#leon: everything's garbage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leonstoenailunderhisbed · 8 months ago

Text

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

1K notes · View notes

leqonsluv3r · 9 months ago

Text

good girl

re4!leon kennedy x fem!reader

— a oneshot

warnings: MDNI, 18+, inappropriate use of handcuffs, unprotected sex, use of nicknames (babygirl, baby, etc), praise, porn with literally no plot, mentions of raccoon city & leon being a lil rookie, reader has hair that can be tugged on but no other physical appearance mentioned, use of female pronouns (she/her), established relationship.

“she smirks at the handcuffs, “never been arrested before…” she says with a small chuckle as she swings the handcuffs around her finger, looking up at him. “not those kinds of handcuffs, babygirl.” he says with a small grin, looking over her face as her smirk stalls a little bit. letting herself realize what he really meant, her mouth becoming dry. she was deep in it now.”

—or reader finds leon’s handcuffs and he shows her what he uses them for

when she met leon, it was hard for her to believe that he even looked her direction. not because she wasn’t his type, he loved any kind of woman, no matter how she looked.

she was just not use to someone who looked the way he did to talk to her, or even ask for her phone number. it was bizarre in her eyes, like hell had frozen over in the best way possible.

she knew he was different from other guys right from the get go, he opened the car door for her and payed for her meals. he held respect for her in the way that most men hadn’t.

and it made her like him much more then she anticipated.

they continued to go on dates, hang out at each others places and then eventually they had sex.

she had never had a guy…who felt and gave like leon did. he would gladly go down on her, no questions asked. he ate her out like she was a meal, making her back arch and her hands fist at his hair.

no man had ever made her feel like that before.

he shared everything with her, what he did before and why he was here in the city. he even shared some of his embarrassing stories from when he was a kid. they talked about everything.

and as time grew on and they became more serious, leon asked her if she wanted to move in together. get a place and be in one spot, which made her happy, but she had never lived with a man that wasn’t family before and it did make her a bit nervous at first.

leon reassured her that everything would be fine though, he knew how nervous she was. he could read her like a book after all the months they had been together.

and she said yes, which led to her packing all of her one bedroom apartment into boxes. stuffing clothes into garbage bags and dismantling furniture. she was stressed but it was definitely worth it at the end of the day.

this led her to now, currently moving all her boxes into their new place together. she was sweaty, exhausted and stressed but she had the biggest smile on her face and nothing could take that away.

she was finally in her own place with leon, nothing could be better.

“settling in? i just moved all my shit in two days ago, haven’t unpacked a single thing.” he says with a wipe of his forehead with his bicep as he walks into their practically empty kitchen.

she chuckled, “yeah, all my stuff is scattered around. i have to go pick up the furniture that i’m keeping tomorrow. didn’t have enough energy to get to it today.” she says as she sips on her plastic water bottle that she brought with her, moving some hair out of her eyes.

he smiles at her and comes over, wrapping his arms around her waist. “it’s all worth it though right?” she hears him mumble into her ear, pressing a small kiss on the shell of it. she bites her lip, trying to fight back a stupid lovesick grin, “yeah, definitely.” she says softly as she looks over her shoulder and up at him.

he was worth it, the stress of packing and unpacking was definitely worth it. being with him was worth it, all of it was. she wouldn’t trade it for anything, no matter how stressed and strung out she was right now. nothing could beat the look on her face.

leon could see that.

“do you wanna try unpacking the bedroom first? i already built the bed.” he says with a small smirk into her hair, holding onto her waist with hands that could easily crush her, but didn’t. she fights another grin, “mhm…” she hums.

they unpack the bedroom, what they can of it. she becomes exhausted after about 10 boxes. moving was clearly not her favorite task, that was apparent.

if anything she despised it, but she’d do anything for him. even if it meant packing her entire apartment into boxes just for him. she’d do just about anything for him. even this.

he sighs and looks at her, “you feeling okay?” he asks softly as he rubs his hand over her shoulder. she sighs and nods, rubbing at her eyes. “i’m just tired. today was a lot. i just…moving has never been fun.” she says with a weak smile as she looks up at him next to her.

he nods, chuckling, his hand still squeezing and rubbing at her shoulders. “but you like it right?” he asks with a teasing raise of his brow. she grins; lovesick just by his eyes on hers. “absolutely.” she responds without hesitation.

“good, thought i had something to worry about baby.” he says with a small laugh, moving to grab the last box of the bed. it was his, the messy scrawl of his handwriting on the side was barely legible. she laughs softly and sits on the side of the bed, watching him tear open the cardboard box with ease.

she looks at the decor of their room, the black iron headboard and large queen bed that had dark green sheets and a duvet to match, their photos and books, little knickknacks from life spread together throughout the room. she really was home with him.

it sunk into her exhausted bones that moment as she looks over at him, watching him unpack stuff from the box. “what’s in there?” she asks with a small looking from the box label to him.

he sighs and lifts out a picture frame, showing her a picture of him. he was definitely younger in the picture, maybe 21. he was in his police uniform, smiling widely at the camera. she smiles softly, “aww! look at you!” she says with a teasing smile as she moves over on the bed and towards the box.

she knew he was a cop at one point in his life. something unfortunate happened that made him disband from that and go to his current job. he never really spoke of it, saying that he couldn’t technically. she didn’t mind, she knew he was only following orders and doing what he needed to.

he rolls his eyes, “i wasn’t expecting that much of a reaction.” he says with a small blow of his lips. handing the framed picture towards her. she takes it and traces her fingers over the frame. “how could i not? you looked so cute in your little uniform!” she says with a small giggle as she showcases the photo in his direction again.

he rolls his eyes again, “shut up.” he chuckles lowly as he continues to pull stuff out of the box. loving his girlfriends teasing on the matter, he would agree that he was cute back in his day. back when he was a bright eyed cop, eager to protect and serve. but he had no idea what was in store from him that day in ‘98 when he went to raccoon city.

he pulls out his uniform, the spare one that they gave him to commemorate his service to the force when he first graduated the academy, holding it in his hands. a myriad of emotions crosses over his eyes and she doesn’t miss it.

“you miss it?” she says with a small curious expression over her face. her tone gentle as she analyzes the mixed look over his face. he sighs, “i only did it for one day, but i miss the idea of it.” he says as he glances over at her on the bed.

she nods in understanding, “i’m sorry, honey. i really am. i know what it’s like…in a sense to have something that you wanted ripped away from you.” she says softly as hers brows dip in sympathy. “i don’t know what happened,” she pauses and takes a small breath. “but whatever did happen that day. doesn’t mean that you aren’t still that person inside.” she whispers softly.

he smiles at her, so grateful that even if she doesn’t fully understand. she’s willing to try for him. he knows that, knows how caring, loving and understanding she is. she’s been that way since they started dating.

he dug into the box again, pulling out some handcuffs and holding them up. “i forgot all about these.” he says with a small smirk as he looks over at her. she tilts her head and her eyebrows furrow, “they’re just handcuffs…” she says with a small chuckle.

he shakes his head, “we got two pairs of them. i used one for my uniform and my other pair…these pair of handcuffs i used personally.” he says with a small smirk as he holds them up.

