#ammo band

[tempi-dispari]

New Post has been published on https://www.tempi-dispari.it/2023/12/19/ammo-valori-di-vita-e-musica-vanno-di-pari-passo/

Ammo: valori di vita e musica vanno di pari passo

Reduci dalla pubblicazione nel 2023 del loro primo disco, la band propone un mix ottimo di tutto ciò che gli serve per poter esprimere al meglio i propri pensieri e sentimenti. Si va quindi dal rock più viscerale al blues passando per sferzate quasi metal attraversate da sentori reggae. Insomma un melting pot unico che rende il gruppo riconoscibile e con carattere. In questa intervista si raccontano. Dicono come sono nati, perché hanno deciso di suonare. Soprattutto, raccontano cosa vuol dire per loro la musica nella vita di tutti i giorni.

Una presentazione per chi non vi conosce

La nostra è una band nata per purissimo caso,nato da un incontro totalmente fortuito e inaspettato che se si cercava di vincere al superenalotto forse c’erano più possibilità.

Mirko e Alessandro per passare alcune ore liete iniziano a trovarsi per suonare qualche brano in doppia chitarra,dopo qualche mese l’idea di mettere su una band ricercando gli altri musicisti con annunci e passaparola.

Band formata,ognuno al suo posto si è iniziato con delle cover Pink Floyd,Deep Purple qualche sporadica esibizione qua e la, poi un giorno Mirko è arrivato in sala con un brano RIDING TO THE STARS scritto in un momento di puro ricordo su eventi passati,abbiamo iniziato a lavorarci e da lì abbiamo capito che potevamo scrivere e comporre altri brani ancora.

Il 16 giugno è stato rilasciato il nostro primo album TO THE STARS e in gennaio registreremo il nostro secondo album che verrà rilasciato il 9 maggio 2024.

Abbiamo ottenuto una collaborazione nel nuovo disco con Luca Colombo e il 2023 per noi è davvero stato un annata eccezionale per i live riuscendo addirittura a varcare i confini italiani.

Iniziamo dal vostro ultimo lavoro. Il vostro ambito musicale caso o scelta precisa?

Una scelta molto democratica,nel senso che ognuno di noi immaginava il brano con suoni e mood diversi li abbiamo provati e riprovati cercando di creare qualcosa che piacesse a tutti e soprattutto un timbro e una linea che riconducesse a noi.

Quali sono le vostre influenze?

Siamo una band eterogenea,le influenze sono tante ma noi assembliamo il brano in base al messaggio che vogliamo trasmettere, le emozioni che noi proviamo cerchiamo, nel migliore dei modi possibili, di trasformarli in musica per farle arrivare al nostro pubblico per come le proviamo noi.

Come sono nati i brani?

I brani sono nati tutti da Mirko, il ragazzone ha tanto da raccontare scrive, scrive, scrive ed ha idee davvero forti che poi in sala lavoriamo assieme e portiamo avanti di comune accordo.

L’aspetto più difficile del vostro modus creativo?

In realtà nessuno, non abbiamo fretta nel concludere i nostri lavori e fortunatamente all’interno della band si prova i nuovi brani in totale serenità ed armonia e si va avanti finché non si trova la struttura giusta

Quanto contano le influenze non musicali nella creazione dei brani?

Cerchiamo di essere il più originali possibili, lavoriamo affinché il nostro sound sia riconducibile al nostro nome ma senza dubbio i Pink Floyd e i Deep puple

Quale ambito vi ha ispirato maggiormente?

Sicuramente la scena rock legata agli anni 70/80 e il periodo post rock legato al grunge di Seattle

Il rock ha ancora spazio nel panorama contemporaneo?

Assolutamente si,il rock non morirà mai.

Quanto contano le parole in un disco?

Le parole contano tantissimo,se vuoi utilizzare la musica per trasmettere un messaggio devono essere parole sentite che siano esse di gioia o di dolore

Perché avete deciso di scrivere musica?

Mirko ha studiato musica da ragazzino poi per motivi familiari ha dovuto smettere, la vita lo ha costretto a sacrifici non indifferenti, una volta sistemato, ha riportato a galla la sua voglia di scrivere e far musica

Non è mai troppo tardi no?

La musica che si propone, deve avere un messaggio?

Certo che si, attraverso la musica vanno esplorate emozioni come gioia, disperazione angoscia e chi vive appieno queste emozioni e gli da un valore nel bene o nel male deve per forza trasmettere un messaggio che sia esso di aiuto, di perdono o d amore

Tante band cercano di riprodurre ciò che è stato perché la musica di oggi non vale nulla. Voi come la pensate?

Potremmo dibattere a lungo su questo argomento,ci limitiamo a dire che la musica è un gran valore aggiunto nella nostra vita e bisogna darle la giusta importanza. Valori di vita e musica per noi vanno di pari passo

Qualcuno ha detto che diversi artisti storici oggi continuano a produrre più per ‘contratto’ che per passione. Secondo voi?

Abbiamo ascoltato i grandi del rock leggende intramontabili produrre nuovi album e la nostra domanda è stata ma perchè? E’ come se avessero rovinato un percorso ormai sancito e ben definito. Commercializzarsi vuol dire vendersi ma vuole dire soprattutto non poter essere chi si vuol essere!!

La musica oggi dovrebbe essere più…?

La musica oggi dovrebbe essere un misto tra buona tecnica e una forte passione quella che cerchi di trasmettere al tuo pubblico quando sei sul palco, musica suonata e cantata senza strani ausili.

Una band per cui vi piacerebbe aprire?

Sicuramente i Pearl Jam!!

Una che vorreste aprisse per voi?

Non che ci aprisse, ma che condividesse lo stage con noi sicuramente i Ghost Hounds

Il vostro concetto di underground?

Diffondere il proprio messaggio, apertamente senza la minima paura di essere contestati o additati

La sua ‘malattia’ peggiore? La cura?

L industria musicale. Per la cura preferiamo non pronunciarci

Una band o un artista underground che consigliereste?

Alice in Chains senza dubbio

Una mainstream che vi stupisce?

La corrente legata al grunge, niente di meglio che la realtà nuda e cruda

Ieri l’idea, oggi il disco, e domani…

Domani ci aspettano tante date e dei mini tour in Europa a partire da gennaio.

Una domanda che non vi hanno mai posto ma vi piacerebbe vi fosse rivolta?

Ma quanto ci credete in cio che fate?

Se foste voi ad intervistare, ipotizzando di avere a disposizione anche una macchina del tempo, chi intervistereste e cosa gli chiedereste?

Potessimo tornare indietro intervisteremmo Ritchie Blackmore!! Gli chiederemmo di collaborare con noi!!

Un saluto e una raccomandazione a chi vi legge

Ascoltate bene la musica, in ogni sua sfumatura, ogni singola nota, dissonanza vuole trasmettere un sentimento, dategli il giusto valore!!

[unknownperson246]

*this was based off a request but I accidentally deleted the old copy of this fic from tumblr so I am reuploading it*

Confused:

words: 615

warnings: *fluff*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You had just gotten your wisdom teeth removed. Axl your boyfriend had driven you back home after you were all loopy from surgery. You were oddly quiet for someone who just got their wisdom teeth removed with anesthesia involved in the procedure. Axl was worried the entire time. You were dazed and confused. You were so out of it. Suddenly a fear you never told Axl about came to your head. You waited until you got home trying so hard not to say it out loud fearing that it would make Axl crash his car. Even when you felt like you were in another world you still were very cautious and rational about things. You loved Axl like crazy. You would do anything for him. He knew instantly he would do anything for you. Your fear was an ass and it kept haunting you ever since you were with Axl. You were always so worried that he was going to cheat on you or that he already had. The anesthesia wasn’t helping your paranoia. You and Axl finally got home after the tense drive. Axl was worried that you were quiet and not saying anything goofy because generally, anyone with anesthesia is loud and very verbal. 

“Babe you okay?” They were Axl's first word since after your wisdom teeth surgery. 

“Mhm.” your answer was short.

“I’m scared you're cheating on me,” you said to Axl with your lips starting to quiver.

“What? Finally, the anesthesia hit you!” Axl giggled.

