#swap ennui

[disruptivevoib]

u should totally draw 1 of soulchronicitys au designs. like chess or haunted or swap! oh or maybe even that mechanical dissonance one :3

My swap au Mind (Ennui) and Soulchronicitys :] (I think the name is Tali? or Tuli?)

#voidthoughts #chonnys charming chaos compendium #fanvoids #asks #cj mind #swap ennui #or whatever his tag is ummm #hahahaha oops anyways they could be homies. #very fun design to draw

[virgincels]

BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

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

[totaltism]

Second victims of my TD random outfit swaps! Mike and Ennui, I think they're both hating it

Also versions with makeup!

#total drama #artists on tumblr #art #digital art #fanart #fan artist #artist #tdroti #total drama fanart #tdas #total drama revenge of the island #total drama all stars #tdmike #total drama mike #td mike #td ennui #tdrr #total drama ridonculous race #total drama presents: the ridonculous race #Ridonculous Race #Tdrr ennui

[cool-ghoul]

Love people reacting with horror to AC6's player state-- being a absolutely amoral hired gun who swaps sides every time there's a stiff breeze, cuz like, Armored Core was one of the first games to infect me with brainrot back with AC1, so this detached nihilism is positively cozy with charm to me.

The cyberpunk ennui and giant robot fixation grew from the same chromed-out egg, I guess. Blame my parents: my mom played it first and liked it (though said it was too dark), whereas I devoured it and learned a lot of my first concerning vocabulary words.

#definitely knocking the rust off though #also running on keyboard which is a first for me

[gaytotaldrama]

duncney week day 3: dress up

somehow, duncan convinces courtney to let him give her a makeover.

duncney song of the day: 'make me feel,' janelle monaé

also on my ao3!

Her answer was no. A flat, resounding no.

And then she thought a little more about it.

"Fine," she told him, plopping down on the bed they shared. "You know what, I'd like to see you try. Do your worst, Duncan."

"You're gonna regret saying that, Princess," he replied, grinning ear-to-ear like a shark. "You're not ready for how punk I can make you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it."

In all actuality, he wasn't entirely sure what his game plan was here. It wasn't like he'd thought Court was going to agree to him giving her a serious style change. Brainstorming on the fly, he delved into his side of the closet, much messier and uncoordinated than Courtney's neatly folded and primly labeled drawers. Deciding he'd give her a little autonomy (and also make things easier for himself) Duncan asked, "Dress, skirt, or pants, babe?"

"Um, skirt. I guess. Just not that godawful kilt Owen gifted you, please."

He picked out a torn midnight blue piece that he was 110% positive belonged to Gwen - Duncan didn't go for skirts often, but when he did, they weren't so...pasty. Still, imagining Courtney wearing it got his blood roaring. He turned around and tossed it to her, along with a maroon leather belt Gwen's friend Crimson had left behind. Or was it Ennui's? And, more importantly, why was Duncan's closet full of everyone else's goddamn clothes but his own?

The rustle of fabric behind him told him she was changing. Any other day he'd smirk and watch, but right now, it was more important to find her a shirt.

"Does Gwen even know you have their stuff?" He could hear the whisper of leather being pulled swiftly through loops. "Good call on the belt, though. Last time I borrowed Gwen's pajama pants, they fell down and I accidentally showed Harold my undies."

"Doris saw your panties? Might have to beat him up for that," Duncan returned casually, fishing out a tie-dyed black-and-blue Metallica shirt. "Here you go, Princess, Ride the Lightning."

He did turn to watch as she pulled her sweater over her head. She was wearing that black lace bra that drove Duncan crazy; he was sad to see it disappear under the new shirt. 

"You said punk," Courtney pointed out, looking down at her - unfortunately well-concealed, fuck Duncan's wide-ass torso - chest. "This is metal," she groused, like he didn't already know that.

He grinned. "You wanna swap it out for the Sex Pistols one?"

"...Fine." She sat on the edge of the bed again, crossing her arms. "Well? Shoes? Hair? Makeup?"

"Piercings?" Duncan joked, but at the answering withering glare, he quickly turned back to the closet. "Here, I've got these patchwork sneakers that should fit, and some fishnets. As for hair..."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked warily, before shrieking as he pounced on her with a can of hairspray, intent on giving her some spikes. "Duncan! This stuff smells terrible!"