“personally?” she says in confusion, the dots weren’t connecting in her brain and she had no idea what he was even talking about. “i used them on the girls i dated before you.” he says as he holds up the handcuffs, twirling them around his finger with ease.

they were just a normal pair of handcuffs, normal metal ones that looked like anything a police officer would carry. that was until the dots connected and her eyes widened, realization dawning on her when she figured out what he truly meant by using the handcuffs.

her cheeks flushed red, her wide eyes blinking at him from where she sat on the bed. “really? i didn’t know you were into that.” she says and it’s not all shock, it’s curiosity and something else entirely.

he chuckles lowly, he sets the handcuffs on the bed. then moves the half empty moving box off the bed. “i am, i haven’t done it in a long time. haven’t been willing to find someone to try it again with.” he says with a small tilt of his head as he runs his fingers over the clasp of the handcuffs.

she doesn’t know what within her makes her open her mouth and say, “i’d try it with you.” she says softly as she looks at the large pads of his fingers running over the metal surface of them. as if he’s in contemplation, he looks up at her. “really? you’d be handcuffed, wouldn’t be able to touch me and i know how you like to touch me.” he says with a small quirk of his lips.

his eyes gleaming with something predatory and exciting, igniting her bones into flames. her core throbbing as she shifted on the bed under his gaze. she tucks some hair behind her ear. “yeah…” she breathes slowly, “i’d do it.”

he smirks and shakes his head, chuckling. “are you sure? you seriously wanna go down that road, baby?” he says with a grin, still holding the handcuffs in his hands. hands that could swallow her whole and easily break her in half, she feels her core throb again. that familiar feeling resurfaces in her underwear.

she nods slowly, licking her lips. she felt saliva leave her throat. she wasn’t sure, but she wanted to try it. wanted to give him what he wanted. he nods slowly and gestures to her clothes. “strip.” he says with a small demand, not even a question. something she can’t even argue against if she wanted to.

she slid off of the bed under his gaze, as she strips off her clothes one by one until she was completely bare. he feels himself get harder at everything that’s transpiring right in front of his eyes. her naked for him has never failed to make him hard, make him want to devour her whole and take her.

he goes over to the half unpacked box on the floor and gets the keys for the handcuffs, unlocking them and walking back to where she stood on the opposite side of the bed, waiting for him. he licks his lips, unlocking the handcuffs with a small clink.

she feels her arousal pooling between her legs at his gaze, blue deep pools of his irises that are almost dark with lust. he sweeps his eyes over her bare frame in front of him, “turn around, baby.” he says softly and lowly at the same time.

the gruff of his voice making her erupt in goosebumps as she turns around, putting her hands behind her back without him even having to ask. he chuckles lowly, “eager to be handcuffed, very naughty babygirl.” he hums lowly as he clamps the handcuffs around her wrists, locking them and making sure they fit comfortably around her wrists.

she feels his words wash over her, feeling the cold metal clink over her wrists behind her back, the cold feeling making a shiver crawl up her spine. he backs up, licking his lips from behind her, admiring her handcuffed and naked.

she can feel his eyes boring into the skin of her back, making her bite her lip. her core was throbbing for him, wanting him more then anything. the exciting prospect of what was to come seeped through her pussy.

he strips off his shirt and pants, tossing them to the floor by her clothes on the floor. she swallows as she hears each drop of his clothes to the floor behind her, her heartbeat accelerating in her bones as he drops his boxers.

he was just as bare as her now, he takes a couple steps closer and leans over her back, running his fingers over her stomach from behind. “all naked and dripping for me baby, i can practically smell it on you.” he says lowly as his hot breath drifts over her neck.

she swallows and her eyes flutter open and shut, “i’ll tell you what’s going to happen now, okay?” he says softly, his voice was so familiar yet raspy and full of desire for her. she nods slowly as he presses a kiss to her neck, making her bite her lip. if she bit it any harder blood would draw from the anticipation.

“your gonna get on the bed, bend over and i’m going to fuck you until your crying on my cock. sound good?” he says with a small raspy chuckle as she draws his fingers from her stomach up to her breast, lightly squeezing it. a small whine escapes from her lips as she nods. he presses another kiss to her neck, he motions for her to do what he says.

she manages to crawl onto the bed, it was more difficult without her hands. he grabs a pillow and puts it under her hips keeping her somewhat comfortable and propped up. her cheek pressed into the new sheets that covered their bed.

she feels the bed dip with his weight as he kneels behind her on the bed, running his large hand over the dip in her ass. his dick was standing at attention now, hard and leaking precum as he grabs it.

she wiggles her ass a little in his direction, “please leon, cmon.” she whines as she tries to get some kind of friction from the pillow underneath her hips. he chuckles lowly, running his hand slowly over his shaft, “patience babygirl.” he says with a small squeeze of her ass, she whimpers softly

he lets go of his cock and runs his fingers into her leaking core, putting two fingers inside of her to stretch her out. he always did this before, just to get her ready for him. no matter how many times they had sex, she still was never prepared for his size.

she moans softly into the duvet cover on their bed, trying to push back against the two fingers stretching her out. “please…” she whines as she tries to pull at the handcuffs, her pussy swallowing his fingers as he stretched her out.

“you’ll get it, like i said, patience baby. i don’t wanna hurt you.” he says in a low tone as he kneads her ass with his free hand. she whimpers and clenches around his fingers, her arousal sucking his fingers into her entrance. he continues to knead her ass and stretch her out, “sucking my fingers in princess, jesus.” he says in a small groan.

she whimpers at his words, trying to chase his fingers again but he pulls them out and she sighs at the loss. he chuckles at her small sigh, “i’m sure you’d rather cum on my cock, right?” he says with a small little smack to her ass cheek he was kneading.

she nods into the duvet her face is half buried in, her wrists aching a little from the handcuffs. he sighed softly, “don’t worry princess, i’ll give it to you. give you anything you want.” he says with a small smirk on his angelic features.

he grabs his cock and runs it through her soaked slit, whimpering trying to get friction against the head of his cock. the tip hitting her clit a couple times, making her bones ache and her core pulse.

“so wet and needy, just needed some dick.” he says in a mocking tone as he lets out a half groan, his hard erection covered in her release. she felt her pussy throb and her hole clench around nothing at his words, “well, here you go baby.” she heard him say before he shoved himself into her soaking entrance.

she moaned loudly, her body automatically reacting. she felt so full of him, her bones in her center accommodating him and his size. she felt her bones in her wrists ache as he kept one of his large hands steady on her ass, letting her get adjusted before he started moving.

“breathe, baby.” he says in a soft but low rasp of his voice from behind her. she nodded and did as she was told, breathing in and out slowly, trying to think about anything else other than the sheer size of how he stretched her out.

“good girl.” he praised when he saw her take some deep breaths. he saw her relax a little as her hips adjusted on the pillow that propped her up. he slowly flexed his hips back and pushed in a little, starting to slowly thrust.

she released small noises into the duvet on their bed, tugging at her wrists on the handcuffs. he eventually started to pick up his pace, a little faster as he grabbed onto her handcuffed wrists behind her back and tugged her up.

she gasped, him still fully sheathed inside of her. her back was now pressed to his chest, her knees shadowing his on the bed. he held one hand on her stomach and another on her breast, kneading slowly as he began thrusting deeper at this new angle.

she moaned loudly and canted her head back, tears welling in her eyes, “leon…” she moaned as she felt her hands form fists behind her back. his hands keeping her steady as he fucked into her from behind, his his snapping against her ass. “good girl…” he groans into her ear, “fuck…so fucking…god—tight…christ.” he manages to get out between moans and groans that escaped his lips.

his touch to her chest and his words, she felt that familiar feeling bubble in her lower belly. “harder…” she whined as she tried to move against her handcuffs on her wrists. he obliged, bending her back over the pillow and putting his hands on her hips, snapping into her with such force that their bed shook.

her eyes went crossed and she felt tears leak out of her eyes, almost drooling on the sheets as moans leaked from her mouth. chants of his name, curses and screams of pleasure. sex with him never disappointed, ever.

“gonna…cum…” she managed to get out in between the cries of pleasure and the sound of his hips against her ass. he just kept pounding into her, like a wild animal. she pulled at the handcuffs on her wrists again, clenching her fists as she felt herself becoming closer and closer to the end.

“cum for me, princess. scream my name.” he says lowly as he keeps snapping his hips, making curses fall from their mouths in a chant. he could feel himself getting closer, his hips starting to stutter but so determined to deliver what she needed.

she felt the blissful end, her eyes fluttering shut and then lined with tears. “leon!” she screamed as she came, releasing all over his cock as she melted into the mattress. the clenching of her around him, her walls sucking him in was enough for him to release a low groan, “princess…”

his end came too, shooting thick ropes of cum into her womb, painting her walls white with him. she could feel him filling her up, feeling so dazed and full. just so satisfied that her body and arms felt like jelly.

he breathed heavily as he reached away on the bed, grabbing the handcuff keys, unlocking the handcuffs and tossing them on the floor by their clothes. she felt her arms collapse down to the mattress.

he pulled out of her, their mixed fluids leaking out of her. he leaned down a ways on the bed and licked the dripping fluids from her entrance, causing her to shiver and her thighs to tremble a little from her intense orgasm.