He noticed your lips quivering and he realized that it wasn’t a joke anymore. 

“You’re serious?” He asked you not knowing how much this question affected you.

He was starting to wonder how often you thought he was cheating on you. He was mad but he knew it wasn’t your fault. Despite his anger, he wrapped his arms around you to comfort you in your confusing and scary haze. You wanted to hug him forever. You never wanted to let go of him. You wanted to know that Axl was yours forever. He broke the hug and saw the tears in your eyes. He wiped them gently.  

“Please don’t break up with me” You begged Axl with a pleading tone.

“Shh, I’m not going to break up with you. Honey the anesthesia is just making you think scary and funny thoughts. I promise that I’m not cheating on you or that I’m not going to break up with you” Axl whispered knowing how much of a headache you're probably in. 

Axl held your hips and he carried you into the bedroom over his shoulder because every time you moved you fell over.

“Here, lay down in bed,” Axl said before he moved the blankets out of the way for you. 

You took his hand as he helped you lay down. He got in the space beside you and he calmed you down. You felt a lot better from Axl reassuring you. You were glad his temper didn’t spike up. 

“Axl my mouth hurts,” You said grabbing them and rubbing your cheeks.

Axl grabbed your hand off of your face.

“Honey, don't do that. That will make the pain worse and it won’t heal quickly.” Axl had gotten you some salt water to help with the pain. 

“Rinse your mouth with this later. Once you're less loopy. I will help you” He said, giving your cheek a quick peck. 

“Let’s go to sleep now,” You said, sounding a bit more like your usual self now.

“Sure,” Axl said as he laid down and draped the blanket over you and himself making sure you were all warm and cozy. 

You and Axl fell asleep until the next morning. 

[balladofthe101st]

I don't know why but messy speirs >>> clean pretty shaved spiers while all dressed up Nixon is way better than messy Nixon.

it's all in the psyche. our mind's telling us that speirs is supposed to look dirty, rugged, and war-torn because he's a born- soldier and warrior. while nixon's supposed to have a clean and shaved- and dressed up to the nines-look because he's a preppy, yale and momma's boy. in this study i will

[thefaceofhorror]

((Clover can play the Oboe. She's...really good at it, too; she was first chair in the high school classical band, and she can and will play both Careless Whisper and Master of Puppets at the slightest provocation.))

[johnbrand]

OnlyFags

With @boysmentfs

“God already? I just bought these like a month ago!”

Elliot tossed his headphones aside, annoyed. When he had bought the gaming headset, he had expected them to be excellent. So many other gamers had recommended the pair, but now they would not even connect to his monitor. Seeing that they were cordless, they were practically rendered useless.

Desperate, a risky idea suddenly popped into Elliot’s head. His older brother Trent had a decent enough pair that he could borrow. The plan was a fool’s errand if Elliot was caught; his brutish, jock brother could wipe him out in seconds for entering his room. And already loaded with emotional ammo on numerous accounts (being smaller, having intelligence, liking boys), Elliot was sure to end up at least hypothetically dead. 

But Elliot also knew that Trent was not coming home that night. He was over at his current girlfriend’s place, meaning all Elliot had to do was replace the headphones exactly as he found them. Enjoying the sense of danger, Elliot mischievously tip-toed out of his room–despite no one else being home–and carefully approached Trent’s door. His brother’s room was not any different from the stereotypical straight man’s quarters: sparsely decorated besides a poster of bimbos with a rock band, dirty clothes and foul-smelling shoes scattered on the floor, and an American flag on the far wall. 

Carefully avoiding the piles of empty beer cans, Elliot held his breath, hoping to not let any of his brother’s potent body odor enter his system. He eventually reached his destination, taking a seat at Trent’s desk and pushing aside anything that could dirty his bright-colored polo and shorts. It was easy to log into his brother’s computer and bypass the security functions, but Elliot had not expected to run into a problem with the Bluetooth compatibility. Until he disconnected the headphones from a specific site, Elliot would not be able to use them. It was a simple task, until Elliot realized it was a webcam site.

“OnlyFags?!” Elliot gasped. He would have never guessed Trent, the prime example of a cocky homophobic hetero alpha, would have been involved in OnlyFags–let alone a creator. The webcam site was practically known worldwide as a hate group–straight men teasing desperate, horny gays to make money. It was horrific, and yet it had somehow consistently exceeded expected profits. 

Trying his best to ignore this discovery and get back to the task at hand, Elliot logged into his brother’s OnlyFags account, hoping to be able to disconnect the headphones once and for all. The loading screens were long and annoying, spirals that seemed to go on for longer than necessary, but eventually Elliot navigated to the devices page. Instead of disconnecting his headphones however, he accidentally reconnected his brother’s camera.

“Oh no…please no,” Elliot squirmed. Before long, people hopped onto his feed, commenting about this new arrival. Elliot nervously tried to escape the program but every attempt appeared to fail, only booting up the loading screen once more without ever reaching an end destination. Elliot quickly put on one of his brother’s caps and held his head low, hoping the audience would think it was Trent until he was able to exit. His panic was rapidly rising, but out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. One of his unfortunate viewers had a request, stating that he should flex.

A sudden calm befell Elliot, and although his musculature was not visible, he surprisingly felt comfortable posing for the webcam. The timid act was not much, but it garnered a reaction from the viewers. Another requested for Elliot to flex from a different position, and he obliged, his slim frame gaining a small but fair applause from the gay audience. After succumbing to a few more requests, Elliot was soon hooked, continuously switching between the loading screen and listening to his fans. It did not take long until he started receiving messages requesting to start stripping, and to his own surprise, Elliot fulfilled them.

When one of the viewers typed that he wanted to see Elliot show off his “mammoth arms,” he willingly struck a pose. He did not hesitate to prove the next commenter wrong, who insisted his legs could not be “hardened with muscle and bloated out like massive logs of meat.” Elliot immediately tossed his legs up unto Trent’s desk, showcasing what one member of the audience guessed were Size 13 feet. The shirt was removed after Elliot had to prove his “hard six-pack,” the shorts already off before he was told to showcase the “classic bubble butt only these guys have.” 

Soon, the comments were less focused on requests and more so just stating observations. Elliot went back and forth between his live webcam and checking in on the spiral, although his panic had long subsided. “An abundance of body hair,” “Exudes arrogance and privilege,” “Only wants to play, get laid, and look good.” Eventually, Elliot even began to relish in the attention, becoming excited as his audience grew more vocal and engaged. This attention soon had Elliot massaging his member, his thick hands pumping the growing meat. It took his roused audience moments to realize this, yet Elliot was no longer afraid to respond to their excitement.

“You like that, don’t you?” Elliot’s voice oozed all-American jock. The crowd went wild, calling him irresistible, a pure stud. One viewer daydreamed what he was jacking off to, but another replied before Elliot could. “Probably cheerleaders or sorority chicks, these guys are all the same.” Elliot was about to reply differently, but a quick check in with the loading screen flashed a new image through his mind.

Tits. Touching them, motorboating them, and then finding his way down to the pussy. These images, these memories, made Elliot moan. The words almost left his mouth, but he knew his viewers would not be turned on hearing about his new and yet natural desire to breed and seed every chick he saw. No, he knew what they wanted to hear.

“That's it, you dumb horny faggot. You like this, don’t you?” Ethan smirked, continuing to pleasure his giant cock. OnlyFags terms and conditions were simple, but ironclad. Upon starting an account, creators had to “verify” they were straight, users endured the same sign-up requirements. “Blow your faggy brains out to a straight alpha like me, right now. Spend that useless cum, waste it on me.” When the system had detected Trent’s account had broken this agreement, the issue was immediately resolved. 

Quickly, a sudden rush of pleasure overran the new man. “Oh yeah BROOO!” Ethan shouted, white goo spilling forth just outside of the camera’s view. He did not want another dude–especially a homo–to see his dick after all, which was slowly dropping back into its still large flaccid state. 

Ethan, now just another dumb, homophobic, straight jock, found himself content with his work, taking pride as the tributes started rolling in. Thanks to Trent's and his system–while one got laid the other was pumped live–the twins were making bank. And why would they ever stop working if they got paid to do what they loved? Jerking off and fag-bashing had never been better.

