talk to, no one to relate to, and he is shunned and despaired over something he cannot control.

So then Bill meets Sonny and whatever the hell they did together, Sonny talks about Arthur, and let us be real, what is the likelihood that he would flat out tell Bill that he raped Arthur? Low, I'd think. Most likely, he would just say that the two of them had sex.

Now think about this- Bill has mostly likely lived his entire life hiding his sexuality and only expressing it in secret because if he does otherwise, he will be punished in some form or another. But now he learns that another man in camp, the fucking enforcer of all people, has apparently went to this man for sex.

Do you realize what this means for a gay person? Especially a gay person who lives in a society that actively discourages and punishes same-sex relations? It doesn't necessarily mean that that person would try to drum up a relationship, but there is comfort in the fact that now you know another person who is experiencing the same thing you are- the solidarity in that is priceless. I would know, I come from a culture that still kills gay people.

When Bill comes up to Athur, he genuinely sound giddy, like he found a big secret. There wasn't really any malice in his voice, other than a "haha, guess what I just found out" sort of tone.

When Arthur tells him to get out of there, he didn't seem offended. He didn't seem annoyed or aggressive, which is unusual for Bill. He just puts his hands up in surrender and goes off, almost as if he was saying "hey, I get it man," in the sense that a man during this time period, especially a man like Arthur, wouldn't want to be found out as gay. Internalized homophobia was definietly rampant.

He genuinely doesn't seem to have malice in that tone- Bill only talks like that when he is either excited or happy or acting like a human being. And at this point in the game, Bill still respected Arthur, so I doubt he would want to step on his toes, especially in a way like that.

If I am not talking out of my ass, this could be such a great moment of character development for Bill- sympathy for another man supposedly like him in the world that they lived in. Fucking Bill having sympathy and empathy- who would've thought.

Or he could be mocking Arthur for being a rape victim because Bill is genuinely a piece of shit.

But on the off chance that he does not? What an interesting microcosm of LGBTQ+ dynamics in 1899 America.

In any case, FUCK SONNY AND DONT GET INVITED INTO HOUSES IN THE SWAMPS-

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #bill williamson #character analysis #story analysis #is this a reach?#idk #maybe I'm just projecting cuz of the culture i grew up in #but in any case #poor arthur man

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bjornswoman · 1 year ago

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My prisoner

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hello! I've been away for a while and I'm sorry about it. I wanted to come back with a fic about Bjorn, but this one was something that I was thinking for a while and I decided that this one will come out first. I want to believe that vikings fandom are still active. Anyway, till next time have fun and take care.

Pairing: Modern!Hvitserk x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, drama, romance, fluff.

Summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks free from prison.

Warnings: Drama, mentions of prison break, mentions of death.

Life had never been easy for you.

When you thought that things started getting better, something really bad happened and you were back to zero.

Life had shown you its worst face so far.

You had lost your parents at young age. You were struggling all alone, dealing with two awful jobs and an ex that was more pain in the ass than all the bills you had to pay at the end of each month.

Your life became much more difficult when you decided to get involved with the most infamous family of the city — the Lothbroks. These men — the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, a mobster — they run a dangerous gang the one their father had founded. You couldn't even want to think about all the illegal stuff they were doing and the police was after them.

The bad thing in that was that the police had you under their microscope, as well, because you were Hvitserk Lothbrok's girlfriend — ex girlfriend.

And things became even worse than before when they put him in jail, after your break-up, and he decided with the help of his family to break free.

The police was following each movement of yours. They were tracking your phone number, listening to all your phone calls, expecting to learn about your ex. They had even someone outside your apartment to watch you over.

You told them over and over again that you had nothing to do with that filthy man anymore, but they wouldn't believe in you.

You let a long breath leave your lungs as you were cleaning the bar counter.

"What is it again?" One of your coworkers asked. Well, Hope was more than a coworker, she was your friend.

The only one you could talk to and not raise any suspicions. You were friends with Torvi — the wife of Ubbe Lothbrok — and Gunnhild — the wife of Bjorn Lothbrok — but you couldn't see them, it was too risky to get in touch with any member of the family. Of course, the police kept a close eye on them, but still you couldn't have any kind of communication with any of the family.

"It's the usual problem with... him." You said as you were placing the clean glasses on their place behind the counter.

"The police is following me around like I'm some kind of a bloody criminal because I made the mistake to start a relationship with a mobster." You spoke angrily and threw the towel on the counter. You were so angry, so frustrated with all this mess. Your hands run through your hair.

"I know that this is difficult for you, but it is going to end, sweetheart. It will end when they get this son of a bitch back where he belongs — in prison." She said wih an encouraging smile on her face and her hand rubbed your back friendly.

Only those words weren't encouraging for you. Deep in your heart you didn't want him to get caught and sent back inside there again. It hurt you to think that the man you loved were inside a called cell.

It was true that he wasn't the best guy in the world, not even close to that. Hvitserk had done some bad things that he wasn't proud of and he had regretted of doing. He had a good heart and wanted to be better.

You forced something that was the resemblance of a smile on your face and followed her to the kitchen to get the orders and walk them to the costumers.

"Did he try to contact you after you know?" Hope asked you suddenly and you nodded your head as an answer — no he didn't and it quite hurt you. But you had broken up before he got in.

"At least, he didn't dare to after all he did."

You frowned when you heard the tone of her voice. Hvitserk had never hurt you. In fact, the reason he broke up with you was because he didn't want to involve you in his mess, in the shit he was deep into, but it was late for that.

"He didn't harm me." You muttered when you got back with an epty tray in your hands.

Hope rolled her eyes and continued to place the drinks on her tray. When she finished, she turned her eyes on you.

"But he harmed other people. He is a criminal. Prison is where he belongs." Those where her words before she waltzed through the tables with her tray in hands.

Her words were harsh for a man she didn't know at all. Yeah, Hvitserk did awful things, but he wasn't just that. You had seen the good side of his. You had seen the little broken child in him. The one who felt full when you showed him your love and affection. The one who tried to shield your heart even from him.

The rest of your shift went by as usual. There weren't many clients as a typical Wednesday night. But things changed when you got that damned phone call.

It was a couple of times before the closing time when Torvi called. You didn't expect her to, you didn't expect anyone from the family to reach for you. When you saw her name on the screen, you used the back door to get out and answered her call.

"Torvi?" The tone of your trembling voice gave away easily to level of your concern about Hvitserk. Torvi wouldn't call if something bad did not happen. Something had happened. Something that you wouldn't like to hear.

"What happened? You know that it's not safe to speak through the phone." Your body was pressed on the wall next to the door and your hand was clenching the phone.

"Something came up which we don't know whether it stands or not, but I had to inform you because Ubbe said that they are 80% sure that it's true." You felt the despair and sadness in the tone of her voice as well as you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

Hvitserk — your mind screamed but your tongue didn't. You waited to hear more before you even try to fight back your emotions.

"Tell me for the love of Gods! What happened?" You were almost crying now.

Torvi took a deep breath before her next words.

"They found a body — a body in a really awful state. It's unrecognizable. At the time were are talking they are in a lab waiting for the results of the DNA analysis. But, Ubbe said that they are almost sure that the body belongs to Hvitserk. He didn't contact the brothers after the escape, they thought he was hiding and would eventually come out, but he didn't."

You couldn't hear the most of it. You collapsed on the floor halfway and closed your eyes forcefully in an attempt to fight the waterfalls of tears to fall. Your free hand moved on your face and it touched your forehead.

You stopped hearing. You were crying. He couldn't be dead. Hvitserk couldn't die. Not like this.

"They killed him and threw his body in a ditch in a middle of nowhere. The people who killed him are the same who framed him with this murder he didn't commit." She continued, but you couldn't hear anymore. Your brain couldn't process all these. You couldn't process the fact that Hvitserk was dead.

"Hvitserk..." You muttered his name like it was a prayer between your sobs.

"I know it hurts but you—"

You didn't let her finish. You ended the damned call and let your phone fall from your hands. You hid your face in your palms and let yourself cry and mourn the love of your life — the only person you were able to love this much and loved you back in his own different way.

After some time, you gathered your broken heart and the pieces of your body and got in. You wiped your tears and cleaned your face with some fresh water. You had to stay strong for a couple of times and then you could cry all your wanted.

At the closing, you took out the trash in an attempt to cry to yourself for a bit in the darkness where no one could see your tears for the man you loved the most. You were so sad and shattered that you didn't notice a black figure approaching you.

You only noticed when one of his hands was on your mouth and the pushed you in a dark corner. You eyes opened widely and your heart beat went faster until you saw the face of your captor.

He let you see his face. He took his hood off and got rid of the black scarf which was covering his mouth and nose. When you could finally see him, he freed your mouth and you gasped.

"You!" You whispered out of breath. Your hand run on his features that you missed so much. The last time you could saw him in person was many months ago, almost a month before he got arrested.

"Shh!" His index finger was on your lips.

"Don't shush me! I thought you were fucking dead! Torvi called an—" All your whisper-yelling stopped when his lips fell violently on yours. The very thing he did every time he wanted to get away feom scolding. But this time you weren't going to get mad or stop him, until not as long as you could breathe.

His skilled lips were moving just perfect on yours and the facial hair he had were just perfect. His hands grabbed you by the waist and you placed your own hands around his neck. Your body was pressed on the wall by his own.

This kiss felt like salvation. It was like you were whole again. It felt like you could breathe even if you didn't. You didn't want it to stop, but it had. After all, you two had many things to discuss.

Much to your displeasure, it stopped because of the lack of air to your lungs. His hands left your waist and moved on your face where he caressed your cheeks softly.

But that loving moment didn't last long, before he noticed, your hand collided with his cheek violently and his head turned at the side.

"Was that necessary? Why did you do it?" Hvitserk whisper-yelled. His palm was on his hurting cheek that had your mark on it, along with the mark of your nails.

"You scared me to fucking death with your bloody lies. Plus, you were a total dick to me when I called you in jail." You spoke and gazed at him. You had missed him terribly.

"Hey!" With that Hvitserk grabbed your face between his hands. Your faces were dangerously close for once more. "I told you, you shouldn't have called me there. As for my little lie, it was my only chance to see you." You spoke and left a soft kiss on your forehead.

"And how would that be? The police is out there waiting for a stupid movement of yours — exactly like this one — to get you. They are after me — following every step of mine. You shouldn't be here." You told him and tried to leave him in the darkness. You didn't want him to get caught because of you.

Hvitserk didn't let slip from his hands. His strong grip held there in from of him.

"It's dangerous, Hvitserk." You whispered at him.

Hvitserk smirked and one of his hands placed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"See that was exactly my plan with all this dead body lie. Indeed, there was a body, but not mine — obviously — and we used it to mislead them. They will try to find the body and they won't pay attention to you. At least, not as much as they did." He explained and you smiled.

"Ivar's plan?" You asked all smiling and he smiled back.

"Like you don't know the answer to that."

After that, you stayed there gazing at each other, having only the stars witnessing this moment between you.

"Why did you break my heart?" You asked as your eyes were only on his. You wanted to hear the truth coming out of his mouth.

His green eyes were glowing under the lights of the stars.

"I – I don't deserve you. You are kind and sweet and so angelic and I am the exact opposite. I am so filthy that I'll defile your purity. I've done things that I'm not proud about — bad things."

"Then why are you here now?"

Your question made him think about it himself once more. His eyes were looking only deep inside yours. You could feel his pain when he talked about the stuff he did, you could feel everying through those eyes. It hurt you to think that he felt this way for himself.

"Behind the bars, in that cell, the only thing you can do is thinking. You're thinking about all the right and wrong decisions of your life till the moment you got in — especially the wrong ones keep you up all night. And what kept me up was you. The thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, you laugh, your scolding. I just couldn't live knowing that I hurt you. I love you. My life without you is meaningless."

"Just never push me away again, okay?" You spoke as your hand wiped a couple tears away from your eyes. Hvitserk help you and when there weren't any more tears in your eyes, he caressed your skin softly.

"I love you, you idiot." You muttered and kissed him again. This kiss was so much different from the previous one. It soft and loving.

