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@royalmuses-archived
Important Notice
Iâve remade this blog @royalmusesâ so that I could have it as my main!
I will NOT be dropping any threads. If you have a thread with me, thatâs still active and valid! Iâm just moving blogs, nothing more. Also, this blog will be kept up as an archive indefinitely!
Important Notice
Iâve remade this blog @royalmusesâ so that I could have it as my main!
I will NOT be dropping any threads. If you have a thread with me, thatâs still active and valid! Iâm just moving blogs, nothing more. Also, this blog will be kept up as an archive indefinitely!
@box-kun2056 asked: Portal or Half-Life
The Greatest Moron
all-the-suns-reach :
âOf course she did, I said so didnât I and arenât I always right? I am.â Paris saw that she was weaponless and that made her safe. âAnd heâs fine, just fineâŠâ Still, the scene of Neil being pulled into space played in his mind. He had no idea why he and only he had been left behind. Still, if heâd known what was about to happen, perhaps he wouldnât have yelled at the other two so much.   At least Neil had returned safely. He now considered that Chell was likely the reason, as sheâd been the reason for most good things happening around her lately (depending on how you looked at it). It was possible heâd judged her too harshly as a threatâŠno, he was never wrong. Nope, not ever. He knew soooo many facts. He knew for a fact that he was right. Ladies were scary and always a threat. âShe sent you away you know, youâre supposed to stay away when she sends you, thatâs Newtonâs 3rd law.â Paris got back to tinkering, his cast down eyes a perfect complimentary colour to his broken friend.
     Neil considered this, and nodded. He could count on Paris and his knowledge, advice, facts. Even when the others may tease, the sun-bright core had found where to put his trust and that was essentially that. Paris was his dearest friend. Heâd been afraid heâd never see him again.
     âThatâs good. I came back, too,â Neil informed Chell, âI saw space.â
     Chell had generally tended toward stony silence since sheâd come to Aperture the first time, woman on a mission, but that was not something that would get her far with the robots and anyway, she was starting to get tired of projecting that version of herself.
     She gave the space-obsessed core a thumbs-up. She even smiled a little while she did it. He was undeserving of ire, anyway, odd though he was. He was an outcast like herself. a bit on the fringes, and he was one of the few who had only been friendly toward her, trying hard to share his love of space. Perhaps this was why sheâd concerned herself so much which whether he was hurt, whether he could be fixed.Â
     ă I bet it was beautiful, ă she signed, which seemed to make him very happy.
     Then she turned her attention back to Paris. Her anger was tremendous, and it would be beneficial to temper it by giving shape to her questions. Besides, it couldnât hurt to get along with this core, either.ă Has she sent others away before? ă She signified GLaDOS with the sign for â queen â followed by the sign for â robot. âÂ
Pull the Trigger
radioroleplay :
It takes him such a short amount of time to get there, but the street seems to stretch out for miles before him, an endless amount of ground to cover with so little precious time afforded in which to cover it.
Their last conversation flashes through his mind like a corroded reel of film, those words and that blow heâd slung against Nick Valentine with an intent to hurt. He hadnât imagined that the next time they would meet would be like this. If he had, he never would have let him leave like that, never would have banished him from Goodneighbor.
He bursts into the Memory Den like a fourth bullet, making a scene of himself like always, but unlike usual, not at all thinking about doing it.
âHelp!â
It is not a plea; it is an order, a demand for immediate attention spoken in the same tone of voice that one would command soldiers. His voice seems to fill the whole building.
     The lobby is predictably quiet until he comes tearing in, the sound of his shout bringing both Dr. Amari and Irma hurrying out of one of the side rooms to see whatâs going on, a certain worry to their faces that doesnât seem to become them. On seeing the cause of Hancockâs call for help, Amari gasps, and Irma looks horrified.Â
     âNick! Whatâs happened?â Irma cries, an outburst of emotion at a sight too horrible to mind how it might make her look. Even with her flair for the dramatic, her reaction seems to drive home how awful the situation really is, and how Nick looks danging from Hancockâs arms.