“you did so good, so fucking good baby. c’mere.” he says softly as he leaned back and moved to the headboard. she weakly raised her body from the kneeling position on the bed, moving her shaking and sweaty body to lay beside him.

he wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her sweaty hairline. his hands rubbing up and down her spine. “so proud of you.” he whispers into her hair. she smiles lazily as she looks up at him from her head on his shoulder.

she blushes from his praise, the tiredness from the day of moving and the sex sweeping over her. “sleep now, we’ll deal with all the other shit tomorrow.” he says calmly, running a hand through her hair and holding her naked body close to his.

and she did, her eyes fluttering shut. his heartbeat against her ear pulling her into sleep. their heartbeats in sync as they held each other, promising not to let go.

taglist: @heartsforvin

an: hope you guys enjoyed, please interact if u did :,) my asks and requests are open in my bio. my taglist and masterlist are linked at the beginning if u wanna interact. i love you all sm <33 kisses, xx

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #leon kennedy smut #re4 remake #leon kennedy au #re2 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n

864 notes · View notes

yurozo · 2 months ago

Text

ink-related natural disasters (leon kennedy restaurant au oneshot)

summary: it's your first shift, and leon's been asked (ordered) to show you the ropes (fuck up tremendously in front of you on numerous occassions). no warnings, gn!reader.

a/n: my first request!! i hope you guys like it :D if y'all want me to continue the restaurant au let me know!

"does the cheese pizza have dairy?"

it's only half an hour into his shift, and leon's already contemplating on the different ways that he can permanently end his career in food service. lighting himself on fire in the middle of the floor is currently the most viable option, the candle is right there and if he moved his arm down just far enough-

"yes, ma'am. the cheese pizza does have dairy in it," he answers instead, mouth pinched into a thin smile. the pen between his fist cracks a little at the last word, earning a much easier end than the man holding it.

"then i won't get it," the woman says, looking back down at the menu with a huff. "i'm allergic."

for all of leon's strength, he can't help the little sigh that comes out of his mouth then. the man sitting at his table gives him a sympathetic look, and it's only then that leon does actually feel a bit bad.

not only does he have to deal with a woman who apparently never passed third grade english, he's currently responsible for training the new person coming in tonight. in all honesty, he's not quite sure why wesker gave him the responsibility. he's certainly hasn't been here the longest, not the most strict, and about three shattered glasses currently in the garbage isn't exactly giving a testimony to his self-assurance.

he's fucked. leon's going to have some half-baked college kid show up, stand behind him ominously all night, and ask questions until his head hurts. wesker didn't even allow him the chance to say no-- just glaring through the world's darkest sunglasses before storming off to his own office.

the only hope for him is that the tips are decent enough for him to put up with it.

the woman sitting in front of him, who he has so aptly named public enemy number one, finally finishes her order. leon offers a quick goodbye, snapping the notepad shut with his best attempt at a smile. he walks away, looking for the next open source flame is until he freezes right as claire walks by him.

what might just be the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his life is currently at the front entrance.

you're there, chatting with jill at the hostess stand with a nervous smile on your face and a notebook tucked to your chest. as cliche as it is, the restaurant really does seem to come to a standstill-- conversation seems to dim, everything seems to move in slow motion, and leon suddenly feels like air isn't getting into his chest.

if you're actually the new hire, he is truly and royally fucked.

claire giggles to herself as she finally breezes past him, muttering something under her breath that goes completely over his head. he couldn't give less of a shit what she's saying, because now jill's pointing at him, and you're looking at him with a smile and bright eyes.

it's a miracle he isn't a puddle on the floor yet, but that's neither here nor there. not when you're now walking towards him, and leon still hasn't thought of something cool to say.

"hi," you greet him softly, quickly rattling off your name and qualifications while leon is still a million miles away. "you're leon, right?"

he blinks at you slowly. "huh?"

"leon." you clarify, the slightest hint of a grin curling at your lips. jesus, you're cute even when you're clearly pitying him. "jill told me that i'm supposed to shadow you on the floor."

"i'm leon." the words leave his mouth a little too fast, the syllables blurring together in a barely perceptible haze. he gives himself a mental smack on the forehead. "i'll take care of you."

at least he has the mind to smile, even if the plastic of pen number two shatters completely in his fist.

he learns four things about you in the span of two hours. one, that you're incredibly smart. after about three tables you've already picked up on the general routine, the menu prices, how to describe food that you don't even eat.

two, you have a great sense of humour. or he's just on a roll with his jokes. regardless, you've laughed at every shitty one-liner that left his mouth tonight, and leon feels like he's on cloud nine.

number three, you're gorgeous, and in a way that everyone else is noticing too. tables are significantly nicer to him when you're standing politely behind, as if they too want to be on their best behaviour to win your approval. get in line, he always thinks bitterly.

and finally, you're friendly in a way that almost infuriates him. mostly because he can't tell if he's actually winning brownie points with you, or you're just entertaining the man training you. every piece of information about yourself is carefully folded and tucked away in his brain for safekeeping, just in case its the former.

"you know, i should set you up with my daughter, i think you'd love her." the old lady at his table speaks up, reaching across the table to pat his arm. "she's a real gem."

"okay," leon sighs, "how about instead, i get you that appetizer?"

you stifle a laugh behind him, but he can still feel the puff of air on his back. leon can feel you move behind him until your head is peeking over his shoulder, pretending to be very interested in whatever he's writing on the ticket.

you're so close-- he can feel your hair brushing against his cheek, feel the warmth of your shoulder right against his back, and thats when disaster strikes.

ever so glorious pen number three creaks under the weight of his grip, before pronouncing its death by exploding ink all over both his hands and the ticket. all he can do is mutter some half-formed apology to his table before running to the bathroom with his metaphorical tail between his legs. you follow closely behind, but not before giving the customers an apologetic smile and a sickly-sweet apology.

again, infuriating. been here a couple hours and you're more of a natural than he is.

any hope of brownie points with you is draining alongside the ink dripping onto the ceramic. when he looks up at himself in the mirror, he can't help but internally cringe at his appearance. fully-formed eyebags, hair tousled from a nervous habit he's too tired to break, and now ink all over his sole work shirt. he's been looking like this in front of you this whole time, no wonder you probably think he's truly lost his mind.

you appear behind him through the mirror, just over his shoulder again. "you really should take it easy on the pens. they didn't do anything wrong."

a half-hearted laugh rings between the both of you. you reach for the paper towels to start getting some of the blue residue off. the way you touch him is soft, way too caring for someone you just met. he thinks that's the part he likes the most so far.

the heart on your sleeve, not too unlike his own.

"so much for taking care of you, huh?" he chuckles, staring down at the way your hand is holding his with the other rubbing the ink off his palm.

"you did great, don't worry," you smile, glancing up at him. "let me return the favour."

still trying to will the blush off his face, leon furiously uncrumples the ticket and sticks it in front of luis.

"sancho, what the hell is this?"

"it's the order for 37, what does it look like?" he barks back, a little too harshly for something that is most definitely his fault. if luis is offended by his tone of voice he certainly doesn't show it, just tilting his head at leon like he's got him all figured out.

"it looks like you wrote this with the pen in your mouth," he laughs, sticking it above him anyway. "what's got you so distracted?"

before leon can give him some sort of half-witted answer, ada steps up to the counter, glaring at the piece of paper above her like it personally offended her. "you're an idiot, kennedy."

leon just sighs, "tell me something i don't know."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil imagines #restaurant au #ali writes #leon kennedy oneshot

190 notes · View notes

upon-a-starry-night · 11 months ago

Text

Number Neighbors Pt. 13

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Natasha Romanoff did not like Leon.

She considered looking into him, if only for your safety.

She could probably pull his info from your contacts, but would you be mad at her if she did? That was never something she had to consider when looking into people before- or at least, their reactions never mattered to her. But yours did. It irked her to not know exactly why.

Last night when she stopped by that restaurant to give you dessert it took everything in her not to rush in there and meet you face to face.

Her hands were shaking when she wrote you that note, and her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her head.

The thought that you were right there, only a wall away on a date with some guy who probably wasn’t treating you as good as you deserved whirled around in her head the whole time.

The alley behind the restaurant was dirty and smelled like typical New York garbage but the memory was ingrained in her brain.

She didn’t know why she felt this infectious pull towards you.

If she hadn’t forced the waiter to wait until she left to give you the dessert she likely would have stayed to see your reaction.

