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zedecksiew · 1 year ago

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DECOLONISING D&D

In 2019, after seeing yet another round of alarmist discourse in Xwitter about how Dungeons & Dragons is FULL of COLONIALIST tropes and patterns, and needs to be revised, SCRUBBED of its PROBLEMATIC FILTH---I rage-tweeted this brainfart:

"Decolonising D&D"

I've seen this thread round the community, since. Humza K quotes it in Productive Scab-picking: On Oppressive Themes in Gaming. Prismatic Wasteland quotes it in Apolitical RPGs Don't Exist. Most recently, it was referenced in a 1999AD post about Western TTRPGs (an interesting discussion on its own merit; one that already has a counterpoint from Sandro / Fail Forward.)

If folks are still referring to it five years later, maybe I should give the thread a little more credit? Perhaps the fart miasma has crystalised into something concrete.

In the interest of record / saving this thought from the ephemerality of Xwitter, here is the text in full, properly paragraphed, and somewhat more cleanly expressed:

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"DECOLONISING D&D"

Firstly: saying "D&D is colonialist" is similar to saying: "the English language is colonialist".

If your method of decolonising RPGs is to abandon D&D---well, some folks abandon English; they don't want to work in the language of the coloniser. More power to them!

For those who want to continue using the "language" of D&D---

Going forth into the "wild hinterland" (as if this weren't somebody's homeland);

to "seek treasure" (as if this didn't belong to anybody);

and "slay monsters" (monsters to whom?)

Yeah. There's some problematic stuff here, and definitely these aspects should make more people uncomfortable.

But! I think it is an error to "decolonise D&D" by scrubbing such content from the game.

That feels like erasure; like an unwillingness to face history / context; like a way to appease one's own settler guilt.

Do you live in the West? Do you live in any Asian urban metropole? White or Person of Colour(tm)---you are already complicit in colonialist / capitalist (yes, of course they are inextricably linked) behaviour. (I can't speak for urban metropoles elsewhere, but I bet they are similar centres of extraction.)

Removing such patterns from the TTRPGs you play might let you feel better, at your game table. But won't change what you are.

I think it is more truthful and more useful NOT to avert one's eyes from D&D's colonialism.

The fact that going forth into the hinterland to seek treasure and slay monsters is a thing, and fucking fun, tells us valuable things about the shape and psychology of colonialism. Why conquistadors in the past did it; why liberal foreign policy, corporations, and post-colonial societies do it today.

Speaking personally:

I write stuff that evokes / deals with the context I'm in---Southeast Asia. An intrinsic part of that is looking at the ways colonial violence has happened to us---as well as the ways / reasons we now, supposedly free, perpetrate it on others.

A long chain of suffering. Heavy stuff.

I also write for people who want to have fun / kill monsters / pretend to be elves, of course. But for those people who want to consider serious stuff like colonialism: I offer no FIGHT THE POWER righteousness, no good feeling, no answers.

Only discomfort. Because the truth is uncomfortable.

Here's a screenshot of the Author's Note for Lorn Song of the Bachelor:

"Any text inspired by Southeast Asia has to reckon with colonialism ... This text presents a difficult situation; there are no easy solutions. "... If I offered a mechanical incentive for you to fight colonial invaders, you wouldn’t be making a moral decision, but a mercenary one. "The choice you face should echo ... the kind of calculus my grandparents faced."

I stand by that.

Also: might we be more precise and more careful about using the term "decolonising", please?

Here I quote Tuck and Yang's landmark and (sadly) still trenchant "Decolonization is not a metaphor":

"Decolonization brings about the repatriation of Indigenous land and life; it is not a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve our societies ..."

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Further Reading

So this post isn't just me reheating a hot take, here are some touchstone writings from around the TTRPG community about colonialism as a subject and mode of play in games:

"Jim Corbett was called upon to hunt down another fifty maneaters over the course of the next 35 years. Together, those tigers had killed over 2000 people, for much the same reasons as the Champawat Tiger - injury, desperation, starvation, and habitat loss. Would you look at that. The root cause was British colonialism."

D&D Doesn't Understand What Monsters Are from Throne of Salt

"Another effect of having colonizers in my setting would be giving players the opportunity to drive them away from the islands, their home. This maybe just be for the catharsis. After all, isn’t catharsis a big part of why we play roleplaying games?"

I’m Adding Colonizers To My Setting from Goobernut's Blog

"When you have a slime boy and the other characters are a really fat lizard and one's playing Humpty Dumpty, it completely shatters the straight-faced serious authoritarian illusion of race, and replaces it with complete fucking nonsense. I love the idea of proliferating the number and types of "races" into absurdity, to the point where the entire logical structure of it collapses in on itself and race as a category ceases to become coherent or meaningful in any sense."

Interview with Ava Islam - Designer of the RPG Errant from Ava Islam / The Lost Bay

"Perhaps most critically, the fundamental basis of power is not land or even money but manpower. That’s what local rulers fight over, and what Chinese commercial networks export, in return for unique island products. It’s what the European colonists really need (even if it’s not what they most desire). There is rich loot to be grabbed in the form of spices, Spanish silver, Indian gold, sea cucumbers (the Chinese love ’em), perfumes, dyes, cloth etc. so there’s ample opportunity for piracy, trade and smuggling, but the key to long-term success – the key to independent survival – is nakedly and unquestionably uniting people."

Counter-colonial Heistcrawl: previous high scores from Richard's Dystopian Pokeverse

"They worked their own land—which they dispossessed from American Indians—or became small shop owners or opportunistic gold diggers or bounty hunters or itinerant ranchers. To me, substituting these situations for one ruled by industrial monopoly ignores that the Wild West is a perfect example of how capitalism operates outside of (or prior to) mass industry, instead being composed of self-employers and self-sustainers."

Fantastic Detours - Frontier Scum from Traverse Fantasy / Bones of Contention

"... using the Western framing and D&D's baked-in imperialist and capitalist structure to get people earnestly participating in the experience of forming imperial power structures and the early roots of regional capitalism ... The PCs aren't the drifters on the train or the townsfolk watching with apprehension - they're the railroad itself."

An Arrow for the General: Confronting D&D-as-Western in the Kalahari from A Most Majestic Fly Whisk

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#colonialism #theory #ttrpgs #d&d #politics #lorn song of the bachelor

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trappedinafantasy37 · 2 months ago

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I am sure many of you are aware by now that Minthara's Speak with Dead lines now have her mentioning a daughter. She did have these lines back in EA that were since removed on final release, but have now been reintroduced with Patch 8. @baldursyourgate did bring up a very good point that we could potentially be dealing with another breakup scenario where these lines were readded by "mistake" and may be reverted in a future hotfix. The only thing that has me feeling a bit sus is that unlike the breakup, tweaks to Minthara's Speak with Dead lines were mentioned in the Patch notes this time.

However, these notes are vague. Her dialogue "makes more sense" in Act 2? I don't quite recall precisely what they were before, but I'm pretty sure her lines made sense. But, this does indicate that Larian did deliberately change her SWD dialogue. There are one of two possibilities I can think of, 1) they intentionally reverted back to her EA lines where she mentions a daughter or 2) they recorded new SWD lines entirely but accidentally reverted to the old ones rather than add the new ones (although there is no indication of new recorded lines). If #2 is true, we can expect a future hotfix to wipe this one away. Another more anecdotal thing I want to mention is that Larian tends to respond to mass public opinion. I wasn't on Tumblr when the breakup went down, but I was on Reddit. And that period of time was the most any of the BG3 subreddits talked about Minthara, and most were not pleased with the breakup. It did not take too long for Larian to undo the breakup. Right now, it's almost as if Reddit is unaware of the new SWD lines even though some subreddits do, uh... enjoy the idea of Milfthara. Since there isn't a massive social response to it, I have my doubts Larian will do anything.

As a Minthara enjoyer, it gets very frustrating to have each new patch recharacterize her. It would genuinely piss me off if they take her baby away... AGAIN. We know this will be the last patch, but there will still be hotfixes for a little while. As excited as I was yesterday, I am going to reserve calling this canon until Larian completely moves on from BG3 (even though it is canon in my heart).

However, if this dialogue remains, it creates a continuity error with Minthara's character as she never mentions having a child while she is alive. She only mentions the kid if she is dead. But, it's not like I've recombed through all her dialogue with this new Patch and Death Domain Daedra just barely woke up on the beach so give her a minute. So far, the theory most have is Minthara keeps her daughter a secret to protect her. But, I do not see any reason why she would withhold info on her daughter to a romanced player.

Minthara does actively grieve her home and says she will miss it until the day she dies. She could, of course, be grieving a daughter she will never see again. But I would think that if she had a child, she would not resign so quickly on the idea of never going home. From the moment you recruit her, all her future speak is of her remaining on the surface. She really really wants to kill her mom, but accepts she never will because she accepts never going home again. Even at the end of the game, she still plans to live on the surface. You are the one who has to bring up returning to the Underdark and her sole intent is to kill her mother. That honestly would be the most appropriate moment to mention she has a daughter waiting for her at home.

It also isn't like Minthara to be so witholding either, even if her intent is to keep her daughter safe. But, once she reads your mind, she knows with certainty that you are a safe person to tell. Minthara also very much likes knowing your intent, and she explains her intent to you often. So she wouldn't hide her intent to retrieve her daughter if she goes to the Underdark with you. Yes, she does go to the Underdark on her own if not romanced. But I think she is compelled to go down there for a completely different reason and not for a child.

So, we have a Minthara who supposedly has a child, but never mentions one unless she is dead. Minthara is also very open about her life in the Underdark, but never once talks about how motherhood affected her life. And she never speaks of a kid to a romanced player when returning to the Underdark, the one person in the world who should know that they are about to be a stepparent. This child creates nothing but contradictions. Personally, I do headcanon she had a child anyway regardless of what Larian says. She is 200+ years old, has admitted to having many sexual partners, and would have had the expectation by her house to have a child at some point. I have thought this exact contradiction through many times over. My theory is that Minthara does not mention having a daughter because while the Absolute was erasing her, it also erased her memory of having a daughter. "Well, technically the lines happen if she dies after the Absolute torture." Ssshhhhhhhhh... I'm going to ignore that because this is the only way all of this works in my brain.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #minthara #minthara baenre #evil murder kitten #ive also found sources saying full elf pregnancies have a 2 year gestation period while half-elf have 9 months at the earliest #i also estimate minthara having been in the absolute for only 8-9 months by the time we find her #so this kid would predate her time in the absolute and the other parent is a drow from menzo (meaning it can't be orin)#if the kid was still an infant or a newborn - minthara would not have come topside to pursue the absolute #i think the kid is a toddler at the youngest and a teenager at the oldest #another horrific theory is that nere describes minthara as being reckless with her raids #so... it could be possible minthara brought her daughter to the surface as she went after the absolute - assuming the kid was big enough #if that is the case - her daughter is either missing on the surface. dead. or was... processed in the mind flayer colony #because there are no children within the absolute and orin is not averse to child murder #especially not an orin who wanted to claim minthara all to herself #i can definitely see minthara never mentioning a child if that child died *because* of her own pride and recklessness #but “raising” is present tense so i think the kid is alive

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steviewashere · 3 months ago

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What if Max is brought to the hospital and Steve is carrying her. But immediately after she gets treatment, Steve is taken in as a suspect for her condition because people in town know he's athletic and could possibly have the strength to do something like this.