Then he decided he didn't like the spike idea, so he opted for just mussing it all up and layering it with some spritzes of dry shampoo. It did kinda hurt, just a little bit, to ruin Court's beautiful hair, but it was only temporary. 'Sides, alt Courtney had been a fantasy of his since...the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her, maybe?

Grabbing some mascara and umber eyeshadow, he ultra-darkened her lashes and smeared around her eyes carelessly, black and powdered. She fidgeted throughout all of that, but when he laid a steady hand on her jaw to fill in her soft lips with color, she stayed completely still, just looking at him.

When he capped the lipstick she sighed, breath fluttering out against his face, and dipped forward like she wanted to kiss him. "Nuh-uh," he said, holding a hand up between their two mouths. "You'll smudge it."

"Oh, like it matters," she said, and stepped up to the full-length mirror on their wall.

"Well?" For one reason or another, Duncan found himself nervous, sinking down to sit on the mattress. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." She was studying herself, turning her body this way and that to catch all the different angles. To him, she was beautiful. Metal, and makeupped, and fishnetted, and beautiful.

But still nowhere near as incredible as the real Courtney Reyes.

"It's missing something," she decided, and she grabbed Duncan's skull hoodie from the back of the desk chair. She didn't zip it up; she let the sleeves fall loose so her shoulders were bare and the hood hung to the small of her back. Then she turned to him and echoed, "Well?"

Duncan smiled like a goof. "Looks amazing."

"You think so? I kinda like it." She cast another glance in the mirror before settling her hooded gaze on him. "Hey, when did Geoff say he and Bridgette were coming back home?"

"Not for another hour or so." Duncan reached out for her, pulled her to stand between his legs with her arms looped around his neck. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think," she said, slow and sultry. "That it's time for..."

"Yeah, Princess?"

"...Your turn."

He frowned. "What do you mean my - wait, NO. No no no no no no no I am not going to - "

"Oh, yes you are!!!" Courtney crowed with delight, and she leapt off of him and raced, cackling, to her side of the closet.

#duncney week 2023 #duncney #td fanfiction #my writing

[liminal-art-proxy]

Behold! Children!

Pilak is a Glue kid (14-16). Athy (12-14) and Ennui (7-9) are Paledream children. Stencil is a Tempink kid (13-15).

More info and character credits (for the parents) below the cut :>

Pilak is the oldest and most active of the group. He's also the most mature and has the impulse control. He enjoys hanging out with both his parents and trains with Blue on the weekends (or whenever Blue decides since time isn't real).

Athy has little to no emotions as their parents are literally Pale and Dream. She found that sugar and caffeine help boost her emotions closer to "normal." While having a preference for more casual clothes, they do have "fancy" clothes like Dream since she wants to be just like him one day.

Ennui has excess positive emotions, leading them to trust easily and forget that there are "bad guys." He hangs out with literally anyone willing to but stays around Athy since there's always something happening with the older trio.

Stencil is the proud owner of no problems at all whatsoever. That's a lie. She struggles with emotional dysregulation and creates to help learn what the correct responses are. It grew up with half a parent and stayed with Pilak after meeting him. She does all kinds of artistry; pottery, sketching, gardening, cooking, and other hands on forms. She likes cosplaying but wearing glasses makes a lot of them hard to do.

Blue (Swap) - community I think?

Gin - @dreemurr-skelememer // @siiversans

Dream - joku

Pale & Template - @unu-nunu-art

Ink - @comyet

(if I messed something up, oops, lemme know pls ty) ((also feel free to ask about them))

Don't repost. Reblogs are okay. <3

#ky.can.draw #dys.can.draw #limi.can.draw #skeleton #digital art #first drawing i've shared on this site in years lol #Prayge this looks good

[darkcloud-kcalifornia]

Alrighty, volume 3 of 100 Girlfriends is now read, and I’m (barely) into new material. One chapter’s worth to be precise. But it’s definitely a fun one. Everybody loves a good body swap episode, after all. And there was much humor to be derived from this one, Kusuri needing to be reminded that Hakari’s body was not wearing a diaper before she wets Hakari’s pants, the sight of “Karane” being shy and quiet causing a blood pressure increase in Rentaro that burst a vein, Hakari trying to make her kiss a romantic moment before the reminder that those “lights” are the other girls’ souls… still, there is one joke towards the beginning I have to wonder about. Not the meaning, that’s clear, but rather how they’ll adapt it.