But she couldn’t see you. Not yet. Not when she didn’t even know what this feeling she had was.

So she went to her closest friend and fellow Avenger who might know the answer: Clint.

She found him in the common room reading a book on the couch, although upon further observation he was napping with a book on his face.

“Hard at work there”

There was a disgruntled groan muffled by the book and Nat smirked at having woken the man.

“You can never give me a break can you?” Clint successfully removed the book from his face, sitting up on the couch as Nat sat on the chair askew from him.

“Just trying to make sure you finish your reading time before nap time or you might not get recess”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back into the couch and letting his head fall back against the furniture, staring at the ceiling he pinched his nose in frustration but Nat could see the smile he was failing to hide

“What do you want, Nat?”

Nat considered her approach for a moment, not used to these kinds of conversations. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked over his shoulder. Clint eyed her suspiciously from his place on the couch and she hated how easily he could pick up on her body language.

“This isn’t going to be our run-of-the-mill conversation is it?”

Nat didn’t have to answer for him to know the answer was No.

He sat up a little straighter then, maintaining whatever snippets of eye contact Nat would throw at him.

“Is this about that person you’ve been texting?” Nat’s eyes snapped to Clint’s, holding him in a gaze that has leveled the most powerful of men.

She should’ve known he would catch on, he was a trained spy as well, and she hadn’t exactly been that subtle about it. Still, part of her was scared to share you with her family, like the magic of your anonymity and personal conversations would be broken.

But as someone who was trained to always know everything about a subject before jumping into it and never let emotions be her weakness, she needed to know what about you kept throwing her from her usual nature.

“Nat, you know you can trust me” She did know that. She knew she could trust him with anything, the way he trusted her with Laura and his kids, and countless other things they shared over the years they’d known each other.

“Okay.”

So she told Clint about you, from the start and her apprehension, to her deep investigation into your background, to the moment you shared with her about the Battle of New York. Everything up to your new boy-friend, spare some intimate messages she didn’t think were necessary to bring up.

Throughout the whole ordeal of Nat expressing her concern for her unidentifiable emotions, Clint had been looking at her with surprise and she tried her best to ignore the small smirk that slowly grew bigger on his face. However, Clint’s obnoxious face made it impossible to ignore and eventually Nat gave in

“What?”

The word only made Clint shake his head silently which irked her further, she hated when he had some sort of leverage over her, his teasing was unbearable and annoying. She couldn’t imagine her life without it though.

“Nat I never thought I’d get to say this but- You’re jealous”

Nat’s annoyance was quickly accompanied by confusion.

“Jealous?” The very thought felt foolish, Nat very rarely felt jealous over anything. Most days she just felt lucky to be alive and surrounded by people who didn’t judge her for her past. “Jealous of what?” she huffed

“Of this guy Y/n’s hanging out with” Clint fixed her with a look that said ‘obviously’ and she resisted the urge to tase him in the side just to wipe the smirk from his face. She came to him because she didn’t know what she was feeling and he was making fun of her instead.

“Why would I be jealous of him? From what I've heard he’s got nothing going for him. He seems…bland and unoriginal, which doesn’t fit Y/n’s style. She deserves better than that”

Clint stared at her for a second and then immediately burst into unstoppable laughter, faking wiping a tear from his eye. She’d leveled him with a look that had him quickly clearing his throat, though the smirk never faded from his face.

“You like her”

Nat glared, annoyed at the obvious observation “of course I like her”

Clint had a sort of glee in his eyes she only saw when he was talking to his kids, it irked her that he found so much pleasure in having to describe her situation to her.

“No Nat, You like-like her”

She rolled her eyes “We’re not twelve Clint”

As he chuckled, a small amount of his amusement disappeared as he began to understand just how foreign something like this might be for someone who never got to experience love before.

It’s because of that fact that Clint decided to try a different approach

“Okay, how about this- how do you feel when she doesn’t text back?”

Nat shifted in her seat, considering it for a moment

“I get…bored I guess- I’ve gotten used to texting her, I don’t know what to do with my phone when she’s not texting”

Clint nodded, feeling excited for his friend to finally have someone special. Although he was definitely going to look into you to double check you were safe.

“Do you ever find yourself laughing at her jokes even if they’re really bad?”

Nodding, Nat let a small smile warm on her features as she recalled various bad jokes you’d attempted.

If anyone else had been telling her those jokes she probably would have sat there stone-faced until they felt uncomfortable enough to leave, but your pure delight when you’d sent her the messages had her chuckling at the stupidest anecdotes.

“How do you feel when you look at her?”

Nat stilled, playing with her fingers as she bit the inside of her cheek. Clint’s eyes widened at the realization

“Shit Nat, you’ve never even seen the girl?”

“I don’t need your judgment Clint” She clipped

He put his hands up in surrender “I’m not judging, I just- you’ve never even seen this girl and you’ve got romantic feelings for her”

The silence that hung in the air was palpable with a tension that probably couldn’t be cut by Nat’s best knife. The two spies leveled each other with their gazes. One of understanding and one of disbelief.

“...I’m not in love, Clint.”

Clint choked on his spit.

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. All her life Nat had been trained to think that love was a weakness, a sickness. Sometimes it felt like a sickness in her chest when she talked to you. The heavy feeling in her chest, her pulse increasing, speechlessness. She was pretty sure those were all symptoms of a pretty bad illness.

Love was not something she could afford.

An ironic thing for someone who had a billionaire on speed dial to say.

“Jesus- I don’t mean love, Nat. At least, not yet. But it’s obvious you feel strongly for the girl”

Liking you romantically?… She considered the thought, the way it made her heart race. In fear or hope she couldn’t decipher. She was terrified. Terrified at the idea of someone so new knowing her so intimately. Terrified at how much power you had over her.

A Crush? On You? She felt heat unconsciously rise to her cheeks but panic began to rise in her chest.

She’d never had a crush before.

Usually she was so confident around everyone but you left her flustered.

Could she allow herself to be that vulnerable? Could she allow herself to develop something more with you? What if you didn’t like her back? …What if you did?

She wasn’t as opposed to the idea as she thought she would have been…

Maybe she did have a Crush on you.

Nat tried to hide her flustered smile as Clint stared at her with a satisfied smile.

The thought that it was more than just a crush made a dangerous appearance that she quickly shot down. Because she couldn’t be feeling more than that could she?

She’d admit she harbors a connection with you that runs deeper than she’d ever anticipated but-

Can you really develop feelings for someone you’ve never met?

Suddenly, Friday interrupted over the intercom, informing them of an urgent mission that required both of them.

Nat was grateful for the interruption, although there was part of her that felt conflicted, knowing your reaction to her leaving wouldn’t be pleasant.

Pt.14

-Sorry no meet-up yet, Slowburn is the best kind of torture! Also thank God Nat is finally realizing her feelings~Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy

170 notes · View notes

thepoparena · 8 months ago

Text

Thoughts on "Quiet on Set"

I imagine, being one of Youtube’s “Nickelodeon Content Creators”, you want to know what I thought. QUIET ON SET, the new four-part documentary detailing inappropriate behavior and abuse on the set of Dan Schneider’s various Nickelodeon shows, starts off on its worst foot, with all the earmarks of trashy tabloid journalism. A couple of gossip journalists walk us through events and interject how you’re supposed to feel about them. There’s one moment where Leon Frierson, former ALL THAT cast member, talks about how uncomfortable some of the costuming made him, about how the noses on a nose-themed superhero costume has some unfortunate phallic resemblances, and then we cut to a writer from Buzzfeed going “and then the sneeze gag is basically a cum shot joke!” Frierson never says that. In a later episode, a similar comparison is made to a gag on ZOEY 101, but there it’s actress Alexa Nikolas making that connection from the workplace environment she had found herself in. It’s an authentic observation, where in the earlier example it was outsider sensationalization, playing to the “crusaders” on Twitter and Tiktok where the public side of Schneider drama has mostly lived over the past decade. They bring on Marc Summers, Nickelodeon elder statesman who had virtually no presence in this era of the channel, for all of twelve seconds so that he can watch a clip of a Schneider show and go “oh, wow, they aired that?”