“Tune in tomorrow, fairies,” Ethan licked his lips as he prepared to sign off. Cockily, he began grabbing at his pec. “Tomorrow’s sesh will be seeing a little more of this…” He then brought a hand back to down his massive cock. “and a lot more of this.”

[ninibeingdelulu]

"Nothing matters if you're not by my side"

plot- a snowball fight with Kaiser CLICK ME

The backyard was a pristine blanket of untouched white as far as the eye could see. Overnight, a thick layer of powdery snow had coated every surface in dreamy, muffled tranquility.

It was the kind of sparkling winter scene that just demanded to be disturbed and christened properly.

That's why Michael shouldn't have been surprised when you came bounding into the living room bright and early, eyes alight with childlike excitement as you tugged on his sleeve.

"Mikka Mikka, come look outside - isn't it perfect for a snowball fight? Please, let's go play!"

He couldn't fight the indulgent chuckle rumbling up from his chest at your enthusiasm.

Despite being one of the world's most renowned young soccer prodigies, Michael was still just a besotted boyfriend at heart when it came to you.

Denying you anything that brought that radiant smile to your face was simply impossible.

"You know I can never resist that pouty lip when you stick it out like that," he teased, leaning down to playfully nip at your protruding lower lip with his own.

Chuckling at your squeal of delight, Michael scooped you up into a snug embrace.

"Alright, alright - you win, troublemaker. But you'd better be prepared for the battle of your life once we're out there!"

You were already squealing with glee and wiggling free from his arms, scrambling to tug on heavy winter gear.

Michael just shook his head with a bemused grin and followed at a more laidback pace. He could pretend to be a fearsome opponent, but your sunny exuberance was more irresistible to him than any force in nature.

Soon enough, you'd both tumbled outside into the winter wonderland together.

Michael had barely stamped his snow boots down before the first salvo came whizzing by - a tightly packed sphere of snow pinging off his shoulder with impressive accuracy.

"Gotcha!" You were already dancing away on nimble feet, stooping to quickly gather more ammunition while cackling madly.

"En garde, Mr. Superstar! Prepare to face the ultimate cold wrath!"

Lips twitching in amusement, Michael acted quickly to hastily construct a defensive barrier while your barrage intensified.

You were relentless, cheeks already tinged rosy from the chill as you bobbed and weaved with impish zeal.

Lighthearted jeers and teasing taunts merged with the sounds of quickly sculpted projectiles thudding in every direction.

Before long, peals of unrestrained laughter and wheezing breaths mingled in the crisp air. Michael was astonished by how quickly the fearsome soccer machine had melted away - leaving behind just an utterly smitten young man gleefully scrambling through the snow with his best girl by his side.

More than anything, he cherished how naturally these carefree moments seemed to bloom anymore when he was with you.

He was so lost in thought that the next icy missile caught him completely off-guard, shattering in an icy explosion right across his face and chest.

You froze, immediately clapping hands over your mouth in dismay...right until Michael's shocked expression melted into a full-bodied bellow of mirth.

"Oh, you're gonna regret it!" he crowed, already forging another ammo stockpile while stomping towards you with booming guffaws.

You just squealed in delight and turned to flee, still abundantly giggling as well. But Michael's longer strides had him closing the distance rapidly.

The next thing you knew, his arms were banding around your waist from behind in an inescapable bear hug.

Your shrieks of helpless laughter intensified as he simply lifted you clean off your feet, swinging you up and over in a graceful arc.

Then, suddenly, there was nothing but soft and weightless suspension in midair - just long enough for your startled gaze to meet his adoring one.

Michael's eyes crinkled at the corners with pure contentment just drinking in the brilliance of your joy and startled expression...right before you both came crashing back down in a tangle of limbs cushioned by that forgiving pillowy expanse of snow.

There was a beat of stunned stillness where neither of you could do anything but gaze at each other in hazy wonder through the clinging powdery veil.

Slowly, Michael shifted to brace his weight on his elbows, caging your disheveled form beneath him as loose snow clumps tumbled from both your bodies.

Tenderly, he reached out to brush away more stray flakes clinging to your wind-tousled hair, his thumb tracing the arch of your flushed cheeks with unbridled affection.

You were all aglow, sparkling and effervescent and impossibly beautiful in that moment.

Michael's breath caught in his throat with the sudden realization of how lucky he truly was.

That out of everyone in the world, he alone got to have moments like this with you.

These priceless intimacies and flashes of unfiltered, untempered bliss brought into his life by the one person who'd disarmed his defenses so effortlessly.

A brilliant future and career in soccer awaited him, of that Michael was certain...but all the fame and glory in the world would be hollow without these tiny interludes of perfection with you alongside him.

His safe harbor in the storm. His beacon of radiant joy to look forward to amidst all the pressure and responsibilities threatening to overwhelm him at times.

Helpless adoration and gratitude swelled within Michael's chest like a tidal force as you simply gazed up at him - small crystalline snowflakes clinging to your ruddy cheeks and the dark fan of your lashes.

An ethereal winter sprite incarnate, created for the sole purpose of reminding him about everything else that truly mattered beyond the pitch.

"...Hey," he rumbled at last, voice slightly husky with profound emotion.

One calloused hand came up to cradle your face with infinite tenderness - no longer the touch of a soccer prodigy but simply a young man utterly besotted.

"I love you. So much. Thanks for always making me remember how to be human, snowflake."

And when that sunburst smile broke out across your radiant features again, Michael swore he'd just been handed the entire world and more.

Right there, bundled up together amongst the pristine snow drifts in your own private paradise, their sacred little pocket of bliss and belonging.

He dipped his head without hesitation to capture your lips in a searing, lingering kiss.

One gloved hand buried into the snowbank by your tangled tresses to anchor you flush against him, savoring the faint chill and woodsmoke taste of your mouth. A sensation he could quite happily spend the rest of eternity drowning within forever.

Because this - tangled up in your arms amid nature's most exquisite wintry grandeur, savoring the sublime beauty of your limitless spirit joining with his own - was what real life and living was all about at the end of the day.

Soccer, fame, glory...it all paled in comparison.

And with you as his eternal muse and ethereal inspiration, Michael knew this rapturous joy would only keep blossoming and growing more infinite for both of them with each year that followed. An endless snowdrift of perfect moments yet to come.

[juanarc-thethird]

Preparing for the mission

Girls:

Ruby: Do we have enough supplies?

Weiss: Food wise, yes. But we don't have enough ammunition.

Ruby: I see... Yang, Blake, can you go get some ammo?

Yang: Leave it to us!

Blake: *Nods*

Boys:

Jaune: So what do we have?

Sun: We have 4 slim jims, 3 Fire Dust grenades, and a band-aid.

Silence...

Jaune: I think we need more than this.

Neptune: *Annoyed* You think?!

Jaune: Ren, do we have money to buy more supplies?

Ren: No, you guys spent it on wings.

Jaune: Oooooh, that's right… but they were good wings.

Sun: Oh yeah, they were awesome.

