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hheaven-sentt · 9 months

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heaven is not fit

summary: what does it take to be loved? | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: ~8.5k

warnings: mentions of violence, leon is kinda mean for like two seconds, strong language, mild trauma bonding (i guess??), not beta'd, incredibly mild angst (like fr you have to squint)

notes: this is sort of old and has already been posted to ao3 if you'd rather have a look there

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“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you hiss. Your father’s face scrunches up.

“Language,” he mends, holding a hand up. “It’s just a precaution. He’ll be responsible for public spaces, taking you places, the like,”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dad, I’m an adult. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. The last thing I need is some stranger on my detail,”

Your father runs a hand over his worn features. He’s tired, you can tell. “I’m not making the same mistake twice,”

Ashley. She lives with her friends now, rather than alone, so there’s no real need to supervise her. Your heart twists with a twinge of guilt, but you hold your ground. “I’m not happy about this,”

“I didn’t expect you to be,” he says. “But, you’ll play by the rules, at least for me. For my sake, dove,”

You frown. “Fine,”

You meet him in a random conference room. He’s tall, with sharp features and blue eyes. He doesn’t seem friendly, which makes your mouth sour. He doesn’t speak through the introduction, just sort of stares straight ahead, like he’d rather be anywhere else. You don’t blame him. It’s not exactly a promotion he’s getting. You barely catch his name when he says it.

Leon.

It suits him, you think. You want to ask what his middle name is, if it’s as fitting as his first, but you don’t. Instead, you toe the carpet, listening to your father drone on about rules.

“Dovie, I’m serious,” he says, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t go anywhere alone, got it?”

“Got it,”

Despite your sickly sweet voice and feigned sincerity, you have no intention of keeping that promise. The ride to your apartment is silent. You notice that Leon drives with one hand, the other perched on the gear shift. When he stops outside your building, you hesitate for a moment before reaching for the handle, just in case he has something to say. As you shoulder the door, he grabs your elbow.

“Call if there’s an emergency,” he says. His voice is low timbred and honey sweetened, coating your nerves in warmth. You can only nod in response. He releases your arm, the tension from the area slipping away.

You hurry into your building, and you notice he waits until you’re through the door to drive off. It comforts you in a way. You make your way into your apartment. There’s a distinct heat on your neck when you enter, one that you hope disappears with a long shower. When it doesn’t, you find yourself staring at the phone. What would happen if you did call him? There wasn’t an emergency, unless you count this sudden bout of loneliness as an emergency. Would he show up? How is it any different than calling the police?

Six hours have passed since being demoted to babysat. You’ve been shuffled between rooms to meet with people, answer questions you don’t understand, and fight with your father. You find that being surrounded by people all day has made you exhausted. You take a breath, but jump when your phone vibrates.

“Hey, Ashley,” you say, sighing.

“Did you meet him?” she asks. You almost laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He doesn’t talk much,”

“No, he doesn’t,” she says. You can hear her friends laughing somewhere in the background. “You gotta get him to open up before he starts talking,”

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy to do,” you huff. Ashley laughs. “He seems kinda stuck in his ways,”

“He is,” she agrees. “He’s…been through a lot. But, he’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him,”

You glance out the window at the rain. You wonder if it ever rained like this in Spain. “Well, if you trust him, so do I,”

…

You don’t see Leon for a week. You almost think he’s quit, but you know he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You consider calling him, just to see if he’d really show up, but you decide not to test it.

Instead, you go about your life normally. You go to work, you see friends, you buy groceries. You pretend you don’t have a babysitter.

On Monday, when you return home from work, you spot Leon’s car outside your building. Rolling your eyes, you prepare for the worst, and work your way into the building. Sure enough, he’s sitting on your couch when you enter your apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t look at you.

“You haven’t called,” he says. You roll your eyes again.

“You said to call if there was an emergency,” you explain, cocking a brow. “There hasn’t been one,”

“You shouldn’t walk to work alone,” he continues. He turns his head finally, staring at you with the same stoic expression you first saw on him. You blink at him.

“How do you know I walk alone?” you ask. “Have you been following me?”

He nods. “It’s my job,”

You sigh, turning away. “Definitely not creepy,”

“Have you noticed anything weird?” he asks, standing to follow you into your kitchen.

“Other than you? No, I haven’t,” you say. He doesn’t laugh, not that you expected him to. “Seriously, I haven’t noticed anything amiss,”

He nods. “Good,”

He turns to leave, and you raise your eyebrows, surprised at the quickness of the interaction. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “That’s it,”

“You don’t want to, like, scope out the area?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make sure no weirdos are lurking behind my curtains?”

“Do you think there are?” he asks, looking at you. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, no,” you say.

“Then I won’t waste your time,” he says. “You’re an adult. I trust that you can take care of yourself,”

With that, he leaves. You’re taken aback at his cut and dry attitude. You would’ve thought he would be more hands on, given what you know about his time with Ashley. You choose to ignore it; you should be grateful he’s not up your ass. He said it himself, you’re an adult. You can take care of yourself. It’s not his fault–or yours–that no one else seemed to agree. He has plenty of other things he can spend his time doing besides watching your every move.

Which is why, the following morning, you’re surprised to see Leon waiting outside beside his car. You look around before crossing the street to him. Without a word, he opens the passenger door.

“I take it I’m not allowed to walk alone anymore?” you say, ignoring his gesture. He stares at you.

“Rules are rules,” he says. You roll your eyes, filing into the vehicle.

He joins you a moment later. You ignore the heat on your neck when he brushes his hand against your knee to reach for something in the glovebox.

“I’ve been walking this way for years,” you protest. “I don’t need a ride,”

“You don’t have a choice,” he says, cutting a glance at you. He almost makes a wrong turn before you correct him. “I make the rules, you follow them,”

“And rule number one is: don’t walk to work by myself?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone.

“Well, rule number one is actually to call me if something’s wrong,” he corrects. “But, this is rule number two,”

The rest of the ride is silent. Leon doesn’t so much as glance at you, which almost upsets you. He pulls up to the curb outside of your workplace, and throws the car into park.

“What time do you get off?” he asks, finally looking at you. There’s a gentle tone to his voice, one that throws you off guard.

“Four,” you say. “I’ll be off at four,”

“I’ll be outside,” he says. At this, you exit the car, rounding it before entering the building. He waits for you to get inside before driving off. You wonder what he’ll be doing for the next eight hours. If his job is to follow you around, that means he doesn’t have another job to get to, so what does he do? You wonder what he does when he’s at home.

“Since when did you have a chauffeur?” Marnie asks, jabbing your shoulder.

“Since now,” you say, still looking out the window.

Four o’clock rolls around sooner than you expect. You find yourself a little excited to sit in the car; it’s a nice change of pace. As expected, Leon’s waiting outside the building when you walk out. Again, he’s leaning against the car, waiting for you. When he sees you, you think he’s going to smile. Your shoulders deflate when he doesn’t. Instead, he jerks his head in a gesture to hurry up. You cross the street, and he rounds the car to the passenger side.

“I can open the door myself,” you say. He looks at you.

“I do it for show,” he bites. You swallow, stunned by the harshness of his tone. You allow him to open the door for you.

The ride is silent. Again, he doesn’t look at you. You can feel the tension about him, the way his shoulders are square and strong. His knuckles are almost white from the way he’s holding the steering wheel. You ignore the guilt that brews in your stomach.

“Call me if there’s an emergency,” he says. You nod, hurrying out of the car to avoid any further conversation. Again, he waits until you’re in the building to leave. You wonder if that’s a gentlemanly habit or a job habit.

…

It’s Friday night, and you’re going out with friends. You stare in the mirror, like you have for the last half hour, analyzing the intricacies of your outfit. You can’t decide if you like it or not. You tug at the shirt again, wondering if you should change. There’s a knock at the door. You huff, deciding that the outfit will have to do.

You’re not sure who you expect to be at the door, but it’s not Leon. He looks collected, jacket slung over his shoulders, hair framing his face. He looks normal, not like a man constantly working. He blinks at you.

“Where’re you going?” he asks. You sigh.

“Hello to you, too, Leon,” you say. “I’m going out with a few friends,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to ask permission for things,”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “You kind of do, actually. So I can be where I need to be,”

“Well, I don’t need you to be anywhere,” you bite. He frowns. “I can take care of myself,”

At this, you go to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. He pushes his way into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Look,” he says, voice low and gentle. “I get it. But I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let your stubborn independence get in the way, alright?”

You stare at him. “Stop being such an asshole, and I’ll think about it,”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. “Sure, deal,”

Leon doesn’t follow you into the bar, and if he actually does, he makes it so that you can’t see him. You spend the evening laughing and enjoying yourself, which is relieving. You needed a break from everything. Your friends ask about the fact that you got a ride here, rather than walking.

“My feet have been killing me lately,” you lie. “And have you seen these shoes? I’d probably die ten feet from my building,”

When you’re sufficiently drunk, you call Leon. It’s the first time that you’ve actually called him, rather than just expecting him to show up. He’s kind enough to act like he’s not in the vicinity, and you pretend that he’s not. Instead, you lie to yourself and say that he drives very fast. He’s standing outside the bar, waiting for you again.

“My hero,” you say, voice flighty and gentle. “I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,”

He doesn’t answer, just helps you into the car. You ramble about your night on the drive home, not giving him the room to answer because you know he won’t.

“Did you learn to drive on a manual?” you mumble, whirring your head away from the window to look at him. He glances at you.

“What?”

“A manual,” you say again. “Manual transmission. You drive with your hand on the shift, like you’ll need to use it at any given moment. In an automatic, you don’t need to do that, but in a manual you do. So, if you learned to drive on a manual, you would’ve picked up that habit,”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. His eyes are focused on the road ahead of him. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I did,”

You feel satisfied with yourself, surprised that you were able to figure that out. “You have a lot of habits like that,”

“Name some,” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You take in a breath. “You wait outside before leaving so you can make sure I get into my building safely. You bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking about something. You square your shoulders in public, like you’re prepared to shoot,”

“You’re observant,” he says. You grin.

“Gotta know who I’m spending time with,” you reply, grinning wildly and returning your focus to the window.

You almost ask him to keep driving when your apartment building comes into view. There’s an air of understanding and comfort in the car, and you’re worried you’ll never see it again once you leave. You hope he doesn’t notice your disappointment when he pulls over.

“Do you need help getting in?” he asks. The gentle tone is back, and you pretend, for a moment, that he genuinely cares. You shake your head.

He watches you almost fall out of the car, stumbling on your tall heels and drunken legs. You right yourself, flashing him a smile. He returns it, then follows you out of the car.

“I can make it,” you say, balancing against his car. When you almost fall again, he’s there to catch you. His hands fall against your waist with ease, like they’re meant to be there. You feel heat flush your cheeks, and you almost move away. He steadies you, giving you a look to make sure you’re alright.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, still smiling faintly.

“I’ve never seen you smile before,” you say. “You should do it more, it’s nice,”

Leon looks beautiful in pink, cheeks reddened and round. When he releases you, you consider falling again just so he’ll return. Instead, you gesture for him to follow you into the building, which he does. Although the stairs are a tough bet, you manage to stumble up them. You swear you hear Leon huff a laugh behind you when you stagger.

At your door, you pat your pockets in order to find your key. Sensing your loss, Leon holds out the key he has. You accept it gratefully, turning the knob to make sure it’s actually locked.

Your heart sinks to find it unlocked.

“Did you forget to lock it?” he asks, voice hushed. You turn to him, fear evident on your face, and shake your head. He steps between you and the door, and holds a hand out to tell you to stay put. You find yourself willing to listen.

He enters the apartment slowly, quietly. You pretend there isn’t a gun in his hand. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, and you catch his frame again when he crosses the room to the bedroom. He returns in a few minutes.