You can imagine how the producers' eyes must have lit up when they learned that Brian Peck, former Nick dialogue coach and convicted sex offender, owned a John Wayne Gacy painting. I mean, yeah, that’s fucked up, but it has virtually nothing to do with anything. It is, however, a perfect “can you believe this” moment that can be clipped and shared on social media for shock value. It’s something that the documentary can ride as a viral moment.

QUIET ON SET was produced for Investigation Discovery, whose bread and butter is schlocky true crime documentaries. Shows like EVIL LIVES HERE and WHO THE (BLEEP) DID I MARRY. Not exactly tasteful television. The channel is owned by Warner Bros Discovery, and was simultaneously released on Max. Warner Bros Discovery owns Cartoon Network. The documentary puts emphasis on Nickelodeon being on the top of the children’s cable game, and often brings up the Disney Channel as Nick’s main competitor. At no point is Cartoon Network mentioned, because, well, nobody wants to say their competitor is doing better than them, and saying you’re doing better than Nickelodeon would defeat the documentary’s narrative. My point is that I do not believe QUIET ON SET comes from a genuine place. It’s cheap schlock shock documentary filmmaking that wants to attract the same crowd who watch serial killer shows for fun. However. It’s also a space where a lot of people who were hurt during this time at Nickelodeon have come forward to tell their stories, and that pretty much nullifies all the gross exploitation elements present in the early parts. When these people start speaking for themselves, the documentary has no choice but to let them speak, and its more garbage instincts fade away. By the time Drake Bell starts telling his story, the gossip journalists all but vanish until the end, and there’s a stronger sensitivity to everything. The topics raised are harrowing. Workplace discrimination, sexual harassment, child abuse, sexism on set, racism on set, and general mispractice paint a meaningful picture of the toxic environment Nickelodeon was allowing at this time. The stories told by AMANDA SHOW writers Christy Stratton and Jenny Kilgen are infuriating. And then the sexual assault of Drake Bell by Brian Peck. Not an easy watch. It shouldn’t be an easy watch. What a fucking awful thing. It’s heartbreaking to watch. The documentary handles it with an unexpected tact and evenhandedness. It doesn’t excuse Bell’s later behaviors, and it allows Schneider to come off as one of the few adults who handled the situation correctly, even if the rest of the documentary is largely against him. I wish this had been the tone of the entire piece. QUIET ON SET is an important document of a terrible entertainment workplace. It’s a shame they dumped a bunch of trash on top of it. It’s not an easy watch, but it’s one of those things that’s going to be referenced to a lot over the years, and I hope that the people who make children’s television were learn the right lessons from it.

#quiet on set #nickelodeon

110 notes · View notes

welcome-leon · 3 months ago

Text

should be sleeping but I’ve got too many HCs for these characters so pls have some food related ones~

Leon

has a broad palette and will try anything once - has definitely eaten all manner of insects, arachnids, and offal, and been alright with most of them

always tries the local cuisine if he has time on missions, considers it one of the perks of the job

kinda lactose intolerant but he ignores it (don’t we all)

like he'll eat an ice cream and be fine but he should stay away from milkshakes

loves oreos (thanks Nick) and chocolate covered liquorice

comfort food: lasagna (something his mother used to cook. he could never get the recipe right)

also sweet breakfast foods. loves pancakes and waffles and french toast and croissants and—

certified tea hater. doesn’t see the point, it tastes weak and weird to him (Sherry probably tries to find a tea he likes, he always takes a sip to try it but nothing more)

his diet directly correlates to his mental health - his appetite just vanishes

he also generally forgets to eat a lot

at his worst, he’s ingesting nothing but power bars and espresso and maybe a banana

starts to cook properly again after Vendetta, and it becomes a hobby

had many mishaps in this time period (ruined more than one pot by accident) but he enjoys it

buy him cultural/ethnic cookbooks, he’d be thrilled

Chris

diet is consistent and generally well rounded. doesn’t really snack.

probably eats too much meat though, he needs some soup or a salad or smth

loves a good BBQ but is actually kinda bad at grilling (refuses to acknowledge this)

sweet flavoured popcorn (particularly caramel) is his guilty pleasure, he’ll devour a whole packet in 2 seconds flat

can cook pretty well and finds a sense of peace in doing so

HATES grocery shopping though

tends to eat the same meals over and over bc they’re easy/habitual, especially when he’s stressed

has a huge breakfast - scrambled eggs, avocado toast, cooked mushrooms, a small bowl of oatmeal and yoghurt, a large coffee or glass of orange juice (lucky the BSAA has a mess hall that cooks for him lmao)

will absolutely fall asleep if he gets too full. total food coma

keeps a bag of gummies on him during missions for his team, if their blood sugar gets low (usually Piers)

(alpha team defs try to fake it so they can have a snack)

eats bananas like they’re going extinct, just grabs one when he goes out the door. they’re perfect snacks to him

he’ll also just walk around eating a whole carrot. probably not in public but like, I wouldn’t put it past him

Piers

is as responsible in his diet as he is in everything, but he’s not overly restrictive

he loves a good routine and he eats in the same way, having the same meals every day for a month or two before he switches it up

goes out to eat often enough that he gets his variety that way

he loves cereal. he'll eat it any time of day and in any weather

really likes seafood, the fresher the better - not as much as steaks tho, obviously

WILL criticise how you cook steak until you do it the “right” way

eats fruit salads and veggie sticks for snacks (and genuinely enjoys them, the freak (affectionate))

really likes ice cream though. total comfort food

also hot chocolate

he’s a sucker for a mocha

at complete odds to his usual diet, he’s a complete garbage monster in the adrenaline drop after a mission

get this man some carbs NOW

will devour whatever is in front of him so long as its hot and there’s lots of it

takes hangry to a new level, good lord

it’s something of an inside joke (and a genuine warning) to never raise problems to Piers until after he’s eaten a meal

#idk they’re just on my mind a lot yk #anyway this is based on nothing but vibes so don’t take it serious lol #rottalks

29 notes · View notes

aparticularbandit · 8 months ago

Text

Oh No, It's Again

Summary: Makoto wakes while everyone slumbers and makes his way to an unlocked kitchen and sees her standing there, bag of Cheetos in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, munching them a little too loudly, and when she holds the bag out to him, he doesn’t take it.

If I kill you, will that stop everything?

She grins. Won’t know if you won’t try, will you, lucky boy?

Inspired by this post, but absolutely nothing like it.

Mostly.

Rating: M for graphic depictions of violence and general Danganronpa reasons.

AO3

The first time Makoto falls down the garbage chute, still locked to a desk that, along with him, was meant to be crushed by a compactor, he reminisces about when he first came to Hope’s Peak Academy.

Then he hits the floor head first and has just enough time to hear the cracking of his skull, the sharp shattering of his spine, before everything goes black.

The second time Makoto falls down the garbage chute, still locked to what is probably that exact same desk, he has a sharp sense of déjà vu. He muses on this for a few seconds, brow furrowing, until he lands, again head first, his neck snapping at a sharp angle.

This time, though, his eyes are open, and he sees everything, but not enough.

Makoto doesn’t eat a lot of food, but he finds himself throwing a lot away.

A lot of trash. A lot of excess.

He feels bad about it, at first, because it’s just such a waste of food, and there are starving people all over the world, and it doesn’t really matter that they for some reason have unlimited food in Hope’s Peak (maybe, if they weren’t in the middle of a Killing Game – and what sort of person refers to this as a game? – it would be great to bring everyone here. Unlimited food! No one would need to starve! But first they need to get out of this alive)—

It’s not like he knows why he’s doing this.

Just something…something in him tells him that there needs to be more trash.

More trash.

Like it’s some sort of life-or-death matter.

It takes at least another seventy-eight respawns before Makoto survives in the garbage chute.

(Then she temples her fingers together and leans forward with an intrigued grin on her face. Finally, something interesting.)

The first time Junko faces the trash compactor, she glances up, waiting to see if Alter Ego will appear to save her the same way it saved Makoto.

Sayaka Maizono hesitates before attacking Leon.

He catches her in the attempt, and he attacks back.

She dies in the bathroom of the boy she’d meant to frame, blood-tipped finger trying hopelessly to write her murderer’s name on the wall beside her, everything going black before she can finish.

The second time, Junko doesn’t even glance up. She knows how this story ends.

She also knows how to get out.

Ultimate Analyst, baby!

