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thevirgincherry · 4 months

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SLEIGH BALLS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. GILF LEON!!! incest, big age gap he’s 60+ at the very least, voyeurism

note. ignore that this is sort of xmas themed and sorry if this does not live up to any expectations I think I hyped him up too much LMFAOO still getting out of my writing slump so forgive me if this is very clunky and boring! not edited whatsoever so begging u ignore mistakes i’m . really unhappy this fic but still gonna post it bc idk when i will be able to write ab him again 😭 trust this will be rewritten

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

You’re a good kid. Honest. You don’t do drugs, you don’t drink, you don’t stay out late, but what you do partake in is the act of sitting in your bedroom hunched over your desk and mindlessly scrolling. Dad says to let you be, mom is unable to stay out of your business, and she thinks you need to go outside more often. Fresh air is good for you! What she’s trying to say, essentially, stripped down to the simplest of terms, is that you’re a total loser. That her and dad were fucking, partying, shooting up in alleyways, all the shit that normal teenagers are supposed to be doing.

She forcibly packs your bags, all while you trail after her whining about how she can’t touch that— Don’t be so rough with that- No that’s not to throw out- No, Mom! I wear that all the time—

She threatens to take away Christmas presents, which at your age shouldn’t be so wounding, but you shut up right then and there. “Now,” Mom talks to you like you’re a baby still. You appreciate it sometimes, like now, when your body is wilting as she opens up the curtains, fragility is much appreciated. You fear the sunlight might turn your bones to dust. “Me and dad are going away.”

What— For Christmas, mom says. Where— A few states over, none that really concern you, might be a road trip for all you know. When— As soon as you’re gone. How, why, who— Mom doesn’t answer those, she’s exasperated by your rigorous questioning, by the way you wring your hands and slump when you sit. It’s awful, looks like you’ve got a hunchback forming.

“Why would you do this to me, mom?” You paw at her sleeve, she brushes you off. “Will you pick me up before Christmas? I don’t want to stay there, what if he doesn’t like me?”

“Grandpa’s fun,” She tells you, “He’s been asking about you.”

Liar. You’ve met grandpa a handful of times, and that was as a child. He doesn’t visit for any holidays and vice versa. Doesn’t even send a Christmas card, forgets to call his own daughter to wish her a happy birthday. Grandpa clearly enjoys his solitude and you firmly doubt he’d appreciate having a mopey teen around.

Grandpa’s nice. Grandpa’s sweet, he won’t bother you. Grandpa might need help in the mornings, I don’t want him to get hurt, he works too hard. Grandpa’s quiet, don’t worry about it, both of you are. You’ll get along fine!

No one told you grandpa was hot. Mom failed to mention he was a babe at, like, what? Seventy years old? Not quite, but you don’t remember him being this hot. Good grief. He’s not tall, but his bicep is the size of your face, and his hair is shaggy. A dull grey colour, shiny like gunmetal. When he takes your suitcase, his arm flexes and bulges outwards, you start to overheat, brain sizzling as you’re cooked under his cobalt gaze.

There’s an old pick-up outside his expansive farmhouse, a mailbox that’s in desperate need of another layer of paint, a wooden stable off in the distance that you doubt he uses - other than that it’s barren. This is true torture. Mom’s very own version of those camps they send out of control teens to. Your sneakers sink into the mud, as you walk the soles make that icky squishy sound, your socks are soaked for sure. He doesn’t take his boots off, tracks mud into the house and you recoil. Somebody needs to give grandpa etiquette lessons.

“Can you ask him for the wifi password?” You ask mom quietly, playing with your fingers as Grandpa Leon places your suitcase on the bottom step, grumbling about taking it up later, that you should’ve packed lighter.

“Dad, did you set up the router?”

“The what?”

“The router, broadband, so you can use the phone I sent you? For Christmas?” Mom’s frowning, hands on her hips as Leon waves her off.

“I got a landline.” He gestures to the telephone on the desk that sits pushed up against the wall of the entrance hall, you had to squeeze past it into the open-plan lounge. Rustic. Old. The ornaments that sit tucked between nooks and crannies remind you of the shit that gets sold for two cents in a yard sale.

“Dad, that’s not…” She shakes her head, pushes you forward, “Give grandpa a hug.”

Is this bitch serious? How old does she think you are? Nonetheless, you step forward, outstretched arms being met with hands that gently put them back by your side. Leon pats your head, his smile looks more like a grimace, a few of his teeth are fake - you can tell. Thank god they’re not dentures. You don’t know if you could deal with watching him popping them in and out, and what about kissing? The texture must be awful. Not that you’re going to kiss him. Your grandpa. It’s just the thought of course.

“Uh, you’re big now.” Leon notes, squints at you so hard the skin around his eyes gets wrinkled to the point where they sink into his face. Ew. You’re just lucky he doesn’t have that old person smell, and from what you’ve heard, grandpa’s capable of taking care of himself. No diapers, no IV tubes, no hourly medicine, nothing that you were afraid of happening. Putting you in charge of someone’s life would be a bad choice to put it simply. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“Dad, god,” Mom rubs her temples, “Nineteen, okay? Got that?”

“I was kidding,” Leon huffs, looking to the side in a brooding manner, he wasn’t kidding. He’s a bad liar like mom.

“Okay, just, please,” She has her fists clenched, biting the inside of her cheek, “I’ll be back for you before Christmas Eve, okay?”

“On Christmas Eve? That’s too late.” Grandpa has bad hearing it seems, or the inability to process whatever his child is saying as most men do.

“I said before, dad, before Christmas Eve,” Mom’s eyes almost pop out of her head, “Whatever, I have to go now, just behave for Grandpa, okay?” She does not have to go yet, she just wants to abandon you here, with no wifi— how will you be able to do anything, the panic hasn’t properly set in yet, you’re too busy pressing your hands to the glassy watching forlornly as mom gets into the car and speeds off so fast you hear her tires squeak. She really wanted to get rid of you. Dumping you with an old man who doesn’t even know your name. A hot old man, but you shouldn’t let your judgement be clouded so easily. And you shouldn’t talk about your grandpa like that.

“How you doing in school?” Grandpa’s question is said with so much disinterest you wonder why he tried to sound like he cares in the first place.

“I’m in college.” You say.

“Right.” Leon shrugs in a way that says worth a shot - at communicating with his basically estranged grandchild that is. “How’s college, good grades? Still gotta pay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, to all of it or none. And that’s that.

Staying with grandpa, you decide, is not the worst thing that could’ve happened to you. Going on vacation with your parents who are in desperate need of a fuck so they can stop arguing sounds worse now that you put it into perspective. The old man is quiet, mom was right about that, and he does his own thing. He let you set up the router, but in the middle of Bumfuck, USA, surrounded by flattened fields, connection isn’t the greatest.

Old photo albums end up being your main source of entertainment. Of your mom as a kid, of grandpa when he was sunflower blond and boyish, with all the beauty of a wild mare, long-faced and tow-headed, although not quite. Much softer, similar to that of raw linen, as if he was born from the rib of spring itself. From its newfound petals and holy lambs. You think it’s too poetic, pretentious even, that it gives grandpa too much credit for being blond and blue-eyed. Beneath Leon’s crushed nose you can see the former pretty boy that he once was. His eyes are the same, and his aged face is more rugged than it is handsome, that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. You think you like him better this way, as grandpa.

Among other things, you learn all sorts about grandpa, he doesn’t speak much, and when he does it’s hard to decipher - just kind of nonsensical grumbling that you can’t really make out. But you’ve done your own research. His bedroom door doesn’t shut fully, you noticed it one night on the way back from the bathroom and decided to take a peek. The setup of his bedroom mirrors the spare room you're sleeping in. His nighttime routine consists of taking a shot of whiskey and trying to get through a book that looks like it’s been sitting on his bedside cabinet for centuries. Leon gets through less than a single page and knocks out, mouth wide open as he snores. Loudly.

He never notices you. Or he pretends not to. Or he’s just senile. It might be wrong, that you know more than you’re letting on. Like what his dick looks like when it’s soft - heavy between his thighs, the skin is wrinkled but not to the point where his dick is unrecognisable. Still looks like a pretty solid dick. You know whether his nipples are pink or brown - brown obviously. Y’know, just the usual, what all grandkids should know about their grandads.

One night, you watch him silently through the gap, the only light that remains glowing is the lamp on his bedside. An ornate looking thing, beaded fringe that lines the shade, out of place in his otherwise barely furnished room. It bathes him in its warmth as he undresses, and you’re struck in the gut by this awful need. His body held up well, surprisingly firm for his age, god forbid he turns around you don’t want to catch sight of anything saggy and unholy. Firm muscle is softened by a layer of fat, making him thicker around the middle. The beer is finally catching up with him.