“It’s clear,” he says. He pushes the door open more to allow you to enter. You feel uneasy, suddenly sober.

“I never forget to lock my door,” you promise. “Ever. Is…is the window open or something?”

He shakes his head. “You must’ve forgotten this time,”

“No, no I don’t do that,” you say. You wander to the window, finding it closed. Your head hurts. You feel on edge, like there’s someone watching you.

With a sigh, you sit on the couch.

“There’s no one here,” Leon promises, sitting beside you. You look at him. “Trust me, I checked,”

“But what if someone was here?” you say, looking at him. “I don’t…I don’t want them to come back,”

He reaches out for a moment, then decides to return his hand to his side. “No one’s coming back. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

You can feel your hands shaking. “Will you stay?”

He softens when he looks at you. He can see the fear in your eyes. You think of your sister, stolen from somewhere she felt safe. You feel safe in your home, as anyone might. You don’t want to face the same fate. You know Leon knows that.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go change, I’ll be out here,”

You nod, rising to your feet. You wander past the window again, double checking that it’s closed. You find your clothes in the dark, not caring too much about what you put on. A shower sounds nice. You’re afraid to be alone for that long, though. Instead, you wash your face in the sink, then throw on your clothes, a loose t-shirt from a far off ex-boyfriend and sweatpants. You feel vaguely comforted by the thought of Leon sitting right outside the door.

“I’m going to try to sleep,” you call from the door. You want nothing more than to curl up in your bed.

“I’ll be right here,” Leon returns. “I’ll keep watch,”

You shuffle into bed easily. You feel safer knowing he’s outside, waiting for any potential threats. You feel especially safe knowing his reputation precedes him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would protect you. It makes it easier to sleep.

You wake sometime later to a creak beside your bed. Your eyes shoot open to find a figure looming over you. You move to scream, but your eye catches the glint of moonlight against the barrel of a gun. You swallow whatever scream you had left, and rise to your feet. You’re moving without much thought, just doing whatever instinct tells you to. The figure says nothing, just motions to the window. You run through your options. If you shout, you’ll be dead before Leon even makes it into the room. You can’t fight him off, you’re definitely not strong enough. If you leave with him, you’ll be dead before Leon notices you’re gone.

You turn to face your attacker, who seems to grow frustrated with you. He, again, gestures to the open window. You take a breath.

Follow your gut.

In a fluid motion that surprises you, your fingers wrap around the barrel of the gun, shoving it towards the ceiling. You feel lucky; just as it’s pointed away from you, it’s fired. You knee the attacker in the stomach, and you’re out the door before he rises from the ground.

“What’s going on?” Leon shouts, assessing you for injuries quickly before entering the room.

You’re crying now, fat tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them. Your hand screams with pain, seared flesh crying out angry and red. You feel stupid, weak, small. You collapse onto the couch while Leon takes care of things.

The next two hours are a blur of police and your father. You answer questions vacantly, absent from the situation. Leon sits beside you, dressing the wound on your hand.

“Dovie,” your father says, holding your face in his hands. You begin to cry again. He pulls you into a hug, holding you as close as he can. You grip the back of his shirt, and sob into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you say. It’s true. You’re alive, breathing, hugging him. “I’m okay,”

When the crowd shuffles out, they take you and Leon with them. You vaguely hear them discussing where you’re supposed to stay, Lord knows you can’t stay here. You feel sick.

“She can stay with me,” Leon volunteers. You somehow feel worse. “Makes sense,”

You follow him to the car. You stare out the window. The sun is coming up on the horizon, a new day. You can’t help but think about how just 24 hours ago, you were in this passenger seat, on your way to work. Now, though, you’re swollen and hurting and scared. Your hand feels like it might just burn away.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you say by way of explanation. Leon doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I just grabbed it. I didn’t know it would burn me,”

“You’re lucky nothing is broken,” he says calmly. “Your fingers’ll be stiff for the next few days,”

You look down at them. They’re swollen for sure, round and angry red around the knuckles. There’s a strip of gauze against the burn on your palm now, courtesy of Leon’s deft and gentle hands. You graze it with your opposite hand. It aches beneath the dressing, a painful reminder of your night.

“I’m just up here,” Leon says quietly. You nod absently.

He lives in an apartment, same as you. He resides on the third floor, which is much nicer a walk than your seventh story apartment. His apartment is small, quaint, but you aren’t surprised by the lack of decoration. Blank white walls wrap the room. There’s a few pieces of furniture, but only the necessities like a couch, a few tables, a dining area, and a coat rack. He doesn’t even have a TV, which surprises you. He ushers you into the space, gently pushing against your back to get you to move.

“Go lie down,” he says. You turn to look at him. His gaze is softer now, full of sympathy. “You deserve peaceful, uninterrupted sleep,”

You don’t move. “You saved me,” you say. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there,”

“You handled yourself pretty well,” he says, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You can feel tears resting in your eyes, begging to spill over. “I was there, and now you’re here. Nothing else to it. You’re safe with me,”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know,”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him. His embrace is comforting. His arms encircle your waist, holding you in an almost practiced way. He’s strong, holds you up where you can’t stand on your own. You can feel yourself beginning to cry again, relief washing over you as you recognize that you’re truly safe. You’re mostly uninjured, save for the burn on your hand, and you’re alive. You sob gently into Leon’s shoulder, and he holds you. He lets you cry. You half expect him to mock you, or to reject your plea for comfort, but he doesn’t. He holds you, gently and carefully, cradling you as you fall apart. And you know, in that moment, that he won’t hold it against you later.

…

You spend the next week off work, curled away in the safety of Leon’s apartment. He goes out, although rarely, for groceries and other things to entertain you. He even buys a TV. He claims that he’s been meaning to get one, but you know that he did that so you didn’t die of boredom. Initially, you were concerned about the sleeping arrangements. However, Leon is generous and lets you sleep in his bed while he shacks up on the couch.

“When can I go home?” you ask over Chinese takeout and an episode of Wheel of Fortune. Leon smiles at you.

“Getting tired of me already?” he teases.

Spending actual time with Leon has made you realize that he’s funny and playful. He’s not always stoic and unforgiving. He teases, he jokes, he smiles. You didn’t think the latter was possible. You just assumed that he was always unhappy.

“No,” you say honestly. “I just don’t want you to sleep on the couch anymore,”

He waves a hand at you. “It’s pretty comfortable,” he says, reaching down to pat the cushions. “I’ve slept in worse places,”

“This is your home, though,” you say. He wordlessly passes you an eggroll. “You should sleep in your own bed in your own home,”

He shrugs, which makes you frown. “As long as you’re safe and comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,”

“Damn it, Leon,” you laugh. He grins wider. “For the love of God, sleep in your own bed tonight,”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you don’t get to sleep on the couch either, just so you know,”

Heat creeps up your neck, blushing against your cheeks and nose. You’re still smiling, but it’s more flustered now, shy and sweet.

Leon notices, and begins to flush himself. “That’s…that’s not what I meant,”

“I mean,” you begin, turning your eyes back to your food. “We can both sleep comfortably and not worry. I trust you,”

He lets out a barely audible breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we can,”

That night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice Leon shifting nervously. You try to ignore it, pretend like nothing’s wrong. It’s easier to pretend. He keeps a decent distance between you on the bed; another person could easily fit between you. You’re suddenly self conscious, aware of each and every movement, how much blanket you take up, where your feet are laying.

“You never answered my question,” you say when he flips the lamp off. The room is flooded in darkness. You feel a little more confident now that you can’t see his face.

“What question?”

“About when I can go home,” you answer. He shifts beside you, almost like he’s about to get up.

“Not for a little while,” he says. You sigh. “It’s not safe for you at the apartment. Your dad doesn’t even want you going to work, but I worked something out so that you can. You can…you can stay here as long as you want,”

“Okay,” is all you say. You feel a little far away, removed from the world. In just under a month, you’ve lost all sense of independence, something you valued greatly, and have been reduced to someone that needs to be looked after like a child. You hate it.

“We can find a temporary apartment, too, if you think that’d be better,” Leon amends. “I just thought…you might be more comfortable here,”

You smile at that. You can hear the insecurity in his voice, something you find sweet. “I’d like to stay here,”

“Okay,” he says. You can almost hear the smile. It makes your heart flutter.

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s still lying on his back, watching the ceiling as if it’s going to collapse. He glances at you. “If we’re going to be living together, we should get to know each other,”

He laughs. It’s a real laugh, not just a huff of air through the nose. “And what do you want to know?”

You think for a moment, tongue poking between your lips. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies easily. You snort.

“Everyone has a favorite color,” you say. He looks at you with a smile resting on his cheeks. It’s not compulsory; it’s genuine.

“What’s yours then?” he asks, voice low and gentle. You feel like you might melt away under his gaze.

“Blue,” you say. You almost tell him that his eyes have become your favorite shade of it, but you refrain. “Like the ocean,”

His smile widens. “Then that’s mine, too,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“No way,” you tease. “What is Leon Kennedy’s favorite color? And give me a real answer,”

He laughs. “Green,”

“Like, Kermit the Frog green or forest green?” you ask. He shrugs.

“Just…green,”

“So if I were to paint the apartment bright green you wouldn’t have a problem with it?” you ask. His expression sours. “So you don’t like every green, then,”

“I like dark greens,” he says finally, still smiling. “Like pine trees,”

“I never thought I would get an honest answer out of you,” you joke, but there’s truth to it. You don’t imagine him as someone who likes to share.

“To be fair,” he says. “It wasn’t like I was withholding information, I’ve just never thought about my favorite color,”

“Well, now you have,” you say. He grins at you, and you feel like the entire city lights up a little more.

He’s quiet for a moment. The moonlight casts over his face in a way that somehow makes him prettier. “If you could only bring one thing to a deserted island, what would it be?”

“God, your questions are so lame,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Just answer it,” he says.

“I’d bring you,” you say honestly. “Knowing you, we wouldn’t get stuck there, and I’d be home in a few days,”

“I wouldn’t get stuck in the first place,” he says. You shake your head. “Honestly, I’d probably bring something to listen to music on,”

“Then you better hope it doesn’t die,” you say. “Good to know the sentiment is equally held, by the way,”

“Would you be able to get us off the island?” he asks, poking your shoulder. You shake your head. “Exactly,”

“I’d keep you company while you got us off the island,” you say. He laughs. Your heart seizes for a moment at the sound.

“What would I do without your terrible jokes?”

“My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Totally terrible,” he promises, turning over to his other side, facing away from you. “Some of the worst I’ve ever heard,”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, yours are pretty bad, too, y’know?”

“You wound me,”

You fall asleep easily beside Leon. The safety his presence brings is immeasurable, and you’re coaxed into sleep without a second thought. When you wake, your head is on his shoulder, arms wrapped around one of his own. You cling to him like he’s keeping you alive. His breathing is slow, giving away the fact that he’s still sleeping, so you steal a glance at him. His other arm is slung over his face to block out the sunlight peering through the window. Feeling strange, you roll onto your other side. Almost as if he senses you moving, he follows you, caging you into his arms. You feel like your heart stops when he pulls you in, sighing into your hair. His breath wafts down your neck, pulling up goosebumps in its wake. Your heart hammers against your chest.

…

It becomes routine. Until your father deems it safe to return to your own apartment, you shack up with Leon, spending your nights watching television and lying beside him. If he ever notices that you cling to each other, he doesn’t mention it, which you silently thank him for. He goes about life as normal, as if he hasn’t changed the way you look at him.

There’s menial touches exchanged. The grab of a hand during a movie, a palm to your lower back as he passes, the brush of hands when you pass him something. And although you welcome these bits of contact, they often leave you a blushing mess that struggles to even get words out.