"The plan is to never let you slip away from me ever again." He spoke as he was caressing your hair.

"And how is that supposed to happen?"

"We will leave together here and now."

You frowned. You weren't expecting him to say something like this. You pushed him back, so you could face him.

"Wait... You want us to leave everything behind — our lives — and run away. This – this is....." You couldn't form a proper sentence. You were to process his proposition.

Kattegat was everything you knew — the place you called home. Everyone you knew was here and by that you meant your friends and some very distant relatives. Apart from your life, his life was in this place. His family, his job.

"(Y/N), there's nothing for us here. If I stay, I'll go to prison and I won't be able to hold you ever again. I will leave at the end of the day, there is no future for me in this city." Both of your hearts were beating fast at the thought that you would never see each other again after this night.

It was true that there was nothing here for you, only these two jobs that you hated. You couldn't know what future had in store for you, but if you let Hvitserk leave alone, you would hate yourself for the rest of your life.

Hvitserk's hand grabbed yours and closed it in both of his palms, but before that his finger gripped your chin and moved your head in such position that you could look at each other.

"The clock is ticking — the time is running fast. You have to give me your answer now. Are you coming with me right now?"

His eyes were begging you to say yes.

His heart was begging you to say yes.

But your mind was the problem. Your mind was hesitating to follow him wherever he was going to take you.

You closed your eyes for a moment. You couldn't choose between your heart and your mind. A whole war had broke inside you.

"(Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name on his lips you opened your eyes.

"I will come wherever you are willing to go. I can't live without you, my love." You told him and hugged him tightly.

Hvitserk wrapped his hand with yours and pulled you close to him.

"Are you sure? If we leave now — together — there's no coming back. We will be both fugitives." He told you smirking.

You chuckled when you heard him.

"That's a risk I'd love to take for you."

With those last words Hvitserk and you run away from the police and the city forever.

#vikings hvitserk #modern hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk fanfic #vikings fic #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #modern hvitserk x reader #vikings imagine #modern vikings #vikings modern au #vikings fanfiction #vikings au #vikings x reader #modern vikings x reader #modern au

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the-umiran-amulet · 13 days ago

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Cary managed to take out several more of the heket warriors with his bow before the illusion finally dropped thirty seconds later. The soldier quickly threw his bow across his back once more and drew his sword, parrying a jab from a spear. Benny was chanting behind him, and after a moment, he could feel magic welling up around them. A few more seconds, and flaming chunks of rock began to fall from the sky.

“Try not to get too far from me!” Benny shouted over the noise of the stones crashing into the earth. “The spell’s centered on me, so we’ll be safe!” Cary nodded in acknowledgement.

He also noticed that not one of the flaming meteors was falling on any of the mud huts in the village. Was Benny actually controlling where they fell? The hekets had all run the moment the meteors started falling. He heard Benny panting with effort. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Benny grunted. “We better hurry. They’ll come back soon.” Cary checked inside each of the huts. Many were homes, but a few held some of the missing people. Cary was quick to free them.

“Wait until the meteor storm is over,” he instructed. “Then run for the canoes. Don’t leave until we come back or the hekets will likely try to capsize you.” They nodded and huddled near the doors, watching the sky in awe.

Finally they found their wayward wizard, sitting in what looked like some mockery of a jail cell, built of nothing more than mud and sticks. He wasn’t even shackled like the other prisoners were. “Wouldn’t take much to blast this to bits,” Benny muttered as he studied the hut with a critical eye.

“Certainly I could,” the old man responded. “But what good would that do me if I can’t see where I’m going?”

Cary frowned to himself and took a closer look, finally noticing the wizard’s eyes had been damaged. They were a milky white, staring unseeing in Benny’s direction, his eyelids looking like they had just recovered from some type of burn. He winced. “What did they do to you...?”

“I don’t think we have time to discuss that right now,” Vitruvius cheerfully told him. “Sounds like your friend’s meteor storm has come to an end, and you can bet the hekets will come back to their village in a hurry now that the danger has passed.”

“Right.” Cary cut through the ropes binding the cell door shut in a single slice with his sword, and stepped inside. “Come on, old man,” he said, not unkindly. Vitruvius got to his feet and reached out with one hand. Cary didn’t hesitate to put his forearm under it, guiding the blinded wizard out of his cell. Vitruvius did a surprisingly good job of keeping up as they hurried back to the canoes, where the other prisoners still waited for them. “Into the canoes, everyone! Let’s go!” Cary barked. “Stick as close together as you can!”

Three canoes were pushed into the water, their occupants hurrying to row back to shore as quickly as they could. Benny took the oars of their canoe, letting Cary fire warning shots at the pursuing hekets with his bow. They startled as the arrows came shockingly close to hitting them, hesitating in the water. The first of the canoes reached the shore safely, followed closely by the second. Benny finally grounded their boat last.

“You boys sure gave them quite a fright,” Vitruvius remarked as Benny helped him out of the canoe. “I daresay they’ll have second thoughts before abducting anyone else.”

“What were they taking people for? Did you find out?” Cary asked.

“Slaves,” Vitruvius sighed. “Some they kept for themselves, as you saw. Others they traded.”

“And what about you?” Benny asked. “Why did they keep you after blinding you?”

“Who can say?” Vitruvius answered with a shrug. “Perhaps they found my stumbling around to be entertaining.”

“Why did they blind you?”

“They didn’t take too kindly to me coming to try to talk them into giving up their slave trade. Taking my sight was my punishment for sticking my nose where it wasn’t wanted.”

“Apparently they missed the memo that slavery has been banned in Octan for years,” Cary grumbled. He offered his arm to Vitruvius once more, and led the way back to Ashton. They were met with tears and shouts of joy as several of the rescued prisoners rushed ahead to reunite with their friends and loved ones.

“The rest of us should be able to make it back home from here,” one of the other captives told them. “I really hope Vitruvius was right about them leaving us alone, though. I don’t understand how you managed to help us when Vitruvius got caught too.”

“Because I wasn’t looking for a fight,” the wizard said. “I had hoped that if I showed them I came with no intentions of doing harm, they would be more willing to listen. Instead, I found myself attacked and bound before I even managed to speak with them for five minutes.”

“We figured peaceful negotiations wouldn’t be an option, not after a guard back in Tiletown told us that they started taking people almost immediately,” Cary told him. “I’m sure the people of Tiletown tried to be friendly at first. They knew the tribe that used to leave near Studsboro too, after all.”

The Ashton townspeople fussed over Vitruvius, trying to find ways to help him however they could. “I’m afraid there’s no saving my eyes at this point,” he told everyone. “That happened months ago, they’ve healed too much to be helped by now.” He was very grateful to be offered clean clothes and a bath though, followed by a hot meal and a soft bed.

The twins and Benny awkwardly accepted the praise they were given for recovering even a few of the missing people. The only reward they would accept was the offer of a free room at the inn. They weren’t going to leave without the wizard they had come all that way and took on an entire heket village to find, after all.

Vitruvius did look much better the next morning, after some proper rest and two good meals. His robes had been washed as well, and though they would never be the pristine white they once had been again, they looked far better than the mud-soaked rags they were when they had first found him in that cell. Some of the holes and tears had even been expertly patched.

“So you know my name, but I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of learning yours yet,” he said as they settled near the fire in the inn’s common room.

“Colonel Cary Callaghan,” Cary introduced himself, “my twin brother Alastar, and our friend, Lord Benjamin Blue.”

“Lord??” Vitruvius echoed with some surprise. “Well now, what brings a military officer and one of Octan’s esteemed nobles all the way out to this swamp to find me?”

Cary sighed. “Former military officer,” he admitted. “I was dishonorably discharged a few months ago, after my entire regiment was slaughtered in a single battle. Thing is, there was a demon at the battlefield that day, one that only I could see for some reason. Not a single one of my soldiers survived to back up my claim, and no one but Ben would even believe me.

“A little over a week ago, Undar and Octan were set to sign a peace treaty. I had my suspicions, so Ben helped us get into the party. We found evidence that the Undari have been worshiping that demon. The other Octan nobles in attendance were sacrificed to feed its power.” Vitruvius pursed his lips as he listened, thoughtfully silent. “We’re not strong enough to fight it on our own, and... We can’t expect help from King Business, even though he knows the truth now. We need you to help us find the right people to fight it. I can’t let any more of my people be sacrificed to feed its power.”

The wizard sat back in his chair, taking a few minutes to digest the information he’d just been given. “Seems I missed out on quite a bit these past few months. What did this demon look like? Do you know its name yet?”

“No name yet,” Cary grumbled. “I never heard it spoken, and in the letter we found it was only referred to as ‘our Exalted Lord’. But it was... Large. About the size of a brown bear, with matted salt and pepper fur, a large mouth full of sharp teeth, lots of little black eyes like a spider’s all over its body, and many limbs—some tentacles, others with claws like a saber cat’s. Ben, are you all right?”

Cary had watched Benny become increasingly pale as he continued his description of the demon as he had seen it on the battlefield.

“Liint,” Benny spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Wait, you know it??”

“I...” Benny grabbed his head, gritting his teeth. “...It’s gone. My head hurts...”

“How very interesting,” Vitruvius mused. “That’s a very old name; not even many scholars who specialize in demonology know it. How is it that you do?”

“I don’t remember,” Benny whimpered. Cary patted his shoulder and got to his feet.

“Sit tight Ben, I’ll get you something for that headache.”

“Thanks...”

“Well, at least you remembered the name,” Vitruvius told him kindly. “That should be enough to help us to prepare.”

“Prepare?” Benny asked, peeking up at the wizard from where he’d hunched over in an attempt to stave off the growing migraine. Cary returned then and handed him a cup of tea.

“Drink this slowly,” he instructed. Benny accepted the cup and took a sip from it.

“...Willow bark tea? How’d you get this so fast?”

“Mister Davis already had some made up in case Vitruvius needed it, apparently.”

“That was thoughtful of him,” Vitruvius said. “But yes, we will need to prepare.” Cary settled back into his chair as Benny drank his tea, slowly relaxing as it soothed the pounding in his head. They both listened intently to what the wizard had to say.

“After all, it was once a god.”

#the lego movie #the umiran amulet #gcbc #benny the spaceman #vitruvius #coppernauts

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louisferrignojr · 6 months ago

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Im bored and honestly having a rough week and miss seeing ur posts on the sal tag which brings me to my question

You got any favorite Sal and Tommy head cannons? Idk could be about anything.

oh no :( im sorry ur having a rough week!!! i hope it gets better<3

you know what i also miss seeing my posts DSKGJKSDJ when will i break free from censorship jail </3 i have a gifset in my drafts tho i'll post it as soon as im 'back'

headcanons? hmm. trying to think of something a little light-hearted even though this is the Ship of Angst.

i like to think sal and tommy kept in touch after sal was reassigned to the 122. tommy trying to be there for his friend because sal is not happy about being suspended, and tommy gives him a Look and tells him that captain nash had done him a favour and he's lucky he still has a job and sal eventually, begrudgingly, admits to it, but he says something like, "i still think he's an ass," and tommy kind of shrugs and invites sal to come along to bobby's "family-style" crew dinners (but of course that means sal would have to swallow his pride and apologise to the man so fat chance, tommy). sal eventually drops by tommy's workplace but only after tommy transfers to the 217/harbor station and by then he's out to everyone, and lucy sees sal walking through the doors and turns to tommy and goes "aw look your boyfriend's come to see you!" and tommy rolls his eyes and says "fuck off, donato," and hopes she doesn't notice the hug that's a little too tight and lasts a little too long. he's missed his friend, okay?

#asks #ohlookitsthearkhamknight #saltommy #sal x tommy

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bigfan-fanfic · 2 years ago

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Pale Moonlight (Male!Reader x Nate Drake)

Requested by @jayfeather965 for Definitely would enjoy a fic on the story between Nate drake and their male Catwoman-style character. History of their cat and mouse games?

It's always funny to take the great Nate Drake by surprise.

You slip your arm into his and reach over to pretend to straighten out a wrinkle in his suit, before pressing your lips to his stunned, slack ones.