[sanguineaddictionn]

★ zero day hcs ★

andre watches those guns & ammo programs that air on cable television

cal ALWAYS gets to choose the music when he rides in the passenger seat of andre’s car- it’ll usually be like stp, pearl jam, nin, silverchair- the typical 90s bands

they went to one of those sleep away camps every summer from like 4th-8th grade; andre CLAIMED he hated it, but he got so into capture the flag it’s not even funny

cal can’t cook or bake for the life of him

cal’s family 100% forces him to attend church almost every sunday, but he gets out of it by just sneaking out to andre’s at like 5am so they can’t come get him

they sit in the basement and just binge weird movies. probably drinking and having those late night conversations that get a little weird

ANDRE IS A SLEEP FIGHTER!!!!! cal has to push him back atp

if rachel makes any form of plans with cal, andre tries to make plans with him too to mess theirs up. overprotective friend!!

cal has a birthmark like on his back or somewhere that he hides

andre has holes in his walls from where he gets mad and punches them (twin)

cal and his dad listen to pink floyd by the fire when they camp (sobbing)

cal never got rid of his childhood stuffed animal or blanket

fav ice cream flavors; cal = strawberry, andre = some weird shit like pistachio or coffee, rachel= salted caramel, cal’s siblings = bubblegum 😭

chris always has a new girl over every time andre goes over to his place

cal hoards knick knacks in his room; his shelves are filled with cds, little action figures, excess ammo, probably random clay projects from school art class

andre on the other hand has ocd (genuinely) and keeps everything super neat. gets mad if anyone messes up his room, but just learns to tolerate it and fix it later if cal messes something up

andre can throw football, CAL ABSOLUTELY CANNOT

rachel has a red vw beetle!!! SHE GIVES PEOPLE RIDES IN ITTT and it’s the cutest car ever

cal watches cartoons with his siblings, but tries to sneak beavis and butthead on since it looks like a cartoon (he fails)

[fawnpires]

LOCKED & LOADED — SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: ghost loves two things the most; you and his pistol, but there was nothing better than the two combined. (AKA - ghost fucks you with his pistol.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: gunplay, weapons, gun kink, slightly mean!ghost, oral sex (female receiving), pussy-slapping, dirty talk, edging, use of pet-names, mild degradation.

"You're fuckin' depraved you know that, don't you, sweetheart?"

His voice heavy of an accented tone sends a shock down your laid spine, your body quivering with tiny non-visible motions. The only lasting separation from your bareness and his lingering eyes were your bra and panties full of lace — with his difference, he had been fully clothed, draped in his military gear and tactical cloth considering his return from a month-lasting expedition a long couple of minutes ago. Through the front door and trudging towards your shared bedroom; your body laid already half-naked on the mattress — as if you in preparation for him — the view causing him to practically drop everything from his hold — duffel bags and a few of his more heavier rifles.

In the band of the utility belt, only a single rifle and a pocket of ammo to it — which is how you ended up with his much more towering, heavier frame suspending over you; the muzzle of said pistol to your clothed cunt, circulating in small and sensual gestures. He squints his eyes at how your panties leave a stain where the gun traces, a smirk pressed to his lips at the sight from underneath the skull of his mask.

"Gettin' off on my gun, huh?" he rasps to your ear, "You take anythin' I fuck you with, don't you, love?"

Your thrown-back head lifts itself from the pillow, staring right into the sockets of the mask. "Mmhm — waited so long for you, missed you s'much."

"I know, baby, I know," he said while his free-hand caresses the flesh of your clammy stomach, "Missed you too. Couldn't stop thinkin' about you and this pretty pussy." his eyes drift to your stimulated cunt, the confines of his tactical jeans growing tighter at the erection that bulges through the material.

"Please!" you whine, "Fuck. I need you so bad, can't wait anymore, Simon."

His edging maneuvers latch onto you, but they just weren't enough to your liking. For the duration of his absence away from you, you had craved more than just a gun running at the exterior of your cunt; some fleshy, physical portion of his body — not just the solid metal of a weapon running into you. It had just seemed to lack your needs — not to be demanding, but there had just been some missing addition that would peak up to your arousal. Your bottom lip was teared from the constant bite of your top teeth, nearly broken of the skin at the repeated sensations at the front of your panties; needy hips grind against your only source of pleasure, the muzzle of the unpredicted pistol — it could've been loaded, a hazard to your safety, or unloaded due to the amount of care that Ghost holds for you.

"Don't worry, sweet girl," he straightens himself back up and holds his stance between your bare legs which he spreads for you, resting them at both sides of his kneeled figure. "Won't torture you that much."

Your mind is left to ponder at his phrase, slightly curious and wanting to poke more at the topic of 'torture' he has in mind.

With his pistol still clutched at the handle in his right hand, he puts his left hand to use and wraps his fingers to the waistband of your panties, tugging at the elastic before slowly ragging it down your thighs. From your knees, and down to pool at your ankles until they were eventually shrugged off to be abandoned somewhere on the floorboards of the bedroom's ground; you were almost unconditionally bare, minus the lace of your bra cushioning your breasts that were nearly spilling out from the position the man above held you captive in.

The embarrassment of your cunt stripped of its fabric finally hits you, causing you to press your thighs together in an attempt to give some shielded cover. It had possibly been the span of time he had left you all alone but his usual superior disposition had left you a bit intimidated, meek to his eyes. He strips himself of his tactical jacket, then the black of his thinned shirt — somewhat equivalently bare to you.

"What'cha hiding from, baby?" he aims the point of the gun to one of your thighs, one hand brushing to a single side of your waist. "Seen you naked so many times for me, no reason to be so shy."

His words label an impact on you — warming up to his characteristic nature and steadily parting your legs wider for him, situating them back to the sides of himself. He can't help but bring himself to smirk at the act, pinning the bottom of his balaclava to the end of his nose and folding the blemished material for it to stay in place. "That's a good girl, openin' all up for me. Just like how she always has." he praises, his hand no longer at your waist but brought down to between your thighs — landing a flattened slap on the puffy lips of your glossy cunt.

Your body jerks at the impact, vibrations sent straight to your stimulated clit as a muted whine draws from your throat. You feel yourself pulsating from the cruel action, just about swollen and pigmented red. Ghost elicits a shallow, stifled chuckle at the reaction in which he extracts from you; directing the muzzle of his forgotten pistol to your cunt, nudging at the lips and placing it still there — no movements, motionless in place. Body engulfed in shame, yet you left yourself to do the disgraceful; revolving your hips at the muzzle, grinding onto the object much like the first time he set it into place — only more needier, more faster and desperate in each circular move. A shiver comes down onto your body at the cold of the firearm, but immediately warming up once the metal bumps at your swollen clit.

"Are you going to take this, huh?" Ghost graces your ears with the inquiry, watching as you hump yourself against his gun, slick drooling down the muzzle and all the way to the barrel — glistening and shined down to each portion of the weapon. He reaches a hand to your face, his large palm fondling at your features with fingers kneading into the skin. "You gonna let me fuck you with my gun, baby?"

"I- I dunno," you whine out, loudly and more extended, "but, Simon-"

"C'mon, don't be like that," he said, grim in tone, "don't'cha wanna be my good girl like always? Takin' what's given to her?"

You gasp as he presses the the gun further against you, prodding right at your clit; the new sensation of cold, hard metal causing your lips to part and your body to instinctually press yourself harder on it. Your left no choice but to nod swiftly — the only way you could really get further into the pleasure he edges you with. He feels his lips curve into a small grin, the grasp on the handle of the gun tightening.

He doesn't hold himself back anymore, no boundaries to stop him from slowly pumping the cooled pistol into the entrance of your drippy cunt. Your breath hitches, body squirming as one of his hands is pressed down onto one side of your waist; preventing you from breaking free of the stimulation. A shattered sound — something between a squeal and a moan — forces from your mouth at the operation of insertion. Your back arches, body tensed and moderately uncomfortable; still getting used to the feeling of a literal gun being shoved into your cunt.

"There you go," he said, eyes widening at the sight in which he gives power to. The abnormally loud squelching of your cunt while taking his gun and the released whines of your mouth were placing him into a personal paradise. "See? I knew you could do it, honey. Just for me."

Your body no longer writhes under the gun when it is at the limit which you can only take it in; right to the bottom of the barrel, slick painting the material.

"M' gonna start moving now, stay still for me honey. Just like this." he warns, leisurely pulling the weapon out of you before thrusting it back in a more quicker maneuver. Your hips lift themselves before being pushed back down into the mattress with the hand at your waist, a whimper pulling from past the teeth and tongue. "Love this slutty pussy s'much, sweetheart, you likin' this?" he questions, "You like — no, — love bein' this much of a slut for my gun?"

Through the continuous whines and towed moans, you can only manage a non-verbal response — another agreement from the nod of your head. He only grins, leaning down to your face to press a sloppy kiss to your forehead, kissing down the soft expanse of your chest and stomach before settling where his gun quickens in pace at your cunt, a delicate kiss from his lips places at your clit. The object pumps up into you more quickly now but is joined with his tongue giving one long, wet stripe up your lips past the gun. A high-pitched moan is plucked at the new sensitivity, back curved off the creaking bed, hips bucking and pressed down onto his face.

