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world0fmadness · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ˚ BOTH? BOTH!

oscar piastri x silent hill / horror game obsessed! reader x lando norris

featuring: daniel being very much like a big brother in the comments and * gasp * a picture of my OWN silent hill collection

faceclaim: assorted

୨୧ some people asked for a part two of this smau due the ending really hinting at a throuple so here it is! it can be read separately or as a continuation as they’re an established throuple here <3 and i know the silent hill 2 remake was announced ages ago but it’s fanfic, let me pretend

reading music recommendations: i want love by akira yamaoka - float up from a dream by akira yamaoka - you’re not here by akira yamaoka

oscarpiastri: this is what happens when i take both of them shopping at the same time…

ynlovesthehorror: we’re peaceful beings :)

> oscarpiastri ✔️: you threw a cucumber at my head…

> landonorris ✔️: can’t handle a little fun osc?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: and you’re no better, you shoved me into the boot of the car!

oscarpastrylover: are… are they all dating now? i feel like this is a little too couple-y…

> landoscaryn: there is no fucking way they’re not all dating… i’ll swear on my hamsters life they HAVE to be dating

> iluvf1: leave the hamster OUT OF THIS LMAO 😭

oldf1lvr: lando and yn be serious for five minutes challenge ( IMPOSSIBLE )

danielricciardo ✔️: cute!

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror, landonorris and oscarpiastri

> landoscaryn: mr man, what do you know? do tell…

landonorris: not too shabby if i do say so myself…

danielricciardo ✔️: happy for you three ❤️

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror, oscarpiastri and landonorris

loveuyn: he really said “you guys still aren’t sure if we’re dating? just have this and leave”

ynlovesthehorror: i kind of look good in these pictures 🤔

> landonorris ✔️: nah, you look like a tramp to be honest

> ynlovesthehorror: die ❤️

landoscaryn: I FUCKING TOLD YOU PEOPLE

> iluvf1: thank god, for your hamsters sake 😭

oscarpiastri ✔️: love you both so much ❤️

> landonorris ✔️: love you more ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: lol, gay ( i love both of you more, now come home so we can make out )

❤️ liked by oscarpiastri and landonorris

oscyn: praying these three never have a kid because you just know yn would FIGHT to name it after a silent hill character…

> landonorris ✔️: fucking hell, don’t give her any ideas…

> ynlovesthehorror: 👩‍🍼 < me and the god i birthed ( we will now build an eternal paradise )

> loveuyn: i don’t think yn realises how niche her references are when it comes to f1 fans 😭

> oscarpastrylover: literally, i think most of them just think she’s clinically insane or something so they leave her be

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror

landoscaryn: not gonna shut up about this for MONTHS, my throuple ship is REAL

ynlovesthehorror: just spent hours explaining some of the silent hill lore to lando and every explanation lead to another question from him, i want him DEAD ( also a very good representation of what i want to do to people that say “ it’s ash not snow ” if you ever come into my comment section with that “ lore ” i’ll get lando and oscar to put a brick through your window )

landonorris ✔️: IM TRYING

> ynlovesthehorror: the information is going in one ear and right out the other, honestly, you just need to play them yourself now because i’m DONE

> landonorris ✔️: i’ll play them on stream then, muppet

> ynlovesthehorror: GOOD

> oscarpiastri ✔️: stop arguing you two

> ynlovesthehorror: sorry babe

> landonorris ✔️: sorry love

> oscarpiastri ✔️: ❤️

> landoscaryn: all three of them have each other wrapped all the way around each others finger lmao 😭

maxverstappen ✔️: it’s ash not snow

> ynlovesthehorror: gonna get lando to crash into you

> maxverstappen ✔️: if he can catch up

> ynlovesthehorror: omg??? maxi pad you are a horrible man 💔

> landonorris ✔️: come kiss me to make me feel better 😔

> ynlovesthehorror: on it <3

> oscarpiastri ✔️: me too please

> ynlovesthehorror: nothing happened to you???

> oscarpiastri ✔️: lando whacked me over the head with a lead pipe

> landonorris ✔️: what is it with you two and making up the most unbelievable lies about me 😭

ynlovesthehorror: look at my husband you guys 😩 i cannot believe it, the transmission was actually something fucking good, after years of drought

oscarpiastri ✔️: the most inhuman noise came out of you…

> ynlovesthehorror: I WAS EXCITED

> landonorris ✔️: still, that noise was mental… and i thought we were your husbands?

> ynlovesthehorror: you are! but james was my 1st husband <3

> landonorris ✔️: and was this before or after he killed his wife?

> ynlovesthehorror: ☹️

loveuyn: i feel bad for everyone on the grid and in the paddock because she will not shut the fuck up about this until it releases and when it does release it’ll be even worse 😭

> landoscaryn: right? i’m keeping the engineers in my prayers lmao

danielricciardo ✔️: excited for you yn! i know how much the game means to you ❤️

> ynlovesthehorror: thank you daniel, finally someone that likes me for ME

> landonorris ✔️: ?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: ?

ynlovesthehorror: we finally did it! me and oscar dressed up as james and maria, here are the pictures <3 and a sneak peak of me and lando dressed as james and mary hehe

oscarpastrylover: they need to stop being so hot IMMEDIATELY

landonorris ✔️: you looked amazing love, oscar too i guess… ours is better though 😗

> oscarpiastri ✔️: oi!