"I swear, darling, you'd be lost without me!" you chuckle jovially, waltzing right past the guards.

You had stolen his tickets from his suit jacket's inner pocket, and handed them to the bouncer with practiced ease.

"What the hell are you doing?" he practically growls once you're both into the gala.

You wink. "Aw, Nate, you know you can't pull off a job like this on your own. Remember that exhibition at the Rijksmuseum?"

He looks even more dour. "Yeah, when you stole the artifact from me and left me to get taken to an Amsterdam prison?"

You flick you wrist dismissively. "I gave it back."

"So, there's someone else looking for this thing and you need a partner? Slash patsy if things go wrong?"

You pat his chest, admiring for a moment the feeling of his broad muscles under the suit. "Got it in one. Besides, the real crime would be seeing that cute little ass of yours headed back to jail. Again."

He frowns. "I still don't trust you."

"Smart of you."

"Probably will be good to have your... skills."

"We do the same things, Nate, my love. Only difference is you steal from dead people."

It must have been almost a decade back that you met Nate. He was a cute young guy, and completely starstruck when he saw you in your tight black garments you wore for thieving.

So starstruck he nearly forgot to chase you when you grabbed the artifact he needed and began to free run your way out of the museum.

You jumped and flipped through the air, with Nate scrambling to keep pace.

But finally he chased you to a high rooftop near the museum.

You smirked and blew him a kiss before flipping off of the roof, vanishing.

Over the years you've played your game with him, laughing at him as he always stays one step behind of you.

And just when the game would've gone too far, you backed down, letting him have an artifact, or stopping to dance with him at an event or helping him evade some guards by kissing him in an alcove.

Nate holds you tightly to him as you dance, both of you scanning the room for cameras and sensors. You know he's trying to keep you from fleeing, but the press is nice.

Besides, it's so easy when your hips are so close to feel the way he shudders when your hand slips under his lapel and cups his pectoral.

You stare in fascination at the way his Adam's apple bobs.

"Hey... are you getting distracted by me?" he asks in surprise.

"Yup. Anyone ever tell you you've got a nice ass?"

"Yeah, you."

You smirk. "You ever considered... us?"

He chuckles. "You really think I was chasing you down for artifacts all these years?"

You kiss him, making his eyes go wide. "Tell you what. You head to my hotel room and order dinner. We'll be each other's alibi. I'll meet you there."

He nods dumbly, and you cop another feel of his chest. "And Nate? Lose the suit by the time I get there."

You watch him leave, knowing you have it all well in hand.

Maybe tonight you'll make up for years of lost time, and you'll finally plunder the treasure you've been wanting for nearly a decade.

#male reader #nathan drake x male reader #nathan drake x reader #uncharted x male reader #uncharted headcanons #headcanons

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sapphires-and-silver-linings · 2 years ago

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The Betrayer | Chapter Six: The Trial

Just another casualty to mourn, you thought bitterly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Angst, Violence Mention, Terminal Illness, Minor Character Death

Notes: Finally finished chapter 6! This chapter took a bit longer to get out both because it's finals season at university so I've been swamped with assignments and exams, and also because I wanted to get the details of the station right. I had to flip back and forth between the RE2 remake and a bot match in DBD so I could note the differences. I know I could have just not mentioned some of this stuff, but Lucky is a cop and an observant person and also she worked at the station for a decade, so I feel like she'd notice lol. ANYWAY, enough rambling. As always, hope you enjoy! Let me know what you liked about it!

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Day 2; R.P.D.

You remembered the first time you ever stood in front of the Raccoon City Police Department. You were filled with such awe and pride then, having just finished your training at the academy.

You never really dreamed of being a cop in your youth, but you had always been loud and brash and determined to stick up for what was right, so it seemed a good fit. Who really planted the seed for such a career was your mother, though she would never know it.

She was a free spirit, one who had marched on the side of liberty during the civil rights movement, despite the risk of jail and potentially losing her job as a nurse. She was emotional and bright and always knew the right thing to say to convince you to join her side.

Your mother truly believed the world could be saved with a strong sense of justice and a burning hope for the future. When you were born, she chose to become a stay-at-home parent and made sure to instill these beliefs into you.

Your childhood was full of her warmth and laughter. During the day, the two of you would watch her favorite action shows and talk about how anyone could be a hero. And every night, she wove tales of strong-willed princesses and how love would always win in the end.

You clung to her every word, making sure to reenact those epic stories on the playground with any child who was willing to play along. And as you aged, you brought these lessons with you into the classroom, standing up to bullies and showing those who were tormented by them the kindness other students refused to.

You wanted to make her proud. You wanted to grow up to be just like her.

And you were only seven years old when she first got sick.

Your parents didn’t tell you right away, but you had always been an observant child, despite your audacious nature. You knew from the start something was very wrong. But your mother often spoke of miracles, and you had been so confident that if anyone could pull one off, it would be her.

The doctors had only given her a year to live, but she pushed right through. Sure, the chemo cost her her beautiful long hair, and her natural curves were sharpened by protruding bones as she kept losing weight, but she was alive and as dignified and tenacious as ever.

If she was afraid, she never showed it. Even now, as an adult, you could only ever dream of being that brave.

As the months passed, however, you started to lose hope she would make it.

You were nine–nearing ten–when she became bedridden.

Still, you sat with her every day after school to watch those cheesy action shows she loved so much, and every night you would lay your head on her chest as she told you her fantastical tales despite thinking you were getting too old for bedtime stories and knowing them all by heart, anyway.

“You know, honey,” she started one evening, carding her now bony fingers through your hair, “the world could really use more heroes. My whole life, I wanted to be one, but I think the time for that has passed. You, though… You have the makings of a great one.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you looked up at her. “But I’m not strong like you are, Mom.”

“No,” she replied, a soft smile alighting her face, still beautiful despite her sunken features and pale, sickly skin, “you’re stronger.”

She passed away only four months later.

You became an anxious and angry kid after that, and for a long time, you stopped believing in miracles. But as you looked back, you supposed the real miracle was that you got to spend an extra two years with her before she died. A silver lining.

Despite the rage that followed your adolescence, you kept your mother’s words close to your heart. If she believed you could be a hero, then by god, you would become one.

You continued to fight bullies, but now there was an edge of violence to your attempts at peace-keeping. More often than not, you came home with a busted lip and bruised knuckles. The other kids–even the ones you helped–started to fear you, and you were getting into near-constant trouble with the school.

You didn’t care at the time. You needed to feel like you were doing something. The adrenaline pumping through your veins after a good fight was one of the few things that could quell the cold emptiness inside of you where your mother’s warmth had once been.

One day, when you were sixteen, a young police officer who had been tasked with dragging you away from a particularly brutal fight, pulled you into the empty auditorium and sat you down next to him right on the stage. As your legs dangled off the side, kicking nervously, he asked you why you were doing this. It was something no one had bothered to question since your mother’s death.

For the first time, you let it all out, shocked even with yourself that you were telling a complete stranger every damn thing that had been tangled up in your chest for years. You explained your pain and your anger and your desperation to do the right thing. He listened intently and even let you cry on the sleeve of his uniform.

After a moment of silence, as you sniffled and wiped your eyes, he said something that would change your life forever:

“Your anger is justified and your intentions are good, but there’s more to fighting for justice than going after someone who’s done something wrong. Violence can be necessary, especially when you’re defending yourself or another person. But kid, you need to learn the difference between violence to protect and violence for the sake of it.”

His words stuck with you. You decided after that talk that it was time to turn things around. You never asked his name, something you regretted, not knowing that your paths would someday cross again.

You convinced your dad to put you in mixed-martial arts classes to take out your aggression in a more controlled way and stopped getting into physical altercations unless the other person attacked first. You even learned how to take them down without hurting them, something you had become proud of.

Then, as soon as you graduated high school, you joined the police academy. Finally, you had a way of weaving your desire for justice with the wrath that always bubbled underneath your skin and the training to manage it, surrounded by others who felt the same way. A perfect match.

Before long, you were hired at the R.P.D., ready to take on the world. For once in your life, you felt like you belonged.

You knew that corruption ran rampant in law enforcement; your mother, as an activist, made sure you were aware that sometimes the police were on the wrong side of the fight. But the R.P.D. never had a scandal, and every cop you had interacted with over the course of your volatile teenhood had been kind to you and to others. You went out on a limb to trust it was the right choice for you.

Knowing now that the higher-ups of the department were in the back pocket of Umbrella the whole time made you realize they were probably just very good at sweeping their messes under the rug. To think you ever took part in that, even unintentionally, made you feel sick to your stomach.

And, as you faced the abandoned precinct before you, you also felt a deep sense of dread and a soul-crushing kind of sadness.

It was raining, the droplets of water freezing as they splashed upon your face. You glanced around the dark courtyard, horrified by the sight that greeted you.

There were bodies… everywhere. Wrapped up in cloth and piled on top of each other next to the entrance.

Was this how it looked when the outbreak happened? Before everything was reduced to nothing but ash? You wondered if any of those bodies belonged to people you knew.

But they couldn’t be actual corpses, right? They were just set dressing. Just a painful memory conjured up to hurt you and your friends.

You don’t think you ever wanted to test that theory, though.

Beyond that, there was some strange orange substance bubbling through cracks in the walls, the ground, and various other surfaces. The doors of the station looked like they were torn from their hinges and you could see inside the main hall a bit, books and papers scattered on the dirty floor.

What had once been a home away from home was now nothing more than a stage built to display your execution.

How much crueler could the Entity hope to be?

Reflexively, you squeezed your hand into a tight fist, forgetting that Chris’s was in your grasp. You looked up at him and he offered you a sad glance when he saw the mix of emotions on your face.

It seemed like he wanted to say something, but there was no need. You would just have to suck it up if you wanted to survive.

“This way,” Jill said in a low voice, pulling you from your reverie as your group shuffled along the side path of the station instead of going inside it. “There’s usually a gen over here.”

You released Chris’s hand before following behind them, making sure to avoid touching that orange matter, whispering, “What is this crap?”

“We don’t really know. Hard to study it when the only time we see it is during trials. Not to mention, we don’t know if it’s dangerous to touch,” Rebecca replied.

You simply blew air out through your teeth as the four of you reached the generator, situated pretty evenly between the gate and the east half of the station. There were only three sides available to work on and you gave the team a questioning look.

“Here,” Chris said, beckoning you over towards him as he knelt in front of the section that faced the building, “I’ll show you how to do it. The next gen, I’ll let you try.”

You nodded in nervous agreement, watching intently as Chris worked the machine; crossing wires, moving around gears, and reconnecting hoses. It looked… complicated.

He was going slow for you, quietly explaining what each action was meant to do, and you were trying your best to retain his instructions.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the sound of a helicopter blared overhead, shocked you didn’t yelp and garner the attention of whatever killer you were facing today.

You stared at the sky in confusion, seeing that there was nothing but the distant light of false stars and the Entity’s moon adrift between billowy clouds, the rain stinging your eyes.

You looked at your friends, Jill and Chris not even phased by the loud noise. Rebecca didn’t jump, but you could tell she was tense.

“What was that about?” you questioned, returning your attention to Chris’s large hands, maneuvering through the repairs with practiced ease.

Jill glanced at you for a second before turning back to the generator. “We think it’s like an echo from our world. The Entity just pulls things from our memories.”

“Fantastic,” you responded under your breath.

After another moment, the generator came to life, the floodlights that had been flashing were now fully lit and bathed the path in a bright white glow. You were reminded of how there was no electricity in the survivors' camp, while all the lights in this empty building–and any repaired generators–were working perfectly fine.

Just another cruelty, you supposed, to force you to live by firelight.

You swished your hair behind your shoulders to get the rain-wet strands out of your face, forgetting exactly why you had kept it hanging across your collar in the first place. In the gen’s floodlights, Chris’s eyes raked over you, immediately seeing the bruise that marred your throat.

He rushed over to you and inspected it, his hand so careful as it caressed your skin. “What is this?”

“Ghost Face tried to kill me, remember?” you replied dryly, awfully distracted by Chris’s warm fingertips against you.