"Simon, fuck!" you moan, nearly coming out in a scream.

He smirks against your cunt, surrounding his lips around your clit and sucking on the bud. Ghost continues to thrust his gun into you, the rate of it violent and in carnal. With the supplement of both his pistol and mouth at your cunt, your mind is invaded of a stupefying cloud of haze. The muscle of his tongue repeats long, prolonged stripes at your puffy lips; occasionally putting time into lapping at your clit. Your brows furrow, collecting beads of created sweat as your chest rises with each heavy breath you take.

"Doin' so good for me, pretty thing." Ghost murmurs, his fingers wrapped at the handle for more leverage and pounding his gun to the warmth of your walls with that same violent pace.

His saliva coats your inner thighs, as well as the thrusting pistol; piling with the surface of your slick. Drool dribbles down the structure of his chin, using his utmost stamina to put strength into both fucking you with his gun and tongue. Your vision is blurred of tears, head in spirals while your left to leave your mouth expanded — no longer giving attempts to even muffle any of your noises, or suppressing right at your throat. An organization of heat begins to birth in your abdomen, threatening to spill of itself any second; any move of either his tongue or gun would be the root of that release.

"S'close, Simon!"

"Go on, then, love." his eyes flow to arching anatomy then to your fucked-out face, "I know how badly you were waitin' for me to come home, take care of this achy lil' cunt of yours," he cooed, "Want you to make a mess of my gun, of me."

The hastened blend of a pistol and his tongue vitalizing your cunt was enough for your head to be fully sent into a stage of dumbification and the birthed heat at your abdomen to be overturned; streams of rapture flood every crevice of your body as you gushed all over both the the gun and his tongue, covering both parties. The hand at your waist caresses your skin in gentle gestures, one last press of his lips to your clit before he lifts himself up — his mouth left to hang open, catching breaths. His gun positions still inside you for a minute longer before you feel the now-warmed metal of it being withdrawn from your sticky cunt.

When it's pulled out from you, almost the entire thing was submerged in your arousal; the liquid glinting from the illuminance of the bed-side table lamp. Your head leans up the pillow, staring at the stained object; then to him, with his alluring lips now smeared of all you.

"Shit, baby," he breathes, words ending in a chuckle while he stares down the slick-painted weapon, "You really did stain my pistol."

You dumbly smile up at him through your remaining orgasm, all lips, no teeth. "Don't you want a reminder of me when you're away?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving to your side and "and you were so desperate to make it happen."

You bite at the fleshy wall of your cheek with tearing teeth, more warmth rising to your face at his statement.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing, honey," he confirms while taking note of the silence you leave, bending himself down and caging you in with his body and two arms; one holding the pistol right above your head. His lips press to yours in a deepened, messy kiss before smaller ones are peppered to your face in comfort. "I like when you're desperate anyways, you get all pretty and fucked out."

[gigabyte-flare]

There's No Escape (Part 7) [FINALE]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: The door is open, is it worth risking walking through to your freedom?

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 3.2k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging, tokophobia, Stockholm syndrome if you squint. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings could be added in the future.

This part does make mention of miscarriages, which I know can be triggering for people. If this is something that triggers you, please read with caution or pass on this part.

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @explorevenus, @nexysworld, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu, @aliet, @luniaxifics, @miwsolovely, @tosuckmyweenis, @admirxation, @susanmukami, @andieperrie18

[Author's Notes are at the end!]

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It has to be a trap, there’s no way he would have left the door unlatched like that, right?

You must have stared at the door for at least an hour, waiting for Leon to walk back through and praise you for being his ‘good girl,’ but he never did. You mull over your options.

If it is a trap, the worst that will happen is he puts you in the timeout room, you know he won’t rough you up too horribly because he wouldn’t risk you miscarrying, right? If it wasn’t a trap, if he actually did accidently leave that door unlatched, this was your perfect opportunity to finally escape, especially now that you have a good idea of where you are.

You decide it’s worth risking, so you start to get a plan in your head. You go into the bedroom closet and find an old looking backpack and start packing supplies: a few bottles of water, some granola bars, bug spray and band aids. You find your sneakers and pick out a loose t-shirt and a pair of your jeans and put them on; you need to be as comfortable as you possibly could, you have no clue how long you’ll be hiking for. You realize it wouldn’t be a bad idea to find something to defend yourself with, not just from Leon if he happens to catch you but from the wildlife: black bears, coyotes and god knows what else. 

You approach the front door, opening it hesitantly and poking your head out. You look around, trying to see if you see any sign of Leon out here, waiting for you. To your surprise, he’s nowhere to be found. Feeling confident that he’s definitely not here, you step out and follow the trail to the shed, hoping that you could find something in there to defend yourself with. Upon getting to the shed, you found the door was locked. You step back, giving the door a few fierce kicks before it breaks off its hinges, slamming to the floor, dispelling a cloud of dust as it lands.

You step in and immediately start looking around, eventually stumbling upon a collection of guns that Leon has displayed on a wall. You grab a smaller handgun along with a box of 9mm ammunition. You put the ammo in your backpack and you tuck the gun into your waistband after making sure the safety was on. As you start to walk out, you spot a red canister. You walk over to it, picking it up and realizing it was full of gasoline. That gave you an idea.

Taking the canister with you, you go back into the house and stomp into the timeout room. You open the cap to the canister and start pouring the gas all over the bed until it's empty. You go into the kitchen and start opening drawers until you find a pack of matches which, thankfully, had one match left. You go back into the timeout room, staring down at the single match in the palm of your hand, tears forming in your eyes.

When you light the match, you can burn away this nightmare.

You light the match, holding it in front of you for a moment before tossing it onto the bed. The force of the fire bursting to life knocks you off your feet, but you quickly regain your composure and run out the front door. Once outside, you stop and turn around. It doesn’t take long for the fire to spread to other parts of the house. Taking a huge sigh of relief, you turn back around, looking up at the sky to find the sun. You discern which direction you think South is in and begin walking. You have a long journey ahead of you to freedom.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The meeting with President Graham lasted for far too long, in Leon’s opinion. He sat at the oval shaped table, chair leaned back and his arms crossed, looking unamused. It was him, a handful of other agents tasked with combating bioterrorism, the President and the newly appointed Secretary of Defense; he recalls that the dark haired man, an agent like him, sitting across from him is named Patrick.

Leon half listens as the Secretary of Defense goes on about the investigation of former Defense Secretary Wilson; the government was still trying to track him down but so far, all efforts to find the man were unsuccessful. Leon thought back to that incident a year ago and Jason’s words:

“I will show everyone what fear is. Then, then it will spread.”

Leon suddenly can see your face, the fear in your eyes as you look at him. Leon’s heart ached for you; as soon as this meeting was over, he was going straight home to you, to show you how much he loved you. After about another half hour, the President dismisses everyone. Leon couldn’t get out of his chair fast enough, however, Patrick soon stops him in the hallway. 

“Hey! How’s it going at that house you got? How’s your girlfriend doing?” Patrick asks, his voice full of excitement; he is always starstruck by Leon.

“It’s good, she’s good,” Leon says flatly as he pulls out his phone to check it.

A series of notifications, from about two hours ago, made his heart sink: Motion Detected: Front Door. Motion Detected: Shed Door.

Fire Detected.

Leon’s eyes widen, he opens up an app on his phone to check the camera feeds, but he finds that all the cameras are offline except for the shed. 

“I hate to cut this short, Pat, but there’s an emergency at my house. I have to go. Tell the President I’m sorry and give him my regards.”

Leon bolts out of the building, running to his Jeep and climbing inside. He peels out of the parking lot, his heart racing as he pushes his Jeep as hard and as fast as it could go. He gets back to the house in record time, only to find it engulfed in flames; it is a complete loss. He parks his Jeep, standing in front of his burning home and collapsing to his knees. He lets out the most agonizing cry out, tears threatening to pour down the sides of his face as he slams his fists into the ground. It’s not the house he’s upset about, no. That can be replaced. What destroyed him was that you were gone, again.