> ynlovesthehorror: we all looked amazing :) but especially you two

❤️ liked by landonorris and oscarpiastri

> landoscaryn: the way they’re always either bullying and mocking each other or being so sweet and loving on each other kills me, it’s literally just three best friends that kiss

> landonorris ✔️: we do more than kiss, my friend

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror

> landoscaryn: oh-

> oscarpiastri ✔️: for fuck sake lando!

oscyn: okay… yeah… i’m so normal about this! SO NORMAL

iluvf1: i have no idea who these characters are but this is the hottest thing i’ve ever seen an f1 driver do i think…

> oldf1lvr: literally 😩 hot in so many ways, hot because lando and oscar LOOK hot and hot because they actually do this stuff with yn instead of not participating in her interests! we love men who do things with their gf

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror

loveuyn: that 4th picture… hideo kojima approves

> ynlovesthehorror: what could’ve been 💔 biggest heartbreak of my life

> landonorris ✔️: me and oscar could die in a fire and that still wouldn’t beat the heartbreak that P.T. caused you…

> ynlovesthehorror: well at least you know!

> oscarpiastri ✔️: 😔

landonorris: was on a walk with my boyfriend when we came across this strange creature on the side of the road 😟 took it to get some food and we’re not too fond of it, anyone else want it? selling for 10 quid

ynlovesthehorror: honestly hope you get hit by a bus or something

> landonorris ✔️: no you don’t ❤️

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror

danielricciardo ✔️: fucking hell, that second picture is amazing

❤️ liked by landonorris and oscarpiastri

> ynlovesthehorror: :(

> danielricciardo ✔️: sorry yn!

oscarpiastri ✔️: i think it’s sort of cute, in its own weird way ❤️ definitely worth more than £10

> ynlovesthehorror: 🥹

> landonorris ✔️: £11?

> oscarpiastri ✔️: yeah i reckon that’s enough

> ynlovesthehorror: ☹️

landoscaryn: seeing and hearing lando refer to oscar as his boyfriend literally makes my heart explode 💔 i love these three so much

> oscarpastrylover: yep, this relationship is literally a bisexual f1 fan’s dream, just three hot best friends in a relationship

ynlovesthehorror: my boys <3 ( i love thinking about things they’d go to silent hill for )

landonorris ✔️: you ALMOST made a sweet post but then you just had to go and bring up that game, BE NORMAL ( don’t be normal, i love you weirdo )

> oscarpiastri ✔️: just be happy she made a post about us at all, it’s a once in a blue moon occurrence, 99% of her feed is silent hill ❤️ love you both

❤️ liked by ynlovesthehorror

> ynlovesthehorror: at least SOMEONE knows how to be grateful, love you osc ( and lando, i guess 🙄 )

danielricciardo ✔️: you’ve 100% gotten over lando pointing a gun at you and threatening you then yeah?

> ynlovesthehorror: oh that, yeah, totally! he bought me mcdonald’s and more silent hill stuff and toys for heather so we’re all good now <3

> landonorris ✔️: we’re literally DATING, you muppet 😭

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆｡˚ ⋆

yn ln being horny on main

#oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smau

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does-this-look-inanimate-to-you · 6 months

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if little shop of horrors were to get a modern remake, do you think timothee chalamet would be cast as seymour

#to be clear this is a bad thing #i HATE how many times i’ve seen attractive people cast as seymour #HIM BEING UNATTRACTIVE IS A PART OF HIS CHARACTER #HIS OWN LOVE INTEREST ADMITS HE’S NOT PHYSICALLY ATTRACTIVE #and if you want to make seymour tall cast a really gangly beanpole #WITH EXPERIENCE IN MUSICALS INSTEAD OF JUST MOVIES #little shop of horrors #lsoh #seymour krelborn

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cadouisms · 1 year

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customer service

i played re4 remake for 4 hours and decided i wanted the merchant carnally

the merchant/afab!reader, 18+ also on ao3

“You look like you’ve been through the ringer, stranger.”

At the sudden voice, you jerk. In the shadows of the building you ducked into, a robed man leans against a wall, surrounded by boxes and various bits of shelving. He looks huge. You defensively raise your bloodstained hatchet in front of you, adrenaline still hot and heavy in your veins.

The man shows his palms, placating. “Easy there. I’m not interested in fightin’.”

“What do you want?” Unsurprisingly, your voice comes out shaken, hoarse. You’ve been screaming all day.

“Way I see it, you stepped into my shop.”

“Your sh…” You lower your arms, inch by inch, as you properly assess your surroundings. A brazier burns in the corner, blazing a curious purple. Alongside the boxes, there’s a table covered in bits and bobs — ammo, you think, and some paper. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you realize he’s not as big as you thought; on his back is an oversized bag, and he appears to strain under its weight. A merchant, you think. “What do you sell?”

The man laughs. It’s a gravelly staccato, a quite literal heh heh heh, that unnerves you. “What’re ya buyin’?”

Your pockets are bare. The only belongings you have are the clothes on your back and the hatchet in your hand. Even if you had any money, you doubted it’d be enough to afford even a single hot meal. You shake your head. “No budget for anything.”

“No?” He nods toward your hand. “Seems like you could use an upgrade, mate.”

He’s right. The blade is chipped and cracked in several places and is in dire need of a sharpening, if not a full replacement. You’re afraid it won’t last you much longer. “Please don’t misunderstand,” you say, voice cracking with overuse, “but I literally can’t afford one. I can’t pay.”

“Consider this a one-time offer, then.” The Merchant stands fully and, to your surprise, opens up his jacket. All sorts of knives, guns, ammo, and even tools hang from the inside. He pulls a small handgun from its sheath and spins it in his hand, holding the handle out to you. “She ain’t the most powerful out there, but she’ll get the job done better than that weapon of yours. On the house.”