Just hear me out.

They know that he's been in fights with Billy Hargrove before. They've seen Steve around town with Max before, in Family Video, at Scoops Ahoy, just in his car.

And though they want to keep the blame on Eddie (y'know whole Satanic Panic thing), it's also really easy to blame Steve because of how off-putting, athletic, and constantly beat up/getting himself into trouble he is.

His parents may have given money to certain campaigns or projects around town before, but that doesn't mean he's completely dissolved of suspicion. His dad won't pay for a good lawyer, even when they finally get a hold of him, because this is a lesson for Steve, too. That if he gets himself in messes like this, then he deserves nothing from his parents, he has to figure out how to fend for himself. That he's [Steve's] "no longer a son of mine". Because unfortunately, Steve's dad knows his track record, too. All the constant fights. The medical bills. Even found the nail bat one day.

Anyway. Just a really angsty AU where Steve is blamed for the murders instead.

Oh...and what if instead of Chrissy meeting up with Eddie that night, Chrissy is found dead at the high school instead? It wouldn't immediately get the suspicion off of Eddie—y'know with Hellfire, but also maybe Chrissy had a note on her person from Eddie about when to meet him. However, Steve was seen at the basketball game that night. He was seen going to the bathroom at one point a little bit after the game. Wrong place wrong time.

Eddie still finds her (maybe Chrissy went to the wrong bathroom before she left campus) and he freaks out and flees, but somebody else comes across her minutes later.

I don't know, this is very off the beaten path of the show, just major continuity errors left and right. But listen, it's a fun idea.

Oooo or maybe they think Eddie and Steve are working together?

Anyway.

Eventually, Eddie is somehow able to prove his innocence. But Steve gets the spotlight instead. So now he has to come up with a way—to build a story that paints Steve away from the crime. Even if that means taking the blame instead. Even if that means admitting to a crime he did not commit. Because he's all like, "Steve's too good for this town to rot here. He's meant to make it somewhere. My family's been in the gutter for years, they already tried to figure me. It'd just make sense. It just has to make sense."

Cue the angst of Steve finding out the sacrifice Eddie's taking this time. Of him fighting Eddie on it. That he can't just throw away his life for somebody like Steve, who in his own words says, "I'm some washed-up asshole. Let them think it's me. Get out of here."

Them butting heads until they get Hopper involved and somehow, eventually, the blame is put on Jason instead. Because his connections make sense, too. Also his whole religious freakout connects him—some sort of mental break.

I'm not convincing anybody that this would make sense as a story. But it makes sense...to me.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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eu-nicola · 1 year ago

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Strong Love - Enzo Vogrincic x Reader

summary: Enzo makes a bold decision to save his relationship after rumors of infidelity spread. warnings: without

from a request

You have been in London recording a film for a month now. You initially planned to travel with your boyfriend, Enzo. However, unforeseen circumstances kept him back in his home country, managing interviews for his new film and other commitments. Soon, your name flooded social media, not for your movie but due to a particular photo everyone was tagging you in.

It was Enzo with his ex-girlfriend, Sofia, seemingly happy and together on the streets at night. The moment you saw it, confusion and pain set in. You wanted to believe it was a mistake, but the evidence was there. Unable to gather the strength to confront him in person, you sent him a text message, desperately seeking an explanation.

On the other side, Enzo anxiously stared at his phone, feeling the tension building up as he contemplated your message. "I saw the photos, Enzo, and I need you to explain what's going on," your message read. The realization of the photo's error struck Enzo, and he feared you wouldn't believe him.

As you noticed his delayed response, you tried to focus on your work on the film set. A mix of emotions overwhelmed you, from surprise to anguish. The images of Enzo and Sofia haunted your thoughts, creating a knot of insecurity and sadness. While attempting to concentrate, you awaited the answers Enzo was willing to provide.

Enzo, understanding the gravity of the situation, desperately sought to explain. When you finally checked your phone, you saw his rushed messages justifying the encounter. Amidst the filming chaos, you struggled to concentrate and process the flood of notifications that made you feel powerless and hurt.

"Love, you need to know it wasn't what it seemed. I ran into Sofia on the street by chance, and we only talked for a moment. There were no hidden intentions, I promise."

"Sofia is part of the past; you are my present and future. I made a mistake not anticipating how it could affect you, and I take full responsibility. I am willing to do whatever it takes to fix this because you are the most important thing to me."

"I know the photos may seem compromising, but I'm being honest with you. It was an unexpected coincidence. I'm sorry; I love you."

You loved him, and you knew he was being honest, but it didn't ease the pain, especially considering Sofia's past harassment when you first started dating.

"Enzo, the photos are hard to ignore, but I appreciate your honesty. I need time to process it all. I'm hurt, but I want to believe in you. We need to talk when I return." There were still a few months left until your return, but if he was truly willing to fix things, you hoped he would understand and wait.

Enzo, feeling overwhelmed by the distance and the anxiety of waiting, made a bold decision after days of reflection. He decided he couldn't wait months to resolve things and was determined to fight for you.

Within a few days, without saying a word, Enzo arranged a flight to London. Landing in the bustling city, his heart pounded with nervousness about your unexpected reaction.

That same afternoon, a few hours before you finished filming, he appeared on the set, searching for you everywhere, asking everyone where you were, and the consistent response was, "in her dressing room." When he finally found your dressing room and knocked on the door, you opened it, thinking it would be anyone but him. Seeing him, you were completely surprised.

"Enzo, what are you doing here?" you asked, a mix of disbelief and excitement.

"I'm sorry; I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you, talk to you face to face. Explanations and apologies aren't enough through messages," he replied, determination in his eyes.

You were moved by the fact that he flew there just to see you, a mix of emotions overwhelmed you. He continued, "I made a mistake; I shouldn't have talked to her, and I'm willing to face the consequences. But I'm also willing to fight for us, to show with actions that this is what I want most in my life, that I love you."

After hours of conversation and shared tears, you forgave Enzo because you truly loved him and saw that each of his words was sincere. During that time, he stayed with you, and despite the rumors, you paid them no attention. Every day, you both seemed more in love than ever, and everyone noticed.

After some time, you returned home, and the return flight felt different; you were better, and you liked that. You didn't know how things would unfold, but something inside you told you that everything would be okay.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #enzo vogrincic x you #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 1 year ago

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Do you know who my daddy is?

Captain price x Fem reader (single mom)

You brought your kid to the base, she has an important homework, talk about what mom/dad does at work. The little kid is in trouble and the best she can do to get out of the problem is lie about who her daddy is.

Warning: it's not very interesting but I had a lot of fun writing it. I like to think about Price having a daughter. Anyway, as usual, grammatical and spelling errors. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

- hey my little sunshine! how was your day?

- it was fine, I have homework though.

- oh, what is it?

- I have to talk about your work, what you do and things like that.

- Oh well, I have to talk with my superior and let him know that you will go with me for a few hours just to see what we do, ok?

- Okay

That was the small conversation with your kid, she was very excited to go with you, you talked her a little bit about your comrades and your very handsome captain, she made fun of you for the way you talked about Price and sang «Mommy and the captain, sitting on a tree giving little kisses and falling in love...», of course you warned her to not say that at the base, as every kid, she thinks your job is full of action and adrenaline, because that's what she watches on tv, she certainly wasn't expecting to see you writing reports and reading files, attending some calls, just like you're doing right now.

Price was very kind to let you bring her today, he also told you to give her a small tour around the place to make it more exciting, your poor girl is dying of boredom sitting in the chair of your office, observing the ceiling and the light over your heads.

- I'm sorry darling, we will give the tour as soon as I finish this report, okay?

- I thought we would fight against bad people or that you would show me guns, this is so boring!!!!!

- Honey, making all this paperwork is also a way to fight against bad people, also very important.

- B-O-R-I-N-G...

You sighed, certainly it's not the funniest activity but you needed to finish it as soon as possible, a knocking on your door was perfect to interrupt your girl's complaints, Gaz appeared with a small bag of candies.

- I heard you brought a mini you today, I wanted to say hi.

- Oh Kyle, thanks, come in, this is my daughter (____). Honey this is my friend Kyle, be nice and say hi.

Your girl smiled at Gaz and took the small bag, she started to eat some jelly beans and talked for a few minutes with Kyle.

- (...) And now I'm here! Bored!

- I already say Sorry like a thousand times baby!!!

- I can take her to give a walk while you finish... just if you want (y/n)

- that would be great, I will finish soon I promise!

- YEAH! LET'S GO KYLE!!!

Your daughter took Kyle's hand and left the office, you laughed and continued your work.

Gaz went to the common room so your daughter could say hi to Soap, Ghost and other soldiers. needless to say that your girl was enchanted to meet Soap who played with her and gave her a small gel blaster, both made a mess with those gel bubbles, Gaz and Soap were cleaning up while Ghost and your daughter were painting one of Ghost's skull old masks, but your daughter was impatient to be with you and see the rest of the place as you promised her, she took her opportunity to escape from the three men when Soap attacked Ghost with some of the gel bubbles that were still on his blaster, Gaz was recording so, none of them noticed when your daughter left the room.

«Ah, Guys... Where's (_____)?» «Shit» «Was Johnny's fault»

They started to look for her, while your daughter was walking unsure of where she was going, she brought the blaster that Soap gave to her and started to shoot and play, her fun ended when she accidentally shot a soldier in his eye. The guy saw her alone and started to try to scare her.

- Hey kid, Did you forget the way to the daycare? who gave you that toy? This is not a place for babies.

- I'm 6, I'm not a baby!

- Aren't you? Then, maybe I have to tell you that you can go to prison for what you did?

Your daughter really believed that, she started to feel nervous, she was in serious trouble, what would she do now?. This guy kneeled down in front of your daughter and smirked.

- What will you do now? Cry with your parents?

An idea popped up quickly to her mind.

- I won't get in trouble, Do you have a clue of who my daddy is?

- Do you know who my daddy is?, oh please tell me who's your father, dwarf, I will tell him you're being a troublemaker!