See, the whole situation starts because Hakari figures that this chapter will put them at about the end of the third volume once they’ve compiled them, and is worried Rentaro might get bored of her due to hearing that relationships can enter an “ennui phase” around the third month. So yeah, not exactly a fourth wall joke that’ll translate well. Hmm… maybe she’ll get worried they’ll become secondary characters compared to the inevitable new girls now that they’re entering a new season? Best I can come up with.

#book banter #the 100 girlfriends who really really really really really love you #100 girlfriends #100 kanojo

[duncankinnie]

have a randomized cast/role swap AU. every choice was made by a randomizer wheel so yell at it not me <3

Introduced in Total Drama Island:

Emma - The Country Girl (Rodney's archetype)

Ella - The Wannabe (Beth's archetype)

Rock - The Bully (Eva's archetype)

Mickey - The LARPer (Leonard's archetype)

Sam - The Loner (Gwen's archetype)

Katie - The Athletic Overachiever (Lightning's archetype)

Dave - The Psycho Hose Beast (Izzy's archetype)

Scott - The Quiet Brainiac (Scarlett's archetype)

Owen - The Doomsday Prepper (Shawn's archetype)

Scarlett - The Dweeb (Harold's archetype)

Jay - The Flirty Rival (Alejandro's archetype)

Cameron - The Funniest Guy Around (Geoff's archetype)

Jen - The Celebrity Interviewer (Blaineley's archetype)

Leshawna - The Normie with an Obsessive Streak (Dave's archetype)

Cody - The Airhead (Lindsay's archetype)

Sky - The Take-No-Prisoners Jockette (Jo's archetype)

Chet - The Indie Guy (Zoey's archetype)

Harold - The Fame-monger (Dakota's archetype)

Anne Maria - The Type A (Courtney's archetype)

Jo - The Queen Bee (Heather's archetype)

Staci - The Aspiring Supervillain (Max's archetype)

Introduced in Total Drama World Tour:

Bridgette - The Delinquent (Duncan's archetype)

Miles - The Olympic Hopeful (Sky's archetype)

Spud - The Eye Candy (Justin's archetype)

Introduced in Total Drama Revenge of the Island:

Crimson - The Devious (Scott's archetype)

Ryan - The Good Twin (Sammy's archetype)

Beth - The Party Girl (Owen's archetype)

Ezekiel - The Not-So-Successful Jock (Tyler's archetype)

Heather - The Sweetheart's BFF (Sadie's archetype)

DJ - The Chris Megafan (Topher's archetype)

Dawn - The Jersey Shore Reject (Anne Maria's archetype)

Mary - The Gamer (Sam's archetype)

Geoff - The Sweetheart (Katie's archetype)

Ellody - The Evil Twin (Amy's archetype)

Shawn - The Compulsive Liar (Staci's archetype)

Topher - The Strong, Silent Genius (B's archetype)

Carrie - The Human Soundboard (Beardo's archetype)

Introduced in Total Drama Pakhitew Island:

Max - The Schemer (Noah's archetype)

Josee - The Surfer Chick (Bridgette's archetype)

Duncan - The Super Fan (Sierra's archetype)

Sadie - The Plain Jane (Mike's archetype)

Mike - The Fairy Tale Prince (Ella's archetype)

Sammy - The Sheltered Girl in the Bubble (Cameron's archetype)

Beardo - The Geek (Cody's archetype)

Jacques - The Homeschooler (Ezekiel's archetype)

Leonard - The Army Cadet (Brick's archetype)

Alejandro - The Pageant Boy (Sugar's archetype)

Izzy - The Moonchild (Dawn's archetype)

Taylor - The Cool Musician (Trent's archetype)

Amy - The Sassmaster (Leshawna's archetype)

Sanders - The Australian Outback Queen (Jasmine's archetype)