Even underneath the hood, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose remain uncovered. A purple handkerchief obscures the rest of his features, mystifying him further. There’s no way to discern his intentions.

Fear him, says the rational part of your brain, the part that has kept you alive for the past day. You shouldn’t trust him. You should run and find somewhere else to camp out, take your chances with your shitty hatchet.

…But the lights flickering against the walls are oddly serene, and despite all his peculiarities, the Merchant seems the sanest person you’ve met. Not to mention the fact that you are in no position to refuse a free gun.

Your hatchet slides limply from your hand and clatters to the stone floor as you step closer. The metal of the pistol is cool and smooth in your hand, its weight neither too unwieldy or too light. You slide the magazine out — full — and reload. You double check that the trigger safety is on.

You’d need to find more bullets at some point, but that’s a problem for future you. As it is, you want to find a space to breathe and relax. Even after the horror of a day you’ve had, your heart still thuds rapidly in your chest, energy coiled so tight it’s a wonder you don’t explode. Your body wants to run far from the danger that lurks beyond these four walls, but you know you risk collapsing if you don’t rest.

“Well?” prods the Merchant.

His voice makes you startle. You come back to yourself all at once, and it hits you just

how close the two of you stand. He’s only a little taller than you, maybe more, but he’s much broader by far. Whether naturally or conflated with his oversized robe, you don’t know, but it makes your pulse quicken.

Fear him, your mind repeats. Run — but you’re rooted to the spot. You wet your lips.

All this adrenaline and no where for it to go.

The Merchant tilts his head. The sides of his hood give way enough that you can see his gaze as he looks you over. “Not satisfied yet, are you?”

You haven’t said thanks, you realize. “N-no, I—”

“How’s another special sound? Two for the price of one.” Slowly, deliberately, he begins to back you against the wall. His footfalls thud heavily against the floor.

You allow yourself to be trapped, sandwiched between him and the wall. Arousal throbs low between your thighs.

“We aim for customer satisfaction, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sleazy promise. “Say the word, ‘n’ I’ll sort you out.”

“Please,” you breathe.

You expect him to be rough, or demanding, or treat you any other callous way. Instead, he finds your wrists and drags them above your head. He moves with intentional slowness to give you time to change your mind or flee. When you don’t do either of those things, he pins your wrists together with one hand (massive, how did you not notice earlier—) and dips his head close. “Watch that trigger finger,” he says. “Wouldn’t want any accidents, now.”

You grasp your new gun by the hilt, four fingers and thumb wrapped around it, as his free hand wastes no time in finding the zipper of your pants. No teasing, no foreplay— he slips under the waistband of your underwear and rubs a fingertip against your clit. The simple touch is enough to make you jolt.

“Didn’t realize you were this sensitive,” he says, amusement tinting his tone.

“Me neither.” You bite back a moan as he wets his fingertips with your own arousal, the newfound lubrication easing the slide as he draws circles around your clit. “S’been a long time.”

The simple fact that a stranger has his hands down your pants makes your head spin. This isn’t something you ever thought you’d do — but then again, that was before the parasites, before the weird cult. This is tame in comparison to the things you’ve had to do.

Then the Merchant slides two fingers into your hole, and your thoughts scatter. You’re wet enough that the abrupt intrusion doesn’t hurt, but you feel the stretch as you accommodate him. The fabric of his glove adds an interesting texture as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. In another life, you’d be worried about the cleanliness of such an action.

Here, you can’t do anything but clench around him, mouth dropping open as you moan freely. “Feels good,” you pant. Then, “More.”

“More?” he parrots. “Greedy, aren’t we?”

Debauched, you think. Depraved. Sinful. You just nod.

“Gonna need more room for that.” He tugs your bottoms down further, enough so they bunch around your knees. The air cools your superheated skin. Your thighs spread wider. “There we go,” he all but coos, voice both condescending and not. He adds a third finger, stretching you much more than you’re used to, and your head falls back against the wall.

That coiled bundle of energy burns hotter within you, and you find yourself barrelling to the fastest orgasm of your life. “Please.” You twist in his grasp, bucking your hips onto his fingers. “Please, I’m so close.”

“Aye, I’ll get you there.” The fabric of his glove catches your clit with every thrust of his fingers, pleasure-pain sparking each time. “That good, eh?”

“Yes!” His fingers have you deliciously filled in a way your own never do. He smells distinctly masculine, like gunpowder and wood and smoke, and it just does something to your little monkey brain, enhances the pleasure. Hell, he could be anyone underneath his mask, and yet instead of fantasizing all you can concentrate on is the feeling in your cunt as he fingers you. “‘M’ gonna come,” you breathe. You squeeze around him as your pleasure climbs, stuttering his rhythm. “Please, oh fuck—”

Your back arches off the wall. In your ecstacy, the gun slips from your hand and falls to the floor. The Merchant laughs but you pay him no mind, moving to clutch desperately at the fabric of his robe as you ride the waves of your orgasm. His other hand, now free, plants itself firmly on the wall beside your head. You fuck yourself on his fingers until there’s nothing left in you, until you finally slump, breathless and boneless, against the wall.

The Merchant pulls away. You fix your clothing, pleasantly limp and fatigued. “I…thank you,” you say. “For the gun, and…”

Under his hood, his eyes glint. His hand disappears under the fabric that covers his face. You don’t have to see to understand what the wet popping noises mean. “Feel free to come back any time, stranger.”

Face heated and legs weak, you can only nod.