Sayaka Maizono hesitates before attacking Leon, and when he attacks her, she has a strong, strong sense of déjà vu.

Unfortunately, she is not the only one.

Leon cuts her fingers off while she’s still alive, but he’s an idiot and tries to throw them in the incinerator, too. A few of them make it in, sure, and there’s such a stench that everyone complains as soon as they wake up. The problem is that not all of them make it in.

Makoto might be a lot of things – he might even be a murderer! – but no one believes that he would chop Sayaka’s fingers off.

Or try to burn them.

Chihiro doesn’t ask Mondo for help; he asks Taka.

Mondo, desperate to keep his secret exactly as it is, strangles Byakuya for being a prick.

(She laughs a bit at that. She’s been waiting on someone to shut him up.)

Unfortunately, without Byakuya to mess with the scene, Mondo’s caught easily.

Kyoko, impressive as always, matches Mondo’s fingerprints to the bruises on Byakuya’s neck.

Before they get to the trial, Jack snaps. Mondo isn’t killed with the same care and consideration that her other victims were given. In fact, the only reason they even know that the bloody mess is Mondo is because he’s the only one missing.

(It’s the most gruesome murder she’s seen, and she’s seen a lot of murders.)

Jack cackles as she’s led to her death.

Except that she sneezes, and Toko doesn’t know why she’s being flayed alive with her own scissors. She doesn’t know why, but she understands, and the despair on her face when she finds out that Byakuya, too, is gone—

(Oh, if only it could be like this every time. But, then, she’s seen this now. It won’t be as good next time.)

Sayaka Maizono doesn’t hesitate, but she hasn’t thought through the follow-up.

Everything else proceeds as normal, other than killing her at the Class Trial instead of Leon.

She dances herself to death with red hot iron shoes, her screams tuned into music.

(She’d been proud of herself for that one and glad to find an opportunity to finally use it!)

Makoto doesn’t get enough trash in the garbage this time, too distraught over Sayaka actually killing someone, and breaks his neck. This time, some of his brains splatter out!

(This would be a lot cooler if she hadn’t seen that thirty respawns ago.)

Sayaka Maizono succeeds.

Everyone votes for Makoto as the murderer.

She didn’t realize her success would mean everyone else dies.

Rather than graduating at the top of her class like a good girl does, she jumps down the garbage chute.

Now, Makoto definitely has not had enough time to fill the garbage with enough trash to soften that blow, but Sayaka doesn’t land on her head. She breaks both of her legs and starves to death after eating what garbage can be found.

The next time, Sayaka realizes enough to throw herself in the incinerator instead of down the garbage chute.

It’s immensely painful, but it doesn’t last nearly as long.

(She snacks on Cheetos after the Trial, licks the orange dust from her fingertips with a sigh, and resets the chess pieces.)

Makoto, tired of falling down the garbage chute, doesn’t sacrifice himself for Kyoko.

Of course, he can’t remember falling down the garbage chute, but something in the back of his head says, Hey, don’t help Kyoko. You’re going to die if you do, and she’s not worth saving, and for once in his life, he listens.

Kyoko dies, and the only thing they hear before everything goes black is, “Boring,” in the voice of someone who should have been dead weeks ago.

Alter Ego steps in to save Kyoko, but Makoto doesn’t have the skeleton key, and she dies of starvation in the garbage, like Sayaka did, only without her legs broken. Sometimes she yells through the hatch, sometimes she makes it all the way up the ladder and bangs on it, but Hiro’s still alive and he calls it a ghost in the system.

It doesn’t matter, they still don’t have the key, and it’s not like they can convince anyone else to jump down to save her.

(She leaves it running just long enough to hear Kyoko’s wheezing gasp and then restarts the Game. It makes her stomach churn. Almost as much as seeing the image of her own skeletal frame mimicked in Kyoko’s body.

There’s nothing fun about seeing someone you love starve to death.)

Sayaka succeeds.

Sayaka succeeds, and she doesn’t try to kill herself because even though she didn’t know her actions would cause everyone else to die, she did, somehow, and so she’s prepared for what it means to graduate, what it means to win, what it means to get out alive.

Sayaka looks up at the Mastermind with eyes wide with recognition and hears, “Can’t end the show on one episode! Sorry, babe.”

(She’s cruel when she says that Sayaka’s band members are all dead. Her despair is warm as a beating heart.)

Makoto doesn’t switch rooms with Sayaka, and when Leon goes to meet with her, they have a nice conversation about music, and nobody dies.

Makoto doesn’t switch rooms with Sayaka, but Hina still hides herself with Sakura, and instead of waking up one day to Leon or Sayaka’s murdered body, they wake up another day later to Hina having disappeared and the school smelling of burnt flesh.

The thing is, they all know what happened to Hina, but none of them actually discover her body, so there’s no announcement.

It feels a bit like this isn’t the right ending.

(This time, she gives Sakura explicit murder instructions. No throwing bodies in the incinerator. You have to die this time, Sakura.

Sakura tries to strangle her instead, which is a fun thought, except that she grins and grins and grins.)

(This time, she tells Sayaka that her band members are all alive. Safe and sound.)

Makoto doesn’t switch rooms with Sayaka, and Makoto convinces Hina to sleep somewhere else, and Sakura rips off Celeste’s fake hair, and Mukuro looks up at the cameras with eyes that clearly ask, Is this what you wanted, sis?

The next time, Mukuro hesitates before the Spears of Gungnir hit her. She looks up at the cameras and blinks twice. Her head tilts ever so gently to one side. Then her gaze flicks to the spears. Her mouth makes a small, Oh.

(She hits the respawn button so hard that it nearly breaks.)

(It doesn’t matter.)

Mukuro hesitates before stepping on Monokuma and decides against it. She doesn’t know why. She trusts her sister, obviously, but something says not to provoke her right now.

Even if it is scripted.

When Chihiro doesn’t die, Alter Ego is a lot more aggressive.

(Unfortunately for them, she has her own Alter Ego by this point, working in the shadows, stopping them at every turn.)

Unfortunately for Mukuro, when she doesn’t get killed by the Spears of Gungnir, Sakura kills her instead. Grabs her head between both hands and presses together until—

Well.

Mukuro tries to stop her. Claws shreds in Sakura’s legs with the razor sharp bear claws she’s been given in the place of fingernails.

Her head explodes, eventually. Blood and brain mixed together all over the walls. Not as cool as when Jack killed Mondo, of course, but still pleasantly appealing. It’s hard to even tell the difference between the pink of her blood and the pink of her brains.

Kyoko finds the small bits of flesh under Mukuro’s fake fingernails, notes the gauze wrapped around Sakura’s legs, and puts two and two together.

(Maybe next time Sakura should kill Kyoko.)

Mukuro turns before Sakura can grab her head between her hands, but it doesn’t do any good.

Sakura grabs her head between her thighs and smashes it faster.

(She’s not gonna lie – that was impressive. She should save a video of that just for her own personal use.)

Sakura tries to strangle the Mastermind, and a still living Mukuro slits her throat before any harm can come to her.

Unfortunately, this is still considered a murder.

The Spears of Gungnir make a return! It’s not as fun this time.

(This time, she tells Sayaka the truth: There is no escape.)

Sakura strangles Kyoko, and none of them are smart enough to figure out that she did it.

Sakura confesses at the end because, unlike Sayaka, she will never find it acceptable to sacrifice the rest of her classmates just to find out the truth.

Hina drowns in the swimming pool.

Chihiro is impaled with spears that, really, no one else should have access to.

Makoto thinks he’s seen all of this before, his stomach cramping with nothing but déjà vu.

(The Game is boring without Kyoko.

The Game is worse when she has the same memories everyone else does.

The Game suffers because even without her memories, Kyoko can’t be anyone other than who she is.

The unfortunate thing is that this has never worked out for her. If she lost her memories, she would be an entirely different person. But no one ever takes her memories.

Yasuke tried, sure, and would have succeeded if he had figured out a way to make it permanent.

Unfortunate, then, that she was the one to figure it out.

It could have saved so many problems.

Not least of which is how bored she is getting with this entire thing.)

Makoto wakes up.

Makoto walks into the front room to meet all of his new classmates.

Within thirty seconds, every single one of them is impaled.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Blood trickles from his lips.

He looks up at video cameras and wonders who, in their right mind, would enjoy this sort of thing?