Chris’s other hand balled into a fist at his side, his eyebrows furrowing in anger.

“C’mon, guys, we gotta find another one,” Jill said, trying to keep the two of you focused as she headed toward the side door of the station.

Chris only shook his head and retracted his hand from your neck. Despite yourself, you immediately began to miss the gentle contact.

As you trailed behind them, you passed by what you recognized as a meat hook, looking so out of place as it stood by the fire escape. The sharp metal was stained with blood and you wondered if that was a decorative decision on the Entity’s part or if it was used so many times, it was just coated in it. You shivered at the thought of the latter.

You entered the building, thankful to be out of the cold, wet courtyard until your gaze fell on the floor, met with streaks of dark red blood staining the linoleum.

Well, that’s not foreboding at all.

Jill led you through the east office and you paused, scanning the disheveled room to find what had once been your desk. Your eyes traveled to the one next to it, taking in the messy surface.

Kevin.

You were just a beat cop when you started on the force. You had been assigned partners with Kevin Ryman, who was only a couple of years older than you.

You were rather serious-minded when you began your career, the carefree attitude of your new partner something that often drove you crazy. Eventually, he taught you how to relax a bit. You then fell into an easy friendship and had each other’s backs through hell or high water.

As the months passed, the two of you started to feel more than friendly with each other, sharing lingering glances and gentle touches. One day, it came to a head, the two of you throwing caution to the wind and jumping into a passionate romance.

You spent your time together drinking at J’s Bar and playing darts, which you’d always win (shocking he was so bad at it, considering he was a great shot with a gun). And every couple of weekends you’d drive out of the city, no real plan but to get as far away as you could.

He taught you how to better your aim with firearms and was to blame for the smoking habit you would soon develop. He easily gained the respect of your father, wooed your stepmother, and your siblings adored him.

It lasted three years.

The two of you knew it was for the best to end things, both for your careers and your differences in what you wanted in life. He was noncommittal, with no desire to settle down, while you wanted to get married and have kids.

It broke both of your hearts that the relationship didn’t pan out, but you would remain close friends for several years. A part of you would always love him.

You kind of fell out, though, once you joined S.T.A.R.S. He would never admit it, but you knew he was bitter that you got in on request by Wesker himself after you told Kevin initially you weren’t interested, while he was rejected twice.

However, it was as you got closer to your fellow S.T.A.R.S. teammates that you and Kevin started to really drift apart. You still hung out on occasion, but between your new workload and Kevin being assigned a different partner in your stead who definitely kept him busy–the rookie being somehow more straight-laced and by the books than you had ever been–your lives shifted in opposite directions.

You were filled with guilt and regret as you gazed at his desk, wishing you had tried harder to keep in touch. The sudden fear that he may be one of the bodies tossed out in the courtyard bloomed painfully in your chest.

“Do you know what happened to Ryman?” you asked your friends quietly, the group exiting the room through a large hole in the concrete. You noticed another one in the wall of the hallway–somehow even bigger than the first–which led into the lobby, the debris from it making a sort of ramp.

You wondered if it was the Entity who had created these, or if something from your world had. Neither reality conjured up a pleasant feeling.

“Last I heard, he moved out to Florida,” Chris answered.

He survived.

You smiled wistfully. “He always told me he preferred hot weather. Must be living it up, spending all his free time on the beach.”

“I definitely got that impression when I got ahold of him.” He chuckled.

You wondered why Chris went through the trouble of tracking him down. They had met–even got along to a degree when you went on group outings together–but they were never friends. You supposed Chris just wanted to know who all survived the outbreak. You’d have to ask him later if that was the case.

Rebecca silently pointed out a generator sitting next to the storage closet, the door of it boarded up for some reason. The gen only had three sides facing outwards, like the one on the courtyard path, and Chris beckoned you to kneel before it, squatting beside you to help you with the repairs.

On the floor nearby was a sleeping bag and a couple of filthy shirts. The police station must have been a shelter during the outbreak.

You then realized the generator was in front of where the vending machines (that you must have sunk hundreds of dollars into over the years) once belonged, a door that you knew didn’t exist in the real R.P.D. in their stead.

It felt more like a dreamlike approximation of the place as opposed to an exact recreation.

Or a nightmarish one, you mused.

As you looked at the generator, you didn’t even know where to start. You pulled a screwdriver from your toolbox and reached out your hands to the machine, but paused, unsure of yourself.

“Here,” Chris said, placing his hands over yours. He guided you to a loose component that needed its screws tightened, his lips so incredibly close to your ears as he added, “Like this.”

You felt your cheeks redden at his proximity, internally admonishing yourself for acting so juvenile. You pulled in a deep breath and focused all your attention on the task in front of you.

Feeling confident in your capabilities, he retracted his grip. The generator was almost done on your side, the only thing left was to reconnect some wires and you would be good to go.

But as you went to touch them together, your hand slipped.

“Wait!” Chris exclaimed, reaching forward to stop you.

He was too late.

You were blinded when the generator exploded in your face, Chris tugging you backward and into his arms to prevent you from being electrocuted by the exposed wires.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you cried, terrified that the noise would alert the killer to your whereabouts.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ve all fucked up a gen before. You were doing pretty damn good for your first time,” Chris reassured you.

You were frankly shocked by his blase attitude, considering the situation, but you only let out a sigh and leaned forward again to finish the job.

Before you could, though, you heard the heavy sound of boots on linoleum approaching from down the hall, likely entering from the side door as you had.

Your heart dropped and the four of you leapt to your feet, booking it through the large hole in the wall that led into the lobby.

Jill and Rebecca took to the stairs, heading for the upper east wing. You were about to follow, but Chris grabbed your arm, steering you towards the west side of the station instead.

“It might be a good idea to split up,” he explained. “We can cover more ground this way and force the killer to bounce between us.”

You only nodded as he pulled you into the west office. You turned just in time to see the tail of a long black trench coat disappear behind a wall upstairs. It made your blood run cold.

You hoped Jill and Rebecca would be okay.

As Chris led you through the room, you saw the “Welcome Leon” sign hung from the ceiling. You knew it was Marvin’s doing. He had done the same thing for you when you first joined the force.

Imagine your surprise when your lieutenant turned out to be the cop who saved you from yourself when you were just an angry teen. He ended up becoming your mentor and a father figure to you.

You learned later he had been married once, but his wife died in a hit-and-run. That ever-present grief was something you shared, the bond between you strengthening.

They never had kids, and he told you all the time that if he had a daughter, he’d want her to be just like you.

Your heart suddenly hurt when you remembered what Leon had told you, that his first day on the job was when chaos had already consumed the city. Did he even get a chance to meet your lieutenant?

“Did Branagh–” you started as you darted into the hallway, met with more blood stains that soaked the floors and walls, to your dismay, “did he survive?”

Chris slowed to a brisk walk, looking behind you to make sure you hadn’t been followed before turning forward, refusing to meet your imploring gaze.

“He, uh… he turned, after helping Leon find a way to escape the R.P.D. during the outbreak.”

“Oh…” was all you could say, your breath shuddering. You could feel tears spring to your eyes, but you refused to cry. Not now, when you needed to get out of here.

Just another casualty to mourn, you thought bitterly.

Chris cursed under his breath when he realized there wasn’t a generator in the safety deposit room, deciding to head for the stairs. The two of you reached the second floor, cutting through the library and the lounge into the hallway that you knew so very well.

The two of you entered yet another giant hole in the wall, this time in the linen room, which took you directly into the S.T.A.R.S. office.

“There’s one in here,” he said, relieved, as you arrived in the enclosed space.

You swallowed thickly, taking in the disordered state the place was in.

All the desks that used to be in rows of two along the far wall were haphazardly pushed into the middle of the room, a vending machine that had once been in the hallway sitting against one of them. The large dispatch console, where the S.T.A.R.S. team would man the comms, was moved from in front of the hole you entered to the side. On the other end of the room, the wall that separated the armory from the main office was nonexistent, the area only holding some lockers.

Two red ones had been set there as well, and you were reminded of what Carlos had told you about them yesterday:

“The red lockers can be used to hide in, but don’t stay for too long. For one, the killers know to check them, but the crows that hang out around the place will start flocking overhead to snitch on you. Sometimes I feel like the damn things are useless.”

The thought made you uneasy as you met the eyes of one such crow, standing on the floor nearby. The large black creature twitched its head towards you at an unnatural angle and you grimaced.

You returned your attention to the rest of the room.

It was… strange… to see it like this. Everything that once showed the personalities of your friends–like pictures or jackets or bags–was nowhere to be seen. Like it was just another office in the police station and not a place you all made a second home of.

You thought of your fellow officers, then. The ones you would never see again. Of the times you all shared together in this very room.

You thought of Joseph and Forest, how they used to joke around and play pranks. You thought of Marini and how he’d roll his eyes and admonish them, trying to hide his amused smile.

You thought of Richard’s soft-spoken words of encouragement on the days you complained about doing paperwork instead of missions, and Kenneth's half-hearted complaints that he seemed to be the only one to take the job seriously.

You even thought fondly of Brad, despite how annoying you used to find him. Until you remembered the fact he abandoned your team in the wilderness to fend against monsters. Monsters that killed them all.

God, it hurt. All of it.

You dropped to your knees beside Chris at the generator. It was up against the wall of Wesker’s office and you could see through the window, all of the blinds torn from their panes.

You stared at his desk, images of that last night you met with him before everything went to shit flooding your brain. You could almost still feel his cool fingers against your skin when he gripped your face.

He betrayed you all. He got so many of your friends killed. He got you killed.

And yet, you still missed him. So fucking much, it made your chest tighten.

If only I could see him again…

“You can do this, Lucky,” Chris told you, breaking you from your thoughts. He must have believed you were nervous about messing up again, which was technically true.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before diving into the guts of the gen.

You were about halfway through, the repairs going without a hitch, when you heard a bloodcurdling scream echo from across the police department.

“Rebecca!” you cried, about to drop the tool in your grasp.

“Hold on,” Chris said firmly, placing a hand on your arm to stop you from getting up. “Jill was with her. Let’s wait to see if she can save her so we can finish this gen.”

You didn’t like the idea of leaving Rebecca to just hang from a meat hook. “But–”

“I know, it’s not ideal. But the faster we finish the gens, the faster we all get out of here in one piece, okay?”

“Fine,” you replied, still upset, though you knew he had a point.

You just got back into what you were doing when you heard another scream. It was definitely Jill’s.

“Shit,” Chris said before standing up. “I’m going to go help them. You stay here and try to finish this gen.”

“Wh-what do I do after? Where do I go?” The idea of being left alone terrified you.

He gripped your shoulder as he looked down at you. “If I don’t come back, you can try to come get us off our hooks. If the killer finds you first, try your best to outrun them and maybe pick a place to hide. If you can’t make it to us in time, a hatch will open somewhere on the first floor. It’s the only other way to escape the trial if you can’t get the gens finished, but it only shows up for the last living survivor. Do you understand?”

Your mind was racing as you parsed through his words. “Y-yeah.”

He leaned forward, kissing you on the top of your head, a sensation of warmth radiating from his lips. “We’ll get through this, don’t worry.”

With that, he sprinted out the door.

You shook your head to clear it, wishing he didn’t leave you behind, and went right back to fixing the generator.

Everything will be fine.

You were getting close to finishing when you heard a deep yell bouncing off the walls of the empty station.

No, Chris!

Your hands began to tremble and you started to hyperventilate as you pushed on, desperate to fix this gen so you could go and help them.

“Come on, come on!” you begged, pulling the final crank.

Now all that was left was to cross the wires. You rubbed your sweating palms on your pants, fingers shaking as you took them in each hand.

You were just about to press the ends together when you heard heavy footsteps approaching behind you, coming fast.

You panicked and dropped the wires in order to make a run for it, the gen exploding in your face like the one downstairs. You fell onto your ass, vision white, before you tried to scramble to your feet.

You froze in place, though, when the killer spoke, their voice so hauntingly familiar:

“There you are.”