Introduced in The Ridonculous Race:

LARPers - Mickey & Kitty

Tennis Rivals - Tom & Gwen

Geniuses - Laurie & Tyler

Vegans - Stephanie & Devin

Fashion Bloggers - Blaineley & Eva

Father & Son - Dwayne & Ennui

Adversity Twins - Rodney & MacArthur

Stepsiblings - Brick & Sanders

Rockers - Zoey & B

Mother & Daughter - Kelly & Tammy

Reality TV Pros - Dave & Harold

Goths - Sugar & Jasmine

Daters/Haters - Lightning & Courtney

Best Friends - Trent & Noah

Siblings - Lindsay & Sierra

Ice Dancers - Lorenzo & Dakota

Surfers - Josee & Justin

Police Cadets - Junior & Brody

#total drama au #total drama #total drama series #tdi #the ridonculous race #total drama ridonculous race #total drama presents: the ridonculous race #slam dunc.exe #i'll probably come up with my own actually thought out AUs at some point but for now have this <3 #island sounds like literal hell #randomized wheel swap

[c0dyc0la]

i was rambling in a server and i really wanna share this publically given Absent Moon was released about 3 days ago now, I have been fixating on Hylics And I've been listening to the music and I think i have a general theory on what I think the 3rd game is going to entail Odozier, upon the death of Gibby, worries that he will no longer serve a greater purpose. In desperation, he makes a new moon king, bathing in in terrestrial juices to strengthen it Given how Warpo are made (they are Wayne larva who have been fed a diet of nothing put poolwine), I think the new Moon King will be a Wayne. A larva forced to be hardened. Forced to become something stronger. A predecessor for Gibby. After all, it was Wayne who defeated Gibby, so obviously Wayne must be stronger in some way. I have a few ideas for the player character -They are a descendent of (Playable) Wayne -They are a descendent of Dedusmuln -They are the Moon King Wayne The first one is easy to explain- of course the main character would be the kid of the original main character The second one is a bit harder. There is the one teaser Mason posted, there is a humanoid figure with a face shape similar to how Dedusmuln's is. Likewise, it'd be shifting the main focus from Wayne to Dedusmuln, much like how the antagonist is shifting from Gibby to Odozier (in some effect) The third one is kinda hard to explain why I think why. There is the one teaser where we see what appears to be Odozier in some form. The character from the previously mentioned teaser does appear to be in front of this Odozier. My fourth, and probably silliest option, is that -We swap back and forth between the Hero Character, and the Moon King Wayne. Because perhaps they are closer than we think they are. Perhaps they were friends in younger years. Something like that. But it would be interesting. Perhaps we get to see the suffering Moon King Wayne goes through as they're shifted from a Wayne into,,, whatever they will end up becoming. I also think the game will focus on the cycle of rebirth Waynes go through. I think Hylics 1 & 2 Wayne will be depressed. Going through the endless cycle of "Eat, Sleep, Die, Repeat" (or I suppose, "Eat, Sleep, Die Over and Over, Defeat the Moon King, Repeat). I think Pongorma is also going to be affected by this in some way. In the end of "As The World Begins To Wane", it repeats "when will the cycle end?" Perhaps the entirety of the Hylics crew is all affected by this cycle. They are all doomed to fighting, dying, winning. Over and over. And it's become boring. Likewise, I note the title "The Champion of Ennui/Into The Pastel Sky" "Ennui" is a term relating to being bored because of lack of an occupation, or lack of excitement. Wayne is bored of the cycle. And perhaps he wants to die, and be pulled into the pastel sky. maybe the ending of hylics 2 was trying to say something deeper. I don't really know. Tbh, its 4AM and I'm kind of just getting all my thoughts out. I'm sure my friends are tired of me rambling about it all the time lmao

#hylics #hylics 2 #absent moon #mason lindroth #chuck salamone #theory posting #<- maybe? #idk im just rambling

[daydreaming-memories]

ME??? posting a para post????

what a nightmare!

@ohnoesmytacos remember the 28 vague para prompts??? soo uhhh.

yea. [please note this will look terrible </3 as I am taking screenshots for icons]

note this will be in multiple rbs as image limits

Above is the total 28 peeps.