     Dr. Amari, lacking the same attachment, is quick to approach Hancock and his burden, however, her eye analytical. She doesnât wait for explanations, but turns on her heel and gestures for the ghoul to follow, barely taking the time to urgently bid him, âCome with me, quickly!âÂ
     The situation is dire, she knows that at once. Even without the details of the horror that has transpired, it is immediately apparent that her services are needed, fast, and sheâs going to need to call in some help of her own if this synth is even still alive.
Pull the Trigger
radioroleplay :
The moment of inaction lasts for far too long. He can find no evidence of life from a precursory look, but more importantly, he doesnât know how to find evidence of life, so thereâs no point at all in wasting precious seconds looking for it. The warmth is good, but he can hardly say if itâs good enough.
Hefting himself up on the edge of the dumpster for leverage, he does the only thing he canâ he works his arms urgently under the synthâs still body, thankful now for the strength that has served him so well. With a heft, heâs lifted Nick from the unceremonious grave and into a hold against his chest.
His dear confidant feels no more alive in his arms.
Not thinking about this, he makes sure that the other man is secure, and then heâs beating the ground again. There will be no help just standing out here.
      Even at this hour, Hancock is most likely to find help in The Memory Den, in the capable hands of Dr. Amari. Her crowd owes him anyway, for looking the other way while they run other synths in and out of town. Besides that, her place is the closest by.Â
      Nick looks eerily peaceful, even hanging from Hancockâs arms. He doesnât look like himself without the hat. It seems wrong for him not to have some comment to share, some quip or introspect on things. Goodneighbor is rushing past and heâs completely gone for it.
      Will the last words Hancock ever spoke to him have been in anger? The synth is completely limp, supporting none of his own weight, his head rested against the other manâs chest. The fluid from his body leaves its mark on the mayorâs clothes, and drips onto the street with every footfall; three bullets in him.
radioroleplay :
âI would, if I could be sure no one fighting on my own side would see me by accident,â Sal answers honestly, intensely relieved that his slip of control went unnoticed after all. He becomes determined that he wonât make another such falter, even if the prince goes through with his obvious impulse.
The helmet does not have a seam to open the mask. If the other wants it removed, it will need to be taken off all the way.
Additionally, the way that hand interacts with his helmet almost makes his marred face redden, a feeling which he doesnât interrogate, but which seems somehow even more out of turn.
     The princeâs finger is discovering this, as one of its compatriots joins it in exploring the surface of the helmet in search of weaknesses. His hand moves as though in a caress, paying too-close attention to the one thing separating him from Salâs face.Â
     He would learn the knightâs every secret if he would remove the obstacle. In fact, it seems only right that he should, as it\s almost impermissible to think that Sal has secrets. The question appears to become less if and more when. A matter of realizing he needs to take off the helmet rather than being able to open it.
     âA matter of loyalty, then?âÂ
Pull the Trigger
radioroleplay :
Hancock feels his heart drain out of his chest and all the heat leave his body. For a moment, his brain rejects the horrific image in front of him, refusing to process exactly what and who it isâ but that doesnât change the awful reality that sinks in against his will.
Why is Nick back here?
The question hits him not in anger but in dread, so hard and heavy that it knocks the breath right out of him. Not why did this happen, but why was this allowed to happen? And right out from underneath Hancock, not a hundred yards from where he had been standing, seething, silently cursing this very synth in his anger and his vanity.
How does he check for vitals in a synth? His hands have moved of their own accord already, hovering over the twisted neck and lifeless face, but they donât know what to do from there, where to go for the equivalent of a pulse.
ââNick?â
     He can offer no response, verbally or otherwise; only the touch of Hancockâs hands affects any movement inside the dumpster, as the synth is unnaturally still (as the grave). His weathered synthetic skin is still warm to the touch, as is the metal visible through the tearing.Â
     There is no sound that would indicate life, no light from his gold eyes now closed and dark. Finding the equivalent of a pulse is a more difficult matter than simply touching his throat, which already was missing whole sections of skin. Perhaps only the function of something internal would tell, if indeed anything in him was still functioning. Upon closer inspection, there are more shards on his coat.
     Heâd come back to talk to Hancock again, of that there could be no question. Someone spotted him or followed him, maybe heâd learned something about the first killing that had proven dangerous. Whatever the case, he was put through the wringer and now... now it doesnât look good.
radioroleplay :
When the prince touches his helmet, Salâs hand flinches, reflexively wanting to push that touch away from his face. But he doesnât actually get as far as lifting his hand, and he doesnât move otherwise, too in control of himself to actually do something so disrespectful. Heâs silently scolding himself for even that tell, though heâs sure the other young man is too close to have seen it.
His voice affects a sincere curiosity. âWhat if itâs the kind that will turn you to stone if you see me?â
     âThat'd be pretty interesting,â Larry answers casually, âIâd love to see that in action. Like Medusa. Would you use that in battle?â His already knowing smile borders now on teasing, a light to his dark eyes as he imagines what it would be like for his knight to really be cursed to turn people to stone.
     His finger slowly trails down the front of the helmet, flirting with the idea of opening it himself. He has thankfully failed to notice the slight jerk of Salâs hand, so drastically out of turn that even alone with the prince, there should be consequences.
viviskull :
Furrowing a slight brow, Vivi lazily glanced up at the other. Â Returning Lewisâs warm, welcoming grin; the azure haired woman couldnât help but let out another faint giggle of her own. Â âWell, the pleasureâs all mine then, Hun.â Â She chuckled. Â âYou guys really made me feel right at home~.â
Shifting a little, she leaned forward for just a moment, Vivi planted another peck to her belovedâs cheek. Â Soon, grasping him by the palm, she gave it a firm squeeze.
âStill, Iâm honestly glad to be apart of your family. Â You.. You folks are wonderful to be around. Â You guys treat me well..â Â Glancing away for a moment, Vivi silently trailed a finger against Lewisâs thumb. Â â.. An.. Anyway, the partyâs been great. Â Iâm sure your lil sisters had a blast tonight..!â
     He got the feeling he wasnât the only one holding back. Maybe they were both just tired, after a long day and so much fun and socializing. There were times when being so drained could easily bring out uncomfortable thoughts from in the back of his skull; he imagined it could be the same for her. It was why he was outside alone to begin with. He hoped she wouldnât realize.
     Lewis turned his head and kissed her temple, soothing, gentle reply to the kiss on his cheek. He breathed in deeply, and rested his head against hers, squeezing her hand in turn as well; so much smaller than his own. How they fit together wonderfully.Â
     âOf course they did,â he answered softly, âYou were here to help make their afternoon perfect.â He chuckled, and like a private joke said, âIâm glad youâre willing to put up with us, you know. I know they can be a little overwhelming at times.â His voice became even softer, and his tone changed completely. âBut they love you. And I... I adore you.â
Pull the Trigger
radioroleplay :
Hancock processes both of these things at damn near the same moment, and the two conflicting impulses that rise within him attack each other like snakes.
He came out here for a fight, and there is an offer of one right in front of him, in the form of some violent thugs that definitely have a few of the answers heâs been looking for. Overtaking them would be easy; he knows these streets too well for them to allow anyone to slip through his fingers. Heâs already thinking of how he could run ahead and cut them off, butâ
Oh, that fluid is clearly something bad. And those gleaming metal shards⊠What was hit? Something powered by the fresh blue pool? A weapon? OrâŠ.
Leveling his pistol, he takes a few shots, aiming for the legs, but he is not successful in hitting any of the fleeing strangers.
He does not give chase. With a loud, frustrated curse and a thickly, singularly bad feeling in his throat, he takes the option he knows he has to. He hurries over to the dumpster and looks in.
     What he finds inside makes the air turn cold and the world go dark. It is a tangle of long, patched brown coat and limbs, a shirt soaked in that blue fluid. Head twisted back, jaw not set right, grey face half-covered by a familiar hat. A BODY shot three times. Â
     NICK VALENTINE.Â
     The turncoat. His dear friend.
     Nick is a mess, lying in the garbage where heâs been hurriedly thrown, after an attack that was clearly anything but random. Heâs got sickening, all-consuming dark holes in his shirt that soak through the thin material and stick his tie to it. His leg is hanging on the lip of the dumpster, the thing that drew Hancock here in the first place. Victim of an assassination Hancock barely missed.
     How could anybody get the drop on the detective, whoâs made decades worth of enemies, and had two lifetimesâ experience surviving under the gun? Itâs hard to dwell on this in the face of the consequences.
radioroleplay :
Sal canât help but to return the smile, however slight, behind the concealing mask of metal. The prince is handsome, even in his current frustrating single-mindedness. He has perfectly mastered that royal impression of seeming to know things that he may or may not actually know.
âYou could say that, your highness.â
     âI believe I just did,â Larry answers, knowing grin unfaltering, Itâs the price Sal just has to pay for being aloof with his prince. He ought to know better than anyone.
     The royal moves his hand from his chin to Salâs helmet to once again touch the metal surface hiding away the secrets of whatever curse has afflicted the younger man. There is intent to his posture.
     âSo, what kind of curse is it?â
Swim-in-Pool Supply, Las Vegas, 1995
1314 S Main St. See it at night. Photo by Jeff Brouws.Â
webothgotbucketsachicken :
âAlright pal letâs not kill each other while weâre already in danger a dyin, freakin dipshit. ON YOUR SIX!â
scout pushes his head out of the way and shoots at an oncoming attacker.
      Well THATâS enough to get the foolâs head back where it belongs, snapping him back to reality as if the shove had knocked something loose back into place. At once Rick is joining him in firing on their attackers, a fresh burst of adrenaline rushing through his veins making everything seem sharper and brighter. Especially whatâs at stake for the BOTH of them.
     âSHIT! Right, right! I gotcha covered, pal! We are in this together!âÂ
radioroleplay :
He should be so lucky. The shadowy demons responsible for the state of his face would make the most horrible witch cower. Whatâs the worst a witch could do to make him ugly? A third eye? Warts? Bring it on, witch.
âCloser to the witch.â
     A curious smile, wry like the prince is looking not only into the knightâs helmet, but into his very SOUL. He might imagine that sort of marring, a face thatâs covered in festering boils or which has too many eyes, but that expression of his seems to carry much more suspicion for the knightâs unnamed flaws and how they must factor in to the OFFENSE of his face.
     âCloser... but still not exact,â the prince says almost idly, tapping his chin where a sparse goatee has begun to grow, âAnother kind of curse, then?â
starter for @royalmuses (nick valentine)
âHeya, Nickie. Fancy you cominâ in here. Donât you worry, pally, we ainât the discriminatory type around here.â Benny had moved into another section of the grandstands and built himself a little palace. Heâd done it mostly out of sheer fuckinâ will, but when had he not put everything into lucrative business deals or wild, outlandish plans? It was his M.O., and he was stickinâ to it.
Heâd seen Valentineâs Detective Agency, and heâd known that Nick was some kinda private dick (ha). So, havinâ a fella like that in his pocket would be mighty fine.
âWhat can I do for you this fine, extravagant evening? Come to bask in the casino glow? Or are you here for more business like things?â
     Well, well, well! The casino is every bit as extravagant as he would have expected out of Benny Gecko, even grander inside than it looks on the surface. If people in Diamond City thought the Detective Agencyâs neon sign was an eyesore, then they never could have been prepared for this. Itâs all flashing lights and loud everything, from the dĂ©cor to the games to the guy running the joint, all putting Valentineâs little heart on the wall to shame. Itâs like a piece of New Vegas right here in the Commonwealth, a vast departure from the seedy bars and questionable fighting rings that the local underbelly tends to favour. Itâs an almost guaranteed success.
     Nick would be a fool not to come in and check the place out. His ability to do his job well depends on staying informed, and he couldnât miss an opportunity to make a personal appearance, between making himself known and seizing the chance to see Benny face to face. Itâs everything he thought it would be.
     âI heard youâd come to the neighborhood and set up shop,â Nick answers conversationally, offering his stripped hand (and no comment on the nickname), âWanted to have a look for myself. Real nice place yâ got here. Iâm impressed.â