He imitated your daughter's voice.

- The Captain Price is my daddy! He will beat your ass if you don't let me go!

This soldier was ready to say something until someone appeared behind you, he stood up quickly and paled, the little girl thought it was Gaz or Soap who found her and arrived just in time to save her, until she heard the soldier said «Captain!», she paled too and looked behind her, a tall man was observing the soldier with a cold look.

- Is this young man bothering you, my dear?

- He says I will go to prison just because I was playing a little and I hit him by accident.

- I'm sorry Sir, I didn't know she was your daughter...

Price didn't act surprised by the soldier's comment, he continued looking at him and put a hand on your daughter's shoulder.

- Next time I see you bothering my daughter or anyone else, you will be In serious trouble. Do you understand?

- Yes Sir.

- Fine, now leave. Let's go my little princess.

Price kneeled down a little and carried your girl over his shoulders, he talked with her about your work and maybe, your girl talked about how you feel about him, on their way they found Ghost, Soap and Gaz running through the entire base looking for her.

Finally you finished your work and went to the common area to see if your daughter was there, on the way you noticed some soldiers were whispering and talking secretly while you were passing by but you tried to not pay much attention, you arrived to the common area and indeed there she was, she fell asleep on Soap's lap, who was sitting on a sofa.

- Hey y/n you found us!

- Sorry guys I had a lot of things to do, thank you to everyone for taking care of her.

«No problem» «Soap is always here to help» «it was your fault that we lost her!»

- You what??

- Don't worry, nothing happened to her, the Captain found her!

Before you could say something, Price caught your attention and asked you to go out with him to have a small conversation. You felt a lump in your throat and stomach, you felt you were in problems, as soon as you and Price were alone you started to apologize.

- I'm so sorry John, I mean, Captain, it won't happen again I can assure you that...

- Y/n, you're not in trouble.

- wha..?

- I was going to say, you have a sweet and smart daughter and... Very... chatterbox...

- Chatterbox?

- Yes, she said she was my daughter, and then she told me about... Some feelings you have.

- Oh...

You instantly started to try to fix and look for excuses.

- Sir, I'm... She's just a kid, she fantasizes a lot about her father and... Also she understood all I said in a different way, I'm really sorry Captain...

- I see, well y/n, you don't need to apologize, I understand she's just a kid, and as she's just a kid, tell me, who are we to ruin her fantasies about have a father?

He smiled mischievously at you, you were speechless, what the hell was happening?.

- Ah... Excuse me, what?

-Well, she's a brilliant girl and I always wanted to have a daughter and a very attractive wife. There are a lot of reasons to make this come true.

You're still processing all that is happening right now.

- Really?

Price took your hand and squeezed it softly, without losing eye contact with you.

- For sure, by example, everybody around the base is already talking about us and our little daughter and the other reason is that those feelings your daughter talked about, are mutual.

You couldn't say anything, you were lost in thoughts, but your silly smile was enough for Price to go a little bit further.

- So, if you allow me, I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow night. What do you think?

- I would like that, but who will take care of (____)?

He laughed a little and then simply said.

- I think Soap said he's always ready to help, no? And if you don't think he will be a good babysitter... well, I think your daughter has another two uncles that can help.

That definitely made you laugh loudly, Price looked at you with tenderness still waiting for an answer, then, after a few minutes of silence you nodded, that was the story of how you and your daughter won the Captain's heart and three new uncles for your little girl, it would be the story that your daughter would talk about in every opportunity she had.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #x yn #long reads #x reader #141 x reader #fanfiction #price x reader #captain john price #captain price #captain john price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader

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air--so--sweet · 2 months ago

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Okay so I will always enjoy Ryan Guzman with facial hair, it's a shame he plays a firefighter and so has to shave honestly, but that's not the point of this post.

That beard was hella intentional. Because in a TV show where you shoot out of order facial hair has to be kept consistent to prevent continuity errors. I was going to include an example of just how wrong this can go from episode 3x06 of Criminal Minds when David Rossi shaves and then in the very next shot he strokes his magically regrown beard. However, hilariously, when I went to screen record this, the version streaming on Disney had the shaving scene removed! (His beard still disappears and reappears throughout the entire episode though). My point still stands - for Eddie to have facial hair for that scene is very intentional.

It made me think back to his conversation with Father Brian in 8x06, specifically 'You want to know why I grew this? Because LAFD doesn't allow beards, too flammable.' Which, it's true, firefighters aren't allowed beards, but there's also the doble entendre of a beard referring to a fake partner used by a closeted queer person to further hide their sexuality. Eddie also tells the priest he grew facial hair as a disguise, so he doesn't have to see himself in the mirror, because he would see a failure, who doesn't deserve forgiveness or joy.

Eddie is feeling guilty over not being there at the lab with his team and with Bobby, he believes he failed them. He believes he's undeserving of joy once again. The scene with the priest also had Eddie choosing water over juice as part of his self inflicted punishment, with juice signifying joy and water the deprivation of joy (sidenote: Anyone else notice that juice was front and centre twice this episode? First in the scene between Buck and Maddie and secondly when Athena and the kids had breakfast together).

And then next week we have an episode called Don't Drink the Water and a promo with the line 'flaming water in their closets'. flaming water in their closets. FLAMING water in their CLOSETS.

He might not he back with the 118 yet but you cannot convince me we're not getting gay Eddie very very soon.

Especially as we've been told we'll see Maddie giving birth this season and in the same episode as Eddie's discussion with the priest Maddie tells Chim she's pregnant and says to him 'Give this a chance be what it is - joy.' I think either next week or in the finale (probably the finale) seeing the Han's welcome their joy into the world Eddie's going to decide to embrace his in the form of admitting his love for Buck (manifesting him grabbing Buck by the arm in the hospital, dragging him round a corner and kissing him senseless...would also mirror Buck accidentally coming out at the Madney wedding by kissing Tommy and getting soot on his face and this show loves parallels).

There's also an earthquake in there so maybe Buck tells him he loves him in a moment of peril, Eddie (gay) panics and doesn't say it back or he does but Buck thinks it was only because of the danger and Eddie doesn't really feel that way, (because he's a renter straight), but after seeing Madney's joy Eddie decides to make his feelings clear to Buck.

Also, while I'm here might as well throw in another theory, similar to Jee Yun having a name that means good luck which is related to the themes of the episode she was born in, baby boy Han will have a name that means joy. I am calling it now.

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taesanluv3r · 11 months ago

Note

kids ask dad!bonedo help with homework :P

dad!boynextdoor when their kids ask for homework help!

omgomgomg my first req omgomg tysm for sending this in <3 AND AAAAH anon i love this idea omg okay! let's get into this... lowercase intended, cuss words (i think?), cuteness! pls ignore any spelling mistakes/grammatical errors! hope u enjoy <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

jaehyun, the tries to help but can't dad!

when the words dad, help, and homework came out of his son's mouth his first instinct was to agree right away!

"OF COURSE I'LL HELP YOU!!!" - "when i was your age i was top of the class in math" - "division? pfffttt easy peasy"

but then his kid excitedly brings over his workbook, placing it on the table and pointing out all the word problems his teacher told him to do.

"okay so..." jaehyun begins, sitting very closely beside his child. "if jamie had twenty three apples and sandy had twenty seven...how would they equally have enough to give to izzie using the...the power of friendship????"

he swears he understands it, he swears he knows EXACTLY what the word problems mean. he goes over it again and again and it's starting to sound a bit like he has no clue what he's doing!!

"dad...if you don't know how to do it that's okay" - "no, NO!! i know this, trust me"

it goes on for another hour and they still haven't gotten past the first question. all of a sudden, like an angel sent by the unknown entity above, jaehyun's wife enters the room.

"homework? ooh let me see..."

she takes one look at the problem and then proceeds to look at jaehyun with eyes full of disbelief. so as to say "are you serious??"

"look, all you need to do here is add how many sandy has with how many jamie has right...and then divide it by three so they all have equal amounts to share with izzie!"

myung jaehyun grins, watching with the biggest heart eyes as the woman he married continued to help their son with his silly math homework.

"thank god i married a genius" he says, wrapping his arms around her waist later that night. "babe, it doesn't take a genius to do elementary school division"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

riwoo, the teasing but helpful dad!

i think riwoo would be the jokester kind of a dad. like he will take up every opportunity to crack dad jokes and tease his kids.

"dad, i need your help with homework" - "why do you need my help? don't they teach you kids in school? isn't that the whole point of school?" and his daughter just looks at him like -_- while he laughs his ass off at his own jokes.

"will you help me or not, dad?" and riwoo just sighs and nods, telling her to show him what homework it was.

this could go one of two ways. one, it was math or science and he'll sit with her for a few hours on the dining table, slowly going through each question one by one. or two, which is what's happening in this case, and the homework was for the kid's PE class...

prayers for riwoo's daughter, it's about to be a long night.

"and up, two, three, four and- stop, stop, stop" riwoo says as he stopped recording for the fifth time. "what is it now, dad?" she says out of breath. "are you really gonna submit a video of yourself doing jumping jacks looking like those flailing mascots at the gas station?!" the poor kid's head is about to explode and she starts regretting ever asking her dad for help.

"i do NOT look like a flailing mascot! and can't we just hurry up and finish this? PLEASE DAD"

riwoo laughs out loud, getting a kick out of teasing his offspring.

"hehe, i'm just joking with you, love. i'll record it for real now"

but that doesn't mean he'll stop the teasing, he'll continue to make fun of her jumping jacks for the rest of her life!!!!!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

sungho, the actually teaches his kid how to do the work dad!

sungho is so excited when his son asks him for help! he's like "omg i've been waiting for this day ever since i became a father TT"

i feel like he's the type of person who actually wants to help the kid understand his work and not just doing it for him, yk?

"okay so, i'll show you the first problem and then we'll try to figure it out the next one together, yeah?"

HE'S SO SWEET TT if his son messes up he'll reassure him that it's okay to make mistakes and it's all part of the learning process.

"see, and then you multiply the mass and the acceleration here...so if the mass of an object is 10.2kg and it's accelerating at 2.5m/s squared..." he trails off, eyes moving from the word problem and over to his child sitting beside him.

"then the force is...twenty-five...point...five...?" his kid says in an unsure tone, and sungho cracks into the biggest smile ever. "yes! and the unit is..." now he had gained some confidence, "newtons! 25.5 newtons!"

sungho cheers when he answers correctly, clapping his hands together and patting his son on his back softly as he writes down the answer onto the worksheet.

he sits with him the whole rest of the time he does homework, even if it's clear he already understands it well enough to do it on his own!

such a sweet dad TT he also gets really happy when his child comes home the next day from school and tells him that he got all the answers right on yesterday's homework.