1The most anxious quivering wet paper bag of a man who is technically an arsonist (by accident)

Here we have Aoi (She/her), she's a man who goes by she/her. she does not care. She's a gay man, and she's cis. She is an anxious quiver wet paper bag of a man, and did kill someone with fire to protect someone she cares about.

She helps out Parakusu (not pictured), Kokan (not pictured) and Monsuta (not pictured) with learning magic. She has pyrokinesis.

She has 2 children, although only one is still alive.

Could swap with Mr Pie but honestly fitting.

2He was just trying to be hot and morally grey in a video game and wound up Actually Killing A Lot Of People without even knowing it

Let's give it for Cell, He/they. he is the local barbie fan. I don't really know how to go about how this fits him but it does.

He is a trans bi king, and he loves his partners <3 also yes he is poly.

3The most gender motherfucker to ever walk the earth but also she kills people. like a lot of people.

This is Ennui! I use she/her for her although she typically uses mirror pronouns (Aka she would use the same pronouns as the person speaking, though clarification. I do not use she/her)

She 100% has killed a ton of people, and she is as you can probably tell the sin of envy.

4a MILF who may or may not be Actually Satan

Pastasgo, She/her + Fae/faer. I'm mainly using she/her as even though I go by fae/faer i am terrible at using the pronouns </3

a fusion of probably terrible people I've brought back from the graveyard of paras. would probably kick ur ass for fun.

5like if the tbh creature was a hitman

Limboheart is totally tbh creature. He/him and I also refered to him as an eboy to my friend when I finished the more humanoid design. He is a hitman but because he is so cute no one bats an eye.

Which yes is based on a lgbt fornite design for clothing, which the original yippie that is often associated with tbn came from talked about playing fortnite n drinkin cola. Also his general design is vaguely inspired by the game Catherine: Full body + Percy jackson's Grover underwood from the first film series lmao!!!

he's like that one tumblr post abt leela from futuruma doing twitch and Lionheart is Fry. where people when lionheart appears in the background will just send tons of lion/cat emojis.

6a 50 year old man who has technically died three times and he thinks it’s so fucking funny

It was a wheel spin for this spot but we have Kinx. He/him + Hes/Reh. but using he/him for simplicity wheeze.

People keep killing him for being a nusance but he keeps coming back lmao!!!

7hades. the actual god hades the one in charge of the underworld.

This is Mortem and he has like 6 bfs and 1 gf. He's god of death and controller of the underworld, he is the dad you wish you had.

<3 three parts after this one

[workblr-lady]

11/15/23

to do @ work: work admin (16 emails, accounting), two meetings, edit five posts, editing swap, sr job description, associate job description

to do @ ooo: exercise (20 min HiiT), cat medication, my medication, tidy office, thanksgiving menu and grocery list, clean dishes, unload dishwasher, TJs run for thanksgiving stuff, good will run for gifts

feeling: i woke up early and on time. i often feel so tired and distracted, but today, I feel awake enough to beat the ennui

#motivation #studyblr #workblr #productivity aesthetic #to do list #todo #aesthetic #work blog

[disruptivevoib]

The Ballad Of Jane Doe is blasting through my headphones.. have the swap au guys as compensation

#Astray is a ragdoll lmao #Ennui #Astray #Viscera #Judge #Swap Au #swapheart #swapmind #swapsoul #swapwhole #fanvoids #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj heart #cj mind #cj soul #cj whole

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Barely one week before Thanksgiving, and--

If ever there had to be one thing we needed to be thankful for (at least on the side of yours truly), while we're approaching that particular time of the year to so address, it would probably have to be ...

The approach taken of having Huckleberry Hound join me on these voyages as much as he's fond of joining me in developing some of these Character Convocations. Not to mention being able to swap the Mini Cooper as has long been the mobile bivouac for these many episodes for a motorhome, thus allowing to have a few more of your fellow Funtastics along for occasional road trip forays, starting as it did with the Ocean City (Maryland) Springfest and continuing to right here at Crazy Claws' retreat on Lake Delton near Wisconsin Dells.