He takes deep, trembling breaths before he stands back up, he sees something out of the corner of his eye that gives him hope: footprints. They tracked about South-Southwest, deep into the forest. He walks back over to his Jeep, grabbing some supplies out of it and begins following the trail. 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The night was the worst. You couldn’t sleep. Every snap of a tree branch startled you awake, thinking that Leon had finally found you. You didn’t dare start a fire or anything in fear it would draw his attention to you. You imagine he’s back home by now and found the house burned down and is now looking for you. Just as the sun starts to break through the trees, you immediately set out, trying to stay on a Southern track as best as you possibly could.

You keep your eyes on your feet, nimbly navigating the rocks and tree roots that jutted out of the ground. You thankfully were an experienced hiker; this came naturally to you. At the same time, you kept your ears open, being attentive to every sound you heard in the forest. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you see the sun hanging high in the sky, beating down on you. You stop under a large pine tree to take a break, leaning against it as you take off your backpack, taking a granola bar out to have a quick bite to eat.

That’s when you hear a sound that chills you straight to your core; your name being called. The voice echoes through the forest. There’s no mistaking it; it is Leon. You’re shocked that he managed to track you down that quickly. Are you really surprised though? He’s a government agent; he’s used to this kind of work. With each call, you can hear his voice get closer and closer, so you run. You sling your backpack back over your shoulders, running as fast as your legs can take you. 

Suddenly, you stop in your tracks, sliding until your feet stop at the edge of a large ravine. You look down, wide eyed, at the raging river in the gully below. You look around, spotting a tree that lay across the ravine. It’s risky, but it’s your only way across. You approach the tree, stepping up onto it and carefully balancing yourself across. You try not to look down, but you happen to glance down, the drop making you dizzy. You almost lose your balance, but you quickly correct yourself and manage to get yourself across. You step off the fallen tree, letting out a heavy sigh when you hear your name called again, this time, from directly across the ravine. 

You spin around and to your horror, you see Leon on the other side, approaching the fallen tree to cross to get to you. You pull out the pistol from your waistband, turning off the safety and pointing the gun at him.

“Don’t come any closer!”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“It won’t end,” Leon hears Jason’s words once again echo in his mind as he watches you pull the gun on him, your eyes wide in terror, “you are here. You are a witness to this fear. And now you will help it spread.”

Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he steps onto the fallen tree to cross the ravine.

So much for that…

“Sweetheart,” Leon opens his eyes and starts taking a few steps forward onto the fallen tree, “listen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I said… don’t come any closer!” you shout, tears welling up in your eyes as your finger hovers over the trigger. 

“Baby, please!” Leon pleads, continuing to advance across the tree, “I promise I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad about the house, ok? I’ll buy us a new one. We can go back to Boston or D.C. or anywhere you want! Just you and me… and our baby…”

“I’m not going anywhere with you…”

“Babe,” a wicked smile starts to cross his lips as he continues to step forward, now in the middle of the makeshift bridge, “that’s where you’re wrong. You have my baby growing inside you, you’re tied to me forever…”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, pulling the trigger.

Leon watches as the bullet strikes just in front of his feet, splintering the wood from the old, rotten tree. He carefully continues to step forward. He watches you pull the trigger again, this time a sharp pain going through his right shoulder as the bullet finds its mark. He growls, reaching over with his left hand, gripping his shoulder; it quickly is covered in his own blood. 

“You’re going to stop where you are, turn around and go back to where you came from. We are done.” you say, still pointing the gun at him.

“No we’re not,” Leon says, continuing to approach, “I am not losing you… I am not losing my baby.”

You fire at him again, the bullet once again going into the tree. Leon looks down, letting out a low chuckle as he looks back up at you, taking another step forward. However, with this next step, he hears the tree start to give under his weight. He attempts to leap forward, but the tree gives way before he’s able to and the last thing he remembers is your face staring down at him as he falls into the ravine.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You watch as the tree snaps and Leon falls into the ravine; into the white rapids of the river below. You stare down at the river, dumbfounded, your eyes searching the rapids for him, but you don’t see him. You fall to your knees and break down crying. You probably just killed Leon. The horror of having potentially murdered Leon gives way to a huge wave of relief, the nightmare was truly over. You must have stayed there for over an hour, staring into the river, waiting for Leon to surface. 

But he never did. 

The sun starts to set, so you decide to set back off, heading south once more. Once it gets dark, you find a safe spot to set up camp, feeling safe enough to set up a fire to keep yourself warm. You stare into the fire, your body trembling from your ordeal. You still can’t believe you probably killed Leon, you can’t believe that your nightmare is over. That you’re free.

Several days go by; while you were sometimes startled by random sounds in the forest, your trek through the forest was uneventful. It had downpoured at one point, completely soaking you, your clothes and your shoes. You had run out of granola bars and water and you quickly were becoming dehydrated. One night, you settle down to get some sleep; however, you could hear sounds that immediately caught your attention.

Laughter. The laughter of several people

You immediately get up, grabbing your backpack to head towards the sound. After a few minutes of walking, you see a campfire and break into a sprint, bolting into a small clearing where you find a small group of people gathered around the fire. You stand there for a moment, looking at all of them. You must have been a sorry sight, your clothes dirty and wet, your hair greasy, soaked, matted and stuck to your face. You feel tears well up in your eyes as a wave of relief wash over you.

You finally speak, your voice barely a whisper, “please… help me…”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The following days went by in a blur, the group, which you found out was a group of college students, helped you out of Baxter State Park and immediately contacted Fish and Game, who in turn contacted the police after you recounted what had happened to you. You were rushed to the hospital, where you were put on an IV for your dehydration. They were able to confirm that you were, in fact, pregnant, much to your dismay, but you weren’t going to worry about that right now. 

Police had come in to interview you as you stayed in the hospital to recover from your ordeal, you told them as much as you possibly could about what happened to you, however, not once do you mention Leon’s name. 

Why are you protecting him? you ask yourself, he’s dead, it doesn’t matter now.

But deep down you knew if you told them that an elite government agent had done this to you, they wouldn’t have believed you. One day, you overhear a couple cops talking outside of your hospital room, saying how they didn’t find a body in the ravine that you pointed out on a map of Baxter State Park. You try not to let fear overtake you; you could have been mistaken where the ravine was. You saw him fall, there was no way he survived that fall.

A couple days later, you were released from the hospital and were greeted by your parents, who were so happy to see you. They drive you back to D.C., and you pass out, sleeping the majority of the way there. The following days go by peacefully, as you acclimate back to a semi normal life. You then start to talk to your parents about what you’re going to do with the child growing inside you, it’s starting to sound like adoption was the best option. However, your own body made that decision for you.

You wake up one morning to severe abdominal pain; you cry out, grasping your lower stomach as you sit up and toss the blankets off you. What you see is horrifying. Your bed and your pajama bottoms are soaked in your blood; you scream a blood curdling scream. Your mom comes rushing in to see what’s going on and immediately calls 911 upon seeing the blood. You’re rushed to the hospital, where you’re told you have miscarried. As you lay in the hospital bed, you can’t help but feel relieved. The last thing you would ever want was to bring a child into this world who was conceived under such horrible circumstances. 

The doctors suspect it was due to the sheer amount of stress you had been under and the dehydration. You don’t doubt it. You can’t help but think about how horrified Leon would have been if he were here. Thankfully for you, he wasn’t. Once you are released from the hospital, you start the agonizing journey to heal yourself and to find yourself again after what you had gone through.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Three years later, Northern California…

You and your new found girlfriends drive down Route 1 in one of the girls’ convertible. You all joke and laugh as the wind flows through your hair; you couldn’t be happier. Your ordeal seemed so far away, especially since you decided to move West, as far away from the East coast as you could possibly go. You needed a fresh start. Neither of these girls knew what you had gone through. Someday, you would tell them, but not today. Today was for happiness and friendship. The girls’ names are Jill and ironically, Rebecca. You had met them at a bar one night and they welcomed you into their friendship with open arms. 