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

#albert wesker x reader #chris redfield x reader #albert wesker #chris redfield #dead by daylight #resident evil #dbd #re #the betrayer

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ind1c0lite · 1 year ago

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I do not frequently message people online but I absolutely Needed to communicate to you how entranced I am by your copycat au oh my god. I read the initial comic and I had to go for a jog around my apartment I was so floored. Absolutely fantastic work thank you so much for sharing!!!!!!!

What with capcom calling the switch port of aa4-aa6 the “Apollo Justice Trilogy” (which I have dubious feelings on) I’ve been thinking a lot about Apollo’s role in aa5 & aa6 (esp aa5) and your au is just. so perfect for reflecting more of Apollo and his story from aa4 forward into aa5. The potential within it to actually consider things like Apollo still being a very fresh-faced & inexperienced lawyer in the grand scheme of things and feeling inadequate for both 1) being unable to save Phoenix (in the moment, obv everything ends for the best) and 2) being unable to adequately help Athena, him having to grapple with the thought that he has yet another mentor who has betrayed him again, bringing up what’s actually touched on (though not enough imo) in the original dd of him feeling like an inadequate defense lawyer because he can’t be 100% certain of a clients innocence (tho ofc in this case it’s Phoenix instead of Athena) (“of course he’s innocent he’s the Turnabout Terror! ………but Kristoph Gavin was the Coolest Defense in the West…”, the added layer of making him have to consider Phoenix committing Clay’s murder and the two possibilities being 1 - Phoenix actually did commit the murder (awful) and possibility 2 - Phoenix didn’t commit the murder but he’s intentionally trying to let whoever did commit the murder go free for unknown reasons (bonus points - (Apollo thinks) Phoenix is leaving him in the dark again) (also awful) (obv as you mentioned at this point Athena and Apollo have no concept of a phantom villain so that’s not an option lol) …eugh it’s all so good…

And all of this on top of keeping Klavier relevant in a meaningful way (continuing the story from aa4) And having to deal with the potential fallout he would feel from Yet Again being the one to tear down Phoenix Wright with his own hands (plus the later fallout of how he would feel knowing he was (at least partially successfully) yet again manipulated and used as a tool specifically to harm Phoenix Wright) + the parallel of having Athena, yet again, having to stand in court and be able to do absolutely nothing to help those close to her (just like when she “failed” Simon) + potential Trucy fallout from having a father willfully disappear from her again. Even if she 100% believes in Phoenix’s innocence then that still means her father is intentionally covering something up and intentionally taking an action that will remove himself from her life (either via jail or via execution) and god damn that’s gotta sting + if Simon hears about this and thinks the Phantom is at play again either 1) feeling helpless and unable to prove anything because he’s stuck in the hospital and he just has to sit and watch the Phantom ruin another family right in front of his eyes or 2) (if he doesn’t Quite realize the Phantom Is Phoenix rn, he just thinks Phoenix has been tricked into covering for the Phantom) then he’s watching someone make his exact same mistake right in front of his eyes and the Phantom will continue to run free yet again eugshdhhcgsgshsh and oh my goddddddd don’t get me started on the parallels between Phoenix and Edgeworth having their roles reversed from Turnabout Goodbyes (even if it isn’t actually Phoenix, Edgeworth (probably? maybe?) doesn’t know that) basically just. Oh my god. Stellar fucking job with this. Sorry for all the rambling I just desperately needed to communicate to you how fantastic of a concept this is and thank you so much for sharing it. (also apologies for my rambles that are probably pretty off base from precisely what you have in mind for this au, obv some of what I rambled about is likely either blatantly wrong/opposing your vision, or just hasn’t been revealed yet, but I saw the two comics and the profiles and basically immediately started spiraling /pos, consider them au’s of your au lol) (also on the off chance you ever want to further discuss your au just say the word and I Will come off anon lol)

OUGHHHHH ANON I A M !!!!! I WAS N O T EXPECTING A WHOLE ENTIRE ESSAY IN MY INBOX ABT RAMBLINGS ON THE COPYCAT BUT I AM GRINNING E A R TO EAR ABOUT THIS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT SM!!

I ALWAYS LOVE HEARING PEOPLE RAMBLE!!! YOU HAVE PICKED UP E X A C TL Y WHAT IVE LAID OUT AND WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH THIS AU SO WELL I JUST

I HAVE NO WORDS IM VERY HAPPY TO HEAR THERES SOMEONE JUST AS EXCITED AS I AM ABT MY OWN LIL AU HJGKHLJHGJ

I am always happy to talk more abt my au whenever anon!!!!

#save #<- Im still grinning sm from this you have NO idea how happy this makes me #Im going to be thinking abt this for a while hgjkhlj;#asks #anon

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bisexualnathanyoung · 2 years ago

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Tell me more 👀

In front of God and everybody?

Uhhhh putting a readmore bc I just got to typing and didn’t stop. Anybody feel free to comment how you feel about it ✌️.

No but like I just felt like the Nathan I write wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to risk fucking up his entire life while he has a little baby, but then I remembered canon Nathan did, and I also realize that’s how a lot of people end up in jail or prison. When someone just needs money and uses the resources they have, but it still breaks the law, and they get caught, but people do things like that to support their families in any way they can sometimes.

And we know he’s cocky and confident, and that’s always how it goes isn’t it? “Those people got caught, but not me, I know what I’m doing.”And I’m not gonna put him away for life or anything, but just a few months while he’s got a little tiny baby is so heartbreaking.

I don’t know if I’m going to do the America thing. I don’t know how I’d write it if I decide to, but part of it is Mel that absolutely can’t stand Louise, but she’s got no one else to go to, and it wouldn’t be a redemption for Louise by any means, just a “oh this fucking sucks.”

And I just feel like that’d be something Nathan would never get over, and it would just contribute to him wondering why his dad was never around because he’s felt shitty for over a decade because he made one or a few mistakes and missed his daughter’s first birthday.

And I mean we could all write really scary fics about what could happen in jails and prisons, but I feel like if something awful did happen, he’d never tell Mel about it.

He’d just never stop apologizing for it because he feels like (and maybe he did) he let her down just like his dad did to his mum, and even if she tries and tries to tell him that it is different, he’d never believe her.

And I know there’d be a part of her that doesn’t want to forgive him. Because how could he be so stupid? How could he risk something like that? How could he leave her alone with her tiny baby with no else to care for her?

And then, Mel’s got her own trauma with not wanting to turn out like her mum, and she’s just like “here I am at 21 years old with my bastard kid whose dad is in jail, is this the rest of my life?” And I think a part of her would definitely go to knowing where and how they got together, knowing he’s done bullshit like this before, and wondering if her daughter is going to have a dad. And she doesn’t regret having her baby. She loves her baby. But she wonders if it was the right decision. She wonders if it’s fair to Rowan that she’s going to grow up exactly like Mel did. Council flat. Mum never home from working two jobs. Living in an area where people get mugged at 10am. (she doesn’t, but, in the moment, Mel definitely sees it that way).

I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a lot in a couple of different ways, and I’m not sure how I’d write it. I’m writing a couple of things now that the basic idea is that it was something money related, but they’ve stayed in England, and it’s for a few months when Ro is a baby.

Idk if any of that made sense

#went into word counter dot com and it said 615 words bro I got fics shorter than that #community blowback #I’m gonna get my tags in order at some point but that’s the tag I’m putting on this so I don’t lose it #oc; melanie albright

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ohohohelloooo · 2 years ago

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the guard | part 1

summary: A lonely elven border guard struggles to get through the day

Aelar was happy to be a border guard, he really was.

But putting on heavy metal armor-plated in gold was doing critical damage to his back. And not helping with the heat either. In fact, earlier that morning, he nearly passed out from heat exhaustion. Despite all the teasing he received from the royal guards of not having an important job, a border guard was a respectable occupation. He believed in his importance to the city. Partly. To be on the outlook for charlatans and criminals without a moral code, looking to break into the extraordinary and exquisite city that was Urgshire. Not on his watch. He came to work each day, filled with hope, and a skip to his step.

Unfortunately, this has caused quite a few problems. One of them being pelted with magical charms that could make him sing ‘I’m a little teapot’ for hours on end, cast by his mage coworkers. But he looked past that, always trying to revel in his job, seeking happiness in what little there was to be found. The royal guard looked for more qualified individuals of class? Well, there was always the option of castle guard. Aelar wasn't good enough for castle guard, arena guard, knight, or gladiator? Not even a prison or jail guard? Nighttime patrol?

Well fine. While off, breaking bones, dealing with serious crimes, murderers, all the while living an anxiety-filled life, Aelar was here, living his best one. Enjoying his day, watching butterflies flit around on the field surrounding the wall, dying of heatstroke, and once in a while snacking on some candied peels he managed to sneak in. And during lunch break, he would enjoy sitting next to his friends, laughing at conversation, and enjoying his brief meal. Well, he was short of friends, his fellow guards only ever seemed to tolerate him, BUT the guard dogs seemed to like him, past the biting and the growling. Why else would they bite him, and only him?

Every day he woke up, telling himself, this was going to be the best day ever. Then he was, of course, pelted with some form of a charm from one of the mages. It meant they liked him, of course. It was a short little tease between friends to get his attention, of course. Aw, how sweet of them. Of course, they could stand to stop dropping water over his head every day. Perhaps Aelar could see the joy in that too. Free shower, no?

Yes, Aelar was happy, at his job, with his friends, dogs, and the butterflies out on the field. Yes, Aelar was happy, within his cramped apartment, with things strewed around his room like a hurricane had gone through it. Yes, Aelar was happy, undeterred by the hole in the wall and the leaking pipe that never failed to drip on his head at night. He could say the gap was ventilation revolutionized, yes? Yes, Aelar was happy, despite being two months late in paying rent, because he spent all his money gambling and drinking away his sorrows. What sorrows? Aelar couldn't see any within a thousand-mile radius. He always had hope for a better tomorrow.

Just not today.

Despite that hope, he definitely drank too much last night.

While enjoying his birdwatching, and butterflies flitting, he spotted a hobgoblin, a bird person, and two bears waving at some random object in the distance.

Blinking hard, Aelar glanced at the scene once more in disbelief. The hobgoblin stood on top of the bear, the bird thing popping in a red object in their mouth. Maybe they were a circus act? Who were they waving to? Were they even real?

He shook his head. He really needed to stop coming to work hungover. The sun was beating down on him. It was like being cooked alive within the armor, not to mention the thick layer of cloth he wore underneath the metal plates on top.

“Hey,” He coughed out hoarsely after standing still in silence for quite a bit. “Do you see that? Or is it just me?” He glanced towards his partner, Valna, another border guard.

Without even looking, Valna just rolled her eyes, “I’m sure it’s just you,” She fanned her face with her hand. “This heat is killing me.” Valna went back to fiddling with her armor.

“Ah.” Aelar decided it was definitely the alcohol.

But then, a few minutes passed by when two large caravans nearly crashed into the wall. Stiffening up, Aelar peeked once more to see what was going on. Ever since the lockdown, things have gone very slow at the border. Not like it was always fast. Usually, people came from the east side. He was always sent to the west. It was a wonder to Aelar as to why that happened.

Valna looked over as well. The mages on top of the watchtowers peered down.

From what he could see, it was a big reunion between a traveling band of adventurers. Fun. Aelar has always wanted to meet with a real adventurer. Usually, it was just charlatans lying through their teeth or newbies unused to legitimate adventuring.

He was too far away to see who was in the group individually. Eventually, two of them, Ghak of Rorc and Eryn of Nightflower, came to the gate, asking to be let in.

Aelar was already pretty intimidated. For one, he actually never came face to face with strangers outside the city borders before. Quite an intriguing predicament for a border guard of all things.

Although, Aelar couldn't help but bubble up in excitement. The prospect of delivering his first Gold ribbon message made him ecstatic beyond words. Only the most important messages came in a gold ribbon. Usually, mundane stuff like reports and statistics came through copper ribbons, with disturbances and unruly cadets stepping out of line came in the form of silver ribbon messages. But gold ribbon ones went straight to the palace, to the king himself.