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #the merchant x reader #re4 merchant #writing #i was bummed at first abt the va replacement but. no actually hes so hot #woof woof i love his extra dialogue #and he seems like the type to give a lil extra service. yknow. teehee

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porcelainseashore · 8 months

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Ghosts from the Past (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This chapter is a lot more dialogue-heavy to set up the scenes for the next ones. It was originally going to be angstier, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Oops. I hope you still like it though.

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Baptism

Outside the embassy, Leon hailed for a cab to get to the bar. The journey there was in complete awkward silence, except for the occasional question raised by the cab driver, who quizzed you on why you were headed to such an unsavory place. Somehow he could tell that Leon didn’t quite belong and cautioned about certain areas being unsafe for tourists. Leon just snorted in response, while you laughed inwardly at the irony of his cover story, where he was meant to be your American tourist friend embarking on a Eurotrip.

To be honest, it really wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Berlin was a smaller city and felt safer than New York. However, you still carried around that Swiss Army knife Leon had won and given to you back in the day wherever you went, just in case. You ran the tip of your finger along its metallic surface in your pocket. The world could be cruel to little girls after all.

As you exited from the cab, you were greeted by a lively, eclectic neighborhood, sprinkled with night markets, kebab and shisha shops, independent art spaces and late night bars. The buildings were noticeably more rundown than Mitte, the district you had traveled from, and the community a lot edgier. With both of you now dressed casually, you had no problem blending into the midnight crowd.

You swung open the doors of an unmarked establishment and found yourselves shrouded in thick wafts of cigarette smoke upon entering. Leon frowned, coughing as he swatted the air in front of him. Even though you were used to smoking being allowed pretty much everywhere in Germany, your eyes still watered as you pressed up against and squeezed past the mass of bodies in the dimly-lit, dingy bar. The smell on your clothes and hair would take days to get rid of later. It was noisy and chaotic, with nearly every inch of the space occupied by chatty, drunk customers, some more boisterous than the others. You were lucky to find a small, rickety table with two precarious-looking stools at the extreme corner of the room.

Setting your coat and day bag down on one of the stools to claim it, you folded your arms, turned to Leon and remarked, “So… an agent, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whiskey first. Then, we’ll talk.”

You rolled your eyes at his standoffish reply, wondering what his problem was. After all these years where he had led you to assume he was dead, and with the circumstances both of you had found each other in, this was the kind of attitude he took with you? A prickling feeling of agitation grew in your chest as you pushed past him, storming towards the bar in annoyance.

Upon approaching it, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you saw that you knew the bartender who was on shift tonight. He usually popped a little extra into your drinks whenever he sensed you had a shitty day. Tonight was no exception.

“Zwei doppelte Kurze Whiskey.” (Two double shots of whiskey.) You raised two fingers at him to spell out your order.

He grunted out an acknowledgement as he got to work, filling two empty glasses with the fiery amber liquor, one glass topped up significantly more than the other.

“Macht er dir Probleme?” (Is he giving you any trouble?) He asked, without looking up from pouring the shots. It seemed like he had noticed your little commotion with Leon from just before.

“Aktuell nicht,” (Not for now.) you answered guardedly.

At this point, Leon had caught up to you, watching as the bartender placed the glass with more whiskey on the counter top in front of you and the one with less before Leon.

Leon huffed at the slight and shook his head. “I’ll take the bottle too.”

The bartender eyed him suspiciously as he plonked the whiskey bottle on the counter loudly, like there was an unspoken competition going on between them.

“Here,” Leon mentioned coolly, sliding a couple of euro bills along the counter to pay for all the drinks. “Keep the change.”

You sighed at the childish display before you, giving the bartender an apologetic look as you took your glass without a word, and settled in at the small table you had informally reserved earlier. The people around you were far more interested in drinking than any conversation you were about to have. Occasionally a fight started, but those responsible were easily cleared out by the staff.

There should be no issues with privacy here, you thought, as you downed your first round of drinks simultaneously with Leon.

The sharp alcohol burned your throat, warming you from the inside. You noticed Leon wincing as he brought the glass to his cut lip, finishing its contents in one clean gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Did he get hurt in the field? You wondered, but chose not to question it, instead pouring yourself another shot as Leon did likewise.

Frustrated by the ongoing silence between the two of you and Leon’s seeming reluctance to speak, you decided to break the dead air, stating sarcastically, “Anything else you need before we get started? Room service? A hot bath, perhaps?”

He threw back another shot, twisting his lips into a wry smile. “Hm, don’t tempt me.”

“Leon, what happened? All these years… I thought you had died.” You were getting tired of this game and wanted an honest exchange for once.

“I did,” he replied softly.

“Huh?”

Averting his gaze quickly, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter.”

But you wanted answers. You needed to know what had been haunting him too. “It does to me.”

You reached out to him cautiously, but just as your fingers ghosted the back of his hand, he moved it away, his voice turning cold as ice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s been a long time-”

His reaction took you by surprise as you interjected defensively, “Yeah, I can count.”

A long time? If anyone should be able to comprehend that, you were more than qualified.

“I’m not the same guy you used to know back then,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“And I’m not the same girl you knew either,” you countered, in a mixture of anger and confusion. He was talking to you like he was blaming you for something. It wasn’t fair and you weren’t going to put up with it anymore. “Stop avoiding the question, Leon.”

“Still as stubborn as hell though,” he muttered.

Your blood boiled at his non-answer. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” You seethed, raising your voice. “I mourned you. The past 7 years. I heard nothing. Your parents heard nothing.” You emphasized each point, taking another shot afterwards to calm your nerves. Your face scrunched up in response to the harsh bite of the liquor. “And now this?”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the empty glass in his hands, before hesitantly responding, “I got out of Raccoon City. Then, the government asked me to work for them.”