(No one. She doesn’t even enjoy this. She just had to do it. At least once. Just to see what would happen.)

This time, only most of them are impaled.

Makoto and Kyoko are both left alive.

Mukuro tries to pull a Sayaka and write something in her blood, but another spear stabs direct through both of her hands, stopping her.

Even without her memories, Kyoko knows enough to know that Makoto didn’t do something like this, although she doesn’t know how – or why – she knows this. It’s baked into her blood, after all.

It’s not baked into Makoto’s blood, though.

He drops to his knees and sobs.

(There’s something fun about seeing Makoto break, she can’t deny that. But even that gets boring after a while.

When Kyoko figures her out, she yawns. She waves her fingers at Kyoko, who stares at her through the video cameras, and resets the Game again.)

Once, Mukuro points a gun at the back of the Mastermind’s head.

Enough.

The Mastermind just laughs.

What’s enough?

The Mastermind resets the Game again before Mukuro can stop her.

(Then she makes some changes in the code so that can’t happen again.)

Sakura catches the Mastermind exactly once.

She pops her head between her thighs with a strange sense of déjà vu.

But with the Mastermind dead, that should be it, shouldn’t it? Everything should—

(She had to know. She had to know what it felt like. She planned it so that her hand would fall on the reset button as she died.)

Junko resets and she resets and she keeps her memory of every Game and she has clips here and there and everywhere. When she gets bored, she replays some of her favorite moments, but they don’t have the same appeal they once did. Unfortunately, she can feel herself growing tired even of those.

And while there are still a lot more versions of the Game she could run, a lot more deaths she could see, she’s….

Tired.

Sure, sure, in a real Game, there would be a secret ending to unlock if she got every ending, but let’s be real here, how long will that take? And it’s not like there’s a guide for this, or anything like that.

Junko runs the pad of her thumb on the button and wonders just what would need to happen for Makoto to kill someone.

Then, she grins.

Makoto figures it out.

Kyoko doesn’t figure it out; Makoto does.

It’s something he can’t even name, something about seeing Junko’s freckles and Junko’s magazines, and it hits him like a wave of…of something.

That’s not figuring it out, of course.

He’d say he was remembering it, but it feels like…like there’s a lot he doesn’t remember.

Makoto wakes while everyone slumbers and makes his way to an unlocked kitchen and sees her standing there, bag of Cheetos in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, munching them a little too loudly, and when she holds the bag out to him, he doesn’t take it.

If I kill you, will that stop everything?

She grins. Won’t know if you won’t try, will you, lucky boy?

A complete set.

Junko looks at a complete set and lets out a sigh.

That’s fine, then.

She can be done.

This time, when she resets everything, she wipes their minds again. Sure, sure, it’ll play like it did the first time, probably.

Unless she makes some adjustments.

(Makoto doesn’t know what he needs to do to keep himself from dying. She’ll fix that. But nothing else.

That Game wasn’t the most entertaining, but. Well.

She’ll give them the highlights of the other Games afterwards. Won’t that be fun?

Oh! And she’ll reset it and let them out. A final prize! Everyone’s alive!

But all of you have killed each other so many times.

That will be fun to see!

Puhuhuhuhu….~)

Junko has seen these executions hundreds of times, knew how to beat them after once. Ultimate Analyst, baby.

It’s only the compactor that she has no real control over.

Of course, by now, Junko knows how to beat it, if she wants, but she’s playing it like she should have that first time. Instead of pulling out the button and triumphantly pushing it right as the compactor falls (resetting everything and saving herself the pain of being crushed), she lets it fall.

(She has already been crushed by the compactor. It hurts, but not in the warm, comforting way that having her head crushed by Sakura’s thighs had been. This way, she’s conscious enough to feel every single one of her bones break, splinter, cut through her fragile skin. Sometimes, her teeth shove up into her brain instead of simply cracking. Sometimes both. Her fingernails split down the middle, tear through her skin. What a way to go.)

And even still, she looks up.

Maybe Alter Ego will save her this time.

It happens, every now and again.

(Sometimes, her own Alter Ego saves her, too, and she sees the despair of there being two of her entering all of the survivors before she resets the Game. It was splendidly thrilling the first time, but even that has lost its luster.)

But no.

She set this to end the way it should have the first time Makoto was smart enough to save himself.

It’s not the most painful death.

But it will suffice.

When Junko dies, crushed beneath the compactor that should have (but did not) crush him, a red button skids across the floor, spattered with her blood. Makoto picks it up, only for Kyoko to take it from him. She comments on how the button itself seems well-used, how this is not a brand new shining button but that the color has started to fade, how some of the patterns around it have worn off from use. She puzzles over that; it doesn’t make sense that the button intended to let them out should look like this.

But the others don’t care, but Makoto doesn’t care.

Byakuya snatches the button from her hands and marches to the door, pretending to be their leader again when everyone can see that he very clearly wasn’t.

They gather in front of the door.

He presses the button.

25 notes · View notes

ohgodmyeyes · 15 days ago

Note

Hi dad... im 20 and trans in the us and i have no idea what to do with myself... ive heard from family up in canada that things are also bad there... im just so scared how are you coping? i dont know what to do and dont really have anyone else to talk to in my family theyre all hardcore trump supporters. sorry for telling you all this i just dont know where else to turn... i hope youre well though despite everything happening right now

hey! ❤️ I'm almost 40 and definitely-not-cis, and I'm not sure what to do with myself either. we've got a jerk up here who's itching to call an election and try to form his very own ass-kissing Vichy knockoff just in time to roll out the red carpet for Leon Cocksucker and his new Führer; conservative premiers (provincial governors) have already been testing the waters re: health care and bodily autonomy; and at all levels of government, they're threatening to invalidate our charter rights via the abuse of a heretofore rarely-used mechanic intended solely for emergencies.

i genuinely believed that this was all going to turn out differently, but it hasn't, and facism spreads a lot like a cold. Canada likes to pretend to be cool but really we're just an annoying little sibling... which our collective behaviour tends to reflect, oftentimes not for the better.

by Canadian standards I'm kind of garbage, but by global standards my life is pretty charmed; i've known for a long time that it wasn't entirely sustainable, but i genuinely didn't believe I'd have the rug pulled out from under me quite like this. in retrospect i've been watching it happen my whole life, but the recent acceleration has been really — well, not surprising, but... it's been something.

anyway, i'm going on — what I really meant to say was "holy shit I'm sorry you're stuck with people like that" and "please focus on keeping yourself safe, because that has just become your primary obligation". not that it was a picnic before, but being trans just got a lot more difficult. it was supposed to "get better" — but frankly it hasn't; not meaningfully, and i'm horrified that we've let it get this bad.

not that it can't get better again — but we kind of all dropped the ball (i mean us oldish people especially), and now we have to pick up again. print out and save gay and trans stories; write down your own stories; research the past and preserve it for as long as it's available to you. strike a balance between being safe and being yourself, because while visibility just became more dangerous, it also just became that much more important.

months ago, i took my pride pin off of my bag; i hated doing it, but people are becoming increasingly abrasive, and (selfishly, certain caveats notwithstanding) I didn't want to attract any negative attention. i regret that decision now, for as much fuss as it might have spared me, and so i think I might consider putting it back on soon. maybe that will be part of coping; maybe it will help someone; maybe it will be ineffective or even harmful... but like you, I'm not sure what else to do right now. not in light of what's just happened.

things had already been a bit tough, and this isn't exactly helping, but knowing that i'm not alone in grieving what we've lost counts for something. i'm bad at people (VERY bad, like disability-cheque-bad), but none of us can afford to be an island anymore... so i actually can't thank you enough for reaching out. you've probably helped me more than I've helped you, but i hope there's something in this that resonates and makes you feel less alone anyway... because you're not, not at all, even though i'm sure it feels like it in the midst of that hellscape.

i'm going to go watch star wars now, maybe write something... but i'm still here.

someone smart once told me that if it isn't okay, then it just means it isn't over yet. i believe them. we'll make it because we have to; what other choice do we have?