Watching the rest of the adventurers come into the gates of the city, he suddenly saw something that didn’t seem right.

“Sir! Uh, Ghak!?”

Whipping around, Ghak raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I apologize sir, but the rules state that only livestock, horses, and pets under two hundred pounds be let into the city. The rest of you may go, but the bears cannot be let in.” Aelar flinched and inched away from the bears as they growled slightly at him.

Suddenly, one of the bears opened its mouth and began to speak in a deep growl.

“You dare insult me, categorizing me as a wee pet?”

What is going on?! Aelar chuckled nervously. It’s not every day that a bear starts speaking out of nowhere. Behind him, the other guards jumped as well, at the sight of this crime against nature.

“Uhh,” He managed to stutter out, shocked.

“Well I wouldn’t expect you of all creatures to be so understanding. I am a sentient being, eons above your simple mind. I simply will not tolerate being talked down to. Wild animal,” The bear somehow managed to scoff at Aelar. “Pathetic. Well get this through your thick skull. Under the laws of nature, with humanoid interaction, sentient creatures are protected from such discrimination and ignorance. We have a right to go into the city. I would recommend you let us do so.”

The second bear right next to the one speaking grunted in agreement.

“What he said.” Ghak grinned widely.

There was a long pause, as it took a while for the guards to even process what had just happened.

Aelar was terrified, staring wildly at the other guards, trying to get an explanation for this. He was only met with blank stares and uneasy glances.

“Um, okay. I guess..” Aelar laughed nervously, taking a couple steps away from the bear. “Ah, welcome to Urgshire!”

The heat really was killing Aelar. It was like a sauna underneath all of that armor. The very ground seemed to shift and change in his vision. Did he really just see that bear talk?

He stood there in disbelief, whilst the rest of the guests made their way through the gates, and spilled out into the courtyard, including the disgruntled bears. The gates closed behind them with a loud creak, and the veil of magic shielding over it once more.

The other guards went back to their posts, despite the fascinating turn of events.

“Are we… are we not going to address that?” Aelar turned to Valna helplessly.

Valna shot a grim look at Aelar. “No.” She deadpanned.

“Oh,” Aelar shifted in his armor. “Okay.”

And the two stood there in awkward silence.

#dnd #dungeons and dungeons #dnd fanfiction #dnd ocs #dnd original character #sun elf #dnd shenanigans #fanfic #fantasy #dnd fantasy #Spotify

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blinday · 3 months ago

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I don't even like Bolsonaro but to see someone frame Moraes as the good guy? Yeah sorry, you lost me there. This guy has had people imprisoned for shit talking him on the internet and is involved in major assassination and silencing operations. And don't even get me started on Lula - you guys talk about Trump having been an actor before, but guess what, our president is an illiterate terrorrist. Literally. He bombed stuff back in the day, and has said multiple times that he wants internet to be removed from our country. And also was literally put in jail in this decade . So yeah, between two assholes I prefer the anti gay freak over the terrorrist freak.

Also op, isn't it weird how this far right supremacist is defending the free speech? That's not very totalitarian of him, huh.

So, is Musk a bozo? Yes. But is Moraes worse? Fuck yes.

Op, just tell me, are you okay with sites handing over your data and information around? For any reason at all? Why is it that for this specific case they should've handed it for the government?

Oh yeah, let's not forget to talk about the "attack". So, going to the streets to protest because the very fishy means of voting of your country have given fishy results is an attack? Suppose for a second that it actually had intentions of becoming violent from the beginning, are you suggesting that the police and Minister need the private data of someone's account on X to do their fucking job? Well it that's so maybe they should quit because that's an awful lot of incompetence.

The amount of censoring and silencing in this country is honestly so high it's scary, and you're only feeding the narrative. But oh no, we can't talk about these problems, because if I agree with something this right wing politic/it guy says I am automatically 100% on his side because that's how politics work.

The funniest thing about this situation is that Elon Musk is so pissed off at not getting to do something illegal and get away with it by being a billionaire for once in his life that he has been -and I’m 100% serious here- making photo edits of our Supreme Court minister dressed as fucking Voldemort. Literal little kid taping a picture of someone they don’t like to a dartboard kind of behavior.

#yeah lets leave out the context that moraes made containment camps for pacific protesters because they were 'involved in the ''''coup'''''#even though the number of people who actually did damage was so hilariously small that the media couldn’t get enough footage #lets also forget that the protesters' groups were leaked and that most of the violent people there were NOT even in them #because life is black and white and the right is always just a bunch of bufoons

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scentedchildnacho · 1 year ago

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I found out about just bothering them because the passer by happened to have transexual or bisexual gender characteristics.....and knew to ask her him they etc....why their so fixated on abnormalizing poverty....and so I was told their dispositions aren't grand or positive their as infantile as i suspect and it just bothers beaters

I was like if the coffee is served abnormally like way in the morning or night or at lunch like if it causes puke and sleep deprivation they will want to dump it down my throat but if I go assert my rights to normal customs.....their immediately very violent

Like say I know caffeine intake is only productive and healthy as a morning custom.

Police facts are naive though...their Ed gein rapeists and it's Ed I don't enjoy foriegn westernism it isn't new York American and it doesn't make sense here

Or well communities help domestic abusers perpetrate because their over worked exotics and a pharmacy job is dumping some pills at people and free loans...drug dealing is all exotics then have to do

Though I more feel there is neo marxism about it and truthfully it's attempts to bring on people something truly demonic truly to see my disposition and spirit break and me be nothing but psychopathology

I think I'm right that he does more kill whores....it doesn't know that if it's called ass to just not endure it and live a different life....i notice constant deprivational torture if whores won't leave

I get battered 24 7 with deprivational cruelty till I help non stop with if their not in Muslim robes they can't be anywhere

I was white and it's spiritual sense of cruelty from Asian wars quite frankly is more endurable for me then claiming I'm released when I'm not ...

It's maybe just my experience but most women show me if they try to release themselves from p.o.w. engineered modesty.....that their sex lives kill them....

Big boob queen...you can't say sexuality is youthful inherently and you can be released to friends and maturity only on listed schedules....you can't tell her age really she is witchy that way

I did apologize to the german lady with I'm not native....i have weird missions in life like knowing banking is to be sustained or if people lose control of financializing common borders are crossed and mass misery is caused

They keep harassing and stalking me to go to Mexico and Mexicans are a kind small nation they only have what they do ....

I mean if I have to finally go tell him why English what he doesn't do English there needs climate relief I don't think your going to find this endurably fun if I have to tell him I really need climate relief from mexico

The whores here are like Melissa in Alamogordo new Mexico ...they replace the prior emo models and people torture people that won't help kill that whore populace off ...

A lot of my misery would be over if I went to the er and called a bikini revenge my death by pills target......but im not really into that Kevorkian....it's not a pleasureable death compared to hope

If I found out the whore was a really bad person that wouldn't ever stop spooking and haunting these areas and the drug dealer was fun enough I would dose her to not careing if she couldn't comprehend it's emergence if it helped me own a place for awhile to stop being harassed in

That's me about psychiatry their really awful drug dealers just very bad foriegnism

I went to live with black evangelists awhile in the american south and some of the whores enjoy committing battery and I dont enjoy homicidal people that refuse to stop spooking at a people...a really bad person that somehow escapes common law like jail sentencing that to me is a reason to ask the mafia to re control populations

My family wouldn't be happy with me no and black people are who talk to me first or just tell me things about life

That white haired lady that wears the pillow cases eventually confessed to me that she was a steroidal and secretly looks like a man and that's why she can't stop being a serial killer

Steroids caused her psychopathology and she cant stop herself from transexual issues

She needs to be a woman or she can't stop masculine needs to kill

Because I asked her why she became homicidal it's the worst thing a human can endure from a neo Marxist perspective having to commit violence or sadism is more rare then masochism and so she finally showed me she is a man...

What happened to you though most humans run from having to be violent....

Because I've been homeless for seven to eight years and this conflict is finally so batteringly cruel I have a psychopathology....and I want to know if that can happen to me finally

So she showed me people addicted or who enjoy their violent personality were on a lot of steroids or growth hormones

Oh you know homelessness when a helicopter wont stop beating your head and you show your cruelty with cheers and like only of anti aircraft weapons professionals ya know people who prefer the copter mogaed

But i dont get a personality disorder truth is my spirit is very passive and non violent and sometimes Im even more encouraging of people willing to be violent to sound bombs or torture with tools because I really dont enjoy playing my cruelty

That white haired walker lady though she may truly enjoy her violent personality as ego...

And that's oh my God that white haired lady looks like John wayne gacy and they maybe kill gays here

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cyarsk52-20 · 1 year ago

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Vanderpump Rules Reunion Recap: The Trailer Park

Photo: Nicole Weingart/Bravo/Nicole Weingart/Bravo

The second part of this sure-to-be-epic reunion starts off with everyone screaming over #Scandoval and, yes, just as Tom Sandoval says, it has given everyone a bit of a get-out-of-jail-free card. No matter what they did this season — heck, no matter what they’ve done in their whole lives — it’s like we’ve entirely forgotten about it because of the awful things Sandoval, Schwartz, and Raquel did to the rest of the cast. When this was filmed, it was still fresh and everyone was reeling, but when Lisa Vanderpump tells Lala that she can sometimes be too aggressive, she looks at Lisa and says, “You need to stop. You need to stop. You need to stop.”

First of all, none of these yahoos would be doing spon-con for Uber Eats if Lisa Vanderpump didn’t get this project in front of Bravo in the first place. Yes, she may be ancillary to the show at this point, but put some respect on her name. Also, Lala tells her what she needs to stop doing is defending Sandoval. I don’t think that Lisa is defending him, but her criticizing other cast members for their behavior — and let’s face it, Lala is way too aggressive sometimes — doesn’t mean she’s letting him get away with his. She can do both.

It’s funny that Lala starts off so hot because the segment they spend focusing on her is the only thing to soften her all season. She talks about her conversation with Ally on the catamaran during Scheana’s 17-day boondoggle wedding for two already-married people. She says that her relationship with Randall so hurt her and she felt like such a fool that she just wanted to protect Ally. That’s the kind of vulnerability we crave from Lala. She’s so busy pretending to be a boss bitch who will take down anyone that crosses her that she never shows us that there is an actual person behind the hair extensions and talons. I think that is really sad and relatable, and she could learn a thing or two from Kenya Moore, whose aggression with her co-stars is often forgiven because we know how difficult her personal and romantic lives have been for her.

Then we switch to DJ James Kennedy, the White Kanye himself, who gets on my very last nerve. When Lala is talking about that conversation, James says he didn’t know about it until he saw it, and it upset him. He says he called Lala to discuss it because she knows “I’m not that guy.” Dude, you are. You are so that guy. You are so much that guy that if life were a game of Guess Who?, he would be the only plastic square still standing while we have to look at the smug crooked grin that he can’t seem to wipe off his face. The reason they were having that conversation is that he was literally that guy the night before, getting into fights with Brock’s random drunk Aussie friends and with St. Ariana at the dinner table.

This is where everyone’s blinders to Sandoval are really going to get me. Sandoval talks about a regular gig he and Schwartz had where they would go to Atlantic City. It sounds like a paid appearance where they would be at a casino or club to lure people from the tristate area into a sinking cesspit in New Jersey. They invited James along one time too. At the gig, which involved them drinking with fans, James got so belligerent that he grabbed a waitress’s ass, had to be asked to leave, and cost the Toms this regular gig.

Sandoval’s point is that, yes, they may drink way too much, but when they do, they don’t assault servers (if Sandoval can be believed, and that is an if bigger than both of Brock’s prominent pectorals), they don’t shout at people, and they don’t lose their jobs. We have seen James do two out of three things on camera. I repeat he is that guy. Just because the criticism of James’s drinking and how his drinking is different from others in the group is coming from Sandoval doesn’t mean it is invalid. Yes, Ariana can shout that instead he fucks her friend, but his awful act doesn’t nullify all the less awful acts that everyone else on these precipitously tall chairs has committed.