Grandpa sits back on his bed, with a soft groan he lifts his hips and takes off his boxers. There’s a terrible ache between your legs, throbbing and pulsing and downright nasty. His cock rests heavy on his thigh, the tip is fat and dark, uncut on the fat, you want to put your mouth on it. Never sucked dick before, never been inclined to suck one, but now you think it’s a matter of life and death. You need him down your throat or you’ll die due to neglect.

Why he wanders around the room naked and aimless for a good five minutes mystifies you, a sign of dementia maybe, great jerk off material though, so you don’t complain. Your hand rests on the doorframe as you rub yourself raw, he seems to remember what he was looking for and approaches the vintage chest of drawers, opening the first one to grab his pyjamas. They’re always in the same place, he’s forgetful and old you guess.

As your stomach lurches with the onset of your high, you make the mistake of stepping forward, clasping at the door knob to steady yourself as a wave of pleasure washes over you and leaves your legs shaky. Grandpa looks up, and he blinks at you standing there with your hand in your pants. He’s not quite as stunned as you expected him to be, and while you get ready to wing it back to your room - he half-smiles at you. Like he’s amused.

“You enjoy the show?” Grandpa raises a brow, he pats his lap, and you nod dumbly, legs working on their own as your brain tries to process the fact that he’s not reacting to this badly. “Think I didn’t see you, sweetheart?” Once you near him, he sits you down on his thigh, “You just gotta speak up and ask for things sometimes, then you’ll get ‘em.”

“I don’t… I’m sorry.” You don’t follow, clinging to his shoulders helplessly.

“Been a long time since I’ve done this, you gotta be nice to me, I can’t keep up with you.” Leon kisses the top of your head, that’s the most affectionate he's been since you’ve been here. The most you got out of him was a pat on the back so hard it knocked your organs out of place.

“Grandpa, wait,” The air is stolen from your lungs by a single sharp gasp as he takes your hand in his, the one that was previously down your pants, and sucks on your fingers. His tongue collects the slick that coats them, then he pulls off with a pop, lips wet with your pussy. “Wait, wait,” Your chest tightens, and you’re lightheaded.

“What?” Leon pays you no mind, he lifts your shirt over your head, there’s some struggle as you refuse to lift your arms for a moment. He gets his way, leaning down to take your peaked nipples into his hot mouth.

“It’s wrong.” You push at his head, resist the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair and bring him closer.

“Oh, ‘s wrong now?” Grandpa kisses you, his stubble scratches your cheeks and it feels so right. “Wasn’t wrong when you were getting off to me, was it?”

Spit trickles down your chin, he licks it up, kisses you once more, the excessive dribble finding its way back into your mouth. “That’s ’cause… Well, ‘cause I was…” You stammer, clasping at his chest, fingers tickled by the faint grey hairs that cover the expanse of it.

“‘Cause what?” He gives you more spit-slicked kisses till you shut up, growing dizzier by the second.

“Grandpa…”

His nose wrinkles, “That don’t sound right.” Leon mumbles, under his breath, but ‘cause he’s going deaf it's loud and you hear it. It’s more of an announcement.

“Papa,” You try as he thumbs your pout, the ghost of a smile lines his thin lips. He seems to like that.

Grandpa likes to kiss, he’s starved for affection probably, or he’s just a sentimental old man. You’re impatient and young, he knows that, so when he lays you down, caged by his big arms, Leon makes sure to slow it down even further. Watching you squirm brings him joy, you’ve never seen him smile like that. He kisses every inch of tender flesh, from the top of your head to your ankles.

When he finally parts your thighs to get to your centre, you let out a sigh of relief, body growing lax as he peels your underwear off. Practically glued to your cunt with how much you’ve leaked. Leon traces the shape of your puffy lips, his nose meets your clit first with a light bump. The touch has you reeling, hips lifting up in a jolty motion that makes him chuckle. He uses a single hand to pin you down, splayed over your stomach so he can eat you out without being bothered by your level of sensitivity.

A moment after the nudge of his nose comes his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen bud that has pleasure blooming in your gut. Then his tongue swipes along the seam of your cunt, catching on your clit, he parts your folds with his thumbs, catching every droplet that leaks from your drippy hole. Grandpa sucks on your clit like it’s a piece of hard candy, your thighs clamp shut around his head, he doesn’t seem to mind at all, taking the chance to nestle further into your pussy, tongue digging into your clenching hole all while his nose rubs against your clit.

He’s satisfied only when you are, when you cream on his tongue and he can taste it in the very back of his throat, only then does he pry your thighs apart. Emerging with the bottom half of his face covered in a sheen of your slick like he’s just been diving, you’re pretty sure he gave you carpet burn.

From then on, you begin to sleep in grandpa's room, you sit patiently on his lap while he watches black and white westerns dug up from the depths of who knows where. They’re slow paced and soon enough you find his hand cupping your pussy, grandpa gets you off on his fingers, he kisses your neck - but he doesn’t go any further, never gives you the dick that you crave so badly.

Mom calls a few times, not as many times as you would like her to call, but now that you and grandpa have bonded, it’s been easier to pass her off. You tell her there’s no need to pick you up, that you’re quite happy to stay with grandpa for the rest of the holidays, you don’t say that you’re ready to move in with grandpa and drop out of college to tend to his soft cock all day. Theoretically, if you did drop out of college, you think everything would be handled, surely by now he would’ve put his will in your name. It doesn’t sound all that bad. It sounds quite ideal actually. Sure, grandpa’s fussy about the thermostat, he might need dentures in a few years, but you’ve settled in so nicely. Like, all you’re trying to say is, grandpa’s a lonely guy - he could use your company till he’s sent off to a nursing home somewhere.

“I don’t want to go home,” You say into Leon’s neck, your hand sneaks downwards as the two of you lay in bed like you have been doing every night. “I wanna stay with you, grandpa.”

Leon’s brows knit together when you lift the waistband of his boxers, squeezing his soft dick in your warm palm. “Hey,” He warns lightly, there’s no real malice to it.

“Grandpa, I want you just once before I leave,” You palm him, he hardens albeit slowly, painfully slowly - he’s doing well though. No Viagra needed. You're so proud of him, he’s come a long way. The first few times you tried this his dick adamantly refuses to do more than hang limp.

“You can take me if you’ll have me.” Leon hums, and you don’t really know what that means. Feels like he speaks in tongues most of the time, that’s okay though. Not his fault, poor old man. You clamber onto his lap, dressed only in a sleep shirt for easy access, he guides his half-hard cock past your folds, the head stretching your little hole so well.

Your back arches so far he has to straighten your spine himself to keep you upright. Leon takes your wrists in one hand, bringing them behind your back and keeping you tied up like a rotisserie chicken. With some difficulty you manage to take him, both from the fact he’s still partly soft, slipping out more than a couple times, and ‘cause you’re so tense you keep pushing him out by mistake.

“Easy, sweetheart. Nice ‘n slow, don’t rush yourself.” Grandpa coos as your cunt stretches impossibly to accommodate his length. The tip rests snug in your cervix, jabbing at it painfully, and if it wasn’t for the thumb on your clit, soothing all discomfort, you’d be complaining. Grandpa’s cock doesn’t get any harder, but it doesn’t get any softer either. You start to think it might be his limit as you swivel your hips, grinding yourself down into him, the base of his cock splitting you open.

You ache to touch him, to lay against his chest and fuck your hips downwards onto him lazily. Grandpa insists on keeping you like this, he begins to rut into you from below, the thumb on your clit follows the same pace. “You’re too little, sweetheart,” Grandpa chides when he feels you tighten, “Going too fast for me.” The knot snaps, unravelling as warmth spreads through your limbs, makes your legs feel like jelly.

Grandpa takes longer, he doesn’t have much left in him, but you milk him dry till his cock is left sputtering. When he lets go of your arms, you allow yourself to slump down on his chest, kneading it with your hands. “That was okay.”

“Just okay?” Leon snorts, he pats your head like he did when you first met him.

“Just okay.” You confirm, hoping he can feel your smile, and that he knows it was more than okay.

#leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 month

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i think you're onto something with the romance novels world and plot points needing to mirror the kind of outlandishness of the love story. bc the main characters are already inherently acting absurd just by falling madly in love in a month or whatever and then if you add in the contrivances of romance tropes, it starts to feel like whiplash trying to pretend the characters live in any sort of grounded "normal" world. Like when the author adds in a family conflict subplot where the MC is like in absolute shambles because her mom said something slightly passive aggressive at lunch. that reads as more jarring to me than like conflict being something ridiculous that her mom doesn't want her being a marine biologist bc they come from a long line of fishmongers. Give me absurd drama to match the over the top dialogue and character emotions, I knew it would be unrealistic it's a romance novel! I guess this applies more to romcoms, but the same would apply I think to an analogous serious scenario. Or at least that's my take on it

okay so having just finished genuinely the most boring romance novel I have ever read in my LIFE I'm going to expand on this a little so thank you for sending an ask that gives me such a great platform to do that

I personally generally prefer a romance that just gets fucking silly with it, like really outlandish. A Lady for the Duke (Alexis Hall) is obviously the dream, being a whole swoony historical trans-affirming fantasy, but contemporary fake relationship stories can also be fun in their sheer ridiculousness, like Love, Hate, and Clickbait (Liz Bowery), which I actually liked, and Unfortunately Yours (Tessa Bailey), which I did not like but was very funny. and let's not forget queen Helen Hoang's Bride Test, which has a premise that dances perilously close to human trafficking but all works out in the end!!!