8 notes · View notes

citrine-elephant · 1 month ago

Text

depressed leon, BUT (this is gross btw)

he's a little too sad to remember to eat sometimes, and thus, he's a bit malnourished. not dangerously so, nothing extreme or of imminent concern, but he's not doing so hot health wise.

because of this, his post-plaga cravings get really weird and really ramp up after the malnutrition thing starts to get a little spicy. (that's what you get for only drinking alco- err.... coffee + whatever garbage carbs on the gas station shelf)

you'd think he was pregnant by the way he's craving oddities. if uh, a pregnant person wanted to gobble up roadkill pelican style.

one day he gets this... wild idea. he's embarrassed about it, so he's doing his best to hide it. and the cravings are just too strong to deny his overwhelming curiosity.

the roadkill he's snagged is particularly unpleasant. few days old, rotten and covered in maggots. it fuckin stinks. and stupid plaga-brain is fighting with rational human brain as his fucked brain chemistry can't decide to salivate or throw up.

he's craving meat. he's craving protein. salt. magnesium.... a fat steak isn't enough. greasy ass salty fries ain't doing it either.

carrion beetles, fly larva, ants, everything goes in on the grill, which he's definitely stealing after he's done. (it's a public park and he doesn't want anyone getting sick.)

it's the dead of night. he's made sure he's alone.

the mystery road meat... he can't tell what the smell is now as it cooks but plaga-brain is going crazy. even without a trace of the physical parasite, it's permanently fucked his brain.

he's got sauces with him to cover up the expected terrible taste and... well, he's fucking devouring it. no seasonings, nothing.

at least he cooked it, right?

and... he still uses the sauces. and a different sauce. chocolate sauce. why? why?? why is he enjoying this? it's a nightmare and he's snapping the bones for the fuckin bone marrow now.

the only thing he doesn't eat is the fur.

bonus: there was a bonus rat inside that got stuck when he wrapped up his free meal. like a chocolate cream egg. the rat being the cream.

#resident evil #post-plaga cravings headcanon #leon s kennedy #tw food #tw ed #tw eating disorder #i didn't describe this as disgusting as i could have? or wanted to #i think my brain was just tricked by writing that he cooks it over eating it raw #really the idea the whole time was roadkill + choccy sauce #been craving chocolate probably bcuz im not taking care of myself like i need to #im trying

11 notes · View notes

obsidiancreates · 4 months ago

Text

Out Of The Shadows and Into The Neon (Part 11)

Six fathers stand before five children.

Leon taps his foot, arms crossed. “So… who wants to explain themselves?”

“She started it!” Mikey shouts, pointing at Tweetie who’s still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She chirps in shock and rage!

“Your dads started it!”

“Now now!” Hypno puts his hands on his hips. “Tweetalinda Wellington Stone, you know the rules about fighting turtles!”

Tweetie slumps. “Stay away from the small ones.”

“That’s right. These guys are no joke, you know!” Hypno waves his arms at the Mad Dogz. “The small one can throw skyscrapers!”

“But the tiny ones can’t! And adults don’t fight kids!”

“Uh, hate to burst your bubble, kid, but we were children when your adult dads started fighting us,” Leon informs.

Tweetie’s feathers puff with rage. “Well-! Well, uh, no-one really got hurt! They hit each other more than I hit them!”

“Those were accidents!” Donnie defends.

“And they only happened because you swung your hammer at us!” Raph points at her with a sai– which is promptly confiscated by his father.

“Okay, okay.” Raphie sighs. “Listen, kids. We adults may have problems with each other, but we don’t want you inheriting those problems. You guys have no beef! If, you know, you ignore this whole situation.”

“And we don’t want you getting hurt,” Warren says to Tweetie. “Even an illustrious villain such as I–”

“Who is he again?” Angelo whispers to Donald. Donald shrugs.

“–doesn’t think there’s value in harming the children of my enemies. And I especially don’t want those enemies harming my child!”

“Does he think we’d fight a ten-year-old?” Raphie says aloud.

“Are you saying we wouldn’t?” Donald asks. Raphie frowns at him. Raph Jr. grins up at his uncle.

“I’d fight them again,” Tweetie chirps, crossing her arms.

“Well so would we! And Donnie would figure out how to beat you again!” Raph barks back, putting an arm around his younger brother. All four turtles scowl at Tweetie, who scowls right back.

The six fathers all share a look- not the look of enemies, not the look of shared mutant-ship, but the look of disappointed parents.

“Then you leave us no choice,” Hypno says, lowering his head dramatically. “We’re all in agreement.”

“This hurts to say, boys,” Angelo sniffles. “But… you’re…”

The six fathers speak at once.

“Grounded.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Uuuhhhhhggg!” Raph kicks the rug in the living room. “This sucks!”

“I know, dude! It’s like we’re being punished!” Mikey lays on his plastron, sunk deep into a beanbag.

“We are being punished, Mikey.” Leo looks longingly at the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu movies they aren’t allowed to watch for the next two days. “It’s so unfair!”

“They did tell us not to get into fights.” Donnie sits in the middle of the room, trying to take apart an old junky camera he’d found using a paper clip and a butter knife.

“Can’t Shelldon sneak us a movie or something?” Mikey whines, scrambling up and over to the screen on the coffee table.

“Sorry little dudes,” Shelldon says. “Grounded protocol is active, all I can do is watch you while the Mad Dogz are out.”

“But you’re our big brother!” Mikey clasps his hands together. “Can’t you, uh, override yourself?”

“Maybe if I had a body lil’ dude, but I’m just an app right now!”

“I still don’t know why Dad won’t let me make you a body,” Donnie grumps, prying the lens casing off the camera.

“Because everything you make blows up,” Raph says, plopping down next to Donnie and picking up the butter knife to twirl in his fingers. “And a robot can walk places before it blows up.”

“Not everything!” Donnie looks down the hall that leads to his father’s lab– which has collected a significant amount of burn marks, broken bricks, and metal patch jobs since Donnie started building his own projects at his dad’s side. “Just… some, things.”

“It’s because you use garbage, little dude,” Shelldon says.

“I try to use Dad’s stuff!” Donnie grabs the butter knife back from Raph and twists the paperclip around the tip, making a makeshift screwdriver for the screen of the camera. “It’s just… hard! I feel weird messing up so much with all of it! At least if I mess up with garbage, the only thing that blew up is garbage.”

“Hey, you don’t always mess up.” Leo sits next to Donnie. “Like the little TV you made.��

“Or the pizza warmer!” Mikey bounces in place. “You made that out of an old toaster and it never blows up!”

“As long as Leo doesn’t use it,” Raph snarks, elbowing his older brother as he tjoins the circle next to Leo.

“It’s not my fault toasters hate me!” Leo elbows Raph back, then looks at Donnie again. “But, you also made that stuff for fires we could use without our dads knowing.”

“The self-dissipating fire suppression foam? I-I just formulated that off some stuff Papa Draxum and I were experimenting with.”

“And because of it, no-one even knows we set our skateboards on fire trying to add rockets,” Mikey says sagely. “... Hey, maybe we can do that again while we’re grounded! They can’t take away trash!”

Donnie looks at the makeshift screwdriver in his hand. “Hmm…” He looks at Shelldon. “Are you gonna tell on us if we do?”

“Programmed to, brah. Sorry.”

“Then… we won’t make any rockets out of trash.”

“Sounds good!”

Donnie grins, deviously, and looks at his brothers. Raph matches the mischief with his own grin, and Mikey whoops while rolling onto his back. Leo winces.

“I dunno… what if we get grounded even more?”

“What if I model yours after Jupiter Jim’s space-board from the Miami-Terra 4 trilogy?” Donnie offers. He looks at Shelldon. “Uh, in theory.”

“Cool theory, lil’ bro!”

Leo considers it… and then smiles. “With the turtle-shark shaped engine and everything?”

“Yes!” Raph and Mikey high-five over Leo joining in, and Raph pats Leo on the back. “Being grounded won’t be so bad after all!”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe we really grounded them!” Angelo wails, laying on top of a billboard and putting a hand over his eyes. “We’re the lame parents we always swore not to become!”

“HEY!” Splints lashes his tail, throwing a garlic knot between Angelo’s eyes. Angelo yelps as he tumbles off the billboard, catching himself with his mystic powers before he hits the rooftop– to save the building from harm more than himself.

“It’s true,” Raphie sniffles, holding a drawing Raph Jr. did for him a couple years ago of the two of them fighting some robots. “We must’ve done something wrong!”

“You have done nothing wrong, my sons.” