#subestimacion

Send 🥪❓ to find out what kind of sandwich my muse would make for yours

"....."

But this year they had a one Austen McAllister with them; a sole survivor from a B.O.W. attack on his army unit on his first deployment and an individual that could be argued had such horrid luck that it circled back around to good luck and most likely required an equal amount of research into. Unfortunately for him, this didn't mean he was necessarily well-liked among his compatriots as he was a bundled mass of nerves shoved into a human skin. This was not a good quality to have with this line of work, and his captain knew it. Private McAllister was a liability that would get them all killed, and he couldn't have that.

But if they got him killed? Well, that was different.

[How it feels knowing you're never going to be one of the respected members of the Bug Boi Squad...

Send “🔥?” and my muse will admit whether they find your muse attractive or not.

“You look like someone took one of those people in the Lego playsets, brought it to life, and then raised it on nothing but protein, gym equipment, and self loathing. I’m going to say yes because but I am also a guy who regularly eats food off the floor when I drop it so take that however you’d like.

…

Wait, I was supposed to ask someone to hold your hand before I said that.

ME SUBESTIMARAM - HOJE SE AJOELHAM

Disseram que eu sonhava demais. Duvidaram da minha força, da minha visão, do meu silêncio. Julgaram o que não entendiam, ouviram quem nada sabia, acreditaram em ruídos e esqueceram de olhar pra mim.

Mas o tempo revela o que o ego esconde. E agora, os mesmos olhos que desviavam, encaram o brilho que tentaram apagar. O sucesso que construí no silêncio, a mulher que renasceu das cinzas com a coroa firme na cabeça.

Hoje, eu não preciso provar nada. Eles veem. Sentem. Reconhecem. E se ajoelham - não diante de mim, mas diante da verdade que sempre foi minha.

✨ Moraes Coach — Coaching e Mentoria de Carreira e Liderança — @moraescoach_ @moraescoach_1

Send me ✍️ + a muse, and I’ll try my hand at writing as them.

Jack tilts his head from one side to the other. It's like trying to relieve a decade of tension with a quick-fix hack, absolutely worthless. But it's not without a small positive lining. Acts as a distraction to the incessant crying from the President's daughter. She's a weak subject, easily targeted, but there's power in her connections.

"You'll soon understand." He muses. "Once you have a taste of true power you will look back on your former life in disgust." She doesn't seem to listen or care. He rolls his eyes and punches the metal ceiling of their transport — she pays attention to that violence, the loud sound and underlying threat. "You're weak. You hear? Nod, you little bitch."

It could be one last final triumph. Luis knows that. He knows that Krauser could still be his death. But this should’ve been worth it. A splitsecond decision.

How that bastard had wanted to wipe him off of the face of this earth… why?

Knowing what he did now, Luis is quite sure it hinges on the connection to Leon that the major probably still harboured. But would he ever get the confirmation or denial to this claim? Probably not.

And in this very moment it wouldn’t change anything anyway.

The relief when Jack lets go of his throat again is immeasurable – but the horror that quickly trickles in instead overshadows all.

He should have anticipated this reaction. Luis truly should have. But still it is kind of a horrific thing to witness. How the Plagas breaks part of Krauser’s face. How Krauser was still alive and alert to feel all of it.

Luis had never seen anyone live in symbiosis with the parasite for this long. How Krauser’s head hadn’t exploded sooner under the parasites writhing mandibles… it was beyond comprehension. But the suppressant seemed to fucking anger it.

Or hurt it?

Could it still be extracted?

Would Krauser survive that…?

Luis tries to shuffle back, crawling a few feet to get some distance between him and that abomination. The Plaga is fully matured. Different. And he can see Krauser’s blue eyes… still very much alive. Rage and fear reflecting in them.

Joder…

Luis’ hands fly to his pistol and he aims at the head of the parasite, breathing in and stilling, before firing a few shots directly at it.

He doesn’t witness the full effect of those bullets, instead staggering to his feet and running – running a bit to get more space. Then Luis turns around again, weapon still drawn. Considering the explosives at his side. His rifle. Or would he stay with the pistol?

He could still… use more of the suppressant.

What if I inject the parasite itself?

Maybe that could work.

Maybe that could leave a chance of survival for Krauser.

Leon had told him about the other soldier.

He had been good. Once.