BUT HAVING SAID THAT. I don't think that something needs to be totally implausible to be a good romance. two of my very favorites romance novels anywhere ever are Helen Hoang's Heart Principle (no one should be surprised Hoang is on her twice I adore her) and Akwaeke Emezi's You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty. both of these books are very grounded in reality but with very uncommon situations to heighten emotions and add urgency; in Hoang's case it's a character's adult autism diagnosis + death of a parent and in Emezi's case it's a very sudden and #problematic attraction coming out of absolutely nowhere. the stakes are very real, mostly centering around being true to yourself v disappointing your family, but the circumstances are still wild enough to make you say "god DAMN" and keep turning pages. hell, I'll even be extremely generous and include Mistakes Were Made (Meryl Wilsner) which is kind of a flop but does have the intriguing premise of "what if you were fucking a milf but her kid was YOUR BEST FRIEND and it was a secret?"

those are like the two sweet spots TO ME, and this book I just read (which was Thank You for Sharing by Rachel Runya Katz, I feel so bad putting it on blast but I know people are going to ask) really solidified it for me because TYFS didn't fall into either of those categories. I'm going to say something absolutely insane, which is that multiple times while I was reading it I found myself wishing that the book was fanfic, because on its own it just... didn't bring a lot to the table? it falls into the grounded category but doesn't really bring any of those heightened stakes to the story, it's just 330 pages of people in their late twenties complaining about dating and their office jobs. if I wanted that I could just ask my group chat! there's nothing particularly particularly gripping about watching made up strangers do it!

but then I was like oh hang on... if this was two fictional characters who are usually fighting with swords or throwing cars at each other or something this would be so gripping. it's literally the coffee shop AU principle, right? like seeing people in a very mundane setting having an office job and going to a bar is very shrimpteresting when they're normally defusing space bombs. I was explaining this to my housemates and I couldn't think of a straight couple to apply it to (the book is m/f) so I said Naruto and Sasuke, which is crazy because I've never seen a single episode of Naruto, but like. idk Naruto being a museum curator who has to work with Sasuke, a marketing specialist who he had beef with a summer camp 14 years ago, sounds kind of compelling, right? definitely more than just two people I don't know.

there's a post on here that I think about a lot that talks about why advertising a story with tropes doesn't work for original fiction as well as it does for fan fic because knowing the tropes is more helpful when you already have a sense of investment in the characters and their personalities, and I think this is related to that! I think sometimes you NEED to have a wider sense of scope for the characters for them to be interesting in a very mundane setting!

ANYWAY. much to consider, etc.

#bookblr

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thejacketscloset · 3 months

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Reposting bc I posted this at like 11 at night as a reblog to an old post which was a mistake LMDOAHD

@myriadblvck @forestshadow-wolf U GUYS SAID U WERE INTRESTED SO HERE!!! I hope u don't mind being tagged GAHDHD

A little settup story for my GOW au where Simon is Kratos and Joseph is Atreus!

Joseph's mother had spent many nights telling him stories about the gods of their world. He would look up at her with wonder in his eyes after each tale, amazed by the wonders she spoke of. He would ask if he could be as strong as the gods one day, "just like dad". He had no knowledge of his father being a god, he simply saw his father as being that strong. She would chuckle, kiss his forehead, and tell him "only if you get lots of rest tonight."

Joseph had never imagined gods would be the ones to take them both away from him.

When it happened they hid Joseph away. A section underneath the floor had been created perfectly for only him to fit. He heard a battle above, a house being destroyed and his parents screams, but he didn't dare move. He had promised his mother he wouldn't come out until he was told it was safe. He stayed there below the floorboards for hours, too petrified to check if it was safe.

Joseph wasn't sure how much later it took before the floors above him were torn away, all he remembered was shaking as he stared up to the figure above him. Slowly, he began to recognize the scarred face that bored down at him. His uncle Simon, who had gone missing a few years prior.

"Joseph?"

The gruff voice startled him, and he blinked up at his uncle with unshed tears.

"What happened here?" Simon continued to ask. He sounded unsure, looked even more so lost while he looked at Joseph.

Joseph wasn't sure how to respond. He had a million questions. Where was his mom and dad? Why was uncle Simon there? Was he safe to come out yet? The tears felt like they were welling up more. A panicked look crossed Simon's face.

"Do not cry." The words sounded harsh out of Simon's mouth, though he didn't mean them to be. He was out of his depth, with no idea how to comfort his nephew, and freshly grieving the death of his brother and sister-in-law.

"Come, we cannot stay here." Simon spoke again when he was met with no response, and he lifted Joseph up and out of the floor.

Joseph looked over the tatters of what was left of his home distantly. He wondered to him self what would happen next.

"Your parents.. We will collect their ashes, and spread them atop the highest peak of the realms." Simon explained, hesitance clear in his tone. "It was your father's last wishes."

More tears welt up in Joseph's eyes. That time, Simon let him cry it out.

When Joseph had properly calmed down enough they began preparing. Simon instructed him to collect plants and other prayer materials to bless the bodies while he prepared lumber for the funeral pyre.

Neither of them spoke throughout the process, both trying to process their own grief quietly.

A few hours later, everything was ready and they stood side by side as the flames from the pyre rose.

Joseph cried again, and Simon wondered if it was typical for children his age to cry so much.

When the pyre burnt out, Simon collected the ashes and took stock of his supplies. The journey they would need to travel would be harsh, and was not one suited for a boy. He needed to be able to gage how well Joseph was prepared for it.

"Did your parents teach you to hunt?" He asked suddenly, breaking the long streak of silence. Joseph nodded to him.

"Show me."

Joseph made a confused face.

"Right now?" He asked, his voice was jarringly small.

"I need to see your skill. How else will I know if you're ready for this journey?"

Joseph nodded in understanding. After a few minutes of preparing, the child was armed with a bow and quiver. He was already rushing ahead of Simon, reminding him of just how much energy a child really can contain.

He silently prayed to his brother that he could protect that for Joseph. He knew better than to believe that he would.

The world they were to venture was no place for a boy. Only warriors.

#gow au #cod au #cod fic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #joseph riley #tommy riley #the riley family #cod #mw2 #gow #fanfic

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fistfuloflightning · 4 months

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So. Someone a bit ago commented on one of my fics (or here, not sure) about my penchant for odd Tolkien rarepairs. I myself forget just how many I have, so here’s the rundown and why I like them:

Maedhros/Maeglin (just. the angst. of being buried under your mistakes and finding a kindred soul to share that same burden and heal together. soulmates. who might’ve even met during the nirnaeth. and they’re definitely switches your honor)

Celegorm/Aredhel or Celegorm/Dior (or Dior’s reckless/headstrong stubbornness reminds him of Aredhel and there’s a lot of angry/bittersweet proxyfucking and guilt and ‘I don’t know who I truly love anymore’)

Maglor/Luthien (beauty for beauty’s sake. and honestly anyone but beren. luthien getting involved with the war to protect her murderbard boyfriend and actually putting a dent in morgoth’s forces. mags trying his hardest to protect her as much as the silmaril she won back for him)

Curufin/Finrod (sending your husband to his death (that he knew abt but didn’t tell you) and screwing up your sons and living the rest of your shortened life regretting soooo. many. things. and then having to deal with them after mandos. a bitter beautiful chaotic mess that can only end in tears)

Fingon/Varda (don’t ask: even I’m not sure—something something gil galad’s associated w/ stars and no one knows who his mom is and I like me some valar with greek god leanings)

Aegnor/Haleth (battle bros to lovers, bc haleth won’t take no for an answer like andreth did 😒)

Argon/Amarie (falling in love with your cousin’s ex was not the intention after being the first one killed/sent back. but she’s finally moving on from finrod and you’ve grown to care for her company more than you thought…)

Daeron/Beren (beren didn’t deserve luthien—this started as a joke but these two seriously deserve each other in all their squabbling glory)

Mablung/Nienor (they just. deserve happiness and peace. and lots of adorable peredhel kids. please)

Eowyn/Merry (same as above, but they have the benefit of having an entire shire to rebuild and different cultures to find wonder in and grow to love as much as their own)

idk I might be missing some but these are my thoughts on my main Tolkien rarepairs

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bigtittybitch514 · 1 year

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Something in the Way

“If you're alive, raise your hands,” a male voice commanded. You obeyed, slowly lifting your arms in the air.