Jill is driving and she pulls over in a scenic stop area so that you all could watch the sunset over the Pacific ocean. You all get out of the car and lean up against it, facing the ocean. You all talk amongst yourselves, paying no mind to the motorcycle that had pulled into the scenic stop along with you. After a few minutes, Jill stops, looking over at the motorcycle that’s parked over on the other side of the scenic stop. 

She elbows you, “look at that handsome stud.”

You lean forward and crane your neck to see who Jill is talking about and your heart sinks. It’s a tall, blonde haired man leaning against a black, Ducati motorcycle. He wore a black leather jacket with white, horizontal stripes on the sleeves, black jeans and black boots. 

He looks just like Leon.

You take deep breaths to calm yourself down and close your eyes, hugging yourself.

It’s not Leon, Leon’s dead, you watched him die. You’re safe.

You open your eyes to see the man staring right at you, you can tell he has brilliant blue eyes, just like Leon’s. He winks at you before climbing onto his motorcycle and starting the engine. Much to your relief, he drives off, getting back on Route 1. You let out a sigh, leaning back up against the car to stare back out into the Pacific ocean.

“He was quite the looker, wasn’t he?” Jill asks, elbowing you again and smirking at you.

Your eyes remain fixed on the ocean, your face blank and emotionless.

“Yeah… I guess he was…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: This series has been quite the journey for me. Not only did it kick start my return to Tumblr, it connected me with some truly wonderful people in the Leon Kennedy/Resident Evil fandom. I've made beautiful friends because of this series and I am so incredibly grateful. If this series was a movie, I always imagined The Summit by Spiritbox to be the "ending credits" song.

Thank you to everyone who has joined me on this journey, I appreciate every single one of you who have supported my work on here. Love you all!

[zep-zep-blog]

Im back from the dead yall. I got this idea from @timeslugarts ^^ Go give them a follow for their amazing art! Hope yall enjoy!

Vox x gn!reader

Genre:Fluff | Cw: death, car crash, hospital mention

☆Devilish Love☆

Darkness. That's all you could remember until you wake up in this fiery hellscape. In reality, you were hit by a drunk driver and was in a coma back on Earth with family crying at your bedside, but your soul was trapped here. In the underworld of sinners that were repenting for their crimes.

You wandered the streets, looking around at the different sinners, demons, and other wayward souls. That is until you ran face first into someone, that being a tall man(?) if you could even call him that. He had a tv as a face for crying out loud. "Watch it." He said in a voice that was common in late 50's shows, his voice was sharp and boomed. Ofcourse you squeaked out an apology, but it wouldn't be the last. As you ran into him several times, even getting into arguements with him.

Over time, you did grow close. You stopped arguing with him less often and he offered to let you stay at his place. Soon his roommates, Valentino and Velvette grew to accept you and noticed how much romantic tension there was. You hung around him like a lost puppy, helping him with paperwork or his various shows he produces. This did lead to some issues though, as one day you had accidentally mixed up the scripts for one of the shows and you got into an argument. You and Vox had argued for almost 2 hours, but he finally cracked and impulsively kissed you on the lips.

That kiss had spiraled into you being his right hand, his assistant, his second half. You and him ran Voxtech with a iron fist, planning on taking over sinners and hell. He was also planning some ring options behind the scenes, asking Velvette for help on diamond size, band size, even the box color. Little did he know that the doctors in the mortal plane had other ideas.

You stood in the kitchen, messy hair from just waking up and only in one of Vox's more casual shirts and some underwear. He sat at the island, pouring you guys some cereal, you were about to take a spoonful when BAM your gone in a blink of an eye. Vox panicked, going absolutely nuts. Every tv, phone, camera, you name it was spent looking for you. He even went down to the Princess's hotel to demand an answer from Alastor.

"WHERE ARE THEY ALASTOR! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TURN YOU INTO VENISON BY THE TIME IM DONE-" He yelled, going berserk at the front door of the hotel. The door opened by Vaggie lunging at him with her spear, but was thankfully stopped by Charlie. "What's going on? What did Alastor do?" She asked with her signature smile. "He took them! I just know he did!" Vox screeched, pointing his finger at the clam and smiling radio demon. Every one turned their heads to look at Alastor, who looked a bit too calm for the situation. "Who?" His staticy voice came off as genuine confusion. "MY SPOUSE YOU STUPID FUCK!" Vox argued. "Who?-" Alastor was cut off by Angel, "Wait. Someone married you?" He asks, "Well, we were going to get married, but-but they just DISAPPEARED!" Vox says desperately, but not wanting to give Alastor any ammo he left. He returned to his office, giving annoyed huffs to Valentino and Velvette's questions.

Meanwhile, you had woken up to a heart moniter beeping and the warm embrace of your mom, hugging and weeping. The smell of hospital had made you more aware of the situation. Was..was that all a dream? You weren't exactly the perfect person, but having a dream about falling inlove in hell was a bit much for your human mind. Eventually, years had passed and you had lived a single life with a few pets for company, never getting over that dream until your death. Unfortunately, time in hell is different, while almost 30 years had passed since that car crash it had only been a few months for Vox. He had lashed out and never stopped searching. He spent all his time balancing finding you, fighting Alastor, and running Voxtech.

You had woken up in the same place 30 years ago, but it didn't look like that time had passed. You were shocked, it wasn't a dream all those years ago. You dashed through the streets looking for the familiar building of your long lost beloved. Soon you reached your destination, zooming through the lobby, but getting caught short by security. You caused a huge scene, cussing and yelling, begging for them to let you see Vox. Velvette alerted him to your outburst and he zapped through the wires to the lobby and froze. It was you, the person he still had the perfectbring for. The person he still made a plate for. The person he hugged a pillow at night to remember the touch of. He ran to you, shouting at the guards to let you go. He hugged you tightly, sharing a few tears as you hugged him back. You missed this, he missed this.

After being reunited he couldn't wait anymore, he eventually proposed with the ring he saved all that time. Sure he waited months, but you waited years and now you both could take over hell together.

[unknownperson246]

Can I request more Steven Adler?? It can be anything I just need more Steven content 😞

hiii I’m sorry but I don’t write for Steven Adler 🫤

[moonfoxgazer]

It could be considered sad, perhaps, how things must happen for things to continue on the correct path, consider how it could be comparable to that of the work of a ranch-hand as they guide the herd towards the best pastures. Occasionally they must make a difficult decision which may or may not require a sacrifice, some of the herd may not make it, but ultimately it is for the best possible outcome for the whole.

*insert that one song with tears falling down at the party and being the saddest baby in the room* I've been playing with the whole cowboy Danny Phantom idea for awhile now. If ya'll are curious about designs and meaning feel free to read below. Don't fret, I have more cowboy stuff stewing in the stock pot, but the potatoes aren't soft enough yet so ya'll have to wait a bit more.

For Danno So design choices are taking Southwestern outfitting and combining it a little with the Ghost King stuff too, such as the Crown of Fire becoming akin to a hat band (which nicer hat bands and sometimes feathers are often earned within ranch-hand and rodeo cultures) and then the Ring of Rage becomes the Bolo of Rage, heh. And naturally the kiddo's insignia becomes a belt buckle because those are earned for sure and usually goes with the outfit. Now for CW

I based a lot of his design off more outrider/ outlaw designs while keeping the feeling of his original outfit. So his cloak remained but shorter and a little more ragged, which many travelers back then would have some sort of cloak or coat, depending on region, money and circumstance, fighters usually went with looser clothing so it was easier to move and access weapons. Of course you have the bandolier, which was used mostly to carry more ammo. The rifle CW is carrying is loosely based off a Winchester Model 1873 Smoothbore Rifle, which was a common rifle type in the late 1800s. Of course I had to reference the medallions with an engraving in the butt of the rifle, which carvings and decorations on firearms were common during the time, with many carving the decorations themselves during downtime, and well, we know how CW is about his branding. The last bit that really could stand out is his belt buckle, which is of course decorative and based off Dine Silver and Turquoise jewelry with a common blossom pattern in the center. Being from the southwest, there's a lot of things about life out here, both in the past and present that require sacrifice and that's something that resonates a lot with DP honestly. It's a theme I like playing with a bit when it comes to the idea of the southwest. It's why Danny looks melancholy and withdrawn here and CW in his typical aloof nature is more, neutral. If ya'll read through all this, congrats, you didn't get caught in a cactus, ya'll are awesome.