While things will certainly take awhile to get seriously developed, especially following our return from a planned winter diving holiday in the Caribbean with Peter Potamus and His Magic Divers--speaking of which, I wonder how that's progressing? Peter Potamus, in fact, called me the other night and mentioned that he might be able to pick us up, depending on weather, sometime around Thanksgiving proper, allowing us to celebrate with such company to hand.

"Including, I will have you know," as I explained it to him, "the Hair Bear Bunch."

"Celebrating Thanksgiving?" Peter asked.

"Correct."

"And with the company I have ... it'll be interesting to see how my other divers would be interested in the proposition of having three rather crazy bears joining our diving escapades in the Caribbean."

"I assume you still recall when you had them at an especially secretive atoll in the Polynesian for a few days' diving vacation."

"Thank you for reminding me, Snagglepuss ..."

"But," added I, "at least the Hair Bears aren't bound to worry much about the prospect of hibernation and the ennui bound to ensue over the winter otherwise."

"Point most interesting ..."

(At any rate, Peter pledged he'd get back to me on the opinion part of the Hair Bear Bunch coming along. Stay tuned to see how it comes out.)

But just be thankful that these escapades are certain to get a little more on the interesting side of things by the time 2024 maketh its presence known. Credit the motorhome for that likelihood.

@warnerbrosentertainment @indigo-corvus @theweekenddigest @iheartgod175 @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @archive-archives @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @princessgalaxy505 @thylordshipofbutts @thebigdingle @warnerbros-blog1 @groovybribri @joey-gatorman @jellystone-enjoyer @railguner34 @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic #fanfiction #road trip experience #huckleberry hound and snagglepuss #what are we thankful for exactly #thanksgiving 2023 #peter potamus #hannabarberaforever

[saintsenara]

HUGE fan of your writing! that snape & mcgonagall fic… omg 😍😍🤩. would love to hear about any of M, R, and X you want to answer please!

thanks for the ask, pal!

[writing ask game here]

m: any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

a recent conversation about voldemort and gender identity has inspired me to get back to work on a fic which has been simmering on the hob for a while: the entire story, from 1926 onwards, but with a female voldemort.

now, i'll be honest, i don't really care for gender-swap stories as they tend to be understood in fandom [or, at least, in the fandom spaces I inhabit]. i read and write a lot of voldemort-centric slash pairings, and the non-voldemort character is very frequently made female in these for reasons i am never particularly comfortable with - e.g in gender-swap tomarry to make harry totally powerless in the pairing, which is a portrayal of harry which is very much not for me. i also hate that gender-swapping one character is sometimes used to render slash pairings more "palatable".

however, i love the nuance with which many of my favourite writers have approached gender in their stories - which is, imo, crucial, given the author whose work we consume - and i think that playing with gender in fics is fascinating. and i think, then, that approaching characters even through a binary gender-swap can be interesting and valuable in both general stories and ones based around pairings.

and voldemort is a very interesting choice for such a thing.

after all, how is a female voldemort building power? how is her loss of beauty perceived? does slughorn and dumbledore's treatment of her read as creepier than it does for the canon tom riddle? does hepzibah smith's read as less so? what is she called and how does she feel about her name? does she still call herself lord voldemort and why? is bellatrix still her favourite death eater? how does she groom ginny? what is like to know your mother died in childbirth when you possess the anatomy to have the same thing happen to you?

it's turning out to be quite complicated to answer these questions, so god knows when it'll be finished, but it is there cooking away for now...

r: are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

i am an enormous murder mystery fan, and the basic structure of the murder mystery novel is how I start most of my multi-chapter writing. i'd like to think there's a certain agatha christie-ish tinge to my work, although for naming characters i like to channel the spirit of p.g. wodehouse.

my favourite authors, though, are vladimir nabokov and shirley jackson, and their style - the writing almost like cinematography, the lingering sense of societal ennui under the surface - is something i aspire to emulate.

x: a character you enjoy making suffer:

trevor the toad.

snape deserves the chance to kill him and give us all something real to argue about.

#asks answered #writing ask game #asenora on writing

[mevil]

Robo-Ky is the name used by the many robotic copies of Ky Kiske, thus referring to several characters in the Guilty Gear series. The first, original model of Robo-Ky appears in Guilty Gear X Plus. This imitation series army was created by the Post-War Administration Bureau, who deploy them against anyone they consider a threat or as an asset to their goals. An upgraded model, a mass-produced version of the original Robo-Ky, appears as a playable character in Guilty Gear Isuka.