You caught the drift of what he was implying when he stressed the word ‘asked’, like it wasn’t by choice. But you didn’t understand what hold they had on him.

“That’s all you need to know.” Placing his glass back down on the table, he took a swig from the bottle itself this time. The few sentences he gave you had taken a toll on him.

“Why? How did they-”

“The rest is classified,” he snapped through gritted teeth, as a form of warning not to push it any further.

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, realizing that you weren’t much closer to understanding him and what he had gone through.

“Why did you join Silje’s company?” Leon questioned out of the blue, his tone filled with resentment, so much so that you bit your lip in reflex as guilt seeped into your heart.

“After you… die-disappeared, I-I didn’t know what else to do.” You cast your eyes downwards, your voice choking up with emotion as the memories you had suppressed came flooding back, like a gaping wound in your side.

“I had to leave. Everything just-” you paused, clenching your fists so hard that you could see the imprints of your fingernails against your palms. “-reminded me of you.”

At this, his stony gaze faltered slightly and a look of despondence slowly spread across his face.

“You could have gone anywhere else, but you just had to choose her, didn’t you?” He uttered somewhat accusingly. “You really shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“A bit too late for that,” you argued. Did he think you couldn’t hold your own?

“You can still walk away,” he offered.

Shaking your head, you peered back at him defiantly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he retorted bitterly, his brows etched together in a frown. “Look at how that turned out.”

Your mouth ran dry, and it felt as if you had been given a tight slap across your cheek.

So this was what it was all about? He still faulted you for what happened in the past? The most troubling thing was that you had nothing to say to that. You truly held yourself accountable for whatever that had gone wrong.

“Is this why you want to get rid of me?” It came out as a bare whisper.

He shrugged impassively, unable to meet your eyes like he was hiding something. “It’s just better this way.”

Your mind was going round in circles as you were put on the spot. However, something inside you kept rebelling against what Leon had to say. You couldn’t abandon him again. Not like this, even though he claimed it was the better route to take. Didn’t he once tell you to trust him to make his own decisions? Then, he should offer you the same courtesy. You weren’t about to throw in the towel and give up now.

So instead of running away like he expected you to, you pushed back. “No.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I said no,” you repeated again resolutely. “We have a job to do. I’m helping you to infiltrate this base whether you like it or not.”

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he brooded quietly in the corner, but he continued to hear you out.

“Once that’s done, we can go back to our own separate lives if you want,” you stated. “Just like how it was.”

A fair compromise. Although deep down you hoped it wouldn’t mark the end of your interactions with Leon. Well, you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

After a while of considering your suggestion, he agreed warily, “Ok.”

His gaze was impenetrable while both of you drank in silence. At some point, you decided to call it a night, since you had an early start with him tomorrow to go over your next plan of action. It was drizzling when you came out of the bar, the water droplets falling on your face like a baptism of a new chapter. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it.

As Leon called for another cab to take him back to where he was staying, you left without a word, walking on your own to the nearest U-Bahn station. He watched you until you were just a tiny speck in his vision, lost amongst the sea of people and glowing street lights.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Leon were standing in front of the dining table of his service apartment, a mess of papers sprawled across every surface. He rested his curled fingers under his chin, eyeing the diagrams and notes scribbled on the sheets like a hawk, analyzing them for any obvious patterns.

He picked up a report that you had drafted recently. “So Silje told you all of this?”

You yawned and sipped at the instant coffee Leon had offered you when you had arrived. It was a couple of hours earlier than when you were normally up, as you’d have to head over to the theater to train after this meeting. You had pushed away whatever thoughts you had resulting from the conversation with Leon last night to the back of your mind, in favor of professionalism. Afterall, it wasn’t your first rodeo pretending things were fine, and neither was it Leon’s.

“Some of it, yes. Though in her own way of speaking in riddles,” you explained. “The rest I had overheard or tailed her without her knowing.”

“Are you sure you weren’t spotted?” It sounded like a mixture of concern and him questioning your abilities, the latter of which irritated you a little.

“If I was, would I still be standing here?” You stated brusquely.

“Fair enough.”

You pointed at the blueprint map again, tracing the outlines of your markings with your fingers as you explained, “From what I gathered, the site has two main sections beyond the theater space. The upper levels are easily accessible, but shaped like a labyrinth. I haven’t explored everything yet, but if my gut feeling is right, I would say that the entrance leading further down might be all the way over here.” You tapped at the red circle with a question mark drawn on the map.

“The lower levels are only accessible via keycard. Obviously Silje has one, but there must be others too,” you reasoned.

“That said, I’ve seen her bringing in the same man more than once. Business type, probably in his 60s, speaking German with a Swiss accent.” Then, you proceeded to describe his outward appearance in further detail.

“Silje always passed him off as being part of the company board. I doubt it though,” you shrugged.

Leon hummed in response, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward, as if he was trying to hold back a smile. It was the first sign of approval he showed you since you had reconnected.

As he thumbed through the rest of the papers, he cocked his head to the side, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly. “One thing I don’t get from this is why she’s confided in you.”

You nipped your lip, swallowing anxiously, as you were afraid of disclosing what you might have committed yourself to.

“She wanted to offer me a gift,” you whispered.

“A gift?” He tensed up noticeably at the word. “Did you accept?”

“Um… yes?” You replied uneasily, but tried to persuade him that nothing else had happened yet. “She only told me it would come soon.”