"thanks for the help, dad" - "anytime, kiddo"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

taesan, the accidentally does the work for them dad!

"daddy i need help with this project for art"

at first it seems like he does not want anything to do with his daughter's project. taesan agrees to help anyways though (it's not like he'd ever say no to his beloved daughter...girl dad! taesan FOR LIFE), sitting across from her on the floor of their living room with all her supplies laid out.

"so what do you want me to do again?" he asks, and the kid just rolls her eyes. "my teacher gave me these instructions on how to do the paper mache, i just need you here in case my hands get dirty and i need you to pass me things"

taesan nods his head slowly, easy peasy, all he has to do is sit and watch tv while passing things to his daughter...simple.

not.

he can't help but wince as he watches his own child messily slap wet paper onto the lame excuse for a sculpture she had decided to make. it annoys the perfectionist inside of him and he's just itching to take over.

"that's not...i don't think you- you know what, darling? just go wash your hands let me do it"

"okay, daddy" she said with a big smile, beginning to get up from the floor to rinse her hands off in the sink. unbeknownst to her father however, this was his daughter's menacing plan all along. knowing her dad was a bit of a control freak, she purposely did the project badly so he'd take over <3

guess who she got the menace genes from lol

"i got an A on the paper mache sculpture i made!" - "you mean the paper mache sculpture that i! your dad! me! made"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

leehan, the there for moral support dad!

to be honest, at first he has no clue what the hell he's doing from the very moment he agreed to sit beside his daughter to do her homework.

but unlike jaehyun, he doesn't even try to hide it.

"sweetheart, i'm going to be so real i have no clue what any of this means" and she just laughs at him, "yeah i kind of got that already, dad. can you just sit here with me in case?"

"alright, i'm gonna get some snacks first, want any?"

he spends the whole time making sure his daughter isn't stressing over the assignment. he tells her to ask him about anything anyways, even if it were things he didn't understand.

"oh wait i actually do know about that one!" and he explains it to her the best that he can whenever he can.

but then when the subject is biology- or more specifically, marine biology, he gets super excited to tell her everything he knows!

he gets even more excited when she already knows all the facts too, happy that his offspring shared the same interest as him. he's literally all smiles, going back and forth with his daughter about all kinds of sea-life ecosystems and fish facts.

it doesn't even end after the assignment is completed! leehan's wife has to sit and listen to both her husband and their daughter go on and on and on about it for the whole of dinner time too!

"look dad! i got extra credit for my bio essay! the thing about the habitats that you added gave me an extra few points"

when he hears that his help turned out successful he giggles like a little girl.

"thanks so much, dad. you're the best!" she says, giving her dad a loving hug. "you're welcome, sweetheart- and i'm proud of you! i say we go to the aquarium and celebrate"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

woonhak, the go ask your mom for help dad!

i see woonhak as someone who cannot be assed to do anything related to school from the moment he graduated.

"daddy, can you help me?" when his 5 year old son came up to him like this after school, his first thought was to hand the favour off to someone else.

and who else if not his beautiful, amazing, wonderful wife?

"ah, i'm afraid i can't help you with that, kid. go ask your mommy for help, yeah?"

he thinks it's all good after that, figuring his son would go look for his mother and leave his dad alone <3

that is...until the boy starts sobbing violently in front of him. woonhak's eyes go wide and he has no clue what to do.

"woah, hey- don't cry, what's wrong?" he bends down to lift the boy up onto his lap. "mommy isn't home, i need to do this homework now! but i don't get it!" he cries and cries, all woonhak can do is pat his son's back and calm him down.

"okay, okay, i'll help you if you stop crying, okay?"

and so, kim woonhak and his son sit together on the dining table. he tries his very best to bring back everything he learnt when he was in school still, jogging up his memory for the sake of his little boy. luckily, 1st grade geometry was the one thing he still remembered clearly how to do.

"see look, now if all four sides are equal...then..." - "a triangle!" - "well no...but close! it's a...squa..squa-" - "square!" - "yes! good"

his wife comes home later that evening. "hey sweetie, have you done all your homework?" their son nods excitedly, "mhm!" - "you did it all by yourself?" she asks, a little bit shocked. "nope! daddy helped me!"

she turns to look at the man laying down on the living room couch, stuffing chips in his mouth as he watched some show on the tv.

"okay sweetie, i think i might need to take a look at that homework before you submit it tomorrow..."

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ahhhh my first headcanon! tysm again anon for sending in this request <3 i love dad!bnd hehe. feel free to send me some more reqs over in my asks!! i rlly enjoyed writing this so i hope u guys enjoyed reading it! LOVE U ALLL mwahhhh! love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#kona's asks ♡#boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #leehan x reader #taesan x reader #sungho x reader #riwoo x reader #jaehyun x reader #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor headcanons #boynextdoor thoughts

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gothicallybright · 4 months ago

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JOB? DONE!

⊱ ────── {��. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰ You've had some issues with the air conditioning system in your house and the heat is melting away your sanity. Your husband isn't much of use, so you decide to look through some ad flyers to help find someone to fix your air conditioning and make your summer less miserable. ⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

𓆩♡𓆪 A/N 𓆩♡𓆪 Inspired by Chappell's promo posters for The Giver. If it wasn't obvious. Thinking about making my next post inspired by Lost Records: Bloom & Rage- If anyone has played that game fully, PLEASE hmu I have NO ONE to talk about it, AND I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY. thank you mwah, enjoy reading! (excuse any errors i'm exhausted)

''Ugh! Damn it!'' You hit the air conditioner with a wrench, your final sign of surrender. You are once again defeated by household devices. You have been trying to fix this damn thing for weeks now! Strangely, one day, the conditioner wasn't providing as much cold air as it did days before, making you sweat uncontrollably. The heat is making you nauseous to a certain degree. Your body physically can't endure the heat anymore.

''Hey, babe? Could you get this checked out, please?'' You shout from up the stairs, where the conditioner is, to your husband. The frantic sound of a bag zipping up gives you a clear vision of his response. ''Sorry, honey! I'm late, I have to go.'' He calls from the living room as he starts running up the stairs. He places a plain kiss on your lips before mumbling a quick ''I love you'' and leaving the house. Classic. You murmur an annoyed ''I love you too'' back.

You sigh in determination, ready to take on the cold air beast once more. Your hand slips inside of the machine, wrench gripped between your fingers as you twist it. And twist it. Still nothing. The damn thing won't even start at this point. You grip the wrench in frustration, your knuckles turning white due to the force. Your blood is boiling with rage and the heat isn't helping. You give up, throwing the wrench on the floor, creating a loud metallic thud.

You make your way down the stairs, thinking about your useless husband and how he's not capable of fixing an air conditioner, let alone making you feel good. ''This is who I'm married to?!'' You think out loud, plopping on the couch. Your hand rests on your forehead, feeling the heat of your body's temperature. Your tired eyes wander around the living room, landing on the small glass table next to the couch. At least your husband brought the mail in. You pick up the various ad fylers and begin flipping through them. Most of them bombarded you with huge ''SALE!'' signs in bright red from stores no one buys from anymore. You sigh, getting up from the couch to throw them in the trash. As you walk, you continue to flip through the fylers, eventually landing on something interesting.

You throw away the rest of the fylers, keeping a single one in your hands. You chuckle to yourself as your read the fyler. ''YOUR WIFE'S HOT, I'LL FIX HER AIR CONDITIONER. CALL 620-HOT-TO-GO. I GET THE JOB DONE!'' This fyler was definitely made for you. Your eyes land on the woman in the fyler, lingering for a moment. The woman in the image is dressed in construction style attire, wearing a bright orange hard hat that is slightly tilted on her head. With that, she's also wearing a high-visibility safety vest in neon yellow with reflective silver stripes. Her hair is long and curly, makeup bold. In her hands a red and black power drill, giving a confident pose. Hell yeah.

You grab your phone and dial the number. You listen to the ringing sound for a few moments before the woman picks up. The sound of teeth brushing paired with muffled music somewhere in the background fills the silence. The woman spits the toothpaste out and speaks up. ''This is Chappell Roan speaking. How may I be of service?'' Oh, wow. Her voice is… attractive.

''Hi…'' You begin, gathering your thoughts. ''I found your ad and… I could use a little help with the air conditioning system in my house. It stopped blowing cold air last week. My husband's no use, really. The heat's getting to me. Can you help?'' On the other side of the line, Chappell's already packing up her tools, swaying to the music on the radio. ''Of course I can help! It's my job to make unhappy wives happy.'' She chuckles, and you laugh in response. Whatever that means. ''I'd appreciate if you come by next week, but if you can't, that's okay.'' Chappell chuckles once again. ''I'm just getting in my car. What's your address again?'' Alright. This is certainly something. You give her your address and she assures you she'll be here in fifteen minutes.

Indeed, fifteen minutes later, you hear a car pulling up into your driveway. You rush outside to greet the repairer. Loud classic rock music echoes through the empty street as Chappell opens the car door and steps outside. With the door now shut, the music turns off. She grabs the toolbox from the backseat and comes up to you. She extends her hand out for a handshake and you awkwardly shake her hand. ''It's a pleasure meeting you, miss.'' She exclaims and you nod your head with a smile. ''You too… uh…'' She chuckles. ''It's Chappell.'' ''Pleasure meeting you too, Chappell.''

You lead her inside and point towards the air conditioner. ''Phew… it's as hot in here as it is outside…'' Chappell says, placing her forearm on her already damp forehead. ''I know, it's horrible! I'll go get you a chair.'' You bring in the chair and Chappell uses it to get to the air conditioner's level. Her toolbox is open and laid neatly on the windowsill. You watch as she pulls out a screwdriver from the toolbox, prying open the front panel, revealing the filter clogged in dust. ''Ah! Thought so!'' Chappell exclaims, setting down the screwdriver. ''Ever cleaned this big boy?'' You awkwardly rub the back of your neck. ''No…'' ''Well, you should have. The filter's clogged, preventing the cold air from coming out. Don't worry, I'll get it fixed.''

Chappell sets the panel aside, exposing the clogged filter fully. She carefully takes out the filter, handing it to you. ''Go wash it, under cold water.'' You nod and rush to do so. The rinse under the cool water sent a cloud of dust down the drain. You place the filter on the towel to dry and reunite with Chappell. She seems to be squinting into the depths of the conditioner, feeling around with the screwdriver.

She's wearing a white tank top which greatly exposes her tattoos, and her toned physique. You find yourself rather staring. You watch how her muscles shape each time she moves her arm or leg. God. Your husband is a lanky prick, and this woman is everything he's not. She notices your staring and smirks down at you, her eyes wandering around you. You look away, embarrassed. A familiar feeling engulfs your body and mind. Hm. Something you felt when you first met your husband, however that feeling with him is long gone now. Perhaps, a spark of sorts?