He drives you to work still, which you’re becoming accustomed to. He’s there when you finish up. He’s the person you split groceries with–which he only let you start doing after you argued with him for days about it. He’s slowly consumed every part of your life. It’s nice, you think. He looks so domesticated in these instances, like he’s your friend rather than someone to look after you. You like it. You like that he sometimes steals your shampoo when he runs out. You like that he learned what foods you like. You like that he made you a key.

You like him. And that is a scary thought.

It makes you freeze up around him, stumbling between words until you find something to say. It makes you stare at him in awe because you can’t believe you get to be around him all the time. It makes you blush any time he meets your eyes. You feel childish because it makes you that way.

“Gonna tell me what’s up with you, or do I have to interrogate you?” he asks one night over pizza. You’ve been sitting with the plate in your lap for ten minutes.

“Nothing’s up,” you say, lying through your teeth. You’re a bad liar, and he knows it. When you look at him, he’s watching you, analyzing your body language. You know you’re on edge, but you can’t help it. It feels like a sin to want him.

He looks pretty like this, you think. He looks comfortable, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, no weapons stuck to him. Your hand twitches with the desire to reach out to him.

“So you’ve been acting weird the last few days for fun?” he asks. You nod. “You’re such a shitty liar, sweet girl,”

His voice is gentle; it warms you up. “Really, Leon, I’m alright,”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, I won’t pry. But, I’m here to listen,”

You force yourself to eat, to be normal. You can’t even look at him because you’re afraid of what you might say if you do. He wouldn’t mock you for it, and that’s somehow worse. You almost want him to belittle you, to call you stupid, because that would make pushing him away much easier. If he doesn’t, then who are you to cut him off?

“I can practically hear the gears turning, doll,” Leon calls from the kitchen. You sigh. “If you’re not going to share, don’t be so loud about it, huh?”

You know it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes your mouth sour. He can’t help the curiosity, you know that, but you wish he would back off. It would make your life so much easier if he pretended that you didn’t exist.

“I don’t have to tell you everything about me,” you say. It comes out harsh even though it wasn’t supposed to. “I’m entitled to my own thoughts. Or is that another thing you’re paid to infiltrate?”

He stands in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at you. “I don’t think I’m infiltrating anything,” he says. His voice is even, but you can hear the hurt in the words.

“Then keep it that way,” you say. He inhales deeply, beginning to gnaw on his cheek. You feel guilt wrapping around your throat. You turn your gaze back to the television, feigning interest in the commercial that clogs the speakers. He disappears back into the kitchen.

You’re almost thankful when your phone rings. You don’t get many calls, so when you see it’s your father, you’re less than surprised.

“Hey, Dad,” you say breathily.

“Hey, Dovie,” he returns. “Getting all packed?”

You pause, glancing toward the archway into the kitchen. “Packed?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?” you ask, sitting up on the couch. You can hear Leon shuffle in the other room. “What do I need to be told?”

“We’re moving you,” your father says, plain as day. “We’ll be finding someone else to watch over you, too,”

“Huh,” is all you say. There’s less guilt around your shoulders now, replaced by anger and humiliation. “Well, if that’s how it goes,”

“I’ll get back to you later, okay, Dovie?” he says. “Get to packing, I’ll tell you more when I can,”

You bid your father goodbye, staring back at the phone screen long after it goes black. You feel your shoulders deflate, allowing the melancholy to consume you a little bit further. You stand, return to Leon’s room, and pull open the dresser drawers where your clothes have resided for the last few weeks. Slowly, almost on autopilot, you begin pulling them out one by one. A shirt, pants, sweatpants, a lone sock; they fall onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. You go until the drawer is empty, the contents piled up on the floor beside your feet.

“I was going to tell you,” comes from the bedroom door. You take a breath. “I didn’t know how,”

“I assume it would’ve been pretty easy,” you say, turning to look him in the eye. He stiffens at the cruelty lacing your tone. “All you had to do was let me know you were done with me. Not like you were in all that deep anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything. You cross the room to the small closet that holds your suitcase. You begin to haphazardly stuff it with your clothes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, sweet girl,” Leon says softly, taking a step forward.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking disappointed right now,” you spit, glancing at him. “Would’ve liked to have known my life was getting upended days ago. Would’ve liked to have known that I was wasting my fucking time,”

“Wasting your time?” he asks, catching your wrist as you push down the top of the suitcase.

“I tried so hard to get to know you, Leon,” you say. He winces. “And to think, that for a fraction of a second, I thought you liked me? I feel stupid. You never cared. It’s not in your nature. You go in, do the job, and get out. When’s the last time you talked to Ashley, huh? Or is that something else you like to keep boxed away?”

He releases your wrist. You continue packing your things, and he leaves the room. He returns a moment later with your nearly empty bottle of shampoo.

“Don’t forget this when you leave,” he says coldly. You ignore the ache it leaves in your bones.

“Might as well keep it,” you say. “You’ve used most of it anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Isn’t that one hell of a metaphor?” you say before you can stop yourself. “I gave and gave, and you just took. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. And what do I know about you? Your favorite color is green. And even then, it was like pulling fucking teeth to get it out of you. Just keep it. I don’t want it anyway. Can’t put the shampoo back in the bottle, right?”

“I get that you’re angry,” he mumbles. “I understand,”

“No, you don’t,” you say, turning to him finally. He’s staring at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t place. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now,”

“You’re right,” he says. You falter for a moment. “I never once said that I did. I just…understand. I can follow the logic between you and your emotion,”

You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond. Your suitcase finally zips closed, and you haul it off the bed, nearly knocking yourself down. He drives you back to your apartment. He doesn’t say anything the entire ride, not even when you finally get out of the car. You leave the key to his place on the center console.

…

His smell permeates everything around you. Even in your new apartment with new furniture, you can’t wash away his cologne. Everything smells of cedar and smoke with a hint of citrus. You washed your clothes three times when you moved in, a feeble attempt at ridding yourself of him. You bought new shampoo.

You feel ridiculous. Your heart aches, and for what? A man who never showed interest? You ignore the acrid taste in your mouth that seems to never go away. You ignore the yearning in your bones. You ignore the burning in your chest. It’s easier that way.

He tries calling. You ignore those, too. You pretend he’s a telemarketer, or a prank calling kid, or an old man with the wrong number. You pretend you don’t recognize the number, and that the messages he leaves on your machine are empty. You find that pretending makes the hurting stop for a while, even if it creeps back up when you’re staring at the ceiling at night because you can’t sleep alone anymore.

You cook breakfast more often now, finding that it takes up the empty time in the morning before you go to work. The new guy is nice. He talks about his wife a lot, which you find sweet. You like that there’s no unresolved tension when you get into his car. You just wish you could remember his name.

“Do you know him?” he asks, pointing across the parking lot. Leon leans against his car, watching you pull in. You sigh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s friendly,”

“Doesn’t look like it,”

“Well,” you say. “He’s not actually friendly. But he’s not a threat,”

He lets you leave. You can almost see the way Leon stretches back up when you approach. You set your jaw.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he says. You raise your brows at him.

“I don’t have to,” you say. “You lost that privilege.”

He shakes his head. “I’d still like to know if you’re okay,”

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say. He nods. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,”

You feel like a fool the second you invite him upstairs. You can’t help it. You want to be around him. You feel safe around him, regardless of the anger. You know he’d protect you regardless.

You feel insecure about the state of your new apartment. You haven’t gotten around to breaking it in, so to speak, so the walls are bleak and empty, there’s a loveseat and nothing else, and a single lamp lights up the room. You wring your hands together.

“Missing a few things,” he says. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Haven’t gotten around to putting it up,” you lie. It’s more like you haven’t wanted to put anything up. You don’t want this place to feel like a home because it isn’t. This is temporary—as long as you keep telling yourself that, it feels true.

“I’ll get you a rug,” he says, meeting your eyes. It almost feels like a peace offering.

“I don’t need a rug,” you say. You see his shoulders slump. “I prefer socks anyway,”

“Right, yeah,”

He’s silent for a while, just watches you as you set up for the night. He sits rigid against the cushions of your couch, hands clasped in his lap. You grab a frozen pizza from the freezer for dinner. His eyes don’t leave you. You don’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, it’s almost comforting.

“I owe you an explanation,” he says finally. You almost laugh.

“I don’t need an explanation, Leon,” you say. “I get it. Your job makes you move around a lot. You were never intended to be permanent,”

“I resigned,” he says. At this, you turn to face him. He’s searching your features for a reaction, and you fight to keep them neutral, but you know he can see the discomposure. Heat creeps up your neck, threatens to swallow you whole.

“You resigned?” you repeat, far quieter in order to conceal the stutter in your breath.

He nods. “I did what I thought I was supposed to,”

“And that was leaving me?” you say. He averts his eyes. “How on Earth is that what you were supposed to do? You were being paid to be around me, and you thought you were supposed to leave?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, returning his gaze to you. “You have to know that that’s not what I meant,”

“Leon,” you say, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know a thing about you. I don’t know if what you’ve told me about is even fucking true!”

“My middle name is Scott,” he says. You blink at him. “My favorite color is green, that was true. I slept with a baby blanket until I was thirteen years old. I lost my parents when I was young. I used to be a cop,”

He unloads. For the first time since you met him, he lets you into his head a little bit. You take in a breath.

“I don’t…” he begins, then shuts his mouth again. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know how to be…like this anymore. Vulnerable,”

You join him on the couch. He watches you carefully. “That’s okay,”

“It’s something I’m working on,” he says, smiling slightly. You can’t fight one of your own. “I think you make it easier,”

“I’ll be here to listen,” you say quietly. “You know you’re always welcome,”

He grins then. “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You laugh. “I always want you here,”

There’s something left unsaid between you, but he’s looking at you and laughing at your jokes, and you feel like the world begins to spin again. You feel like the sun shines a little brighter outside, and the colors are clearer, and songs sound like music.

…

You find out that his name is Ryan. He’s more like a personal chauffeur than his intended job, but you like him well enough. Leon spends most of his time on your couch. Things are normal again. He offers to cook dinner most nights, which you appreciate. He does end up buying you a rug–he claims it’s because his feet get too cold without it.

“If you do that one more time, I’m kicking you out,” you scold, swatting Leon’s hand away for the millionth time. He laughs loudly, widely, and it breathes a new air into your lungs.

“I swear to God, sweet girl,” he says between laughter. “There’s something on your face,”

“Then just get it!” you say, wiping your hand aggressively against your cheek. “It doesn’t take a thousand pokes to get something off my face,”

“Hey, I keep missing because you keep moving,” he says, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. You roll your eyes. “C’mere,”

You lean in a bit more, and he swipes his hand against your cheek. For a moment too long, it remains, delicately holding you as if you might break under increased pressure. He clears his throat and retracts his hand. You feel heat creep up in its place.

“You staying tonight?” you ask. He shrugs. “You know the couch will miss you if you don’t,”

He laughs at this. Your heart swells at the sound. “You just like using me as your personal alarm clock,”

“Not true,” you gasp, clutching your heart in feigned offense. “My couch grows increasingly lonely at night,”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure,”

It occurs to you, in that moment, just how much you want him to kiss you. It would certainly make things a lot easier if he did. You’re almost desperate for him to kiss you. The feeling you have for him is akin to idolatry, an offshoot of worship. He’s magnetic, pulls you in in a way you can’t describe. You can see the entire world in his eyes. He is divinity in its most basic form. Whatever religion he’s created, you would gladly follow it until your last breath.

Want consumes you. An insurmountable degree of yearning swallows you, floods your senses, makes you unstable.

“Why did you resign?” you ask. His expression falters for a moment. “You never explained it to me,”

He doesn’t answer, just swallows thickly. You take in a breath like it might be your last.

You wring your hands. “I’m owed at least that,”

“I thought it would make things easier,” he says. The answer is vague, like you’d expected. It doesn’t answer your questions.