The drumming of his fingers on the table stopped abruptly, as he gripped the edge of it, clenching his jaw as he spoke, “Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“I-I thought it would help,” you stuttered, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his mood.

“What exactly has Bergmann told you about this case?” He hissed.

“That Silje was suspected of harboring some bioterrorists.”

You flinched as he cursed a second time loudly, before muttering a quick, “Excuse me for a minute.” With that, he darted out of the room into the hallway to make a call.

So here you were, left alone without answers again. The secrecy surrounding the entire mission and Leon’s erratic behavior was starting to grate on you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Past the hallway, out of sight and earshot, Leon had connected with Hunnigan on comms.

“Leon,” she greeted. “Any news?”

“Our old friend, the Plaga,” he stated. “Seems like our suspicions might be right.”

“You have the source to back that up?” She asked out of habit, even though she already knew the answer.

“I went through the documents. I’m not 100%, but it’s close.”

He detailed an abnormality that stood out during the investigations. “A few days ago, some people on site experienced temporary psychotic episodes where their veins turned black, but reverted back to normal after.”

“That’s aligning with whatever intel we’ve already picked up. It could be a new strain of the Plaga,” he concluded.

Hunnigan nodded. “We’ll require a sample for the labs when you’re in the base. Anything you need me to do?”

“Run some files on any surviving Los Iluminados members. Focus on trade routes with Germany,” he requested. “The informant mentioned Silje entertaining a particular ‘business partner’ on a regular basis.”

“On it.” She typed away furiously at a computer keyboard off-screen.

“Another thing,” Leon commented. “Why wasn’t the informant told about the real nature of this situation?”

“That was under Bergmann’s discretion.”

He scoffed derisively. “She’s putting her in danger. The informant has no idea what she’s risking here. Silje just offered her the ‘gift’ and you and I know what that means.”

“Leon, you know the rules,” Hunnigan sighed sympathetically. “We don’t really have much say in this jurisdiction.”

“What do you mean? She reports to HQ!”

“Yeah, and they’ve given her free reign,” she explained, without batting an eyelid.

“In-fucking-credible.” He rolled his eyes.

“You need to press on. The informant has the best chance of getting you in,” she reasoned, giving pause and contemplating her next choice of words before speaking. “I would suggest not getting too attached to her.”

“I’m not,” Leon deadpanned, despite the look on Hunnigan’s face, like she didn’t believe him.

“At the rate this is going, she may not be around long enough to do her job,” he clarified.

“You know we have a cure for that,” she rebutted. “The girl will be fine.”

He pursed his lips, changing the subject. “Hm, just send me the updates later.”

With that, he shut off his comms device and headed back into the living room, only to be accosted by your snide remark, “Let me guess, another convo that’s classified?”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Not quite.”

“Whatever Bergmann has been feeding you is bullshit,” he began. “We’ve been suspecting that the theater is being used as a front for developing a new batch of bioweapons they’re about to ship into the US.”

Your eyes widened at the newfound information. The whole time you had assumed that Silje was just providing a safehouse, not a full-on experimentation chamber. But with the recent events that had occurred, you should have considered it earlier.

“So the labs must be underground.” He thumped the pad of his index finger on the sketchings of the lower levels of the site on the map. “And they’re not just hiding people down there.”

Casting over a solemn glance, he revealed, “I’m telling you this, because you need to be careful.”

“And stop making deals you shouldn’t be making,” he warned.

You let the words sink in. “I see,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks, I… appreciate that.”

“The minute you feel something is off, or your veins start to darken, you contact me straight away and get the hell outta there. Understood?”

“Ok, I will,” you promised.

On the one hand, you were grateful that Leon had the courtesy to inform you about what you were getting into, but on the other, you were scared of what was to come. You had heard about the Terragrigia Panic and the B.O.W.s that devastated the floating city a year ago. The gruesome scenes were splashed across the news for weeks. Would the same happen here?

As if he could read your mind, Leon placed a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. “I won’t let them get you.”

“I trust you.” You said it as if it was clear as day.

His eyes bore into yours and his hand made its way towards your cheek, but stopped short in midair, a hair’s breadth away from touching your skin. Then, it fell to the side as he turned away, like he was ashamed of what had just transpired.

You cleared your throat in awkwardness, trying to recall the next point on the meeting agenda. Ah yes, Till.

Till was a fence you got to know from the parties you frequented. He was a friend of a friend of a… you got the idea. At first, you bought your drugs from his minions in the clubs, but then became a regular client of his the moment you started your informant career.

“As requested, I’ve arranged a meeting with Till.” You grabbed your day bag from the seat you had left it on. “He operates out of a nightclub that has a pretty strict door policy. So you’ll have to look the part.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

You sighed, unsure of how this would go down. “Um, your usual black get-up will do,” you mentioned tentatively. Unzipping your bag, which unveiled a sneak peek of its contents, you peered back at him. Here goes nothing. “So are you a more of a latex or leather kind of guy?”

What you would have given to permanently capture the look of shock on Leon’s face.

“Are you fucking serious?” He blurted out.

Perhaps you should make the decision for him then. Giving him a once over, you identified a common theme with his casual leather jacket and fingerless gloves.

“I’m guessing leather,” you discerned, rummaging through your bag for a studded harness and tossing it over to him.

He caught the chunky material in his hands, looking at it with apprehension whilst shaking his head.

Fishing out a translucent, black crop top, you displayed it in front of Leon as you walked over to him. “Maybe over this and a pair of leather boxers.”

He grimaced. “No.”

Well, he sure wasn’t making your job easy. “I’ll be doing most of the ass-kissing at the door,” you argued. “You just have to wear this and keep your mouth shut.”