"Would it count if I said I was dead on the inside?"

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This is my first fanfic, just felt compelled to write! :)

I’m probably going to make this a series, which will go all the way to RE4. There will be fluff! There will be angst! There will be smut! (eventually). I love slow burns and try to be lore accurate, and as non-ooc as possible. I haven’t actually played the game bc i get too scared, but I watch the hell out of gameplay and read wikis and blah blah. It’s hard to fully grasp locations admittedly when you haven’t played the game before, so I fully admit that it’ll be gray in that area. Anyway... enough about me.

(a little bit about you, I’ve given you a bit of a past just to correlate with the story, at the end of the day: I want you to think about yourself or your own characters)

no y/n

RE2, then RE4 later

she/her pronouns

you are 20+

TW there will be mentions of gore, violence, and blood!

3.3k words

You're headed to Raccoon City to search for your estranged mother, but little did you know that chaos awaits you. On the bright side, a charming rookie cop may just be a pleasant surprise along the way.

D-DAY/ CHAP 1.

"My darling daughter,

As I write this, I feel the end coming near. I'm so sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most. Life got in the way, and I made mistakes that I deeply regret. I hope you can forgive me. Please know that I love you more than words can express, and I'm so proud of the person you have become. You're strong, kind, and compassionate, and I know you will make the world a better place.

As I face the end, I need you to promise me something. Please do not go looking for me or try to find me. I need you to focus on your own safety and survival. You are strong, and I believe in you.

Remember that I will always love you, and I will always be with you in spirit. Please take care of yourself, my love.

With all my heart,

Mom"

That was the email you received in your Hotmail account this afternoon. You had read it over and over again until it burned into your memory, reciting it in your mind to ensure that you would never forget it. You tried to reply, asking your mother what was happening and what she meant, but there was no response.

Admittedly, you were not very close to your mother. After a nasty divorce, you went to live with your dad in Washington, and since then, she had faded in and out of your life like a distant memory. Some "Happy Birthday" calls, "How's school going?" emails, and "I miss you" letters were all you had of her since you were 13 years old. It hurt like utter hell.

But every time she called, you answered, and she gave you updates on her life. Whenever she wrote, you reciprocated. You went back and forth with yourself on whether or not you should respond until the aforementioned email popped up.

Unfortunately for you, "do not go looking for me" was enough to trigger your stubborn heart to do exactly what she didn't want you to do. You had always been headstrong, "got it from your father," your mom always used to say. You weren't sure what her email meant, and you sure as hell didn't like what it was implying. Was she dying? Dying from what? Why? Her email left you with nothing, no proper closure. Your chest ached.

Was it too late? Would you ever see her again? Would you ever reconcile? You never even got the chance to forgive her.

Even if you didn't remember much about her, you at least knew where she lived and what her job was. Mom was a pharmacist for the Umbrella Corporation in Raccoon City, over by the Arklay Mountains. She moved there not long after the divorce and has worked there ever since. She didn't speak much about her job, though you also never probed about it either.

What is there to question about a pharmacist job anyway? “Hey, you ever filled a months supply of Viagra?” Does Viagra even get prescribed? You’re not sure.

Soon after receiving the email, you made your way towards the industrial city as quickly as possible. The drive usually took about 10 hours, but you managed to make it in 7 ½ hours by driving like a madman. You were worried about getting pulled over, but luckily, it seemed like no police officers wanted to do their job today.

The drive through the mountains was breathtakingly beautiful, yet nerve-wracking. The twists and turns were treacherous enough during the day, but as dusk turned into the dark of night, they became even more terrifying. To make matters worse, rain began to fall in sheets, pounding the roof of your dad's beat-up old truck with an incessant din. You couldn't help but curse aloud at how this great scenic drive was being ruined.

Your old wipers were no match for this kind of weather, and as soon as you got close enough to the city, you decided to make a pit stop. Your ass was aching too, and the next exit sign indicated a gas station to the left of the freeway. You turned on your blinker and merged onto the exit intersection, eager to stretch your legs and relieve yourself. Your plan was to fill up your gas tank, grab a few snacks for the rest of the ride, and be on your way.

As you approached the gas station, the bright lights illuminated the area like a birthday cake in a dark room. You pulled up quickly, eager to get out of the rain. Parking your truck on the opposite side of a Jeep Wrangler, you found it strange that there was no one inside or outside the vehicle. But you didn't think much of it and stepped out of your jalopy, using your arm to shield your eyes from the downpour.

As you made your way to the pump, you noticed that the gas station was also empty, with no lights on inside. This was starting to feel a little fishy. You looked back at another car and saw that it too was empty. Something was definitely not right here.

And then you saw it.

Blood.

Dark red blood was splattered all over the concrete beneath your feet.

"What the fuck?!" you exclaimed in shock and horror.

In the distance, a piercing screech cried out like something straight out of a horror movie, and it made your blood run cold. Your heart was racing as you frantically looked around, trying to locate where the sound may have come from. Your mind raced with possibilities, but nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to see.

And then you saw them. Maybe ten of them. Dead bodies, shuffling towards you in a grotesque parody of life. Their flesh was rotting, their skin hanging off their exposed muscles in ragged strips. The stench of decay was overwhelming, and bile rose in your throat as you tried not to vomit.

As they drew closer, you could see the extent of their injuries. Some had chunks of flesh missing, exposing their bones and organs. Others had been shot or stabbed, leaving gaping wounds that oozed with pus and blood. And yet, despite their injuries, they kept coming towards you, their eyes fixed on you with a hunger that made your skin crawl.

You tried to back away, but your legs felt like they were made of stone. You were rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear as the undead creatures moved closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breaths coming in short gasps as you desperately tried to think of a way out. The zombies were moving closer, their decaying fingers reaching out to grab you, it felt like their rancid breath was almost hot on your face.

Holy fucking shit.

Suddenly, your body moved before you could think, hands shaking as you fumbled with the keys before finally jamming them into the ignition. "Come on, come on, come on," you muttered frantically to yourself. The engine roared to life, and you slammed the truck into reverse, feeling the impact as you hit a few of the undead behind you, their putrid flesh smearing across the back windshield.

Without hesitation, you hit the gas and plowed through the horde in front of you, sending limbs and gore flying in all directions. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed in terror, the sound muffled by the roar of the engine. It was all too much, too real. Your father's voice echoed in your head, telling you to be strong, not to cry.

But you couldn't help it. The sobs wracked your body, making it hard to breathe. You forced yourself to slow down, to take deep, shuddering breaths in and out, trying to regain control. The road ahead stretched out, empty and silent, and you drove on, heart pounding in your chest, praying that you would make it to Raccoon City alive.

---

The drive to Raccoon City was eerily silent. The usual sound of music blaring from the speakers was absent, and the only thing you could hear was the hum of the engine. Your hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You tried to shake off the fear that had gripped you earlier, but it was no use. Those things you encountered were like nothing you had ever seen before.

You desperately searched for a logical explanation to what you had witnessed. Was it a flash mob? A sick prank? But deep down, you knew those weren't plausible explanations. As your thoughts raced, your thumbs drummed nervously on the steering wheel. Was this what your mom was warning you about? Despite everything, you knew you had to find her. She was still your mother, and you were determined to reunite with her.

It was about a half an hour before you arrived in the city. It was a harrowing scene, a city in utter chaos. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, some still smoking, as embers licked the sides of buildings. The once bustling city now looked like a warzone. And in the midst of it all were the undead, their groans and moans filling the air. A repeated message to survivors blared on speakers, urging them to head over to the police station as soon as possible. Your heart raced as you wondered if your mother was there.

As you drove through the chaos, your truck garnered much attention. Its engine roared and headlights pierced through the darkness and rain. You couldn't help but think back to your father's strict parenting and the basic combat and defensive training he instilled in you. He was an army veteran who raised you to be fearless, and you couldn't let him down now. Even though it had been years since you had thoroughly practiced, you knew how to defend yourself if necessary.

But as you drove through the chaotic streets, you couldn't shake off the feeling of terror that had gripped you since you first saw the walking dead. You were determined to find your mother, but the fear of not making it to the police station in one piece was starting to weigh on you.

You frantically scour the old truck for anything that could aid in your survival: a car jack, McDonald's wrappers, and your backpack. Nothing seems particularly helpful, except for the backpack. You realize that it might come in handy if you needed to carry supplies like water, herbs, or even a weapon while searching for your missing mother.

As the walking corpses pound and scratch at your vehicle, you feel the truck shake violently. You know it's time to make a run for it. Although you don't have a solid plan, you've had years of self-defense training and are confident in your ability to use your legs and elbows to fight off attackers.

You pray to God, if they exist, that you'll find something to defend yourself or that you'll have enough skill to make it out alive. You put on the backpack and with a swift kick, you shatter the back window and scramble onto the roof.

Now, you need to find the police department. But where the hell could it be?

As you shield your eyes from the pouring rain, you scan the area, thinking of heading north in the hopes of finding a clue to guide you in the right direction. To your surprise, your truck wasn't that far from the sanctuary. A large brick gate with the letters "RPD" above it caught your eye, the light shining behind the sign like an angel was paving the way for you. The fence was made of sturdy brick, and the gates were steel. You just hoped they were open for entry.

You bravely leap off the top of the vehicle and make a beeline for the gates, the creatures screeching and reaching their arms towards you. As they try to grab hold of you, you execute a swift and powerful kick, sending one of them flying into a nearby bus and breaking its neck at a disgustingly awkward angle.

Ew.

As you barely escape the grasps of the monsters, you finally reach the gates, but guess what?

They're fucking locked.

Shit! What are you supposed to do now?

You frantically search for an alternative entry point, dodging zombies left and right, shoving and kicking them aside as you go. Finally, you spot a fire escape on the adjacent side of the building that leads up to the second floor, which appears to be zombie-free from your current vantage point. However, the fire escape is not easily accessible as it's about 50 feet away and you're on solid ground. But just then, you notice a tree next to the window swaying in the wind, creating a potential opportunity for you to reach the fire escape.

You sprint towards the majestic tree, grateful for its existence as it becomes your savior in this moment of peril.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you desperately cling onto the slick wood with your fingertips, refusing to look back at the grotesque monsters that hungrily pursue you. Your muscles strain and ache as you haul yourself up through the slick and treacherous branches. Panic overtakes you as you inadvertently step on a brittle branch, causing it to snap beneath your weight. Time seems to slow as you teeter on the edge of disaster, but you manage to grab onto a sturdier branch just in the nick of time, your heart pounding in your chest as you gasp for air. As you climb further up the tree you see your opportunity to move towards the ledge of the fire escape.

Three…Two…One…Go!

You make a daring leap towards the fire escape, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as your eyes fixate on the dizzying drop beneath you. But your body moves on instinct, your fingers grappling for the metal bars with a desperate grip that tightens with the surge of pure adrenaline. You manage to catch hold of the bars, your fingers aching from the impact, but you cling on for dear life. You push your body forward, lifting yourself up and over the metal railing.

Before you know it, your knees give out as they hit the metal bars beneath you, your body succumbing to the intense exertion you just went through. Despite being accustomed to physical exhaustion, the experience of genuine fear was traumatic. You realize that your life could have ended in mere seconds if you had made one wrong move. Once you get back home, if you do, you'll definitely be discussing this with your therapist.

Your feet feel uncomfortably squishy in your Chuck Taylors, learning the hard way that the cloth shoes are definitely not made for running in this kind of weather. The rain is relentless, and you can feel your socks getting soaked through. You hope the powers that be don't bless you with trench foot by the end of this horrifying adventure.

---

You peer through the shattered window of the second floor, noticing the broken glass strewn about the darkened halls of the police station. The only source of illumination is the faint glow of moonlight. It's no surprise that the place looks abandoned. You take a moment to break off the remaining shards of glass, careful not to cut yourself on the sharp edges. With a roll of your jean jacket sleeve, you scrape off the remaining slivers of glass before cautiously sliding yourself through the window. As you land inside, you can't help but be hit by the putrid odor of death. The walls are adorned with blood and the lifeless bodies of the fallen, as if a deranged artist had been given free reign of the building.

You make every effort to remain silent, as the last thing you want is to alert any zombies that might be lurking inside the building.

As you scan the area, your eyes catch sight of wooden planks scattered on the ground, nails jutting out from their undersides. Someone must have tried to use them to barricade the windows, but it didn't seem to have worked out well. The darkness was all-encompassing, making it nearly impossible to see anything, despite your eyes adjusting to the dim environment. You do make out a staircase adjacent to the window, but the idea of ascending to the third floor seems uncertain given your lack of knowledge of the building's layout. You need to think fast and find a weapon.

Onwards then!

Silently navigating through the bloodied and cluttered halls, you cautiously avoid tripping over any obstacles that could give away your presence. Bodies of officers lay scattered on the floor, their once-protective uniforms now torn and blood-stained. Many of them had been infected and turned into zombies, their lifeless eyes staring off into the distance. As you survey the scene, you notice some of the bodies had gunshot wounds, while others had knives still embedded in their chests. It was clear that this area was now zombie-free only because someone had taken the time to exterminate them, but the question lingered in your mind: who could have done it?

After some time, you stumble upon a staircase leading downwards. You contemplate descending to the first floor, hoping to find something of use in the main hall. So far, you've scavenged through numerous bodies, but none of them had any usable firearms. However, you did find plenty of bullets, which could come in handy later on. Another curious detail you noticed was the abundance of red and green herbs scattered throughout the building. It was almost comical how many medicinal plants were growing in a police station, but in this apocalyptic world, you knew their healing properties could make all the difference.

As you searched a corpse, the beam of a flashlight suddenly appeared on the wall in front of you, casting your silhouette in the middle of it. Your heart racing, you froze, realizing someone was behind you. The sound of a gun being cocked only added to your anxiety.

“If you're alive, raise your hands,” a male voice commanded. You obeyed, slowly lifting your arms in the air.

You attempted to make light of the situation, hoping to ease the tension. "Would it count if I said I was dead on the inside?" you chuckled, but the fear still lingered.

You heard a small snort of laughter from the man behind you, which made you think that maybe he wasn't as serious as he seemed. It was a welcomed sound in a tense situation. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up.

"It's okay, you can turn around. I put away my gun. I'm an officer, well, I was supposed to be."

You noticed a hint of melancholy in his voice, but his tone was also encouraging. Still, you kept your hands up just to be cautious. When you finally turned around, the industrial flashlight shone in your eyes, causing discomfort. You shielded your eyes immediately.

"Ah, damn, sorry!" He scrambled to turn the flashlight away from you.

Despite the dim lighting, you could make out the silhouette of a man in front of you. He towered over you and was clad in a vest adorned with more pockets than you could count, like some sort of real-life action figure. His uniform looked like SWAT gear, vest emblazoned with the letters "RPD" that you assumed stood for the police department. As he drew closer, a musky scent mixed with the unmistakable metallic odor of blood wafted towards you, making you wrinkle your nose. You couldn't help but notice the dried blood and grime splattered across his torso, arms, and even the front of his legs. It was pretty clear that this guy was the one responsible for taking down the zombies that had been lurking around the station.

“My name is Leon, Leon Kennedy. And yours?”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 remake #re2 #leon x reader #leon x y/n #resident evil #re4 #fluff #re 4 remake #re 4 #hopefully one person will at least read this but most likely i'll still work on it if no one does LMAO #am gonna post this on ao3 too once i get approved for the invite

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genderwoods · 9 months

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this is a long post talking about my ocs and my wip. feel free to skip!! i just want to get over my embarrassment of talking about them

ok so. to talk about my ocs first i need to talk about the world theyre in. this is still a nameless wip but for now im calling it 'through the mist' while i decide on a better name.

brief explanation about the world: its the modern world as we know, maybe a few years into the future, but its not very important because society and technology are still pretty much the same. the difference is that in this story, the earth was enveloped by a dark and mysterious mist that is invisible to most people. the origins of this mist is still unknown, but what is known is that: 1) it affects peoples health in the areas that the mist is the most dense, and the number of lung diseases and cancer has incresead ever since it appeared. 2) it has some type of dark magic to it. its essence creates demon-like creatures called spectrums (i still want to find a cooler name) that are unknown by most people, but they bring chaos to the world. you can read more about spectrums and understand them better here (please mind any grammar mistakes, it is still a rough draft!)

but there are special people in the world known as the Enlighted that not only can see the mist, but they are aware of the existence of the spectrums and are given special powers to fight them. most of these people are born like normal humans, and only when they grow up they start to realize that they are different and that theres something wrong in the world they live in. once they find out about their own powers, they are located by a institution called Lux Mundi, and they are recruited either to be a scientist and schollar that studies the mist and the spectrums, or to be a warrior and fight the spectrums.

there are three types of enlighted: the lumen (those who are born with paranormal abilities to help them fight the spectrums), the saltium (those who are born with advanced intellect and are able to understand the complexities behind the magic of the mist and the spectrums) and the granum (those who are both lumen and saltium at the same time. they are very rare.)

this is all you need to know to understand the ocs!! i wont say a lot abt their backstories here so to not make the post even longer but if you want to ask me anything about them, feel free!

btw all of these characters are brazilian and the story takes place in brazil bc well. im brazilian and it was easier this way.

also im not an artist so all i have are picrews 💔 sorry for the low quality of some pictures, for some reason tumblr wont show the album i have them saved in when i open the gallery so i had to screenshot.

1. Kaiki Vitorino, 17

she's our main girl! Kaiki was born Salvador, Bahia but moved to São Paulo with her mom when she was a kid. she and her mom were very close, but due to complications caused by a lung disease, she passed away three years prior to the story, and Kaiki had to move in with her aunt (who also lived in São Paulo). Kaiki is very kind and empathetic, she would never hurt a fly and puts other peoples feelings above her own (sometimes a little too much). she loves geology and has a cool rock collection. Kaiki is a lumen, and her powers are called 'Blessed be The Light', which is basically light manipulation. i won't dive in too deep about their powers here, but you can ask me if you want to!

2. Ayla Rodrigues, 17

Kaiki's best friend since childhood (and secretly love interest)! Ayla was born in São Paulo and met Kaiki in school. she has a very complicated family, which includes divorced parents and a dead younger sister, who died in a car accident with her dad when he was drunk driving. she doesn't speak to him anymore, and grief they dont know how to deal with has led her and her mom to a complicated relationship. Ayla is closed off, aloof and even arrogant to most people. When someone wins her heart however, she shows her more vulnerable side: she's a nerd, loves literature, music and cult movies, likes anime, and will do anything for her loved ones, especially Kaiki, who she is so in loved with is embarrassing. she is a lumen, and her powers are called 'Blesed be the Gravity', which is, you guessed! gravity manipulation.

3. Dandara Carvalho, 20

Born and raised at Lux Mundi, Dandara is the Head Trainer of the Lumen's division. Daughter of Eva Carvalho, supreme leader of Lux Mundi's instalations in Brazil, and Isaac Carvalho, Vice-Supreme and Head Counselour for the Saltium's division, Dara is the real deal: strong, disciplined, determined. she has been training since she was a kid, and her mom has always been very strict when it comes to this. Dara was trained by the old Head Trainer before her, an old man called Kaluanã. He was wise beyond this world, but after his passing at the old age of 80yo, Dara took over his functions. Eva wants Dara to be the next Supreme Leader, but all that she wants is to keep training and teaching other Lumens. They have a very strained relationship, but she gets along very well with her dad. Dara may seem intimidating, but she actually has a heart of gold: she's a dork who loves her friends to death and has a loud and weird laugh. she wont stand for injustice and is extremely reliable. shes also extremely, totally down bad for her girlfriend Yasmin. her powers are called 'Blessed be The Fire', but she also knows a lot of different martial arts.

4. Yasmin Senna

Yasmin may not be very impressive at first, but those who know her know that she is, in fact, a genius. Born and raised in São Paulo, Yasmin has always been the pride and joy of her family: as a kid, she was mostly quiet and kept to herself, didnt talk to other kids a lot and prefered to spend the day cracking her toys open to see how they worked. Her bad social skills and reclusion made her an easy target for bullying in elementary school – kids would take her toys away and mess with her all day long. this lead to a fatidic accident where one day she had a meltdown and unleashed her powers, 'Blessed be the Sound', a type of soundwave manipulation, and left everyone in the scene, including her, deaf. nowadays, yasmin uses hearing aids, but she has long ago gotten used to being deaf, and she doesnt mind her disability, but feels extremely guilt for the accident. she's the grandaughter of kaluanã, daras old mentor, but she had only know him as a kid before he moved to Lux Mundi. this is what made dara want to get closer to her at first, but then they feel in love. yasmin is extremely smart – in fact, she is a granum, but she refuses to use her powers, so she only works in the Saltium division.

5. Eric Senna, 19

Yasmin's twin brother, Eric is probably the only out of the Lux Squad that has decent social skills. He's charming, charismatic, funny, smart and has the world's biggest ego. Eric carries a lot of guilt over the bullying that happened with Yasmin, because he feels like he was too weak to protect his sister, so he has kind of become overprotective over her, even this kind of pisses Yasmin off (and Dandara too). he's one of those people that always act like they're the best, but deep down are their own worst enemy. he's talented, has a hundred different hobbies and speaks three languages. eric is always down for challenges and he loves to prank people. he has a cat and dog relationship with Dandara: they're always fighting and bickering, but they truly care for each other a lot. Eric is a lumen and extremely insecure about his powers – 'Blessed be the Thunder', electricity/lightining manipulation – because no matter how much he trains, his powers doesn't seem to get stronger.

These are the 5 main characters kf my wip! WOW ok this was. a lot. If someone has actually read untill now. thanks a lot, and let me know if you have any questions about anything in my wip or about my ocs! I love to talk about them!! :D

#my ocs #through the mist #my wip #oc tag

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 28 days

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ugh i must confess i hate naoya so much i can't like that brat's cover

PSHDHDHHD THAT’S UNDERSTANDABLE ANON!!!!! he’s awful i do NOT blame anyone for not liking him 😭😭 unfortunately i’m a sucker for wellwritten villains laced in irony so i <3 him but that’s my own issue LMAO

i’ve been thinking abt him a lot recently so i’m using this ask as an excuse to talk abt why… i like him…. pls feel free to ignore this anon !!!!!

sigh….. he’s just . so Good. definitely my favorite minor jjk villain (reggie & uraume are close behind >:3)… he perfectly encompasses everything that’s wrong w the world of sorcery + the zenin clan in particular and i genuinely think he’s such a realistic take on what misogyny looks like?? he makes me want to throw up. the fact that he idolized toji so deeply and hated his family for not understanding toji’s loneliness and strenght only to make that EXACT mistake w maki just because he never saw her as a person…. refusing to accept that she caught up to toji before he even got close….. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 it’s so Good.

and don’t even get me STARTED on his deaths bc they’re some of my favorite moments in jjk when it comes to pure poetic cinema LMAO….. his whole speech about how “any woman who can’t walk three steps behind a man should get stabbed in the back and die” only for him to die when maki’s mom stabs him in the back + a SECOND time when maki stabs him in the back (and she’s even standing three steps behind him <3 so considerate of her <33) yeahhhh it just Does something to my brain. oh and that’s not even mentioning the fact that his domain expansion is formed in the shape of a womb + that he loses against maki because his domain registers her presence as an object….. akutami COOKED w this fight holy shit

but yeah i just. think he’s awful and wonderful and i can’t WAIT to see him die in s3 :333 i am fond of him but . in the same way a scientist is fond of the frog they’re dissecting…. yk………

#sorry anon i got carried away T_T in my defense i am eepy rn #ty for indulging me 🫂🫂🫂#OHH ALSO i love his fight w choso a lot….#i feel like his presence in the story was just perfect… didn’t drag out 2 long but also had a big impact #he’s quite literally the manifestation of maki’s trauma so she NEEDS to defeat him to move past it and she does <333 #sorry apparently i’m STILL gushing over this fkn guy 😭😭😭 i rlly am so weak for villains….#BUT PLSPLSPLS DON’T MISUNDERSTAND i do NOT like this fucker as a person 😭😭 not kidding when i say he makes me wanna throw up #he’s just really wellwritten and that’s literally All that matters to me when it comes to characters #ask tag ✩

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biquinntile · 2 days

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TLDR: My biggest frustration being a late-diagnosed autistic is getting my brain to re-frame any of my behaviors. I’m having trouble figuring out how to help myself.

I was abused growing up, including some medical abuse, but my mom knew I had ADHD and lied to me and convinced me I didn’t. She never got a diagnosis but would ask me questions like “What are you, autistic?” I didn’t really understand what either of these terms meant back in 2012 when I was 13/14. So of course I said no, not even realizing until later that this was a rhetorical question (I am sighing so hard rn).

Fast forward to now, me age 26, being recently diagnosed as a person with ADHD and Autism. I spent my entire life up until now masking but even that feels like a weird word to use because it was never intentional. If I had needs not being met, I would find a way to get them met without talking to anyone or I would ignore them/push them away so that I “didnt have” that need anymore. In social situations, I made a lot of mistakes and found myself being very confused…so I would avoid being social altogether, or I would drill myself relentlessly before and after any social situation…and I mean any social situation. I remember people always criticizing me for “taking the long way” or not taking the most efficient route, but for me the “most efficient” route has never given me the results I wanted. It felt like I was a robot who had to constantly tinker with my own parts, with the goal being that one day I would be able to exist with other people naturally the way they do with each other. Not a robot, a person.

It’s very difficult to wrap my head around this not being a plausible goal anymore. I spent so long doing what was more difficult to mask symptoms I didn’t know I was masking. I spent my entire life operating under the belief that everybody was trying as hard as me to deal with sensory and socialization and all that jazz, it’s just that I was too weak to do it as well as they did. And it didn’t matter because I was doomed to fail.

I’m really working hard to not have such negative beliefs about being neurodivergent but it’s difficult bc in my brain I always hoped that one day I would just suddenly flip a switch and things would be easier. I would understand people and they would understand me. I wouldn’t spend weeks (if not months) obsessing over one singular topic. When I look back on moments where the autism was probably showing, I have all these memories of my parents calling me aggressive/angsty/spoiled/stupid/lazy/sensitive/etc. My stepdad would always say “You can’t be that stupid” and in my head, I would say “Well I guess I fucking am.”

All this to say, I have a lot of trouble now even recognizing when I’m doing a form of “masking” because it is so ingrained in me, and had I not done it, I would have faced worse abuse than I already had been facing. It took me until I was 24 to realize I was wearing a size too small in shoes because I believed a level of discomfort was just always a part of life, for EVERYONE not just me. I recently realized that I am not capable of crying in front of other people, even people I care about and trust, because when I used to cry people would find my reasoning trivial or tell me that I was too sensitive and they would (and I wish I was kidding) laugh or make fun of me. That is a silly thing to make fun of someone for, I know now, but I’m not sure how to change the behavior. I find day after day that there are a million things I’ve been overcompensating for or putting up with that I thought was normal or I thought I needed to do to keep up with everyone else (no wonder I feel so tired all the fucking time damn).

All this to say, I’m not even exactly sure what autistic symptoms I have or how to tackle them or even really how masking works entirely. I feel like I don’t know anything about myself. I don’t know how to help myself. Where do I even start? People keep throwing this “high-functioning” term at me, which I guess is fair, but I also feel like my bones ache at all times and I have constant rapid-fire anxious thoughts filling up my brain and I constantly feel like everyone on the earth is touching me and crowding me, even when I’m alone in my room. So I guess if I can keep pushing myself through those feelings, I’ll be fine and functioning fine but I don’t really think I can do that anymore.

Any advice or reading material would be greatly appreciated. Sorry if I didn’t explain things well. I’m trying my best out here

#autism #neurodivergent #late diagnosed autistic #audhd #actually autistic #autistic adult #idk man

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rahleeyah · 1 year

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So my mom was the best cook/baker like. Ever. Just magic in the kitchen and always trying new things and every time she brought food somewhere everybody always ate every last bit of it and raved about it. It brought her a lot of joy, the actual act of cooking and baking, and feeding people, sharing with people and making them happy. Everybody who ever met her has a favorite dish of hers, something she made that they may have only had once but that was completely unforgettable.

It's a high bar for me and my sister when we go to extended family gatherings. We can fucking cook, we learned from the best and we're a killer team in the kitchen, but like. No one is gonna be as good as the GOAT. And we feel a little bit of pressure, to make sure that whatever we bring is good. Partly bc for a long long time our family brought the Good Shit and we want to still provide that, but partly bc we don't want pity. We don't want anyone to even think "oh those poor girls" and tut over a subpar plate of meatballs. Bringing really good food is like a very quiet way of saying we're doing ok. We're strong. We haven't fallen apart. It matters that the food is good. If the food isn't good it means we aren't good.

We let my dad make requests for what we brought to Christmas. The three of us actually had a really nice - bittersweet, but nice - moment on Friday, going through my mom's recipes and picking things out. It was good to touch her things, to see her handwriting again, to talk about her. But my father asked for shrimp creole. This man picked one of the most cumbersome recipes he could have asked for - spices they only sell at one specific store in town, 3 pounds of shrimp to shell and devein, make your own stock, bake the rice, etc, while balancing 3 other recipes cooking at the same time - but like. Me and my sister are both stubborn as hell. He wants shrimp creole he's gonna get shrimp creole. And it's gonna be good, damn it.

And it was. Everybody said so, and ate plenty of it - and plenty of the Hawaiian meatballs, and the pesto pasta salad I made special for my niece, tho my coconut cake wasn't a big hit bc apparently a lot of people don't like coconut 🙄 - and that felt good. It just feels like. You know, we fuck up. We make mistakes. We're not perfect. Me and my sister, we're not up to a lot of people's standards, and we're used to being judged. But by god we can cook. There's lots of things we can't do, but this we can do. We can show up on time, and we can feed people, care for people, be there for people. And bring home empty bowls after.

And I think that would've made mama happy, but more than anything I think she'd just be happy we're getting along so well. I think she'd be glad to know we're still a team. A better team now than she probably ever dreamed we would be. That's the best part of all of it, honestly. Not just knowing that we did a good job, but that we did it together. Like not to be sappy but my sister and I have come a long way together and I'm grateful for that.

#trauma patience

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according2thelore · 2 months

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that linelemon art you just reblogged makes me think baby sam should’ve worn his hair LONG long. other kids think he’s a girl which makes dean mad but sam doesn’t care :)

UM. YES. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS YES.

we see dean in the show (esp early seasons but really throughout) have a very set idea of masculinity and what a man can and cannot do without ridicule. sam catches a ton of shit for his hair in the show, i can only imagine what a sammy with long hair would incur from dean as they grow up.

he'd be torn i think between samantha jokes and snarling and snapping like a dog at kids that make jokes. very much "only i get to make fun of him."

and i feel like for sam, his hair is one of the only actual forms of self-expression he gets. all of his clothes are hand-me-downs or bought from army surplus stores. his hobbies only remain such until they enroll in a school that doesn't have that club/sport/activity anymore. his hair is something that he takes pride in! he likes how long hair makes him feel! he feels more genuinely himself than any part of his life or identity actually does.

maybe dean asks a girl in his math class to teach him how to braid so he can braid sam's hair up for his soccer games! and almost gets into a fist-fight with a pta mom that tries to get sam thrown out of the game for being a girl in a boy's league.

but in my head sam is just one of those kids that rails against any styling or anything! his hair is his!!! maybe if john or dean bribes him with something will dean finally get a comb through that rat's nest. but baby sammy couldn't be happier :)

but if we want to take this in a more samdean direction which I Always Do, i think sam might like looking "like a girl" as he gets into his teens bc...well...dean likes girls. they go out to a movie one time and someone makes an off-handed comment about 'your date' and sam is pink-cheeked, alarm-bells-screeching, heart-rate-thudding astounded. and thrilled. really fucking thrilled.

dean rags on teen!sam for his hair and his knobby knees and his quickness to blush, and to sam there's no way to make that appealing. he might not even realize that that's what he's doing, but the impulse to make himself feel attractive, like someone dean would find attractive, is innate, a part of sam's own intertwined want. dean is all green-eyed, soft-lips, high-school-knockout gorgeous, so the least sam can do is be a fucking girl.

a part of sam thrills at the mistake, even as dean quickly corrects the person handing them the ticket stubs.

anon we are holding hands and frolicking in a meadow rn

baby sammy with long hair!!!!! is something that can be so real and personal!!!!!!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #lizzy writes #baby winchesters!#anon <3

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space-prophet · 1 year

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Hey since PJO was apparently one of the most talked about book series this year I wanted to make like a really simple post about an issue I've had with the series since I was a kid. Spoiler warning for up to the Trails of Apollo I think.

Rick Riordan sees very little power in any form of femininity and its pretty obvious. All of his female leads/supporting cast that are GOOD activly reject it and any girl who shows that side of themselves is activly demonized- ei Piper is the best in Aphrodite cabin bc somehow the goddess of love almost only gave birth to vindictive bitchy airheads who break hearts on purpose. Selena, the most feminine "good" character let's her emotions get the best of her and it kills both herself and the man she loves. Biancas sentimentality gets her killed. Zoe is kicked away from her family, Calypso and Echo are tragically abandoned time and time again, and characters like Gaia Circe and Medea are all feminine villians who seem to have no real personality aside from traits of either motherhood or suduction. Even Hera in the confines of the story is demonized worse then Zues and motherhood in general isn't something most of the characters can do even half competently. Annabeths step mom, Hazels mom, and the Grace's mom come to mind immediately. Leo, Frank, and Percy's moms are the only non-demonized motherly figures and they all sacrificed everything about themselves for thier children (this will come up later).

Femininity in the riordanverse is equated to helplessness, ficklness, and vanity when in reality thats...well that's just misogyny, baby. We're either lead to look at the feminine women in the story with contempt or pity.

We are never asked to sympathize with Hera, Demeter, Amphitrite, Aphrodite, Kihone, Gaia, or any of the other women on Olympus in the same way we are narrativly forced to pity Apollo Hermes or Posideon through the storys language and structure. The only goddesses we are not actively in contempt with seem to be Athena (who is a well written flawed character in her own right) and Artimes who just serves as a basic girl boss no boys allowed figure.

And once a girl is no longer needed for a storyline they get shafted HARD and either die or go solo in a "I need no man" form of feminism. Once Thalia is done threatening Percy's manhood and role in the prophecy she runs off with the hunters as to not get in the way, Rachel is turned into the oracle who can't date anyone so Percy doesn't have to make a decision, Reyna (my poor girl) also becomes a hunter for some fucking reason (I could go on about this but I wont), and Zoe, Hazel, Bianca, and Selena all die horribly as the cost of thier own mistakes- theres an implicit theme of female sacrifice for the greater good (most often the good of a male character) that's present here. Bianca dies for Nico, Hazel for Sammy, and Selena for the memory of Charles.

Of course there are really well written girls in PJO, but there is an overarching problem with the way "Strongly Written Female Character" alwsys seems to equate to "I'm not like other girls, so im strong" and the way that girls are activly written in a way that leaves them supporting and caring the burdens of their male costars. It's not entirely Rick's fault of course he's an old man I don't expect him to write 12 year old millennial girls with skill, but it is something that gets me about his work and has since I was that age myself. Sorry if this wasn't as coherent as I wanted it to be, It's late and I'm not going to proofread this bc it's PJOblr.

TERFS DNI 💖

#personal #pjo #idk man its just icksvill #catch me getting a martyr complex at like 10 because all my favorite girlies die horribly <3 #and the boys die with more dignity before anyone brings that yp #*up

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isalabells · 11 months

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I am very curious why Ted going back to the US to be there for his son is him making the mistakes as his dad and a real tragedy. Or did I read your tags wrong and you didn’t mean it this way?

Anon, I never meant to insinuate that this is him making the same mistakes as his dad, nor do I think my tags suggests that. But it's Ted fearing he is making the same mistake as his dad that is the driving force for his ill-advised decision. (That being said, i've seen the Ted's gonna end up like his dad eventually take flying around here, and while -- even in the face of the final scenes -- this is too horrid and bleak a thought even for me I can't entirely refute it, so there's that.) As for your other question, hoo boi- I recommend going back to the post I reblogged and scrolling through some of the tags because there's a lot of people out there who've articulated it way more eloquently than I am currently capable of, and my answer is nothing but a potpourri of all these thoughts.

But let me ask you in return- Did Ted look happy to you? Did he? Did his constant dissociating throughout the episode and him being emotionally closed off and unresponsive to all the people who love and care for him so deeply, him forcefully shutting them all out so he could be A Good Dad and soldier on and do what must be done because he fears otherwise he will make Henry feel like his Dad made him feel (which in itself is a loaded thought, and I bet Sharon could dismantle it within two sessions) make you feel all warm and fuzzy? Him more or less being pushed into this decision because his mom was guilt tripping him and going through with it bc he is under the misguided impression that he has to break-the-cycle in order to prevent impending doom for Henry (guys pls this isn't Succession).

I know there's a post making rounds where people are being outraged bc how dare anyone say choosing to be a parent is the inferior choice here, why do you want Ted to abandon his child and like- I'm genuinely sorry if you feel that way.

The implication that Ted not living within close proximity to Henry renders him a bad father is just bonkers. Emotional availability and taking care of your kid, being involved in their life is not necessarily tied to local distance at all. In all those three years, Ted hasn't neglected Henry once? Hell, with all the constant facetiming and irregular visits and whatnot he's probably kept more up to date with his kid than a good chunk of parents do despite living under the same roof as their offsprings.

Emphasizing the importance of the nuclear family (one that technically doesn't even exist anymore in Ted's case) and telegraphing that this is the main if not only way to be A Good Father seems like such a shocking conservative and nearsighted move for this show, and, pardon me, a very US-American one as well. All of this seems quite tone deaf, but it wouldn't be the first time this season (maybe one day @hubba1892 will bless us all with the essay on TL taking a stand on defying Super League and pushing for 50+1 rule vs. City being a major advertising factor for the show.)

Obiously, this is strongly influenced by me being a firm believer that parenthood shouldn't swallow your whole identity. Playing at pretend happy family and, as someone else put it so nicely, sacrificing your happiness for the sake of your kid is not healthy, and it will gain your kid nothing in the end. Ted seeing himself as nothing but a vessel to fix other people's lives and help them become the best version of themselves only to remove himself from the situation, nay, the entire story (literally and metaphorically, cf him suggesting Trent change the title) once the job is done without a thought or care for his own wants and needs, let alone his happiness is just so deeply saddening. "But the second to last ep showed that they're all gonna be fine without him!!" Yes, that's exactly the point, he should stay because the wants to, not because they need him.

Now Ted 'ain't nobody in this room alone' Lasso is quite literally all alone in the big vast room that is Kansas, with his main people being Henry (a literal child), Michelle and his mom, two people who both make him fucking miserable. A less pointed take would be that he doesn't even have to stay at Richmond specifically. The opportunities that he now has at his disposal in the UK bc of his success story are endless; lots of possibilities for him to continue doing what he loves without being stuck in the depression show that is coaching little league for funsies, quenching all of his wants and needs and dreams and aspiration.

#something something Ted is more or less the only character that is regressing #which could be fine this also counts as character development if an uncomfortable one #but it came out of left field and really does not fit the show's tone #replies #Ted Lasso spoilers #not to engage in speculation but the people who say JSud's personal life and his current situation influenced the s3 writing too much #whether consciously or subconsciously do have a point #lowkey wish we knew nothing about the Wildeikis drama #can I blame Harry Styles for all of this

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blueeyedheizer · 2 years

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1.6k celebration - blurb event

rules

you can send up to two prompts

the list is kind of long because I will only use each prompts once. this is the main difference with my previous blurb events! first come first serve kinda :)

please do not mass request <3 and finally please please pleeeease bear with me and my slowness. i'm still struggling to write rn so like. uh. yeah. be patient 😭

characters:

-matt, matthew connellly

-michael gray, j cody

-seb jacobs, frank mccullen, four

-cassie howard, pippa

-eddie munson, chrissy cunningham (no smut)

(i'll be privileging requests for sydney and stranger things bc I wanna write more for them — but feel free to request for whoever you want from the list :))

prompts:

#1 "Just shut up! I'm not as fragile as you think I am, I don't need protecting!"

#2 "This is a one time thing”

#3 “bend over the desk”

#4 “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself then”

#5 "you shouldn’t be alone right now. i’ll take the couch, it’ll be fine."

#6 "well, i can think of some ways to wear you out.

#7 "i didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

#8 "i'll never forget you."

#9 "Don't go [on that date/mission/business trip/ to *destination*...]." "Why?" "You know why."

#10 “i want to taste you”

#11 “my mom/dad adores you.”

#12 "babe, you can barely keep your eyes open...let's go."

#13 “touch me and you lose”

#14 “When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”

#15 "man, fuck that guy. go show her what she’s missing. “

#17 “tell me that there was some truth to it.” “...come on. i don’t want to do this.” “tell me it wasn’t all in my fucking head, [name].”

#18 “stop— stop talking!” “why? you can’t even face your own mistake?”

#19 "I don’t want you to be alone tonight and honestly, I don’t really want to be alone either.”

#20 "I'm really not in the mood." "You never are."

#21 "I love you."

#22 “y'know, i was hoping to make a sandwich but seeing as you're here already, wearing that, i'd rather have something else to eat.”

#23 "I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy." "don't ever say that...you made me so happy."

#24 "that’s the sixth time you’ve complimented me today.”

#25 "I'd hold onto something if I were you."

#26 "You don’t love me anymore, do you?”

#27 “I wonder what your girlfriend/boyfriend would do if they knew what you were doing right now.”

#28 “You're so beautiful.”

#29 "It’s really hard seeing you/him/her with him/her everyday.”

#30 “There will always be a part of you that wishes you could be with him/her."

#31 "she’s everything i ever wanted, but i don’t want to risk losing her as a friend."

#32 "look, i don't know if i’m the kind of person you need or even want right now. but i’m looking around and i’m the only one who’s here.

#33 "If I never see you again, just know that I love you so, so much.”

#34 "We've been by each other's sides for years, you think I'm gonna leave now?"

#35 "did you fake it?"

#36 "i heard what you said...no one's ever talked about me that way before.."

#37 "i asked if you were having a party. i didn’t tell you to have a party.

#38 "If you die, I’m going to kill you"

#39 "You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here."

#40 "It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

#41 "What do you got?” "Uh...A headache.”

#42 ”Are you alright?” “I will be.”

#43 ''you only call me when you want to hook-up.'' '' that was part of the agreement, wasn't it? ''

#44 "We're in public you know." “I really don’t care, you look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now”

#45 “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice”

#46 Think anyone will notice if I start fingering you right now?”

#47 "you're an idiot" / "but i'm your idiot"

#48 "Look...I know we broke up, but you know that you aren't any less important to me now, right?"

#49 "Spread your legs."

#50 "You're perfect... everything about you is perfect"

#51 "One more word out of you and I’ll bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone”

#O you can also suggest a prompt from my previous prompt lists :)

#michael gray x reader #cassie howard x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #michael gray fanfic #cassie howard x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #euphoria x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #four/billy x reader #frank mccullen x reader #seb jacobs x reader #pippa x reader #sydney sweeney x reader #cassie howard smut #michael gray smut

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