“That’s not an answer, Leon,” you say, frowning. “Can you give me a straight answer, just this once? I don’t care if you lie to me for the rest of my life, but, please, just give me this,”

He stares at you, as if he’s trying to get one last look at you. “I wanted to start over,”

Your brows knit together as you watch him. He’s stiff against the arm of the couch he leans on. His shoulders are square, jaw set, eyes forward. It’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut, you notice.

“Start over?” you repeat.

“With you,” he says, staring into the wall behind you. “I wanted you to know me…differently,”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You hope you’re reading this the right way, because if you’re not, you might just die where you sit. “How did you want me to know you?”

“As a person,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “I wanted you to…like me. Not just see me as a guy that follows you around,”

You smile. “I liked you anyway, Leon,” you say. He flushes.

“I mean,” he stutters. “I mean that…I wanted to be right,”

You don’t know when, but he’s leaned in. You can feel his breath on your lips, floating back against your ears. He’s looking at you through his lashes, all starry eyed and vulnerable. His cheeks are pink, rosy and soft. You want him to kiss you. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like if he did. Goosebumps surface across your skin at the thought, shivering against the flesh like you’d stepped into the cold. You want him to kiss you.

With a shaking breath, you ask, “Right about what?”

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand. It slots against the curve of your jaw, just below your ear. You notice that his hands are freezing, but it’s a welcome change in temperature given the heat that resides in your cheeks. You wonder if he can feel the beat of your pulse, hammer strong and rapid against the muscle. You wonder if his would feel the same.

“Leon?” you breathe. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His breath is shaky. “Do you want me to?”

“Please,”

He indulges. He’s soft against you, sugary sweet and easygoing. He breathes you in like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your hands wind into the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, an attempt to fuse into one. It’s a crescendo at the end of a symphony, harmonies and melodies colliding into one final note. Your ears are ringing. It’s a soft collision of warmth and intimacy, lips and hums that finally get to meet.

A cold hand slips beneath your shirt, soft and delicate against the red hot skin of your waist. You shiver against it. Devotion makes you dizzy as you pull away, breathing like you’ve nearly drowned. You steel yourself against his shoulders. He looks pretty like this, you think, lips kiss swollen and pulling in a grin around his teeth, face reddened with flush and excitement, hair falling into his eyes.

“I resigned,” he says, panting. “So I could do that,”

You laugh. “You could’ve done that anyway,” you say. He grins.

“Felt wrong,” he says. “I wanted to do it right,”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #x reader #my fics #m writes

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akwolfgrl · 4 months

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LFT PART 40

Nami was walking through the town, a huge sack of clothes tossed over her shoulder, Usopp with his own sack walked beside her. Nami could feel a shift in the air around her, she was fascinated with the shift in weather patterns, which at first had been necessary for navigation and had become something of a hobby.

“Hey Usopp, we need to head back to the ship right now.”

“Huh? How come I thought you wanted to look around more? Maybe stop for lunch,” Usopp asked, confused.

“The air pressure is dropping rapidly at a rather abnormal rate, there is a Storm coming and fast, unless you and your bag of goodies want to get soaked,” Nami pointed out, changing direction towards the pier.

“All right you have a good point,” Usopp followed behind her. “Hey look, it's Sanji and Zoro, hey guys!” Usopp called out, waving in their direction. Nami stopped walking and they all gathered together. Zoro had the same shirt on from last night and two new swords, where he got the money is what Nami wanted to know. Sanji on the other hand was wearing a bright colored fish shirt that she had made him buy yesterday, he also had a few shopping bags on his arm and his other was linked with Zoro's. The date must have gone well.

“Nami-swan and Usopp, funny running into you two here,” Sanji called out to them.

“Anyone know where Luffy is?” Zoro asked not to bother with any greetings. Although he did have a point, they should find their captain.

“Is he still looking for the platform?” Usopp asked from beside her. “I believe it's right here in Town Square.”

“Shit, I think he found it,” Sanji pointed out. There was Luffy atop the executioner's platform, a large piece of wood with a hole on top with his head and hands secured, a man sitting atop of it with Buggy the annoying clown next to him. It felt like ages ago that she had stolen from him, and met Luffy and Zoro.

“Why is he on the platform about to be executed?!” Nami wasn't wasn't sure who said it or if it was everyone.

“Sanji give me your bags so you and Zoro can go save our captain, meet you back at the ship,” Nami offered, holding out her hand. “No argument, just give it here,” She told him as he opened his mouth to protest. He reluctantly handed over before following after Zoro who had already taken off. She turned around and began to head towards the docks where she was originally intending to go.

“Um Nami, shouldn't we try to help them save Luffy?” Usopp asked, walking beside her.

“Usopp what would we do that they can't do? Do you really think you can get a good shot with all those people running around? Beside Buggy the clown has a devil fruit,” Nami shook her head pointing out the facts. She didn't have her staff on her, she had come here to shop not to fight.

“Hey! I'll have you know I took down a fishmen all by myself and proved myself to Daddy the parent!” Usopp argued with her, he was lucky he was her gossip buddy and that her hands were full. “We could provide back up at least,” He must still be riding the high of serving his duel.

“Well even if that's the case we have a more important task,” her voice was sharp as ever almost as if it was the crack of lightning.

“like what?”

“Like the Storm I mentioned earlier, the air pressure and temperature have been dropping rapidly for the past while. Plus I saw cumulus clouds heading from the east. That's a sure sign of a Storm rolling in, a big one to boot. What with the ruckus going on in town Square the marines are bound to be out, I really don't want to run into Captain Smoker I've heard terrible things about him,” The lady who owned the boutique she had visited had told her all about the new captain with a devil fruit who had put this town on lockdown, there haven't been any pirates making it out of here. Their business had been surfing from his influence. “What would we do if Merry was washed away when we needed a quick get away? This way we can get her ready to sail away as soon as those three make it back,” She was just glad Sanji was there, she didn't trust Luffy and Zoro to make it back in one piece.

“Holy crap you're right! That absolutely more important Sanji and Zoro will be fine on their own!” Usopp rushed ahead of her. Lucky bastard only had one bag to carry and it had straps.

“Hey wait for me!”

#one piece #fanfic #lust filled thoughts #zoro #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #zosan #sanzo #cat burglar nami #nami #god usopp #ussop #loguetown

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aew-kun-age-regression · 1 year

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"Test"

Pairing: Caregiver!Peter Parker x Little!Reader.

Summary: After a test makes reader slip, Peter is there to help.

Warnings: Trying to put off regression, exam stress, nickname (Lovie)

(Gender Neutral Reader)

‼️THIS IS NOT NSFW‼️

NOT Proofread

You were both sat in your English classroom. It didn't take a genius to figure out that English was not Peters best subject. His was science. Didn't matter which one; chemistry, biology, physics, he was good at it all.

You were normally pretty good when it comes to English, although finding some topics hard. Today was a day with an exam. And it happened to be on one of the things you were not very good at. Poetry. You didn't understand why it couldn't of been on ANY other topic. You and poetry didn't go well. It stressed you out as you couldn't remember half of them and they were difficult to read and understand.

The test paper had been placed on your desk and as you read the question you started to get increasingly confused. Peter looked over to you once he had read the question, knowing you were already struggling to not slip. You'd been trying to stay big since break and you'd done well so far, you just had to get through the last two hours and then school was over. Its safe to say he wasn't suprised when he made eye contact with you to see your eyes glazed over ever so slightly. You had clearly got overwhelmed and had slipped.

There was nothing Peter or you could do unless you guys left class early but that would risk the both of you getting a fail grade. So as Peter went to gather up his stuff to leave with you, you huffed and picked up your pen and began writing, (not that it made any sense).

Peter smiled sadly at you knowing your were trying to force yourself to be big enough to get through the test.

Peter noticed that by the last 20 minutes of the test you had written a page worth of work but had not been able to complete the goals the teacher had set, seeing that you were upset with what you had accomplished Peter decided to get your attention.

Thank god for Tony's tech. Upon finding out you were a little Tony insisted on a way of direct communication for you with all of the Avengers, in case of emergencies. Peter deemed this an emergency. He tapped the wrist watch twice which sent an alert to your own wrist watch, buzzing slightly against your skin. You looked up to Peter confused on what was wrong.

Now Peter had your attention (and the teacher was busy reprimanding Flash for trying to cheat) Peter decided to pull a silly face at you. Your face lit up immediately, trying not to giggle and draw any attention to yourself. He was clearly trying to keep your mind off of the test and how it went.

This carried on until finally the teacher said to give in the tests to her. As you went to get up to give your test to her Peter walked passed and took your paper, going to give it to the teacher along with his own.

Now packed up everyone began leaving the room. Peter lightly grasped your hand and led you the quiet way to the front of the school to avoid people.

"Hey Lovie" He smiled and kissed your forehead.

You giggled "hiiiii"

"Would you like to have a movie night tonight?" Peter asked.

"Really?!"

"Yes really, Lovie"

"Disney??"

"Yes we can watch Disney movies" Peter said, laughing.

The rest of the evening was spent watching Disney movies until your finally fell asleep on Peters chest. He didn't dare move, just wanting you to rest after the day you had.

#sfw agere #agere blog #sfw little post #sfw littlespace #little space #agere little #fanfics #fanfiction #avengers #aewlittlestories #caregiver!peter parker #caregiver peter parker #little space reader #little!reader

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catboyrichardkarinsky · 2 months

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the Caroline in the city references in family guy truly fuck me up. buckle the fuck up because I'm going to Overanalyze

so in family guy season 1 episode 6 (YES THAT EARLY ON) there's a joke where peter griffin says he once pretended to be gay by watching Caroline in the city. it then actually cuts to him watching Caroline in the city (well like he was watching what seemed like a pretty accurate recreation of the vibes of the citc intro) and then. well that's it

but of course I'm too autistic to not think about this because i have MANY questions

1. legit where did the idea that watching citc is a gay thing come from. I'm not asking this in a "whoa joking about tv shows making you gay is problematic" way because I'm aware family guy is full of jokes like that and worse. I'm asking this legitimately. because on one hand i guess you could argue that having a female main character= unmasculine=gay but that brings me to my second question

2) out of all possible tv shows to do this joke with... why Caroline in the city. and I'll have more to say on this later but i will say if you look at the time period of this. this episode of family guy aired on may 9th, 1999. the last episode of Caroline in the city aired on April 26th, 1999. i don't know how long the production of a family guy episode is but I'm going to assume Caroline in the city was still running when they wrote this episode but it was very much towards the end. but here's the thing. i spend a lot of time analyzing the cultural impact of citc and I've come to the conclusion that it was kinda relevant during season 1 but not many people watched it by season 4 (which led to that torturous non ending from early cancellation) and i legitimately don't know why this is the show they chose. like if we're going for a gay thing, Will and Grace was already airing at this time, i think more people knew about that than Caroline in the city. and there was a Caroline in the city fandom online but from what I've seen it was veeery predominantly straight. THAT BEING SAID

3) every Caroline in the city fan i see lately including myself is queer. like he couldn't have known that unless he also has future vision but considering they say Simpsons predicted everything in the future the possibility that they got all that but family guy instead just predicted a gay Caroline in the city fandom is SO funny to me

4) but back on the topic, the only other explanation i have is that this is another one of those annoyingly tasteless digs at Malcolm Gets for allegedly not being able to play a straight character convincingly (untrue) but for it to be any of these we'd have to assume that Seth MacFarlane, the creator of family guy has actually seen enough of Caroline in the city to know these things which. surely can't be the case

or... can it?

3) this is not the last time Caroline in the city was referenced in a Seth MacFarlane show. okay this is the really insane part to me. in american dad there's an episode where the characters find a "secret ending" to Caroline in the city where Caroline kills everyone and takes over the city or whatever. it's dumb, it makes me uncomfortable and stuff but there's also two very important things to note about this:

a) they got Lea Thompson to voice Caroline for like one line in this episode. i legitimately want to know what that conversation sounded like. "hey Lea could you do just one line for this episode? it's basically your character from Caroline in the city turning evil and killing everyone she loves in a secret ending to the show, are you interested?" this one isn't related to any of my conspiracy theories the thought is just funny to me

b) more importantly they like. legitimately drew them. like it was recognizably Caroline, Richard, Annie and Del. and like they showed them for like two seconds. that's a lot of attention to detail for two seconds. and again this is not the first time there was a Caroline in the city reference in a Seth MacFarlane show but SURELY this is the last one right?

WRONG!!

4) THERE'S ANOTHER REFERENCE IN AMERICAN DAD! there's a character who says something about how you should respect your elders because they lived through 4 seasons of Caroline in the city whatever that is supposed to mean! that's the THIRD TIME!

5) let's return to my second point for a second. i think i skimmed over one of the most glarring logical issue with the original family guy joke. peter claimed he pretended to be gay by watching Caroline in the city, but in the cutaway gag, he is fully alone in his own living room, watching Caroline in the city. (side note, it is a really, really good recreation of the citc intro which adds to my Seth MacFarlane has seen some Caroline in the city theory because why else would he pay attention to this detail) but.... how is that pretending? who was he pretending to? did he memorize every plot point to later recount it to pretend to be a fan? at that point he's just straight up a fan isn't he? he could've just told people he watched Caroline in the city if he wanted to pretend to be gay! why did he even pretend to be gay that's never explained and it's so specific...

now that I mentioned it it's very specific and familiar.....

6) Caroline in the city season 1 episode 3 Caroline and the gay art show, Richard pretends to be gay to sell his art AND in season 3 episode 20 Caroline and the little white lies, Del and Charlie pretend to be gay for insurance reasons. coincidence? well probably but what if it's NOT? is Seth MacFarlane trying to tell us he's secretly a Caroline in the city fan?

7) let's look at it in a meta way. Seth MacFarlane is the voice of peter griffin. in a way they're one and the same, aren't they? peter griffin wasn't really pretending to be gay, because he was at home watching citc on his own as i already mentioned it. is it just a guilty pleasure for him? is Seth MacFarlane too ashamed to admit he enjoys Caroline in the city so he has to communicate it through jokes in his tv shows?

8) or there's the other interpretation that makes me sound like the gaylor truthers but hear me out. if Seth Rudesky thinks watching Caroline in the city makes you gay but he's also signalling that he probably watched at least some of it, is he just trying to come out to us?

i once thought about turning this into a youtube video essay but I'm not sure anyone would watch it. that being said, i might still do it, why not?

#Caroline in the city #i thought about this WAYYY too much

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authoralexharvey · 15 days

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INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @theglitchywriterboi

Who You Are:

Sparrow Aiden || He/xe

I'm Sparrow Aiden, I'm genderfluid/a trans guy & bi & mixed. My current favorite book is Flesh Eater by Travis Riddle

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Fantasy, horror, and sci-fi. Young adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Probably like fantasy. I just think it's really fun & you can make your own rules for the whole universe [which you can do for others ofc but still-]

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Romance. I write romance in my stories, but I don't think I could do that as the main focus, especially not smut [I respect it though, just very much not for me writing wise-]

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

Queer people & queer POC. I think people outside those groups would still enjoy it, at least I hope !!!

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

I don't really normally have a theme in mind - maybe death is inevitable & we can't prevent it no matter how much power we have. Also friendship & shit.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

The one character that's always bullied for no reason ??? Like Meg from Family Guy or Jerry from Parks & Rec. It's just needlessly mean, & at least in Jerry's case he is simply trying to be nice & not doing anything :(

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

A lot of things, but mostly Deaths Diner. I've been working on it since like 8th grade [so like 7ish years ??] & I'm still not close to done 😮‍💨. Second main WIP is The River By The Hotel & a few years but idk how many exactly. Not near as long as Deaths Diner though.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

I really enjoy writing !!! & I've always wanted to be published - not for money or anything [though money would be nice] but because it's one thing to sew it in a document, but a whole different thing to be able to hold it & have it impact other people. Plus I've always wanted to give people joy & if people get that from my writing that'd be very cool - even if it's only one person

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

Since I was little. But the first time I knew I WANTED to be a writer was when I was watching Doctor Who w/ my family & after the intro it said "Written by [whoever wrote that episode]" & I thought that was so cool !! Like someone wrote that & my family & I are interacting w/ it & enjoy it !! [& being a screenwriter would be cool, but it wasn't really for me environment wise so I turned towards writing stories/books & I liked reading anyway so-]

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

It mostly comes randomly, but anything tbh. Sometimes its from a movie or show, sometimes it's from a book, sometimes it's just a "Hey, wouldn’t a story about [X] be interesting haha… Wait that's actually amazing-". The inspiration for Deaths Diner actually came about through the latter. My brother jokingly said "Haha, we should have our own show" & me being a dumb 8th grader was like "WE SHOULD !!!" So I started scripting it. Then I realized our lives aren't interesting enough to have a show based off us, so I added ghosts, then one thing lead to another & long story short it's absolutely nothing like our lives [But I think it's still really cool-]. The inspiration for The River By The Hotel is also [very loosely] based off my life too. Basically as a kid my brother & I WOULD go to hotels to visit our mom & at one there were two kids. My brother & I did go over to the river area w/ them. The stuff that didn't happen was all thr paranormal monster stuff. [But that was brought on because when we went home my little brother told me he almost fell in, so I was like "What if he did & the river was actually a portal to another world ?"]

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Probably Deaths Diner. I'm still on the first draft & while it's nowhere near done, I've worked so hard & long on it, it's like my baby. I can't wait to be finished w/ it though so I can start the second book in the series

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I haven't yet. But I really want to !! Hoping to publish something this year or next year

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

Most appealing is being able to get a physical copy of my book, because it's like "Yooo I did it !! I actually did it !!!". Least appealing is probably the critics. I know even the best books & the books I love have people that don't like them, but still. It's daunting publishing something you spent so much time on because of the thought people might despise it.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

The actual writing is most appealing, because its fun to write, the editing is least appealing. Mostly because I get in my head about the quality & get stuck trying to fix everything - even when there's nothing to fix [or nothing major]

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

Kinda chaos. I just write when I feel like it & I'm a bit of a pantser [maybe more like a plantser though] sometimes, especially w/ a series, I know the majors stops [like we start here, then this happens in the middle, then the end happens. But how I get there I don't know & even w/ the stuff I do know its like a loose idea.] but w/ stand-alones I normally don't know that. I have some scenes planned, but other than that I have zero idea how the book will end

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

A few years now. I wanted to join to have a place to share my writing & to make friends w/ other writers

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

Aaaa this is so hard I really like all my writeblr mutuals/friends it's hard to pick but Uuuuuuhhh- @jezifster, @daisywords, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @athena-anna-rose, @penspiration-writing, @caligraphyzev, @writingpotato07, @writewithfire, @pen-of-roses, @e-lisard, @ashen-crest, @the-finch-address, @cryptid-s-wips, @chrismerle, & so many others !!! I don't know how I stumbled onto all of them, but they're all cool people & cool writers

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

The community & event

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

I don't know tbh

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I think I could interact more. I'm very forgetful so sometimes I forget to reply to stuff or post things. I try to share others writing & stuff

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

All kinds, other people's writing & short stories, peoples replies to tag games, etc

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

Updates about progress

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

On twitter: @WriterGlitch & on Instagram: @TheGlitchyWriter [though I'm most active on tumblr]

#iwaw #writeblr celebration #writeblr event #writeblr #writing community

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yourmomazfav · 11 months

Note

Hey! I loved your NSFW for Randy and was wondering if you could do one for Mickey??

Yes of course! :)

Mickey Altieri NSFW Alphabet 18+

Mickey Altieri x gn reader

A=Aftercare- I feel like he is very much the type to make sure you are okay before cleaning you up and then cuddling with you.

B=Body Part- He loves his arms and how strong they are and he really loves your thighs. Definitely a thigh man.

C=Cum- Loves cumming both on and in you, doesn't matter where.

D=Dirty Secret- Has killed someone for calling you hot, got rid of the body and then proceeded to fuck you where he killed the person.

E=Experience- He has been with a few people before you so he knows what he is doing.

F=Favourite Position- It switches between doggy and cowgirl. He will settle for missionary if he is a bit tired though.

G=Goofy- It really depends on both of your moods, sometimes it's serious and other times you both talk during it, making jokes and talking about random things.

H=Hair- He has a little bit of hair down there but it is well kept and barely noticeable

I=Intimacy- He is very touchy in general when you aren't having sex so when you are it like a million times more touching.

J=Jack Off- Why would he jack off when he has you?, he only would if you weren't able to be with him.

K=Kink- Definitely into rough sex and choking. Would be down to get tied up.

L=Location- He is one horny motherfucker he doesn't really care where you do it, but he wouldn't do it in front of people.

M=Motivation- when your shirt rides up when you're stretching or if its windy and it happens.

N=No- He wouldn't like threesomes because he hates the idea of sharing you with anyone else.

O=Oral- Prefers receiving, he will obviously give in return and boy is he good at it.

P=Pace- A fast and rough type, unless either of you are tired in which case he will still be fast but not rough.

Q=Quickie- He just loves any kind of sex so quickies are just a bonus.

R=Risk- Like I mentioned earlier, he is a horny guy. Anywhere will do as long as no one is watching, doesn't matter so much if someone hears though.

S=Stamina- Boy can go ROUNDS and when I say it I mean it.

T=Toys- I don't really see him using toys.

U=Unfair- Loves teasing you until you beg an even when you are begging he is still teasing you.

V=Volume- He mainly groans but will quietly moan when he is about to cum.

W=Wild Card- He steals your underwear, I don't care what anyone says he is a thief when it comes to underwear, not enough for you to notice but enough that he doesn't want you going in his underwear drawer.

X=X-ray- He is packing a strong seven inches.

Y=Yearning- Can't go longer than two days without sex or some kind of steamy make out sessions.

Z=Zzz- Can stay up for about half an hour before getting tired, and more often that time is spent having sex.

#Scream #scream 2 #ghostface #Mickey Altieri #Mickey Altieri x reader

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mickyaltierisgf · 1 year

Note

Hey I just read your Poly!Romickey and I was wondering if you’d be able to write them again with a a reader who is a detective working on their ghost face cases, and she asks them for advice to get into the mind of the killer (not knowing that her boyfriends are the killers) 💗💗💗

missing at sunrise studios

poly!ghostface romickey x fem!reader (though anyone can read)

You sighed quietly, jostled a bit between the two men on either side of you. Roman had his right arm around your shoulders, and Mickey’s left hand was fidgeting with one of your hands in his lap. You weren’t paying attention to what they were saying; you were only aware of the inflection of their voices as they argued about the movie you were watching. The movie itself may as well not have been playing; your mind was miles away.

You felt a little bit guilty; it was a rare evening that the three of you could actually sit like this and enjoy a movie together. Roman was on set at all hours of the day and night, overseeing everything to an almost fanatical level of perfectionism. And ever since Mickey had (in his own words) "slept his way to the top" and been assigned as Cinematographer, he was there just as much. Up until recently, you’d had a full schedule yourself, until the Chief decided you needed a few weeks off. You gritted your teeth at the thought.

There wasn’t much you could do from home except worry about your two boyfriends and jump at every shadow, gun drawn, just in case. There were weird things going on at that studio. People walking off set and never returning. Some seemingly disappearing from their trailers. Harassing phone calls, all with that creepy voice modulator disguising the caller’s real voice. You’d gotten such a phone call yourself, in your partner’s voice, warning you to drop the investigation unless you wanted to be added to the list of missing persons.

You clenched your hands, and you felt Mickey nudge you a bit, but you were too deeply entrenched in your own thoughts. It was a massive violation for them to have used your partner’s voice to intimidate you in that way. Your partner, who you shared your life with almost as much as your boyfriends, the person you were required to trust and rely on the most. And even though you knew it wasn’t truly his voice speaking to you, trying to frighten you and weaken your trust in him, you felt it work just the tiniest bit. Your partner’s voice was somewhere in a dark corner of your mind, taunting you, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to disassociate it from the killer.

"She’s catatonic," Mickey said, waving a hand in front of your face until you snapped to attention.

"What?" You asked, looking between him and Roman now.

"She’s fine," Roman replied, "the movie’s just boring. I’m falling asleep myself."

"You picked the movie," Mickey pointed his finger at him accusingly.

"At your recommendation," Roman defended. "That’s what I get for listening to you."

"You bitch about every movie unless it’s some lame poduction you worked on yourself," Mickey said with a look of disdain.

"At least I’ve worked on productions," Roman replied contemptuously.

"You guys always do this," you interjected before Mickey could answer. "You could just flirt like normal people instead of instigating fights all the time, you know."

"It’s more fun this way," Mickey smirked, to which you and Roman snorted.

You peeled the sheet away and crawled slowly out of bed, trying not to disturb either of the men sleeping beside you. When you stood up, you turned to make sure neither of them were awake. Mickey moved into your spot, probably seeking warmth, and then attached himself to Roman. You gave a half-smile before slipping out of the room. Despite everything, your mind was still on the case. Until actual bodies were found, the studio wasn’t going to be shut down, and that meant the show would have to go on. Mickey and Roman didn’t seem too concerned, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned enough for the both of them.

You sat down at your desk, flicking the small lamp on, and flipped open the case file. There wasn’t much info to go on, as there wasn’t much evidence gathered yet. It was unlike the killer to not leave any mutilated bodies behind, but you figured that was done purposely. Maybe whoever it was, or whoever they were, had a reason to want the studio to stay open and operational.

You barely suppressed a yawn, booting up the computer to look up old cases and see if you could glean anything from them. You looked up, startled, when you heard footsteps behind you. Roman ran a hand down your back soothingly. "Sorry, I thought you heard me." You shook your head, eyebrows a bit furrowed. He hadn’t made the faintest sound until he was already behind you. "What are you reading?" he questioned, squinting at the bright screen.

Mickey walked in next, announcing his presence by stubbing his toe and hissing in pain. You smothered a laugh behind your palm as he limped towards you. He was wearing Roman’s glasses, which Roman promptly removed and placed on his own face. "Are we going for round two in here?" Mickey asked. "I always wanted to try out the desk."

"We’re not screwing on the desk." Roman shut that down immediately, leaning closer to you to read the text on the screen.

"Not tonight at least," you tacked on, sharing a grin with Mickey.

"Ghostface?" Roman mumbled, straightening back up. "Why are you reading about this right now?"

"Just looking for... I don’t know; clues maybe? Patterns? Something. No one at the precinct's taking this case seriously," you sighed, frustrated. "More people have gone missing from that studio of yours than the Bermuda Triangle," you said sarcastically.

"No one’s gone missing," Roman stated matter-of-factly. "I mean, 2 or 3 extras maybe, who probably took a few of our props with them, by the way."

"They’re probably auctioning that stuff on eBay right now," Mickey agreed.

"More like 4 or 5. One of which was a Security Guard. And even if they’re just ‘extras', they’re still people. People who can’t sell things online because they’re missing," you emphasized.

"There’s no Ghostface killer running around MY set," Roman insisted, hands on his hips.

"I got a call!" You all but yelled. "The sick freak called me using my partner’s voice."

"What did they say?" Mickey asked.

"Told me to drop the case unless I want to go missing too," you said with a slight eye roll.

"Well...what if it really was your partner?" Mickey insinuated.

"He would never say something like that, least of all to me," you said firmly, though that same tiny part of your brain whispered Mickey’s words insidiously. You shook it off, sighing again. "And now I need to figure out who did say it. But I’ve got nothing to go on here except old police reports and Gale Weathers' books. I need to get in the killer’s head somehow."

"I think it would be better if you got in my pants," Mickey said suggestively.

"I’m being serious, Mickey."

"So was he," Roman deadpanned.

"C’mon, let’s at least take this seriously in bed," Mickey cajoled, trying to haul you up from your chair.

You let yourself be pulled up and led away from the desk, with Roman following behind you both. You were situated in the middle of the bed again, and as Mickey and Roman joined you, you sat up. "I’m never going to get to sleep if I don’t make at least some progress."

Mickey groaned, and you were surprised when you felt a hand weave in your hair and tug you down. Roman leaned over you, his hand holding you in place. "We’ll talk in the morning. Now sleep," he commanded.

"You made him mad," Mickey taunted.

"Shut the fuck up, Mick," Roman said.

"He’s a real potty mouth when he’s upset. Runs in the family," Mickey said conspiratorially.

Roman made a quiet sound in his throat, almost like a growl, and his hand left your hair before he was moving over you to get to Mickey.

You took the warm cup Roman handed you and sipped the liquid calmly. Mickey had a poptart hanging out of his mouth as he joined you at the table, setting down a plate with some toast for you and Roman. Roman ate the toast even as he made a face as though he wasn’t savoring the taste. Mickey didn’t pay him any mind, munching serenely on his poptart. You left your toast untouched, smirking at Mickey when Roman reached for it next.

"So about last night?" you prompted.

"You want to get in the killer's head," Mickey said.

"There's probably two," you guessed.

Mickey nodded with a grin. "Clever girl," he quoted. You rolled your eyes at the reference.

"Not necessarily," Roman piped up, and you shrugged at him.

"Why would they target unknown extras instead of established actors?" Mickey asked.

"To lay low? Sate his or her bloodlust without drawing too much attention. The news hasn’t even been reporting this," you answered.

"Okay, and who could get into the studio anytime they want?"

"Cast, crew, security," you ticked off your fingers and shrugged again.

"The police," Roman added.

"And there haven’t been any bodies, right?" Mickey prodded. "So if these people are dead, maybe it didn’t happen at the studio."

"Or the killer knows how to get rid of dead bodies," Roman said.

"But why call me? If they want to lay low and avoid suspicion..." You asked, slumping back in your chair, feeling exhausted from trying to piece all this together.

"That’s Ghostface’s MO, isn’t it?" Roman asked.

"And what’s the point if nobody knows?" Mickey questioned. "Somebody has to know. Somebody has to be interested, or it’s like putting on a play for an empty audience."

"You’re the audience," Roman concluded for him.

"So they’re doing all this to mess with me?" you asked uncertainly.

"Maybe," Mickey said. "Who’d want to mess with you?"

You looked at Mickey, knowing immediately who he was thinking about. Aside from him, Roman, and your family (which was absolutely out of the question), all your friends were basically your co-workers.

"The killer’s able to change their voice," you said lowly. "It’s not him. Or anyone from the precinct."

"Who would even have tech like that besides the government?" Roman asked.

"Exactly." Mickey nodded sagely. "And who does the government fund the most? The police."

You sat there silently, your mouth slightly open, as you processed all this.

"So this is a government conspiracy now?" Roman asked, his face scrunched up in disbelief.

"Everything’s a government conspiracy." Mickey smiled wide, his eyes practically shining. "Haven’t you watched ‘Enemy of the State’?"

You groaned.

"I’ll add it to the list," Roman said disinterestedly. "Get dressed, or I’m leaving without you," he added, checking the time on his watch.

"Wanna come with?" Mickey asked you. "You can skulk around a bit."

"Sure, I guess. I have nothing to do around here anyway," you said, getting up to follow Mickey to your bedroom.

Your cellphone rang, startling you and freezing you in your tracks. You looked down at the caller ID, seeing your partner’s name. You darted your eyes to the side and tucked your phone away hurriedly. You strongly doubted this was some high-level conspiracy, despite Mickey’s enthusiasm for the idea, but you weren’t remotely in the frame of mind to deal with any of that right now.

#scream #ghostface #mickey altieri #roman bridger #ghostface x reader

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olasketches · 2 months

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Hey, I am asking you because I think as an artist you can answer this better.. So I have seen people saying yuuji , wasuke, jin and sukuna look the same. But isn't it just artsyle of gege except for their hair.. Because I have seen most manga characters look the same face wise except minor differences. For example, these people were calling hazenoki the guy who fought kenjaku before takaba and kashimo similar to gojo... By their logic they should be related too.

hey anon! Thanks for stopping by, I’ll try my best to answer your ask.

yuuji, jin and wasuke don’t look the same but they definitely look similar in some ways due to them being related. sukuna also share some similarities with them and yes, the hair seems the most obvious and common charectaristic that ppl tend to notice first but then inumaki had the same hairstyle in volume 0 and he looks nothing like yuuji, sukuna, jin and wasuke. in case of hazenoki, kashimo and gojo, there are some similiraties in their design but to be honest hazenoki’s face reminds me of that one guy from demon slayer who I don’t even know the name of lol and kashimo KINDAAAA reminds me of pre unsealed gojo (he has such a baby face imo), which is probably why gege modified gojo’s design later on and gave him more sharper features. the thing is that when you want to have characters who are closely related to each other to share some similarities you would focus on their facial features the most. I would say that what makes yuuji, jin and wasuke look so similar to one another other are their eyes.

yuuji could change the colour and length of his hair and he would still probably look similar to his grandpa and father. In sukuna’s case I would say that he shares the most characteristics with wasuke.. but the thing is that the facial features don’t have to look exactly the same. the trick is to get their likeness right to have the viewer associate these characters with each other. hazenoki, kashimo and gojo don’t really have that cause they all have at least one distinctive facial feature that separates them from the other two. like hazenoki and his thick eyebrows, kashimo and his sharper eyes (similar to yuuji actually and YET they look nothing alike cause the don’t have a likeness to each other the way yuuji, jin and wasuke do) and gojo’s white eyelashes.

so when you want family members to look related BUT NOT THE SAME (unless their indentical twins) you would focus on their facial features the most (hair colour and hairstyle can help but that’s not what determines their likenesses), but then again it's really not about drawing the exact same features in the exact same way but drawing them in a way that makes them look very alike. I think you can think about it like when you draw a pair of eyes on a small piece of paper and then you stick it to different surfaces that have similar shapes like a balloon and a ball

and then there characters who have similar designs but don't look like they're related to one another cause of this one or two very distinctive facial feature that separates them from the other.

the thing is that, gege is not only a writer but he's also an artist and I feel like the majority of the fandom mostly associates that with his art style alone. art is so much more than just art style tho. it's also what the artist wants to convey through their work. as an artist myself, I believe that he's very much INTENTIONAL about the way he draws and portray his characters. he wants his readers to make certain connections just by the way he designs them (or makes them act or draws their facial expressions). for example the majority of the fandom knew that there must be some relation between sukuna and yuuji's family, not only because of kenjaku but also because they look like they could be related. and this was deliberate on gege’s part.

#asks #I hope this makes sense anon I’m not that good at explaining things so I apologise in advance

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autmism · 2 years

Text

friendly neighborhood gift-shopist

pairing(s) ; steven grant x teen!reader (platonic + gender neutral reader)

warning(s) ; bullying

synopsis; (requested) teen reader goes on a school field trip to the museum and is rlly excited about it but a couple people in their class are being kinda mean to them. Maybe they go to by something from the gift shop and have a wholesome conversation with Steven about bullies or something?

-> masterlist

a/n; ty for the request! ive been dying to write moonsys x teen!reader for the longest time! :3

field trips are always the highlight of the academic year; a whole day where you aren’t expected to do any boring worksheets and get time away from school. well, they tended to be fun for those who got to spend a day outside of school with a friend, but for those like y/n… not so fun!

“hey y/n, what are you up to? trying to make friends with the dead guy in the coffin?” thomas, one of the many people that made y/n’s life hell on a regular basis, leaned over the glass casing that protected the sarcophagus with an almost disgustingly fake smile.

“it’s called a sarcophagus, thomas, maybe if you left me alone for once you’d actually learn something for once,” y/n huffed adjusting their tie, “piss off, will you?”

“fuck off, you neek.” thomas scoffed, standing up straight. classic ‘alpha male’ move to intimidate y/n.

“you’re the one still standing here, i’m trying to do this thing called reading, try it some time.” y/n rolled their eyes, their hand languidly gesturing towards the text of writing going into detail about the artefact.

“you’ll regret that, freak.”

“ooh, big deal,” y/n muttered under their breath as he stormed away. suddenly the text about the sarcophagus seemed much less interesting than it had been prior to their encounter with thomas. school had always been hard for y/n, mainly the social aspect. the academic part was easy, y/n passed all their exams with flying colours. when they started secondary school, they couldn’t tell which group of people they fit in with, or how they could figure that out. but before they could’ve had a chance to figure it out, everyone was already in cliques and groups, it was like everyone else just knew what to do and y/n was a complete outsider.

“you’ll regret that freak, blah blah blah, oooh so scary,” y/n mumbled, rolling their eyes and walking away from the display, “you’ll regret these fucking nuts in your mouth.”

“ello there! how can i help you?” y/n looked up to notice they were stood at a gift shop stand, a man with the name tag ‘steven’, smiling at them.

“unless you know a thing or two about beating teenagers up, not sure if you have anything of interest for me, steven,” y/n chuckled, noticing a basket of hippo plushies. taweret.

“how do you… know my name?” he raised an eyebrow and y/n just tapped on their shirt where steven’s name tag was on himself, “oh! yeah, always forget that’s there, classic me.”

“that’s okay,” y/n laughed, picking up a taweret plush, “how much is this?”

“twenty quid, bit overpriced i’ll say,” steven rubbed the back of his head. y/n dug through their school blazer pockets, searching for their wallet to see if they could afford the taweret plush. they opened the wallet to find only fifteen pounds and sighed.

“five pounds short, thanks for the help, i probably would’ve been picked on for buying a toy anyways,” y/n laughed putting the plush back onto the pile of identical hippos.

“by that plonker that bothered you earlier? knew he seemed like a wrong’un,” steven shook his head, “tell you what! you give me the tenner and i’ll give you the plush and it’ll be our secret, yeah?”

“won’t you get into trouble?” y/n lowered their voice.

“nothin’ old steven over here can’t handle!” he tapped on his name tag with a goofy smile, “save the fiver for a meal deal, or somethin’.”

y/n smiled shyly, taking the ten pound note out of their wallet and sliding it to steven and then passing the taweret plush to him to scan, “thanks, steven.”

“taweret is a lovely goddess, goddess of childbirth and fertility, but also of children and protection, so who knows, maybe she’ll protect you from those bloody plonkers that keep botherin’ you, yeah?” steven spoke, whilst scanning the plushie’s barcode and putting the money into the till, but also sliding his own ten pound note in along with y/n’s.

“you think so?” y/n smiled sadly.

“met her once, lovely hippo woman goddess, she is,” steven nodded, smiling to himself knowing that he was telling the truth.

“oh yeah? and how does steven the friendly neighbourhood gift-shopist happen to meet taweret an egyptian goddess?” y/n laughed, playing along.

“oh you know, we go way back we do! steven of the gift shop and taweret egyptian goddess of childbirth, like two peas in a pod,” steven laughed with y/n, “happened to tell her all about this kid who was having trouble with some other kids at school, you know what she said?”

“what’d she say?”

“she said, ‘not on my watch!’, fixed those bullies right up, she did,” steven did a horrible impression of a woman’s voice, but nonetheless it made y/n laugh and he was happy he was able to cheer them up.

“you’ll have to thank her on my behalf,” y/n smiled, “i’m y/n.”

“ooh, lovely name, innit?”

“you think so?” y/n made a face, hinting that they didn’t agree.

“i do, sounds like the name of a very smart young person,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“well, you’d be right about that,” y/n smirked smugly.

“year eleven!! it’s time to get lined up, please finish what you’re doing and come here!” a man raised his voice not too far away from where y/n was standing.

“that’s my cue, thank you, steven,” y/n smiled at the man and made their way over to their teacher, the taweret plush tucked under their arm tightly.

“steven, the friendly neighbourhood gift-shopist, huh?”

“what? i thought it was sweet,” steven smiled at the reflective surface that marc’s voice came from.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x teen!reader #marc spector #marc spector x teen!reader #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight x teen!reader #moonknight x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #marc spector x gn!reader

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rin-and-jade · 5 months

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Question that's not explicitly plurality related but I think that yall would probably know the most about it, if that's ok?

How can you tell when a thought is yours? Like I'll have thoughts that I definitely know I'm thinking, but there's also a song running in the background (which I think is normal to not be able to stop, don't know if it's normal to purposefully try to think over it and have it still go just sound like it's underneath your thoughts), and other background noise too. By "background noise" I mean random trains of thought that I can't fully hear unless I focus on them. And then sometimes my brain will just start talking, narrating my life or telling a story or making up a scenerio or something. Sometimes it's full on conversations. It's not something that I'm trying to do, and if I'm like "hey brain, can you shut up ^.^" it'll be like "no" and resume (sometimes it just doesn't stop and sometimes it will literally say no, the latter not often though)

I'll also have conversations with myself, both outloud/internal and internal/internal, but only one of them will really feel like conscious thought so idk what's up there

I can't tell if my brain is just running without my input or if something else might be up here, but I figured that you guys most likely have more experience than a lot of people (singlets) with thoughts-that-don't-belong-to-you sooo.... yeah

Yep, im ok with it; Well in general means, there still can be thoughts that seems to be lingering around that doesn't necessarily correlate to being plural! I definitely know what you're talking about, so in this case i thought of a few things such as:

Intrusive thoughts This is when you unexpectedly think of something, which seem to pop up here and there that didn't actively come from you. How often someone experiences, and what kinds of thoughts have no limits. This one will make sense when you mean thinking things that doesn't relate to your train of thought or personality at all.

Neurodivergency Most apparent/often for people with ADHD, they often have their minds being loud with many background thoughts, often repeating a part of a song and or words. I am not entirely sure if this is for stimulation (keeping yourself from being bored or something) or because of scattered focus or other reasons that i had not mentioned. This isn't only limited to ADHD btw.

My Experience Well, some people are chatty in nature, im one of them, i often think alot, chat to myself alot to the point of having a fake convo (i know im the one replying to myself, thats the thing) because you're brain is super active and all that.. eh, i wish it's silent you know? And it doesn't have anything to do with those two things up there before.

And to answer your very first question to how you can know it's your thought.. i can only explain in one definition: You always know the reason, or why, or the train of thought behind it. Something that interjects and does and follow your flow is a foreign thought.

Also, to be safe, these are what you have to look out for that could mean your thoughts... can be alters:

Commenting on different preferences often

Commenting on what you're doing, sometimes telling you to do it differently or somewhere along the lines

Refer with different names

Have consistent, distinguishable accent/tone/characteristic (where, obviously, are not your thoughts)

Seem to have different views, morals, ethics

Capable of handling conversations, and reasoning, as if it's a physical person you're talking to. Which is entirely outside of your own will and intention

Often dissociate, feel like a different you, and have inconsistent likes/dislikes

If you seem to match up with these signs, you are likely to be an undiscovered system. And i will dedicate myself to further assist you to assess if you are one in an even more detailed/complete manner because it takes a decent amount of time to figure this out (oh and feel free to read DID resources just incase). If you got your answer, thats great! If you think you are a system, feel free to refer this ask when DMing me alright?

Wish you a good day.

- j

#did #actually did #did community #did osdd #did system #sysblr #dissociative identity disorder #janswersask

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edwardteachswombtattoo · 9 months

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Ed's gun. Ed's fucking gun.

Hey, I realized no one seems to have brought this up so...I'm doing it? Buckle up, folks.

So one of the first times (if not The First Time) we see Ed's gun, it's when Stede is picturing Blackbeard and we get the slow panning shot with Blackbeard's gun kind of...hanging there? In what is (probably) meant to be very obvious phallic imagery? Stede doesn't even know Ed yet and he's already thinking about [REDACTED], why has no one written a meta about Stede being so fucking sexually repressed that he wants to sloppy the guy with glowing red eyes and a head made of smoke? Monsterfucker Stede truthers rise up.

Anyway!!! That isn't the only instance of Ed's gun being Important, centered in a scene, potentially phallic imagery, etc.

We also have this scene here.

Homoerotic looting. And Stede's love of books. If Stede had been Belle in Beauty and the Beast he would have been so fucking disappointed when the Beast turned back into some guy.

And this..during their first ever meeting.

POV: You're the Gentleman Pirate and Edward Teach is about to show you his top tier strap game.

And the iconic "Stab me!" scene, which is...

Look. I know this is a BTS picture and not an official scene, but can we please take a moment and notice the gun placement? Please? Okay.

Can't believe Stede and Ed had hot gay sex on screen before they even kissed, iconic.

Ed also gives his weapons to Stede during the clothing switch (which is important for my next point). And my next point?

Is that Ed's fucking gun??? The one Stede's using? As far as we know, only two people have used Ed's gun (other than Ed himself): Stede and Izzy. Stede had it (without using it) during the clothing swap and now he's using it here. Izzy is (potentially, unless Izzy has a gun in which case this meta is about to careen off in a different direction), using Ed's gun at the end of Season 1.

T4T Hot Topic girlfriends.

All this to say that Ed's gun is Important. Stede having it is Important. The way it's always placed in the narrative, to represent sexuality or protection or being vulnerable, the way Ed idly touches his gun (and knife) when he's just standing around. And who does Ed trust with it in Season Two?

This guy!

I've already written a little thing about this here, but to expand: I think the gun might represent a part of Ed's Self. But wait!! you shout. What about the red silk?

The red silk is Ed's heart. In the same way the petrified orange is (likely) Stede's heart, or at least a part of it. There are multiple items in the show that could represent Stede's heart/Self (the model ship, maybe the cravat) or parts of it. Ed's gun is more likely a part of Self. His Blackbeard Self maybe. And if I may spin off into the stratosphere for a moment, just go a bit silly.

I think Blackbeard (as an abstract, as a concept) is meant to represent a lot of things in the narrative. Masculinity, a protective persona, sexuality, etc. It can be many things for many different people (Ed, Izzy, etc.) because it is essentially an abstract of Ed's Self. What does Ed do when he's feeling hurt and vulnerable? He goes full Blackbeard, survival mode. Loads himself up with guns just like the depiction in Stede's book, especially over his heart. No one can break your heart if they can't touch it, right?

Right?

"Your Honor, the only thing he's guilty of stealing is...my heart!" --Stede, probably

But what if someone already knows your heart? What if they've touched it? What if you trust them with the part of Self you've been using to protect it? Vulnerable, letting your walls down, giving them a part of your Self and trusting them not to use it against you? Protecting them with it?

Ed doesn't trust Stede with his heart, but he knows Stede would never hurt him with this gun because he gave it to Stede before, turned his back on Stede even and he knows Stede would never harm him with it.

And Stede...

Shirt open. Vulnerable. Chest exposed. Gunshot wound. You see what I'm getting at?

It's interesting, right? Ed trying to protect his heart, while Stede is leaving his open? But Ed also giving Stede his gun? It's almost like trust (building and rebuilding) is going to be a big part of Season 2. But you know what else is probably going to be a big part of Season 2? Self. Identity. Ed giving his gun (a part of Self) to Stede, leaving himself just a bit more open (the trust is there, it's still there, Stede broke his heart but Ed still trusts him in some small ways with other parts of him. Not his heart, but other parts).

Also Stede using Ed's gun is super fucking homoerotic. I'm sorry, but it is. Like if nothing else in this turns out to be relevant, Stede using Ed's gun is so fucking homoerotic.

Fellas, is it gay to take a phallic object (gun) off your ex-shipmate and use it to shoot a British naval officer while running dramatically across a beach?

#ofmd #ofmd meta #ofmd s2 spoilers

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kusaka6e · 2 years

Text

BOYS IN THE BAND

(fairy tail ver) | mha ver | aot ver

band!au

various fairy tail x fem!reader

hcs about ft characters as hot band member boyfriends <3

sfw

———

sting, the drummer

he’s okay at guitar too (he had to learn it to compete with natsu) but he was made for the drums

absolutely loves looking up from doing an amazing drum solo and seeing you front row

could not care less about validation from anyone other than you and it’s the cutest thing

like he doesn’t acknowledge anything says about his earring but is all in your face like “baby does this jewelry look okay??”

matching crop tops <3

made things official by him + the rest of the band bringing you to an empty venue and playing iris by the goo goo dolls for you, that turned into “iris” being one of sting’s nicknames for you

listens to a lot of rap/hip-hop outside of the band

you two have had rap battle dates on more than one occasion and even thought he swears he’s the better of the two of you, you somehow always end up winning

rogue, the bassist

this mf tried to be all cool and nonchalant until you complimented his playing on one of your favorite songs and he melted

he will def buy you a ticket to come see him at a show that’s far away with absolutely no warning

“rogue, sweetheart, this is in three days. you do know i have work?” “yea well i wanna see you, so work will have to wait.”

found frosch as a stray one of their out of town shows and refused to give the cat up so now that’s you two’s child

he buys the most ridiculous costumes and outfits for frosch and lives for the pictures you send him once the outfits are on

family halloween costumes with frosch ?? absolutely

loves when you do his eyeliner before shows, he swears it makes him play better

natsu, the guitarist

he’s so obnoxious omfg

i’m tired of his bullshit just thinking about it

when you come to rehearsals/soundchecks, he’ll purposely pretend to not know a song to get an excuse to show off in front of you

like “hey, you guys know that one song? the one that goes like…?” *launches into the world’s most dramatic guitar solo* “y’know, that one?” and he’s definitely shooting winks and cheeky grins your way after

the rest of the boys (especially gajeel) definitely use snitching to you as a way to get natsu to calm tf down LMAOOO

when you come to shows that are farther away he definitely tries to get you to sleep in his tiny ass bunk on the tour bus

you do

and the pictures that come from it are adorable

gajeel, the lead singer

he prefers to play acoustic guitar over electric, which is how he decided to sing for the band instead

people notice how much softer he is with you and he tries to deny it, knowing damn well he loves being babied by you

definitely matches his eyebrow piercing to one of your piercings

pictures of you EVERYWHERE; taped on the wall of his bunk on the tour bus, in his wallet, inside his phone case

strictly wears headbands/bandanas you pick out for him on stage

if he’s near you he’s touching you, no exceptions

usually pretty mellow and laid back unless it’s about you

he’s not above knocking someone out if they’re making you upset it have your name in their mouth (he has and 100% will do it again)

#fairy tail #fairy tail x reader #fairy tail headcanons #natsu #natsu dragneel #natsu x reader #gajeel #gajeel redfox #gajeel x reader #sting #sting eucliffe #sting x reader #rogue #rogue cheney #rogue x reader #natsu headcannons #gajeel headcanons #sting headcanons #rogue headcanons

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readingstufffff · 2 years

Text

First Time Meeting Sevika <3

Sevika x Gn reader

Warnings: none.

Just a little story on reader meeting Sevika for the first time :) This is not proofread. <3

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Only recently had you started to visit Jinx at The Last Drop, with wanting to keep yourself away from the shimmer infested streets and the rise in violence throughout Zaun. The place had become increasingly more dangerous as the years passed, and you wanted nothing to do with it.

Jinx of course had other plans constantly coming to your home and always telling you to come along with her to ‘Have some fun!’ as she put it. You on the other hand saw nothin wrong with staying in your little house. Where you could see the streets of Zaun and it’s bright lights, and the few Enforcers that stood guard at the bridge.

Over the last few days however, Jinx had managed to convince you. (Bribing you with free drinks) Silvio already new about you since well; you had been the one to raise Jinx when he was occupied. So when he saw you arrive at The Last Drop he just greeted you with a “ nice to see you”, and left for his office. All you had done after that was draw on the walls of Jinx’s room, eat snacks, and go home. That’s how the last few days had gone anyway.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight Jinx had asked you to stay over. So you had packed an overnight bag along with a towel just in case you needed to shower. You had learned through the years that whenever you were around Jinx anything was bound to happen, so you reminded yourself to always be prepared.

But half of the time you forgot to remember and ended up walking home soaked in paint.

The moment you arrived at The Last Drop you were tackled to the floor, not having seen the blue haired girl running towards you while opening the door. You both fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. All the people in the bar looking at the two of you, but neither of you noticed while rolling around on the floor, “Jinx!” You laughed as she tickled you. “Stop!” You quickly switched your spots pulling her down and tickling her stomach. Bumping into a few legs in the process. She tried pushing your hand away while apologizing through her giggles, “ Ok! Ok! I’m sorry!” She finally freed herself and got up pulling you with her leading you to her room. Almost crashing into a tall lady with a red cloak that was coming down the stairs. Probably for a drink at the bar. It was only late in the afternoon and the bar was already full. Most people just here for the shimmer drinks the bar provided.

As you got to the top of the stairs it was obvious which door was hers. The door was painted with her signature monkey characters she loved to paint and big splotches of blue and pink paint. “ Come on! I got Silco to buy me a new set of paints and according to the guy at the shop they glow in the dark.” She informed you as you both made it through the door. She quickly got the paints out of a box under her bed putting them next to the only blank space in her room that wasn’t painted. And just like that you two got to painting.

Jinx had taken over more than half of the wall in a few hour while you only got a few flowers and 3 small characters in. Of course you can never paint without getting dirty but painting with Jinx is something else by the end of it your hair, face, clothes, and even your shoes were covered in paint. You needed place to shower. And another place to throw your clothes away because at this point they were beyond saving, with the paint having seeped into the fabrics hours ago. “ Hey Jinx, do you guys have a shower here?” You stood up grabbing the bag that had your clothes and your towel.

She tapped the back of her paintbrush on her chin while spinning on her feet. “ You could use the one that’s down the hallway. Unless… someone’s already in there. You should go check” you nodded about to leave when she continued, “but, If you hear music specifically slow music you won’t be able to shower for a few hours.” You raised an eyebrow at that to which she replied “ It means Silco is showering. He does this whole thing where he meditates. He told me once that it helped with the stress or something like that.”, you raised both eyebrows at that not expecting to hear that Silco meditated “ yeah, and if that’s the case you’ll have to ask the ogre to use her bathroom.” She said almost in disgust scrunching her face and turning to continue painting.

You just rolled your eyes with a smile.

You knew very well who she was talking about. Having heard the many rants and awful words directed towards Silco’s number two. But you had never met her so you never knew what the ‘ogre’ or the ‘ brute scary lady’ looked like. According to Jinx: she is a party pooper, stupid, and one time she was mad enough to call her a whore. Which to you was a little harsh but when Jinx gets mad she gets mad.

Anyway, you simply nodded and left with a low ‘thanks’ walking out the door to the end of the hallway. And sure enough the door to the bathroom was locked with slow music playing behind it. “ damn it”, was all you whispered to yourself before heading back to ask Jinx where the ‘ogres’ door was. You chuckled to yourself thinking of the nickname Jinx had given her. You quickly entered the room and asked what door lead to Sevika room, “ it’s the door right in front of my room” she told you without turning away from the very detailed portrait of a butterfly on the wall. You thanked her and closed the door turning around to look at the door she had just told you about. Giving it three firm knocks before lowering your hand to keep hold of the towel on your shoulder. Not much later you heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door before it swiftly opened to reveal the scent of cigarettes and the sight of the same tall lady at the stairs earlier that day. Jinx had always said she was the ugliest person she’d ever met, but you found heat rising to your cheeks looking at the woman towering over you. She had a dark rich skin tone with beautiful gray eyes and blue scars running along her left cheek which seemed to shin in the dim light. The cloak she was wearing earlier no where in sight exposing a gorgeous bronze robotic arm with a green tinted shoulder part and sharp dangerous looking metallic fingers at the bottom. You wondered at what point she had come up the stairs not having heard any footsteps coming towards the rooms.

But damn it, why was she so attractive?

She starred at what you assumed to be your paint covered body with an a firm face holding the door halfway open before speaking to you in a rather harsh tone, “ And who are you?” Your voice being stuck in your throat now made you embarrassed so you opted to just pointed behind you at Jinx’s door and whispered an almost inaudible ‘ her friend’ her face formed a scowl while starring you down to the point you felt like a mouse in a tigers den. She spoke again her tone become lower as her eyes narrowed “ and what do you want?” You gripped the towel in your hand before responding after taking a breath, “ I was wondering if I could use your shower? Because Silco is occupying the other one… Please?” She huffed before fully opening the door to let you in. You silently thank her while walking inside the smell of tobacco filling your lungs. She just grunted before grumbling something along the lines of ‘just don’t touch my shit’ you just nodded before entering the bathroom.

You quickly took a shower scrubbing at your skin and only pair of shoes and not listening to what Sevika had told you, you took the only shampoo in sight not having brought any with you. Once you had finished you dried you hair and body before changing into your change of clothes, or at least trying to quickly noticing that you hadn’t packed a shirt to sleep in. Of course any other person would have just walked out like that because there’s nothing wrong with walking around without a shirt, but you hated it you didn’t hate your body just the idea of waking around with your body for everyone to see. You considered just wrapping your body in your towel and leaving Sevika’s room to ask Jinx for a shirt but quickly remember the basket in the corner of her room filled to the brim of dirty clothes. You wanted to ask Sevika for a shirt but hesitated seeing as she clearly didn’t care about you not even offering her name (even if you already knew it). It was worth a try however so you stepped out of the bathroom your body slightly wrapped in the towel and your hair messy and still wet.

You looked at Sevika’s form sitting on top of her bed cigarette in her robotic hand and oddly enough a black book with no name in her human hand. She looked up through her eyebrows hearing you approach her. She didn’t say anything just slowly traveling her ever all over you making you shift on your feet before asking “ I was wondering if you could lend me a shirt? Just for the night? Please?” She maintained eye contact for a few seconds before standing up and walking over to a black dresser in the corner of her room.

She opened a drawer searching through what were clearly a mess of her clothes, “ Are ya a piltie or something why are you so polite?” She suddenly spoke surprising you. You quickly shook your head however “ No. I was just raised by nice people who had a few piltie friends but I’m from the undercity”, she hummed finally picking out what appeared to be a black t-shirt that was visibly to big for you. She tossed it to you before returning to her previous place on the bed relighting her cigar and continuing to read.

(She looked intimidating even while reading)

You took the opportunity to go change in the bathroom and get you bag of dirty painted clothes. You walked back out to her room heading for the door before hearing her speak to you “I thought I told you not to touch my shit, you smelt like my shampoo as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom” she starred at your eyes. You felt embarrassed quickly apologized and that Jed her for the shirt before leaving for Jinx’s room.

As you entered you found Jinx on her bed tweaking with one of her gadgets. “ why’d you take so long?” She looked up at you finding your face to be the color of a tomato.

“ I think I love her…” was all you said.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

:3 Thoughts?

#arcane #fanfic #sevika imagine #sevika #sevika fanfic #Sevika is awesome #sevika x reader #Sevika x gn reader #Sevika Is hot #first draft

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