Please go along with it, you prayed. There was only so much magic you could pull to get him in at the club door.

Examining the outfit you had picked out for him gingerly, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

At least he wasn’t protesting any further.

“I’ll meet you there at 4 in the morning on Sunday,” you reminded him. “You’d better have something substantial to trade with.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” he grumbled, to which you snickered in amusement before departing for the theater.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #fic: ghosts from the past #porcelainscribbles

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more-than-tender-curiosity · 2 months

Note

What Gatsby musical do you think is best?

The Great Gatsby : A New Musical

Gatsby : An American Myth

And depending on which you pick, why did you choose that one?

I have been outspoken in my criticism of The Great Gatsby: A New Musical to the point where it's kind of marked me as an asshole to fans of said musical, but I'm not backing down. Read my opinions boy

No, but seriously. Let me begin by saying that I came to this point already worn down by so many heartless, obnoxious, cash-grabby adaptations of prior works (Mean Girls, Beetlejuice, Heathers, etc) that bank almost entirely on nostalgia and spectacle and, in some cases, the unknowing of their YOUNG target audience, in order to blind said audience into just calling the music a bop and moving on.

And I'm tired of it. Yes, I'm aware musical theater has always run on adaptations—Chicago and Little Shop of Horrors are among some of my favorites! But I approach every single adaptation of ANYTHING with the same baseline question: is this adaptation justified?

You could take the very moderate opinion of "having more musicals to listen to is a good thing!" but I think that's naive, and falling right into the trap set by creators who are only here for Lin Manuel-level Tony's and that's it. There's no dedication to actually making something new with something already established. Nothing transformative. It's lazy.

That's what I mean by 'is this adaptation justified'. Does the adaptation in question engage with the source material in a way that refreshes it, dives deeper into it, and takes advantage of the new method of storytelling (in this case, from book to stage musical) to showcase how the new method of storytelling benefits the source material? Like in the case of Little Shop of Horrors, it uses satire to highlight deeper issues that are barely skated across in the source material while also pulling forth factors of the source material that were more relevant at the time when it was released.

I for one am exhausted by adaptations at this point. It's always been a backbone of musical theater but now, even outside of theater, we are awash in them. it's been said before that pretty much everything you see now is a remake or an adaptation or a sequel or a prequel or a cinematic universe or something derivative, and that tends to punch down on the smaller, more creative, original ideas that might've flourished if the market wasn't oversaturated with mass-produced corporatized shiny flashy garbage.

This is where the two Gatsby musicals come in.

If you're here, you know that I...dedicate a lot of time to this novel. I could have gone to college and got a degree with the time I have spent on this novel and its study. Unraveling every single sentence, every character motivation, every real life factor that plays in to Fitz's writing of the novel—every draft, every movie adaptation. The entire history of this novel and its creation is carved into the inside of my skull.

Now, one thing you should know about gatsby is that Fitz wrote it when he was just coming off the massive failure of his play The Vegetable. That's not the full title, but I'm not going to bother typing out the rest of it. Because it was bad. It was not good. No one liked it. So, naturally, Fitz wanted to improve on his playwriting skills. Up until then, he was good at short stories and he was good at long, descriptive novels, but he couldn't quite understand how to condense and reformat his novel-writing style into something more like a stageplay.

Gatsby was sort of his attempt. You'll note that Gatsby is only 47,043 or so words, which is less than half of most of his other novels. The action and dialogue are snappy. There is, shockingly enough, less purple prose than prior releases (in spite of Nick spending 23984798347928374 words, approximately, to describe his new neighbor's smile). Scott was trying desperately to pare down his writing and see if he could slowly shift his formatting toward something that could translate to the stage.

Many of you know that The Great Gatsby was a total major uber flop.

There went his dreams of making this a play. And there have been many attempts since, all with very limited success, because for the most part, there is a total lack of understanding concerning what makes this novel a novel instead of play material. All too many times, there has been a disconnect as to what would translate effectively onto the stage as it is written in the book, like the themes of being dazzled by a spectacle but not, as displayed in the novel, the downside of such a thing.

As I said. All too often, there is too little thought given to the advantages of adapting a written work to musical theater. This leads to much of the deeper shades of the story being left to the wayside in favor of shallow spectacle just to keep the masses entertained without actually translating the stunning symbolism and figurative work Fitz put on the page.

This is what happened to The Great Gatsby: A New Musical. They took the most barebones understanding that most viewers would have of the story (that it's a love story, just like Romeo and Juliet!—side-eye), and made everything as loud and as fast and as bright as they could to make up for any lack of exploration beyond what is very plainly written on the page.

This does not work with The Great Gatsby.

I've mourned the gooberfication of Nick Carraway before. I love the 2013 film, as I'm sure many do because it was many of our first experiences with any Gatsby adaptation, but you can see it with Tobey Maguire and you can see it here in The Great Gatsby: A New Musical. So many times I see people call him an unreliable narrator but it's very clear they don't understand exactly why he's unreliable.

This 'gooberfication' I speak of is Nick's attempt to convince us that he's the innocent one here, in every single situation, and everyone around him is a liar and he's always telling the truth so you can trust him. He's the only honest person he's ever known.

Red flag central.

So from that line alone, you have to understand that everything Nick says or does, leaves in or leaves out, is suspect. He's out of his element in New York but he is absolutely not some baby-cheeked little goober who is SO TOTALLY BLINDED by his infatuation with Gatsby that he's just willing to go along with everything and doesn't pass judgment. We joke "Nick says he doesn't judge anyone then proceeds to judge everyone in the novel!" Yeah, no shit. That's the thing. He is a hypocrite made only lesser by the way he plays up the evils of everyone around him, and that's how he gets by. That's how he sleeps at night.

You can cast that into whatever light you like, whether it's the hypocrisy of saying he's so poor when he's living in at LEAST a two bedroom cottage with a maid and modern appliances and his dad is paying for a full YEAR of his life after paying his way through an Ivy League school. Or you could say he does this to throw suspicion off himself and possibly his sexuality, which is a whole can of worms involving Fitzgerald's constant projection onto his characters that I cannot bear to crack open.

Point being, Nick isn't just the passive bystander in all of these situations. He makes it sound like he is, like he's just doing favors for people who are worse than him, and how he disapproves of even everything Gatsby does despite his evident fascination with the man, but at the end of the day, he's just passing the buck. Washing his hands clean. There are so many clues in the book to this sort of thing that should tip you off to the fact that Nick Carraway is not just some silly sweet guy who gets swept up into a life of chaos and crime just to come out cynical. He was already a judgemental, cynical individual who was forced to come all too close to the realization that he, too, is more 'one of them' than he can bear to admit—even in spite of how he attempts to obscure his own hypocrisy.

Nick is not innocent. No one in this book is (besides Pammy, though she's a ticking time bomb if we're meant to understand the wealth she will inherit). That's the whole point of the fucking book. There are a thousand hands each pushing a tiny bit to keep these impossible shades of class division moving, and condemning one person (like Nick does with Daisy or Tom) doesn't solve the problem. Jay still dies. The American dream is still a nightmare. Nick still has a father to fall back on.

Which is why it's so impossibly perplexing to me to display Nick as some sort of lapdog who just seems honored to spend time with these people. Why Jay is just some quirked up white boy who is, quite literally, just too quirky and obnoxious to bear. He and Daisy are so in love and they're so close to each other and isn't it just tooooo saddd to bearrrr?? So romantic????

There's nothing deeper to it. No asking why Fitz wrote any of these characters the way he did. No understanding of the deeper implications of what he was trying so desperately to convey, on both a social and personal level. Yes, it's a love story, but it's also a commentary on just how fucked everyone is by the cages of tradition.

And there is just no trace of that in the Broadway musical. Everything is simple and easily digestible. There is no deeper interaction with the source material, no drive to have produced it at all except, perhaps, to cash in on the new public domain. They got the biggest names they could with the biggest cult followings, knowing so many would just eat it right up and call each song a bop and it would trend on tiktok and they might get a tony and then they'd move on. No integrity. No passion. No justification.

Gatsby: An American Myth is much the opposite.

After hearing a Totally Legal version of the Broadway musical, I was terrified of what ART would do to this book. Now that I had seen just how fearfully easy it was to just slap some 'art deco' and glitter on the stage, write a painfully obvious love song, and move on, I was really concerned that this trend of bloodless, toothless adaptations would continue and I'd have to sigh and move on with my life.

Fortunately, everything I mentioned that bothered me about the Broadway musical is set right in Gatsby: An American Myth. I really should have expected nothing less from Florence Welch in terms of the music (which is, of course, one of the most show-stopping elements of the musical, as it should be) considering her prior works and how they relate to the Great Gatsby. This is someone who has been obsessed with the book longer than I have been and has woven it into so much of her body of work that I'm surprised this musical didn't drop the day it became public domain. I cannot think of a better contemporary musician to handle that facet of a Gatsby musical.

This adaptation itself does exactly what I would have hoped. I am, of course, someone who holds the book and all its drafts to a very high regard—if this is a religion, that's my bible. What's in there, goes, though it's open to interpretation. Typically I would be against adding things at all.

What they added, however, was brilliant. Nothing massive—just, again, ways to take advantage of the musical theater method of production, and ways to modernize and acknowledge more contemporary understandings of the source material. Where the Broadway musical carefully tiptoed around any indication that nick was anything other than straight and in love with Jordan Baker, Gatsby: An American Myth leaned right into the idea that he was made an outsider by his sexuality, and that was part of why he related to Jay so hard. Because otherwise, why would he? He's a middle-to-upper-middle class Midwesterner whose father is paying for a year of his life while he works a little for-fun job in the big city. What does he know about being an outsider?

Gatsby: An American Myth shows you that. Shows how everyone is an outsider to each other in this story, and how individualism destroys a community that would otherwise support you. You can take that on a society-wide level or personal: Jay being totally disconnected from even himself, or the wealthy pretending they don't live on the same planet as the poor.

Another miraculous addition was a sort of bridge between Myrtle and Wilson that just makes sense. I don't want to spoil it too much, but everything they added or rearranged or re-highlighted just goes to display the depth and breadth this story really reaches. They read between every line, proudly displayed the complexity of every single situation and character—how all of them are the victim and all of them are the perpetrator—while STILL making it sound fantastic in my opinion.

It's by no means a flawless work and I saw it early on its production. It's changed since then and obviously I haven't been able to hear it since I saw it live, but I have total faith in the creative team to have not completely thrown away their good intentions in favor of trending on tiktok.

To conclude I would just ask anyone reading to please inspect the media you consume. Inspect the motives of the person feeding it to you. There's not really any sort of Nobility to art, but at this point, with so many shallow attempts to cash in on our desperate search for community and contentment, quality and passion have been thrown out the window. Shoveling this hot shit at us day and night (remakes, sequels, prequels, adaptations) has become another tool of capitalism to keep us just satisfied to not ask for more.

Ask for more. Ask for better. You deserve it.

#the great gatsby

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