Chappell grabs a small flashlight from the toolbox and aims it inside of the conditioner. ''Hm, everything else seems to be intact. Just put back the filter when it dryes and that should be it.'' You breathe a sigh of relief. ''Oh, thank God. Miserable summer is finally over!'' She smiles at your comment. ''Glad I could help.'' Carefully getting down from the chair, Chappell closes her toolbox and walks past you towards the front door. Upon opening the front door, she is hit by the force of a strong summer storm, stumbling backwards. Refreshing cold air fills the house, but you swiftly close the front door upon seeing the pool of rain that already formed at the entrance.

''Oh my… haven't had one of those in a while.'' You comment, grabbing the towels from the bathroom to soak up the puddle of rain. However, Chappell is pinching the bridge of her nose. ''Damn it… I forgot my umbrella. Hey miss, do you think I could borrow one of your spare umbrellas? I'll return them tomorrow.'' No way you'll let her outside during this weather. So, you suggest a better idea. ''You can stay here until the storm passes. My husband travels for work, he's not home often.'' You offer, hoping for a positive response. It does get lonely with a traveling husband. ''Oh? It's not trouble, really. It's a short walk. I best be go-'' Chappell walks away while talking, but you grab her wrist, stopping her. ''Chappell, please… I'd love some company.'' You plead and she sighs with a smile. ''Okay, okay, fine.'' She grabs your hand and you lead her into the living room. ''Sorry about the mess… wasn't expecting anyone today.'' Chappell looks around. ''What mess?'' ''Well, the floor isn't mop-'' ''Shush. As if I'm any better, and I have guests all the time!''

You spend the rest of the stormy afternoon with Chappell, watching movies and having fun in general. You never felt this good with someone, let alone your husband. You wish she could stay forever. You wish. The raging storm outside seems to have eased down by the time your attention shifted to something else other than Chappell. You draw the curtains open, revealing the soaked street, but no more rain in sight. ''Hey, look! The rain stopped finally!'' You exclaim with a smile. But, your smile fades upon seeing Chappell already picking up her toolbox and making her way towards the front door. You follow her.

''I hope I was good company. Not used to having my work days look like this. Thank you, miss.'' She puts her hand on her heart, bowing down slightly. A simple gesture of pure gratitude. But, you can't let her go just yet. Chappell reaches for the front door, but you grab her wrist once more. She turns to you with a curious look on her face and you waste no seconds. Fuck the marriage anyway. You kiss your repairer, in a way you've never kissed your husband. Chappell is taken aback, but quickly catches on, laying the toolbox down on the stairs to wrap her hands around your waist. The kiss is quick, but definitely leaves a sweet taste on your lips after she pulls away.

''Here.'' She hands you a piece of paper with her number on it. ''If you need a job done, call me.'' She winks at you before finally leaving.

#chappell roan #lesbian #wlw #chappell roan x reader #fem reader #wlw post #sapphic #wlw story #sapphism

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kreaaterka · 1 year ago

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How can Crowley know that?

So the question is, how can Crowley know what rank Muriel is?

When Muriel arrives at the bookshop (S02E03), Aziraphale and Crowley are nice to them, and both of them are pretending that they do not know Muriel is an angel. But, of course, both Crowley and Aziraphale know that Muriel is an angel.

Then, at the very end of the episode (S02E05), Crowley says to Muriel that he knows they are an angel and he wants to be 'arrested' as a way to get to heaven.

Muriel: „This is very difficult, but I'm not actually Inspector Constable, a human law enforcement officer.“

Crowley: „You're an Angel, I know. That's why I'm surrendering to you.“

So Muriel says [bla, bla, bla], and they are going to heaven using the elevator, which is the very end of the episode (S02E05).

At the beginning of the last episode (S02E06), Crowley gets out of the elevator and immediately speaks to Muriel.

Crowley: "Right. Where do you keep your records?"

Muriel: "Records?"

Crowley: "You're a scrivener, 37th class. Records, where?"

Muriel: "My office, but…"

Crowley: "Lead on."

But, Muriel is first time speaking about their rank , during the scene, when they , Crowley and Saraqael watching Gabriel trial.

Metatron: "….your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased. You will be demoted to junior recording angel, 38th class."

Muriel: "Oh, that's pretty good, actually. I'm 37th class. I didn't know that there was one down."

Crowley: punches Muriel playfully on the shoulder.

And that is the question which is stuck in my head - How does Crowley know Muriel's rank? I guess there could be three possible explanations.

It's a continuity error in the script. But I don't believe or like this idea.

Muriel told Crowley their rank in the elevator, during the way to heaven.

Crowley remembered this before the fall.

So what do you guys think about it? Let me know.

If you already know a post about this, I would be eager to read it.

Sorry for my English, I am not a native speaker and also suffer from dyslexia.

#crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens analysis #muriel #the fall

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTIKTOK TRENDS⁴ * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　4 times that Y/N and Chris made a couple's trend on tiktok.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²　::　part 1 || part 2 || part 3

1. Watch my boyfriend for me

It was a balmy summer night, and the city lights glistened off the glass walls of the charming Italian restaurant where Y/N and Chris were dining. The restaurant's facade exuded rustic elegance, adorned with hanging green plants and softly twinkling string lights that created a warm, romantic atmosphere.

Y/N had come to the restaurant with a playful plan in mind. She had seen a viral TikTok trend where people left their partners alone at the table with a recording camera, asking viewers to "watch" them while they went to do "something." It seemed like the perfect opportunity to have some fun with Chris.

While they enjoyed their meal, Y/N discreetly took her phone from its spot on the table. Unlocking it, she quickly opened the TikTok app, which was prominently displayed among her most used apps. With a mischievous grin, she hit the record button.

Her eyes flicked to Chris, who was engrossed in his pasta, before she propped her phone against a glass Coca-Cola bottle, adjusting the angle to frame him perfectly.

"Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend real quick while I go to the bathroom?" Y/N said in a low tone, trying to suppress a giggle as she stood up and headed towards the bathroom, not glancing back at the bewildered Chris.

Chris, mid-chew on a hefty forkful of pasta, looked up, watching her walk away with a puzzled expression. He then shifted his gaze to the phone screen, his brow furrowing.

He delicately set his cutlery down, adjusting his black cap in a nervous gesture.

"Hey guys... I think Y/N is making some kind of video." He muttered after swallowing his food, resting his right elbow on the wooden surface of the square table and laying his chin on his palm, his blue eyes fixed on the screen. "Caught me with my mouth full, sorry about that."

Chris glanced around the restaurant, a hint of nervousness replaced by curiosity.

"So, since you're here, let me tell you what we're up to. We're at this new Italian place in Los Angeles. The decor here is amazing, really cozy and authentic." He gestured with his free hand, indicating the charming details around him that the camera couldn't capture. "We had bruschetta to start... Did you know it was originally a way to use up old bread? They toast it, rub garlic on it, and top it with tomato and basil... Delicious."

His eyes lit up as he described one of his favorite appetizers.

"Now, about the main dishes, since it's Saturday night, we figured we could indulge a bit." He continued with a chuckle. "Y/N ordered lasagna. Classic choice, right? Pasta, meat, tomato sauce, cheese... You can't go wrong." He pointed to Y/N's plate, observing momentarily the remaining piece of lasagna. "I got the carbonara, one of my all-time favorites. Loads of bacon, so good."

Chris picked up his fork, filling it with the food from his plate and twirling some carbonara for the camera to see.

"I've had a tradition on Saturdays of taking Y/N out to dinner since the beginning of our relationship, and there's something special about going out to dinner in a new place, you know?" Chris commented warmly. "It's a little gastronomic adventure. Oh, and the music! They're playing something in Italian."

He paused, pointing his fingers upwards, letting the camera pick up the soft, melodic tunes playing in the background. He began to sway his head to the rhythm, clearly enjoying himself.

"Cool, right? Also, we always order different dishes so we can share and try more things." He added, laughing. "Though I usually end up eating half of Y/N's, and she always gets mad at me for it." His eyes sparkled with affection as he spoke about her, shaking his hear jokingly. "Talking about her, her food's going to get cold if she takes much longer."

He lowered his head, frowning as he looked between his plate and hers, refusing to eat until she returned.

"She just said she was going to the bathroom and left you with me. Not sure what she's up to." He shrugged, eyes darting back to the screen. "But tell me a little about yourselves..."

He pretended to listen to the viewers' imaginary responses, nodding thoughtfully.

"I think this is a TikTok trend. Y/N's been obsessed with these lately." Chris said, changing the "topic" abruptly, rolling his eyes playfully.

Just then, Y/N returned to the table, quickly grabbing her phone and trying not to laugh at Chris's expression.

"Thanks, guys. I hope he behaved." She said happily, smiling and waving at the camera.

"Hey, I'm the best boy around, alright?" Chris retorted, grinning widely.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. Serving myself a little bit of food and telling my boyfriend that's all we have left

The house was a haven of quiet on that early afternoon. With Nick and Matt away on business for their channel, set to last all day, Y/N and Chris found themselves with a rare stretch of time alone. Deciding against the hassle of preparing a new meal, they settled on enjoying the leftovers from the previous day's lunch.

"I'm going to put the dishes together, honey." Y/N called, already making her way to the door of their shared bedroom after hearing Chris’s stomach rumble in protest as they watched a random and new action movie.

"Alright, I'll be there in a few." Chris responded, not taking his eyes off the screen, where a heated scene of racing cars and guns shooting occurred, his hands reaching blindly for the remote on the bedside table.

With Chris still in the bedroom, Y/N seized the opportunity to record a new TikTok trend that had been flooding her For You Page in the last few days. She fished her phone out of the front pocket of her Fresh Love hoodie, positioning it strategically on the wooden surface of the dining table to capture both the plates and Chris’s reaction, as well as her own figure. Her fingers worked quickly to unlock the device, find the app, and start recording, lowering the screen brightness to its minimum.

While waiting for Chris, Y/N prepared two plates: Chris's, as usual, was generous, laden with a large portion of each meal item. For herself, she placed just a few spoonfuls of each, creating a stark contrast between the two.

When Chris finally appeared in the kitchen, he moved with a relaxed grace to his usual chair, his stomach growling in the quiet of the room, sitting down.

"Finally!" He exclaimed, rubbing his palms together in excitement as he watched Y/N place the plates on the table and sit down beside him. "I was so-" His sentence cut off abruptly as he noticed the disparity in the amount of food on their plates. His brow furrowed as his eyes darted between the two servings.

"I hope it's still good." Y/N said with a small smile, lifting her right arm to reach for her cutlery, her fingers closing around her fork.

"No, wait." Chris stopped her, raising his hand to hover over her plate, his concern evident. "What?"

Feigning confusion, Y/N put down her fork and looked up at him, frowning.

"What what?"

"Weren't you starving?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with worry as he looked her over, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort.

"No, babe, I'm not that hungry." Y/N shook her head, offering a reassuring smile.

"Are you feeling sick?" Chris's concern deepened, his blue eyes scanning her figure anxiously.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." Y/N insisted, her tone light.

"Babe, this isn't normal." Chris pointed to her plate. "Even on days when you have no appetite, you don't eat this little."

"I need to reduce the amount of food I eat." She invented, using the first excuse that her brain could think of.

"Tell the truth, Y/N. Do you want to go to the hospital?” Chris's worry was palpable as he prepared to stand, but Y/N quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping his next movements.

"Why, Chris? I told you, I'm fine-"

"Then why did you put so little food on your plate?" Chris interrupted, his concern mounting.

"Babe, we just... It's because that was all that was left from yesterday. We ran out of food." Y/N finally revealed, looking down in false shame.

"What do you mean? Is the food gone?" Chris's disbelief was clear. Despite his bigger appetite, he would never allow his girlfriend to go without. "Baby, stop it. Are you crazy? I'm not going to eat all this while you have so little just because our food runs out."

He stood up abruptly, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor echoing sharply in the quiet room. His large hands moved quickly to switch their plates, placing the larger serving in front of Y/N.

"No, Chris! That's all that's left, really! I want you to eat what I gave you." Y/N protested, curving her spine above the wooden surface, her hands hovering in the air.

"Babe, you're hungrier than me. I already ate, you didn't." Chris lied, sitting down again, receiving a surprised look from Y/N. She knew he hadn't eaten anything, just like her.

"What did you eat?" She asked, genuinely confused.

"I had one of those Bold protein bars you always eat." Chris claimed, pointing towards the cabinet above the sink behind his back.

"But, there's no more bar-"

"Of course there is, or was, I ate the last one." Chris interrupted, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Babe..." Y/N's heart warmed, her eyes softening. "Let's split it then, okay?"

"No, petal, I want you to eat all of this." He insisted, pointing at the plate that was once his. "How did all the food even run out?"

"I needed to go to the grocery store today, but I wanted to spend the day with you." Y/N explained, her tone tender, her bottom lip jutting out in a little pout.

"It doesn't matter, babe. Just because the food is gone doesn't mean you should eat this little. It looks like bird food." Chris's voice rose with worry, his hands moving to adjust his cap nervously.

"It's no problem, honey, I promise." Y/N argued, moving to switch the plates again, but Chris stopped her.

"Babe, wait, no! Let's go out? Let's go out to eat, hm? Where do you want to go?" Chris's desperation was clear, his blue eyes searching hers. "Let's go out, like a date, yeah?"

Y/N's features brightened instantly, a smile spreading across her lips as small drops of tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, her heart fluttering inside her chest, feeling like she was falling in love all over again.

"A date, babe?" Her voice sounded airy.

"That's right, let's go out for lunch somewhere special. You choose the place and the food, okay?" Chris asked softly, watching her closely, pushing the plate of food in front of him away.

"Yeah." Y/N looked down, her cheeks heating up with a rosy blush.

"Great, I'll get my wallet," Chris said, rising from his seat calmly this time, curving his upper body so that his face was close to her head, sealing the top of it with his lips momentarily, exhaling the soft smell of shampoo. "You heard me?"

"Yes, okay," Y/N nodded quickly, sniffling softly, observing her boy step away. "I love you."

"I love you more, bunny. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Testing my boyfriend if he was an Uber driver

Chris adjusted himself in the leather driver's seat, trying to keep a straight face. His eyes flicked towards Y/N’s phone, checking if it was recording him. A few seconds later, the sound of the back door opening echoed inside the vehicle, and Y/N appeared, sliding into the seat where Nick usually sat during their car videos. She did her best to look like a complete stranger.

"Good afternoon! Are you Chris from Uber?" she asked, adopting a foreign accent. Her head lifted, catching Chris's upper body twisted towards the back seat, his eyes fixed on her. "Why are you looking back like that, Chris?" Y/N yelled, playfully smacking the back of the driver’s seat.

"But I was just-"

༻

"Hey!" Y/N’s voice cut through the brief silence, settling back into the leather seat with a dramatic sigh.

"Good afternoon! Would you like some candy or gum?" Chris greeted, taking his right hand off the steering wheel and reaching towards the car’s console. He pulled out a small box of mints from the cup holder, lifting it up with a flourish.

"Why are you offering candy to the girl, Christopher?" Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes darting from the box to Chris's face and back again before she rolled her eyes and turned around, pretending to get out of the car.

"Sometimes people have bad breath, babe-"

༻

"Hi! Good afternoon. How are you?" Y/N chirped as she got into the car again, a broad smile lighting up her face.

She adjusted herself in the seat, but as she did, her head bumped against the roof of the car.

"Ouch! I hit my head." She burst into laughter, her right hand instinctively reaching up to rub the sore spot, her eyes closed as giggles escaped her lips.

Chris quickly turned back, his eyes wide with concern and amusement. His lips trembled as he tried to suppress his laughter.

"Do you want me to take care of you, miss-" His sentence was cut short by a loud slap, Y/N's free hand playfully hitting his shoulder. "Ouch! Sorry!"

༻

"Hey, good afternoon!" Chris began this time, his eyes fixed on the garage door in front of the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, swallowing hard.

"Hi, how are you?" Y/N adjusted herself in the seat, leaning forward so that she was perched on the edge. She leaned her upper body against the back of the driver’s seat, raising her right arm and resting her hand lightly on Chris’s shoulder, giving it a sensual squeeze.

"Do not touch me!" Chris raised his right arm roughly, trying to shake off Y/N’s hand without success. "If you knew my girlfriend, ma'am, you wouldn't dare. She could be nearby right now, you know?" He pretended to look around desperately, finally managing to push Y/N’s hand away. "She's going to kill you."

༻

"Hi, good afternoon! Can I sit in the front?" Y/N asked, already sitting in the back seat, leaning over the console and pointing to the passenger seat.

"You can’t, ma'am." Chris shook his head quickly, keeping his eyes fixed forward.

"But there's no one there. You must feel so lonely." Y/N pouted, looking into the rearview mirror, trying to catch Chris’s eyes.

Chris moved suddenly, lifting his right leg over the gear lever and resting his foot on the floor of the passenger seat.

"Don’t worry, miss, that’s not a problem. I take both seats, you see?" He glanced at the rearview mirror, losing his balance and accidentally pressing the horn, its loud sound echoing through the garage.

༻

"Excuse me, sir, there's a little thing in there! Let me clean it for you." Y/N, already inside the car and leaning between the passenger and driver seats, murmured. Her right hand lightly grabbed Chris's chin, turning his head towards her.

Chris let her, his blue eyes meeting hers. His pupils dilated as he watched her face, his lips parting slightly as he felt his heartbeat increase its pace. He tilted his head closer, their mouths brushing for a brief moment.

"Christopher Sturniolo, are you going to kiss your passenger?!" Y/N suddenly pulled away, hitting his shoulder hard.

"It was an accident, babe-"

༻

"Sir, do you like brunettes?" Y/N asked, leaning over the back of the driver's seat and laying the side of her face on the headrest. She kept her eyes fixed on Chris, biting her bottom lip lightly, trying to convey an air of seduction.

"No, miss, I like bald ones." Chris quickly responded without looking at her, causing Y/N to burst into laughter.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4. I can't go out

"I can't go out."

Y/N lay sprawled on the bed she shared with Chris, the soft, inviting sheets cradling her body. Her phone hovered above her, capturing her every move as she began to lip-sync to the familiar audio. The screen’s glow bathed her face in a gentle, almost ethereal light, accentuating the gleam in her eyes and the subtle curve of her lips, painted with a delicate pink gloss.

"Cough, cough." She murmured as she feigned illness, her free hand coming up, fingers curling into a delicate fist that she brought to her lips, a playful, exaggerated expression dancing across her features. "I'm sick." She finished, the mock severity in her face making her eyes sparkle with mischief.

She shifted the phone slightly, widening the view just as Chris’s strong arm snaked into the frame. His biceps, taut and defined, flexed dramatically, the play of muscles under his skin evident and undeniably captivating.

His skin was warm around her neck, the faint scent of him - a mix of his natural aroma and the lingering trace of his Dior cologne - intoxicating her senses. The pressure of his bicep against her cheeks made her bite down on her lower lip, her teeth digging into the soft flesh to stifle the smile, threatening to break free.

Her body responded instinctively to his closeness, a shiver of excitement coursing down her spine. She tilted her head slightly, her hair cascading over his arm like a silken waterfall, each strand catching the light in a mesmerizing display.

She was so lucky.

735 notes · View notes

durrtydawg · 2 months ago

Text

The Sadir Inheritance

{Sam Drake x F!Reader} Chapter 11 | 'How the hell do we explain this?'

alright so you might have to re-read c10 to get the gist, but here's their phone call from his perspective... and of course the aftermath. please mind any errors, grammatical or sensical. I'm sure i'll amend soon. mwah x

masterlist ✨

Other chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Just when Sam thought crossed wires would be the worst of his problems...

CW: blood, vomit, & graphic injury mention, general cringe

Word count: 4.4k-ish x

The British Library’s reading room isn’t exactly an arc-hive of chaos. If anything, it’s the opposite. The kind of quiet that makes one’s own breathing feel obnoxious. Just the occasional paper rustle, the pesky buzz of outdated fluorescents, and someone clearing their throat at oddly even intervals.

Sam leans back in a particularly creaky chair, one arm slung over the top of it, squinting at the screen in front of him as though it’s offended him. It flickers softly, whirring as he turns the dial, dusty even though he’s already wiped it down twice.

Bzzz.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, breaking the hush.

Sam fumbles it out, thumb clumsy on the screen. He stabs at the green button.

“Yeah?”

“Alright, Sammy?” Scott��s voice is chipper, plastering on a high-pitched exaggerated London accent. He snorts. Alongside his mockery of their companion, he hears a rhythmic thrum of what he presumes is car tyres on tarmac. “How’s the exciting world of yellowed paper and copyright law?”

Sam huffs through a grin. “Screw off.”

Scott laughs. “Hey, I did my time. Only fair you got your hands on the boring stuff for a day.”

“Been here four hours. I think my corneas have dried out.” He glances down at his coffee, tilting the cup towards his lips. Lukewarm. Fantastic. “Did you find anything today?”

“Maybe.” A rustle of paper on Scott’s end. “Got some papers… hard to tell what’s useful and what’s some aristocrat’s creative writing project, but I’m hoping it’s… something. There’s a weird little necklace thing in the mix too - worn engravings, yada yada. Looks old. Could be junk, but...” He pauses, clicking his tongue as if he’s pulling a load of thoughts together. “I figured we could take a look when we both get to the site. Should be another twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

Sam sighs, pulling his phone away from his face to check the time. 8:36pm. And he’s nowhere near done here. He pushes aside the slight discomfort he feels towards the fact that the phone understands the concept of eye contact, and tucks it back between his ear and shoulder.

“I’m stuck here for a while. Still waitin’ on the marriage records pull-” Sam glances up, scanning the stacks for the nervous wreck of what he presumes is an intern he’d flagged down earlier. No sign of her. “Think I've been abandoned.”

Scott makes a sympathetic noise. “Shame.” There’s a pause before he clears his throat. “Well… you reckon Little Miss Sunshine could swing by instead?”

Sam goes still, the corner of his mouth twitching. He can’t tell if the nickname irritates him or not. He exhales, wry. “Your idea of a date night or somethin’?”

Scott chuckles under his breath. “What’s the matter? You gonna get all jealous if she rides shotgun with me instead of you?”

Sam twists his tongue into his molar, inexplicably miffed. “Funny.”

Scott laughs. “I just need a second pair of eyes, is all.”

Sam scrubs a hand over his mouth, masking a reluctant grin. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

Scott continues, “Sweet. I’ll give her a ring, then.”

Sam straightens, hand tightening instinctively around the phone. It would be easier to let Scott handle it. Certainly, more logical. But the thought of Scott calling her, of his voice sliding easily into that teasing charm, of her laughing at something he says-

“I’ll call her,” Sam says, sharper than intended.

A beat.

“You sure?”

“Might as well. She trusts me more than you, anyway.”

Scott snorts. “Charm’s wasted on you, Drake.”

“Can’t all be blessed,” Sam deadpans.

“Let me know what she says.”

Sam hangs up with a quick hum of acknowledgment before Scott can say anything else, staring down at the phone now cradled in his palm.

He throws a glance around, casual-like, then fumbles with it. Screen’s too bright, for starters. He squints, jabs at it wrong once, then manages to scroll. His thumb hovers over her name. Then he backs out, checks the lock screen, and stares into space.

Screw it.

Pull yourself together.

He hits call and brings the phone to his ear.

The hell’s he even going to open with?

He thinks back to the tight-lipped librarian at the counter when he first arrived, and the pointed sign by the entrance: Reading Room materials may not be removed from the premises. The side-eye he got when he asked if they could make an exception. The stack of dusty registers now waiting for him at the desk because the digitised records ‘weren’t comprehensive’ or some such bullshit.

There's a click - the beeping stops - a faint rustle. He winces as he rifles through lines in his head.

Eureka.

“Did you know the British Library doesn’t actually let you check out books?” Nice and casual. But topical all the same.

Her voice crackles back through the line: “Every day's a school day, Samuel”, and something in his chest loosens. Still got it. He replies with his regular confidence.

She snorts. He loves that sound. It punches a laugh outta him, too loud for the sacred hush of the room and, in turn, the people in it.

Some guy in his peripheral shoots him a look.

With a smile, Sam mimics zipping his mouth shut. Classic. The British. Eternally pissed off by ya, but too polite to actually say anything about it. Highly skilled at simmering and casting judgment in absolute silence.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gamble number one.

“Eh.” He shrugs like she can see it, lowering his volume to appease his new buddy. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

There’s a beat. He suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close the guy at the next desk is. Oh dear. She didn’t like that, did she?

But then: “Oh yeah?”- light, a little scoff in it - and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, grin sliding back in place like it never left in the first place.

“Yeah.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“Guilty.”

Oh-kay, gamble number two, then.

Keep it ‘cheeky’ - she likes using that word, doesn’t she? Keep the mood up. Don’t scare her off with... whatever the hell this thing is clawing at his ribs.

He hears her driving - the shfffffff of tires over asphalt. He hears her smile, too. And when she asks about his week, he slips into gear without thinking.

“If I see one more oil painting of some smug bastard with mutton chops, I’m gonna start growin’ 'em in my sleep.”

She laughs. A full on, belly-laugh. He feels it deep, but doesn’t know what to do with it.

He ducks his head, like that’s gonna stop the grin creeping in, pressing the phone a little closer to his ear, and picking up the scratchy old biro from the desk - something to do with his hands. Suddenly, he feels like he’s twenty-five again, loitering by a payphone, thumbing around for a quarter before the line goes dead.

They volley words. Regular rhythm. Somewhere in the middle of the back-and-forth, he slides in the request, asking if she can help Scott out. Keeps it breezy. Just ticking a box.

That’s gamble number three. Let’s see if she bites.

She does. But not how he expects.

There’s a pause - just a breath too long. Like she was elsewhere and had to yank herself back.

And that’s the thing. Lately, she has been elsewhere. Not just the last ten days - before that, too. Zoned out. Cagey in a way that doesn’t sit right. Like she’s wrapped herself in nettles. And when he or Scott get too close, she dodges, deflects, and treats their concern like it’s some radioactive thing she can’t risk touching.

He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the guessing game. The brittle edge to her voice when they push a little too far. But he’s not about to strong-arm it. That’s not the game.

What was it that she threw at him back in Jordan? Babysitting. That's it. Too protective. Too… close. Couldn’t give her room to breathe-

Hang on - Jesus, what’s with the over analysing, here?

This isn't… He’s not the guy who spirals over a phone call. He’s the guy with the exit strategy, the backup plan, and the one-liner on standby. Samuel flirts like he breathes. Samuel always knows the angle. Samuel doesn’t get... weird about stuff.

That’s the bit right? The roguish charm. Flash the grin. Crack the joke. Keep it moving.

He shakes it off, takes a gulp of his coffee, and it's - eurgh - cold, chalky, awful - spits it right back into the cup with a wince. Silver lining: at least it snapped him out of whatever whirlpool his thoughts were spinning into.

She says something snarky, all teeth and sass, and it pulls a smile from him before he can stop it.

Time to wrap this up.

“You goin’ or what?” he says, aiming for laid-back, tossing the words like they mean nothing.

“Of course I’m going.”

He twirls the pen between his fingers, lets it tap against the desk in a lazy rhythm. Not overthinking it. Not digging. Just riding the hum of her voice and the grin he can hear but can’t see.

Maybe that's why it slips out:

“Atta girl.”

He knows it’s trouble.

Not bad trouble, necessarily. Just the kind that makes your throat feel tight and your heartbeat a little irregular.

He didn’t mean for it to sound like that.

Or maybe he did.

There’s a hitch of silence. Not long. Barely a breath. But enough that Sam feels uncomfortable.

The pen stops dead between his fingers, and he leaves it hanging there, waiting.

For her to… snort, maybe? Or to tease him, the way others would’ve. The way he’s used to.

A smartass remark. A little flustered giggle. Some sort of acknowledgement.

Instead, the dvvvvt-screeeeee of the wipers and a brusque shift to: “Scott’s already there?”

Right. Okay.

Guess he misread the room.

Sam leans back in his chair, huffing out a slow breath through his nose as his jaw tightens just a tad. He’s mildly annoyed. yep. At himself, mostly. At her, maybe a little. At how easily the shift unsettles him. The pen stills in his hand, caught between fingers that suddenly feel clumsy.

He rustles through his notes loud enough that maybe she’ll hear it and know he’s busy, That he’s not sitting here overthinking. “Yeah. Pokin' around.” Why the hell is he - he - overthinking? “I’ll get him to send you the details.”

“Sounds good.”

Short. Sweet. Relatively professional. Hm. He chews his lip.

Sam rubs a hand across his mouth, trying to swallow down the sour taste rising in the back of his throat. What the hell was he expecting, anyway? Pathetic. Christ. Get a grip.

Another pause. Longer this time.

He almost hangs up. Almost says ‘Alright, catch ya later, kid,’ like he doesn’t feel akin to a deflated balloon. Like it doesn't sting a little.

Instead-

“Hey,” he hears himself say.

It sounds rougher than he meant it to.

She hesitates. Of course she does. “…Yes?”

His jaw ticks. He rolls the pen across the table and lets it clatter to the floor.

"Be careful, alright?"

Stupid. Dumb. Amateur-hour bullshit. She doesn't need him hovering. And make sure you look both ways before you cross the road, dear!

There’s another stretch of quiet on the other end that needles him raw.

He shouldn't have said it. Should'a kept his mouth shut, kept it light, kept it cool, kept it Samuel.

When her voice comes back, it’s polite. Clipped. Like a pat on the head.

“I’ll be fine.”

“…Yeah,” he mutters. “I know.”

Another awful moment, nothing.

Is he being dramatic? He’s… he's being dramatic.

“Alright,” he says, forcing nonchalance. “Go forth, kick some doors down. I’ll tell Scott to give you a buzz.”

She lets out a breath. Probably glad to be getting off the phone.

“Thanks, Sam.”

He smiles like it doesn’t feel a little… itchy.

“Yeah.”

He ends the call before he can embarrass himself any further.

The phone hits the desk with a clatter. He slumps back, scrubs both hands over his face, and stares up at the ceiling like maybe its slightly-yellow-round-the-edges water stains will morph into answers.

A throat clears softly nearby.

He glances over to see the nervous intern from earlier - the one he’d practically begged to double-check the archive - holding a grey box like she’s afraid Sam might bite her if she lowers it any further. He raises his brows expectantly.

“Found this,” she mutters, setting it down with a clumsy thud. “From the overflow. No digital record. Couldn’t see it on the inventory list. Sorry.”

“Perfect,” Sam grunts, already reaching for the box. "Thanks."

The kid skitters off with a curt nod, probably thrilled to be rid of him. He can't blame her. If he had to be stuck down here, day in, day out, pleasantries would be the last thing on his mind.

He cracks the lid open. Paper and dust hit him in the face. Great. Manual search it is.

Forty-five minutes and one eye-watering sneeze later, he’s popped a new reel into the microfiche reader. It clicks through slowly, the whirring wheel sounding ten times louder in the quiet than it probably is.

He’s on the verge of giving up, already mentally drafting the text to Scott that says 'Found sweet fuck-all, might’ve inhaled a Victorian disease…' - when something flickers past.

He scrolls back. Slower this time.

Sussex County Records. 1892.

Marriage Registry:

Campbell, Esq. William Charles

Sam stills.

Then leans forward, squinting at a crossed out set of Arabic characters.

ماي بشار

His heart gives a slow, hard thud.

Next to it, in a slightly fainter, more careful hand:

Bashar, Mai

He rifles through his own notes - creases, scribbles, loose sheets tucked into the back of a notebook - until he finds what he's looking for.

Layla Bashar.

Mai. Mai Bashar.

So the surname tracks. Could be a stretch… but if this Mai was Layla’s daughter, then she might also be Emaan’s.

A Sadir, married to Campbell.

The potential link between William and Emaan. It's too much of a coincidence to ignore.

He stares at the document for a moment longer than necessary, just to be sure.

Has he just single handedly solved the case of Emaan’s mystery child? Now that... that might be worth the tedium.

An hour later and they’re closing up. He’s scanned what he can, jotted the rest down in his notebook, taken the odd prohibited photo, and given the intern at the front desk a tired thumbs-up on the way out.

Rain’s coming down in an irritating, indecisive drizzle - fine and misty but just heavy enough to soak your shoulders if you stand still too long.

He ducks under the narrow awning outside the station, flicks his lighter once, twice, then sparks a smoke to kill a few minutes before his train.

Bzzz.

She's sent him a picture of the exact sort of portrait he was complaining about earlier, and a remark to match.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, takes a drag, and squints at the screen.

One-handed replies are a nightmare. He doesn’t even bother trying. Just taps out two emojis instead:

Me :👴🏼❌

He hovers on the message, then debates texting her about the registry. The name. The potential link.

But... nah. Better to tell them both in person. Have his moment. Two birds. One dramatic reveal.

Fuck it.

He drops the cigarette, grinds it out with his boot, kicks it into the gutter and starts towards the entrance, thumb clumsily tapping out one more line as he pushes through the glass doors:

Me: Did I use those correctly?

He’s grinning to himself as he boards the near-empty train, collapsing into the window seat with all the grace of a man who’s been hunched over dusty reels and papers for nigh-on five hours. The carriage rocks gently as it pulls away from the platform, the overhead lights humming in time with the rain against the glass.

As the city fades into more rural surroundings, his phone buzzes again. This time, with an incoming call from her.

***

You wake like something’s grabbed you by the scruff of the neck and smacked your head against the floor. No slow drift back to consciousness - just thwack.

You’re face-down on. Head pounding behind your eyes like someone’s taken a blunt axe to between your brows.

You blink hard. Once. Twice. Through a ringing, static haze that won’t quite go away. God, your head is pounding. The air reeks of iron and sweat and rotting wood. You dry heave.

With a shift, your cheek peels from the floor. Something cracks in your neck, and your fingers twitch. Your knees drag against splintered wood - your entire body feels like it’s just run a marathon. Your hands are wet. Covered in sticky viscosity.

Every muscle aches. Your mouth tastes foul, something metallic, crusted thick around your lips and chin.

Blood.

Except it’s not just dried on your face. It’s everywhere.

Your eyes finally begin to re-adjust to the moonlight filtering through the boarded window. Your palms have been planted in it. Your sleeves are saturated. It coats your fingers, crusted under your nails, mottled and tacky on your wrists.

Oh God - There’s a body beside you - a man. Face down, Still. A dark puddle beneath his skull that’s spread across the floor and pooled beneath you. His head’s twisted at an unnatural angle. You can’t see his face. A saving grace, perhaps.

It’s… it’s the one that was on top of you before everything went black.

You recoil, scrambling up to your elbows and rolling onto your back with a strangled gasp. Your stomach pitches, heart slamming against your ribs - this - this blood isn’t all yours.

You don’t remember-

How long has it been?

You turn frantically and - Scott.

He’s here.

Standing over the man, facing away from you.

His hands are bloodied, too. One hovering over his mouth, the other hanging by his side, both shaking. He’s breathing hard, shoulders rising with each inhale like he might throw up, eyes locked on the man. Like he’s waiting for him to twitch.

You try to speak. His name comes out hoarse.

His head jerks towards you, eyes wide.

For a second, he looks just as confused as you feel.

“Jesus,” he breathes roughly, stumbling a half-step backwards, “You’re- you’re awake.”

You push yourself upright too fast and the room spins. You land flat on your ass, knuckles smacking against the floor.

Knuckles?

Something’s clutched in your right hand - it’s sharp, digging into your palm. Your skin is sore - the whole thing feels like it’s been balled up tight enough to crack - you didn’t even notice.

You bring the hand up, letting the thin stream of moonlight streaking into the room illuminate it - a thin chain is tangled around your fingers - you unclench your fist, the small pendant of a necklace now dangling from your palm, blood-covered and trembling violently along with you.

You swallow thickly - your throat feels tight and dry, like you could choke on nothing.

You look at Scott.

You look back at your hands.

You look at the man on the floor.

All while starting to hyperventilate.

“I don’t- didn’t-” you whisper, voice cracking, hands shaking so violently you nearly drop the locket. You swallow again in a desperate, but ultimately fruitless attempt at grounding yourself.. “Scott- what happened?”

He doesn’t answer. He just continues to stare down at the body, like he’s only just registering it all.

Your eyes dart to the necklace still dangling from your palm. The chain is looped around your fingers. Any tighter and it'd be cutting off your circulation. You have no idea when you grabbed it, or how long it’s been there.

But something in you refuses to let go.

Scott had it before. That much you remember. What is it that guy - the - HA - the dead guy lying on the floor said? ‘Took this from your buddy over there’... or something similar. Which means you’re not giving it up now.

You look back at the body.

Back at the blood smeared across your arms.

Back at Scott - red-knuckled and wide-eyed - as he slowly turns himself to face you fully.

There’s something fraying at the edges of his composure - panic, disbelief, pain. His face is streaked with blood, a shallow cut beneath one eye still weeping. His jaw is clenched hard enough to tremble, doing very little to help the gash on his lip. You can see how stiffly he’s holding himself now - like his ribs ache every time he breathes. He’s probably almost as disoriented as you.

“I-" he sputters, his voice cracking, eyes flitting over the ceramic shards littering the floor around you all. A vase, you think.

After clearing his throat, he continues, “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.” His brows pinch inward as he speaks, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. His eyes flick down to your bloodied arms, then jerk away, back to the body. “I woke up and… he was on top of you. I didn’t know if- if he’d hurt you or-”

You follow his eyes to a gash in the back of the man’s head. His hair is matted thick with blood and bits of….

Your stomach flips.

You reel sideways, crawling backwards in a blind scramble until your back hits the wall and before you can control it, you retch, bitter bile burning its way up your throat, landing onto the floorboards. You choke on an acidic sob and he finally moves.

Scott steps towards you. Bloodied hand running through his hair, shaking.

You shake your head, unable to process it all. It hits the wall as you slump back, breath hitching, silent tears tracking down your cheeks. They sting as you wipe your mouth on your shoulder, crusted blood peeling off of your skin.

Scott draws in a deep, shaky breath, visibly trying to pull himself together. He wipes his own face with the heel of his hand, smearing sweat and blood into a tired blur across his cheek as he swears under his breath.

“What- what do we do?” you whisper through sporadic pants.

He glances back toward the body. You do too, briefly, and your stomach twists all over again at the sight.

“We leave,” Scott says, the words clipped, like he’s already made the decision and just needs you to agree.

“What?” Your voice cracks with disbelief. “We- we can’t just leave- he’s fucking dead.”

“He’s not dead,” Scott cuts in sharply, and for a second his composure wavers again, voice cracking in denial. “I think. I don’t know. But we can’t stay.”

You shake your head, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, forgetting how sodden it is. “We have to call someone - an ambulance - or - or, the police-”

“No,” Scott says, firmer now, making you flinch. He pushes himself down to your level with a wince, bracing a hand on the wall. “No CCTV here. No one saw us come in. This place is secluded as hell, we don’t even know who he is. We’re trespassing. If we call someone now, we open up a whole can of shit we can’t afford.”

“You can’t be serious,” you whisper, shrinking back from the hardness in his voice. “We leave him? Just- pretend this didn’t happen? What… what about the other guy? What if he’s coming back?”

Scott exhales shakily, grimacing.

“Then we make sure we’re gone before he does. Whoever they were, they weren’t here for a friendly chat. If we stick around, we’re putting ourselves in their hands. And you…” He trails off, eyes flicking to your bloodied clothes, your shaking hands. “We don't have time for that.”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your pulse is still thrumming in your ears, your limbs numb, throat closed tight.

He lowers his voice again, gentler this time. “Please. Let’s just go. Get cleaned up.”

He extends a hand out to help you up.

You pause, glancing down at your hand, still shaking - the necklace’s chain still looped tight around your fingers like you’ve been clinging onto it for dear life. You hesitate, then hold it out toward Scott, your voice wrung out.

“This is yours.”

He looks at it, frowning for a moment before he looks back at you. “Keep it,” he says, quieter now. “We’ll take a proper look once we’ve got our heads screwed on.”

You nod, reluctant, not sure you even want to hold it anymore, but not trusting yourself to let go either, as you allow him to pull you to your feet. You wipe your fingers on the edge of your sleeve and look around, searching shakily for your bag.

It takes a second to register what’s missing.

“My notebook…” Your voice falters, eyes scanning the dark room again in a blind, rising panic. “It’s gone.”

Your heart kicks hard in your chest. You push away from the wall too quickly, the room pitching as you turn in a frantic circle, hands shaking. “No- no, it was right there - in my bag-”

Scott’s expression hardens, voice going flat. “Cunt took the fucking ledger, too.”

You swallow down a noise that might be a sob, the room closing in. Your breath comes fast and shallow. You press a trembling hand to your mouth and stare down at the bloody mess on the floor, the open, repulsive, mushy mess splurging out from the skull just inches from where you’d been lying.

Just like that, a second wave crashes over you.

“Oh God,” you whisper, staggering back a step. “Oh God - oh fuck, I-”

And then-

A sound from the hall.

A bash, then a creak of a floorboard. Footsteps.

Scott straightens instinctively, posture tight as your eyes widen. He shifts in front of you without thinking, arm half-extended as if to keep you behind him. You both freeze. Your breath catches on an involuntary hiccup.

Then a voice- your names, loud, from just down the corridor.

Sam.

Scott's shoulders drop but he shoots you a quick look still - wide-eyed, breath tight - as if to say how the hell do we explain this?

And then he's there too, bursting through the doorway you'd tried to escape from, chest heaving, your phone clutched in his hand.

His eyes take in everything at once- your wild, teary expression, Scott’s bloodied knuckles, the corpse on the floor.

As he does so, his face changes - contorting in slow, dawning horror.

“...Jesus Christ.”

____

please trust me when i say: this will all make sense <3

#sam drake #samuel drake #uncharted #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #tsi

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