All Robo-Ky models wear the Sacred Order of Holy Knights uniform that Ky Kiske himself wears only in a different shade and without the fingerless gloves. As of #Reload, the word "ENNUI" is etched onto their belt buckle in the place of Ky's "HOPE". In Guilty Gear X Plus, Robo-Ky's sprite during Ky's Story Mode path is simply a palette swap of Ky's (as he is merely an alternate "GG Mode" playable version of Ky in this game), always showing up with an almost-white light-green uniform with dark mauve hems, electric blue instead of blue, and orange hair.

All Robo-Kys have a metallic face with nails and bolts. Their rectangular mouths, with a white teeth-like plating, have visible joint lines, while their eyes are bright yellow lenses. Sporting the same blond hairstyle as Ky, they have winding keys like those of a wind-up toy on the side of their head (which so far only appear in artwork and not the sprites).

The most notable difference between the original model and posterior versions is their "skin" (or more accurately, plating) color. The first Robo-Ky had Ky's fair skin color, while subsequent models are colored light-turquoise, and later grey green. In Guilty Gear XX, several characters mistake Robo-Ky with Ky, but by Λ Core Plus, all characters are clearly able to tell he is a robot. On his chest underneath his clothing, is a Hercules beetle emblem (also seen on a switch that can be revealed on their ankles) that seems to be the primary engine they run on, the Hercules Engine. Accompanied by an extensive marketing campaign,[1] Windows 95 introduced numerous functions and features that were featured in later Windows versions, such as the taskbar, notification area, and the "Start" button.

Three years after its introduction, Windows 95 was followed by Windows 98. Microsoft ended mainstream support for Windows 95 on December 31, 2000. Like Windows NT 3.51, Windows 95 received only one year of extended support, ending on December 31, 2001.

[divinekangaroo]

PWP Ideas:

The one which could possibly fit into current S6 4 year timeskip universe, where Tommy was out cruising for a hookup for Lizzie (don’t ask), runs into Alfie, gets jumped, kills someone, and then things get pornographic

Tommy tells Lizzie where the Russian ladies kept sticking their jewels; Lizzie’s all ‘wow nasty’ and then can’t stop thinking about it and conspiring to establish certain scenes in the bedroom but Tommy is deliberately, persistently obtuse about it

Post Diana Mitford sordid random depersonalised rage fucking on some poor nearby blonde which still fails in any kind of catharsis or purging and simply extends the depth of the spiral

PWsP Ideas:

Quasi 28 Days Later AU (why doesn’t this exist already) where Tommy wakes up in a London hospital without his glasses and a note from Lizzie and Arthur written in very large letters in lipstick on his hospital wall including directions to where they are, the hospital key under his door, his clothes neatly folded and ready to go, and large quantities of weapons/guns/ammo

The 1970s AU where the Shelby family are butchers and Solomons family are bakers and they go hang out at horse races and boxing matches and strip clubs and there are just way too many decadent descriptions of Tommy handling great slabs of fresh raw meat with bare hands and arms scrubbed clean and impeccable knife control, and they’re still making too much money off horses and import/export and money laundering and have to butcher some bodies together

The Captain Planet AU where Tommy wakes up with power of heart (manipulate and compel all living things) after his attempted suicide, and finds out Alfie woke up with the power of fire (create hellfire on earth as scourging penance) after being shot in the head, and once they find the rest of the gang, they accidentally become terrorists and trigger an apocalypse

The one where Alfie is a 4000 year old vampire and can’t work out why Tommy’s pretending he’s not that 2000 year old vampire he’s been meeting up with for centuries to swap ennui and stories, in a bad comic case of mistaken identity

The one where Tommy accepts Michael’s offer, retires, leaves parliament, does ordinary rich dude things, gets well, but is peppered by progressively crazed visits from Michael throughout that year until Michael’s begging him on hands and knees to come back and salvage everything and save his life.

#My writing #peaky blinders #Fannish thoughts #There’s other fragments but they’ll probably stitch into current fic or the half-planned follow up fic