[saintmalosunsets]

Recruiting for my BoB Discord Server

My server is like a text-based Band of Brothers video game. You can build friendships with the men, marry one, earn money through your paratrooper salary or by begging the guys, buy items, gain XP by staying active, get promoted by Colonel Sink, and even annoy Sobel. There’s also an HP system with med kits, K-Rations, and canteens. But if that’s not your thing, you’re still more than welcome to join just for chatting!

Here are some of the server’s features:

Currently has 16 bots of Easy Company members, some of which you can interact with. They will randomly pop in and send messages from time to time.

Friendship system for: Malarkey, Roe, Speirs, Lipton, Winters, Nixon, Luz, and Sobel (he’s the hardest to befriend).

Economy system where you can earn your daily paratrooper pay (options to earn more money like begging Speirs or Don, rushing Speirs, or robbing Sobel), and use money to buy virtual classic BoB items that you can give to some of the men! Or buy lottery tickets, mystery boxes, and other items! You can also get K Rations from Colonel Sink which you will need to eat when you get hungry in order to prevent your HP draining.

Give Doc Roe scizzuhs, give Speirs loot, give Nixon Vat 69, and more.

Sobel can, and will, revoke your weekend pass, and yell at you for having an empty canteen.

Guarnere in your DMs 😉

We have Nixon’s Dog! You can even adopt him, and he’ll dig up items for you!

Speirs can steal your cigarettes, lighter, and loot.

Can get married to one of the paratroopers and have kids. Additional interactions unlock after marriage, and after having a baby (there is a parenting system, if you have any. If you don’t want any, Doc Roe can tie your tubes). (Also, your husband can catch you begging Speirs and get angry.)

Relating to the marriages, if you are a writer you can help out and write mini one-shots for the server!

WooHoo command… ifykyk. Sometimes you don’t even need to use the command…

XP system! Be promoted by Colonel Sink for being active, all the way up to Major!

HP system! You will die if your HP or hydration level gets too low. You can drink from your canteen or use a med kit to prevent this. If you die, you lose money and respawn in ten minutes.

Deploy into any episode of the show for XP, and random opportunities to earn more XP, like hiding in a foxhole quickly enough if we are under attack, or attacking the enemy back.

Collect ammo and donate it to the men when they’re running low!

We have our own stock market system! Perconte can sell you weed at a random price, and other members of Easy Company will buy it off of you at a random price.

Bet on fights between two paratroopers! Gambling!

Team up with your fav paratrooper in the Hunger Games! Prizes!

Guaranteed laughter from the various shit you will see popping up. Funny random events. Spongebob references. Rob Mr Krabs, but he can also rob you!

DM me if you wanna join! Please only ask to join if you can be somewhat active. We have an inactivity rule but it’s pretty lenient, it’s just to avoid total inactivity.

[3rdeyeblaque]

September 9th marks the 284th anniversary of The Stono Rebellion of 1739✊🏾

When an Angolan brotha called, Jemmy, led a band of 20 slaves into rebellion on the banks of the Stono River in Charleston, S.C., which put unprecedented fear in Whites. It was because of this uprising that laws were enacted that outlawd the enslaved from learning how to read, gathering in groups, & growing their own food. Thus, making it one of the most significant rebellions in the history of the U.S. colonies.

Jemmy & the rebel band marched southbound on a road toward the river, carrying banners that proclaimed their war very, "Liberty!". Their numbers swelled with more enslaved women and men as they went. By nightfall, 100 rebels had joined the cause. They broke into a local firearms store, arming themselves with guns & ammo. As they marched, they killed every overseer in their path and forced any reluctant slaves to join them.

From there the band marched toward the house of a Mr. Godfrey, where they burned the house & killed Godfrey and his family. It was just shy of dawn when they reached Wallace's Tavern. Because the innkeeper at the tavern was kind to his slaves, his life was spared. The White inhabitants of the next several houses in their path were all slaughtered. Those enslaved by a Thomas Rose reluctantly joined the rebellion, but not before hiding their slaver - of which they were later rewarded for. Still, many more rebels gladly joined the cause. By this point, a Lieutenant Governor Bull eluded the rebels & rode on horseback to spread the alarm. Once the band reached the Edisto River, Whites colonists set out in armed pursuit. Shots were exchanged across both lines. By dusk, about 30 rebels had fallen & at least 30 more had escaped. In the end, most rebels were captured over the next month, then executed. The remainder were pursued and captured over the following 6mo - all except 1 who remained a fugitive for 3 years. The few survivors were sold off to plantations in the West Indies.

The immediate factors that sparked the uprising remain uncertain. Many rebels knew of small groups of runaways had made their way from SC to FL, where they had been given freedom and land. There was also an ongoing malaria epidemic surging across SC. Ultimately, this unprecedented act of rebellion demanded unprecedented legislature. The European colonists finalized a Negro Act into law which aggressively limited the privileges & movement of the enslaved. No longer would slaves be allowed to grow their own food, assemble in groups, earn their own money, or learn to read. Some of these restrictions had been in effect before the Negro Act of 1740, but had not been strictly enforced. This also resulted in the forced indoctrination of slaves into Christian schools systems.

Let us remember Brother Jemmy and those who fought, willingly or not, against the colonizers. Their sacrifice may have set a great legal precedent in European colonizer politics, but it set an even greater one that would spark many fires and fan many more flames of rebellion, war, and freedom. Every step taken from this moment onward was a necessary one to achieve our "freedom" as we experience it today.

We pour libations of water (especiallyfrom the Stono River), speak their names, & offer prayers toward their elevation.

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[violetmuses]

Opposites Attract - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Opposites Attract - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Detective!Reader

Main Storyline: Working with the Miami Police Department, you meet criminal Armando Aretas for the very first time. @hyper-trash-panda @nobodygetsza @deja-r @adoresmiles @nelo0wesker 🏷

Part II - ❤️‍🩹

======

2024

“No.” You offered the rejection when famous Detective Mike Lowrey plans.

“Why not?” Mike squinted. “I might as well rip the band-aid now. He's my son.”

After facing many questions and encountering secrets, Mike Lowrey would stand up as the biological father of criminal Armando Aretas.

“What's the point? You've always checked on him alone.” You know Mike's routine of visiting Aretas in prison.

“Um…” Mike trailed off, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Mike, what did you do?” Stressed, you take off sunglasses and rub your face.

“Don't hit me girl, but we talked and I…” For the first time in a while, Mike couldn't help flinching.

“Mike, spit it out!” You just wanted to hear the truth at this point.

“Armando wants to meet you.” Mike knew that your inevitable rant could face the walls.

“Hell no!” You've shouted. “Just refused the first time.”

“I'll stand right there with you. No bullshit.” Mike promised.

“Fine.” You accepted reality. “No matter what happens though, back me up if anything goes wrong.”

“Look at me, all right? When have I ever let you fall?” Mike always protected you.

“Never.” You know that truth and left the precinct with Mike, ready.

_____

“How you doing?” Mike questioned his son Armando while standing between harsh lights.

“I'm alive.” Wearing this orange prison uniform, Aretas rasped slightly accented English.

“She's stubborn, but look who's here?” Mike gestured toward you.

When you step closer, Armando's heart races from within.

Perhaps incarceration ruined his focus, but you look beautiful, even while set through law enforcement.

“Hello.” Greeting Aretas, you stayed cordial for obvious reasons.

“Hello.” Knowing better, Aretas mimicked your phrase instead of flirting right away. Mike would've snapped.

“Ready to leave?” You offered the question to Armando.

“When?” Armando volleys back in your own direction.

“We're still confirming details, but soon.” Facing Armando, you nodded toward Mike as well.

To cut down his prison sentence, Armando Aretas would join the AMMO squad before long.

“When it's time…” Armando stopped talking to you when Mike caught on.

“Don't start, man. We gotta go. C'mon.” Mike took charge away from Aretas and led you out as visiting hours ended.

Glancing over your shoulder, you watch Armando's figure disappear from shadows tonight.