Meanwhile, Ally is fully delusional. She says she saw the show, but nothing she saw of James ever made her think she didn’t want to get in a relationship with him. She calls him sweet, which he may be in select moments, but he is also the person who has raged on every single person on the show and said horrendous things to Raquel’s family, whether or not her mom brought up if he was uncircumcised at the family Thanksgiving. (Yes, that’s awkward, but could she have been, I don’t know, joking?) Ally calls this man sweet, and then she says that “fat” should never be used, even though it is always James’s go-to insult. We see him use it multiple times in the flashbacks. We also see him call Sandoval a mustached worm again, so you know he workshopped that one. And, on behalf of all mustached Americans, I would like to say that trying to malign a facial hair style that makes every face 78 percent more handsome (even Sandovals) isn’t the right move.

With that, we say good-bye to Ally and her drop-shipped pink ensemble with boning that is too big and a bra cup that is too small. Get in your car, Ally, and drive away. Drive far, far away from James and this whole mess and live the life of a private astrologer to the stars before you sink any deeper into the tarpit that is the reality television arts and sciences.

Now a word from my husband:

Hey, everyone. It’s me, Christian. I know you don’t often hear from me because Brian usually just steals my jokes and doesn’t give me any credit. I needed to pop in to say that someone needs to ask Katie why the hell she went to Scheana’s wedding, where she didn’t belong and where no one wanted her. If this is not addressed in part three, I will be writing a letter to Andy myself, and I may become so incensed that Brian will have to divorce me, and the emotional spiral will incapacitate him for years and he’ll have to close the Housewives Institute. No one wants that, right? See you all next time Daddy Moneybags Vulture III lets someone recap a reunion (i.e. never).

Thanks, Christian. That was not at all helpful. That was, in fact, about as helpful as Tom Sandoval walking the very long 100 yards from the set to see Raquel in her trailer, where she has to sit so that Scheana doesn’t break the restraining order Raquel took out against her. Tom was especially unhelpful when producer Patrick (remember him from that awful Fire Island show?) told him that if he and Raquel wanted to hang out together, they had to do it on camera. It’s a pretty easy order to understand and also a very reasonable request because if they’re going to plot and strategize about what to say, then we should be able to see it. This temper tantrum of stupidity is the only thing that Tom has said in either of these reunion episodes that I buy.

I take that back! There is one point where Scheana talks about how she had her suspicions of Tom and Raquel and confronted both Ariana and Tom with her suspicions. They were questioning why she brought it up to Tom, and she said, “You at least had to lie to my face,” to which he immediately responded, “I did.” Yes, honey, we know. That’s why we’re all here and the world is watching.

Just as I think that everyone surrounding Andy is an absolute garbage person, we get the Scheana Shay redemption arc that no one sees coming. Sandoval, after a pause longer than the mint green sash on Raquel’s dress, says that right when everyone found out that night on Watch What Happens Live, Scheana called Ariana and said on speaker, “I punched that bitch in the face, and I threw her phone in the street.” I do not believe Scheana said that or that she punched Raquel, but I am choosing to believe she said this to Ariana at the moment. Print it up, put it on a T-shirt, cross-stitch it into a pillow, write it in the sky with enormous balloon letters that will never pop. I think I will get “I punched that bitch in the face and threw her phone in the street” tattooed on my right forearm so that I can point to it whenever I have to punch a bitch in the face or throw her phone in the street.

Scheana was heartbroken and sincere but in the best way possible. She talked about how close she was with Tom and Raquel and how she asked Raquel never to do anything that would make them not be friends and Raquel said she wouldn’t, but she was probably already getting Tom Sandoval in her Most Extra at this point, so it didn’t really matter. But then Scheana ends her time at the reunion with two perfect gestures. She gives Andy a vinyl copy of her certified banger “Good as Gold” (would buy, put a link in your bio ScheSche) because he once joked that in 2023 she’d have a full album. Then she retired to her trailer, put on her comfy clothes, clutched a White Claw, and watched the Vanderpump Rules reunion. Yes, Scheana is all of us, right here on our couches, doing the exact same thing.

Naturally, the episode cuts off just as Raquel sits down in the chair — but not next to Sandoval, where she was originally placed. Her reactions this whole episode, especially in her conversation with Andy, were a little strange. It was like watching someone fully realize what they did and what the consequences would be, but like 19 months later. She says that her entire character is now in question. Um, no duh! You screwed your best friend’s man on local television. (As in, it is only local to women and gays.) What did you think was going to happen?

She also talks about how she regrets filing the restraining order and presents Scheana with a motion to dismiss it. This is like Randall Emmett missing a flight because it is too little and it is far too late. While in her trailer, she says, “As things are unfolding, it’s like more realizations and more regrets.” It’s as if the lightbulb went on that maybe Sandoval and Ariana’s relationship is better than Tom made it out to be, and maybe he didn’t actually ever try to break up with Ariana, as he claimed. She also tells Andy that she thought there was some way that she and Ariana could be friends when she found out about the affair. Does this woman have no idea how people will react to her? Does she not realize the hurt that she was going to cause? No, there is hardly anyone at this reunion that is a good person, but there is clearly no one worse than Tom and Raquel, two insecure people who are also so self-involved they think they can get everything they want without having to pay the price. Well, the bill is due, and neither of them can afford it.

Dame Brian Moylan breaks down all the gossip and drama, on- and off-screen, for dedicated students of the Reality Television Arts and Sciences.

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ameagrice · 2 years ago

Text

Capsize

chapter thirteen | the lotus casino

percy jackson x fem reader

Clothes irritating the skin under your arms, your shoes sopping wet, you walked back the way you came, looking like a drowned rat. Upon reaching the car park of the diner, you saw a tall man leaning against his Harley. Ares.

You practically saw red.

The man smirked and clapped sarcastically as you approached. “Well, well. You didn’t get yourself killed.”

Stepping forward, Percy spat, “You knew it was a trap.”

Ares gave a wicked grin. “Bet that old blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on tv.”

Percy thrust his shield to him. “You’re a jerk.”

Annabeth and Grover caught their breath. You glared, humiliated.

Ares grabbed the shield as if it were a piece of paper, spinning it easy as anything. It changed form, into a bulletproof vest that he slung across his back.

“See that truck over there?” He pointed to a long-haul truck. The letters spelt out ‘Kindness International: Humane Zoo Transport: WARNING WILD ANIMALS’ . “That’s your ride.”

“You’re kidding,” said Percy.

Ares snapped his fingers and the latch on the back doors unlocked. “Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here’s a little something for doing the job.”

That perked your interest. Ares tugged the strap of a blue nylon bag from the handlebars of his bike and chucked it over to Percy. At his side, you watched as he pulled the drawstring top and dug around. Inside were clothes, twenty dollars, a bag of drachmas, and and Oreos. And, at the bottom, a circular bottle containing a baby-blue glinting liquid, and a pure gold cap. You held it like it was a newborn baby.

“Hey, I don’t think—” Annabeth started.

“This is the perfume I was talking about, isn’t it?” You interrupted, turning it carefully in your hands.

“It is indeed. She says it’ll come in handy.”

“So she’s just doing it for entertainment?” You voiced.

Percy shuffled awkwardly. “What are you talking about?”

“We should go, right?” You looked up finally, into Percy’s eyes. He furrowed his brows, but nodded slowly.

Grover’s timid voice came next. “Thank you, Lord Ares. Let’s get going, guys.”

You turned to leave, to start walking, but was pulled back by a hand on the strap of your backpack. Percy.

“Hang on. You owe me one more thing. You promised me information about my mother.”

“You sure you can handle the news?” His thick-soled boot hit the stand on his bike. “She’s not dead.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she was taken before the Minotaur could kill her. There was a shimmer, right? Gold colour? That’s metamorphosis. Not death. She’s being kept.”

“Kept? Why?”

Looking between Ares and your friend, you watched the former’s growing smug expression, and the latter’s heartbroken one, waiting in anticipation.

Ares shrugged his shoulders, grinning like he had a secret to withhold. “Leverage?”

Despite the bad smell, and the fear chewing at your stomach of the lion by your side, you found that sleep took over you quickly. You had an awful dream, where you felt your stomach drop and your body become weightless. All was dark, and your heart thrummed in your chest like it knew something you didn’t.

“Time to go.”

“Are you alive? Oh my God, guys, she won’t wake up.”

“Give her a shove, she’s a deep sleeper.”

You blinked one eye open, looking up at Grover’s too close and panicked face. “Get away from me right now.”

“Come on already!” Annabeth snapped. “They’re coming!”

You scrambled to sit up as Percy pulled on your arm desperately. You tried to blink the sleepiness from your heavy eyes. “Who’s coming?”

Banging on the side of the trailer jolted your senses to wake up. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“Maurice?! What’d ya say?”

“What are you banging for?”

Despite your tough exterior, you panicked. “This is it!” You fretted, “we’re done for! They’ll send us to jail for life?”

“Nah,” Percy shook his head and exhaled. “Not life, just a few years probably.”

You almost screamed as Annabeth literally popped up in thin air. As if this was normal, she said, “This transport business can’t be legal.”

You flicked your eyes around the trailer, at the zebra in the corner chewing on bars. “You don’t say.”

“The lion says these guys are animal smugglers! We’ve gotta free them!”

And, without another word, Percy raised his sword in the air and brought it down on the latch of the cage. Instantly the zebra ran, barging through the loosely open doors and over the head of one of the guys in uniform. It took off down the street, over cars like something from the ballet, and the two guys in uniform took off after it. A cop car sounded and pulled up on a curb before its inhabitants began to run after them.

“We gotta go,” you urged, looking out at the crowd of slowing vehicles.

“Free the animals first,” Grover instructed firmly, and despite you beginning to walk towards the exit, the sound of Percy bringing his sword down on chains didn’t let up. An antelope galloped on by you and off through the street. The sunlight you stepped out into hit you with warmer air, easily into the hundreds.

It was going to be a long day, and you knew it.

With Annabeth and Percy leading the way, you walked what felt like miles. Your watch told you it had only been thirty minutes. You passed the Monte Carlo and your nose scrunched; a pyramid caught your eye and you wondered. It wasn’t a very boring trip perse, but it definitely tested your feelings. Worn out and too damn hot; you prayed in your mind to whoever would offer help to do so already and save your sorry self from this form of torture.

And then...

“What about this place?” You slowed to a stop, looking up at the entrance and the gleaming neon lights:

THE LOTUS CASINO

Instantly, the others stopped too a few steps away from you. The entrance was a huge neon flower, with petals bright pink and lit up. Nobody was going in or out, but the glittering, reflective doors were pulling you in, and before you knew it, you’d already made it nearly to the doorman, Percy calling behind you to wait for him. Your heart leapt with childish love; any attention from Percy was good attention, and maybe this was how you could redeem yourself in their eyes. Up close, the building almost seemed to smell of something pretty, sweet.

“Hey kids, you look tired. You want to come in and sit down?”

“Depends on what’s in there,” you folded your arms across your chest. The sound of the others getting closer almost pulled you away from the desire burning in your chest. This place looked and smelled amazing. And you were going in there no matter what your friends said.

“Refreshments, an all-you-can-eat buffet, arcades and rides. Trust me, you’ll never want to leave.”

You turned on the spot and clasped your hands together, beaming excitedly at Percy. “I don’t see why not.”

He looked a little sceptical, but he sighed. “I mean, it’s the closest we’ll get to relaxing for a few minutes, right?”

“I don’t know about you guys, but those doors are shi—ny.” Grover sighed.

You turned again and began to walk forward, sharing a smile and a nod to the doorman. “You, sir, are a legend.”

Hands on the doors, you gave a hard shove. They opened with a flurry of fresh air and that sweet smell, and the sound of rollercoasters on tracks, the sound of air hockey, and a lot of laughter. The whole room, as the doors shut behind you, was bathed in neon lights of pinks, oranges and blues, with video games and interactive ones lit up flashing and playing music. The place was massive, with a ceiling so tall you had to lean your head back to see it completely. To your left was a glass elevator, big enough to fit at least twenty or so people, and it went up as you watched. An indoor water slide snaked around the room.

“Hey!” A man in a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt appeared, smiling. “Welcome to the Lotus Casino! Here are your room keys. There’s a single on the blue card and a double and single on the green. Take your pick, kids.”

Percy spoke first. “Um, but...”

“No, no,” he said, laughing. “The bill’s taken care of! No extra charges or tips. Just go on up to the top floor, rooms 4008 and 4001. If you need anything just call the front desk. Here are your LotusCash cards. They work in restaurants and on all the games and rides.”

Your head was starting to feel a little fuzzy, but you took the green card anyway. Hungry and with your sights set on that waterslide, you started to walk off from the others in search of these restaurants the guy spoke of. Pure happiness, that’s what this palace was made of.

Before you knew it, you’d lost your friends, and you were sitting in what looked like an expensive food place with neon, light up signs on the walls shouting things like ‘yeah, dude!’ and ‘can’t beat the music!’. Ironically, music played in the background, some kind of upbeat lofi music. You ordered a triple cheeseburger and fries with a strawberry shake, and after that, chocolate fudge cake and ice cream. And then you took to wandering the place. After a good few minutes on a Pac Man game, a round of clay pigeon shooting, go-karting with some random boy named Jonathan wearing a waistcoat, and five go’s of the water slide (which didn’t take that long to queue for, you felt), you decided to make your way up to your room and check it out.

The elevator was packed, with a guy in uniform manning it. You didn’t really see the point, but as two kids at the back argued and shoved one another into the sides, you sort of got the gist. Finally you reached the top floor, and didn’t have to walk far as your room was the very first on the left. The floor was quiet considering how busy the place was, but maybe, you thought, everyone must have been downstairs still. After all it was still early in the day, right?

So why did you feel so drowsy all of a sudden?

You slid the keycard along the scanner and the door clicked open.

Inside was your own personal heaven.

“Ohh, what a beauty,” you muttered to yourself, giving the door a good kick behind you until it clicked shut and the scanner beeped locked. Before you was a huge flat-screen tv, a mini fridge under a desk, a double bed with thick, fluffy white pillows and covers, and to your left a brightly-lit bathroom with both a tub and a walk-in shower. Outside the window you faced when you walked in, the sky was pink, and you briefly wondered for a moment how it could be the colour of morning when morning had already been. You threw your bag down on the floor by the door and sauntered to the curtains, pulling them shut. The wardrobe at the end of the bed was sleek and shiny and white, and upon opening it you found three different fluffy bathrobes and slippers, complimentary pyjamas, and a dozen bottles of shampoo and conditioner and soap.

Tv on in the background, clothes strewn everywhere, you took the best shower of your life. With four different settings (you settled for tropical waterfall) and vanilla shampoo and conditioner, you felt like a new woman stepping out and into the thickest towel you’d ever touched.

You weren’t shocked to fall asleep soon after with the room service number scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper in your hand.

No dreams. You really thought you had gone to Heaven.

Waking up was peaceful. Somewhere on the landing somebody laughed loudly and another person hushed them, but you ignored it as best you could. The tv had turned off automatically, which made you try to think of how long you’d spent sleeping.

It took a long time to persuade yourself to actually get up, but it happened. Eventually. You dug out a denim skirt you’d stolen from Cora and a turtleneck and tights, ordered breakfast with room service, and start to head back downstairs.

Out on the landing, hand behind you pulling close your room door, you stood still for a second. Weren’t…your friends on this floor, too? And if they were, where the hell were they? And come to think of it, you hadn’t seen them in maybe an hour or two. You should definitely go find them.

Footsteps loud in the otherwise quiet corridor, you looked left and right at the gold numbers on the doors. Far down on the right-hand side, sat room 4008. You planted your feet in front of it and raised your hand to knock firmly, listening carefully. No sounds came from inside, so after knocking again—harder this time—and waiting a few more seconds, you sighed. Downstairs you went.

In the elevator, a woman excitedly told you in a western accent all about how her wedding was tomorrow. She wore the strangest looking bell bottom jeans you’d ever seen—seriously, the pattern was hideous, you thought, and she needed to buy a fashion magazine. Still you congratulated her, watching the room come into view, neon flashing lights and rollercoasters whizzing by.

It didn’t take long to get back into the groove of things. Game after game, food, more food, a rollercoaster that tipped you upside down fourteen times, and some more food to settle your stomach.

You stood up, straightening your skirt, and left the restaurant. The place was booming now, even busier than a few hours ago, and you practically had to shove your way through people to get to the shooting game you’d been dying to get to again.

Near the entrance now, you were ready to beat some kid up if he didn’t get off the gun you wanted—it was your turn after all. The doors you remembered walking in through flung open as some tall guy in a white suit and a woman in a purple dress—very modern and sleek—sauntered in, looking around in wonder. Rain dripped from the woman’s hair.

You couldn’t look away from the doors. How was it thundering? You could have sworn it had been bright sunshine all day. Just this morning you’d been sweating walking here, skin warm and beginning to tan. And now the world was trying to tell you it had done a 360° in just a couple hours?

You let the boy take the gun from your hands, you practically gave it away. Another guy carrying a backpack and headphones around his neck came in next, pushing the door open wider than the couple before him. Bright sunshine.

A chill settled over you, you made eye contact with the doorman, and he looked away as the door slowly closed again. Something wasn’t…

“Hey!” You yelled, tripping over. “Watch it moron!” You lifted your head and scowled. The blond boy in front of you laughed wickedly and ran off, much older than you.

Suddenly you remembered what you came over here for.

“Give me that, stealer!”

And the game began again.

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @hawkeye12 @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @luckydragontriumph @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @bugsys-bubble

Thoughts are appreciated for this one! I wasn’t sure where to go with it with work and motivation and ideas for a few months butttttt here it is, and the next one is already planned.

For the lofi music mentioned, think Gucci Louis Rapbeat 2.

#capsize #percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #trials of apollo #annabeth chase #heroes of olympus #hoo #jason grace #nico di angelo

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ghost-facer · 2 years ago

Text

Adam’s life became a nightmare the second his dad re-entered it.

The kingdom is small and failing, but despite all that, his dad is somehow proud to be the king of it. It’s a disgrace to be proud of a land where everyone suffers and hates you, but that doesn’t seem to bother John. Believing he’s superior to everyone else seems to justify and dictate most of his actions. He seems to get off on it too.

He’s despicable, and Adam hates him.

Adam wishes he was never brought to the castle. John had never acknowledged his existence before he became of-age. John never acknowledged Adam’s mom’s existence period. Adam got arrested three times for trying to get into the castle to plead with John for help when she was sick. It was humiliating, and the jail time cost him his job. And none of it had even fucking mattered. She died anyway.

But being a prince isn’t all bad. It’s just…Adam preferred life before. He was free. He was happy. He never had to see or talk to John.

His mom was alive.

Now he has to be at places at certain times, speak a certain way, eat certain foods, and follow all these dumbass etiquette rules. He’s so bad at them John had his most trusted servant Michael become Adam’s instructor on how to behave.

It should be awful and embarrassing. Adam supposes it kind of is but…Michael is hot and so genuine and sweet, and he feels like the first real person Adam’s met here.

And

yeah

okay

maybe Adam has a crush on him.

Maybe.

But it bothers him with how thoroughly and seriously Michael takes his job. How he takes Adam. It should be creepy if Michael wasn’t so…innocent? That doesn’t seem like the right word, but Adam can’t find a better one. Michael is just…so earnest and kind. He actually cares if Adam is okay. He thinks what he does is serious and noble, and there is some honor in that, but Adam wishes he met Michael under different circumstances. Somewhere normal and free and happy.

Adam cannot get this fucking dinner routine for the life of him. There’s like five different dinner styles all with different sets of rules, but Adam can’t quite grasp this one. There’s three fucking spoons that all look the same but are all used for different foods that must be eaten in an exact order, and it’s too much and it’s too stupid. Why is he even trying?

“Adam,” Michael says calmly. He’s always so fucking calm and patient with Adam when he can’t get something as simple as this. He’s too gracious. “Let’s take a little break, alright?”

“No! I can do this! I can pick the spoons up in the right order!”

“Adam—”

"Your devotion is suffocating, you know that?" Adam spits.

Michael blinks. "I'm...sorry?"

"It's like...I don't know what you'd do with yourself if you didn't have me to serve. Without me, you don't really have anything else that you do."

Adam regrets it the second it leaves his mouth.

He regrets it even more when hurt flashes across Michael’s face for just a second.

“Michael, I—”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Perhaps we should take a break.”

Adam stands up so quickly his chair topples over. He winces at the sound. “Michael…” But Adam doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s alright, Adam,” Michael repeats.

“It’s not, and I—” He takes a fortifying breath. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He laughs bitterly. “You’re like the only good thing about this place.” He voice wavers and unexpected tears spring into his eyes. He quickly tries to wipe them away, hyper-aware of Michael’s eyes on him.

Michael gets up from his seat across from Adam and rounds the table. He’s handing Adam a fucking silk handkerchief that Adam has no idea where he got, and it’s all just so Michael that he can’t help but laugh.

His shakily takes the handkerchief from Michael and attempts to wipe his face. He can’t find it in himself to look up at Michael. He feels himself flush in embarrassment and shame and the knowledge of how pathetic he’s being right now.

Warmly, and with the genuineness that only Michael can speak, “You’re doing great, Adam.”

The compliment floods his eyes with more tears and Adam scoffs.

Michael continues, “I’m serious. You’ve been through a lot in the past two months. You’re honestly doing much better at this than I anticipated.”

“John doesn’t think so.”

“The king…” The next part sounds like it’s difficult for Michael to say. “…often holds his expectations for his sons to an impossible standard.”

Adam blinks. He can’t help the sly grin that stretches across his face. “That’s kind of a treasonous thing to say, Michael,” he teases.

Michael tenses and stands up straighter. “I—”

“I’m teasing you, Michael. I like talking shit about ‘the king.’” He makes air quotes with his hands to emphasize just how little he respects John.

“You should be careful.” His tone is hushed, nearly a whisper.

It’s ridiculous, and Adam almost laughs again. “Why? What can he do? Take away my home? My job? My life?” He swallows. “My mother.” Adam shakes his head. “No, he can’t make me feel anything worse than he already has.”

Something flashes across Michael’s face. Worry? Concern? Sympathy? It happens too quickly that Adam can’t tell exactly what it was. Then Michael takes a step closer. And another. Adam can feel his breath fan across his face. His lips.

Adam’s breath gets caught in his throat.

Michael whispers, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Adam surges forward and kisses him. He cups his hands on Michael’s cheeks, and his skin is so soft. Michael’s lips open beneath his, and Adam desperately shoves his tongue into his mouth.

There’s a sort of urgency to the kiss as if they both know they shouldn’t be doing this.

And then it’s like Michael read Adam’s mind because he’s suddenly pulling away. He stumbles a few steps back. His lips are wet, and his face is pink.

With wide eyes Michael says, “We shouldn’t.” His voice shakes.

“Why not?”

Michael shakes his head. “You must—” He looks around the room. Licks his lips. Sucks in a deep breath. “You must court and then marry someone in your social status.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t make the rules, Adam, we—”

“Then let’s break the rules.”

Michael still has the wide-eyed stare. It curdles Adam’s stomach, and dread sinks in like a heavy stone.

“No.” Michael shakes his head. He swallows. He’s blinking rapidly, and Adam realizes he’s trying not to cry. “No, we can’t, Adam.” He seems to gather himself then. He stands up straighter. Adjusts his clothes. His voice is more even when he speaks, “I’ll get someone else to take this position to help you.”

“Michael—”

Michael silences him with a cold glare. His face is blank and smooth. Detached. He turns and walks out of the room.

Adam’s still clutching onto his handkerchief.

Writing Prompt #2288

"Your devotion is suffocating, you know that?"

"I'm...sorry?"

"It's like...I don't know what you'd do with yourself if you didn't have me to serve. Without me, you don't really have anything else that you do."

#daily drabble #midam #michael #michael spn #adam milligan #adam spn #supernatural #spn #writing prompt #drabble #midam drabble #text post

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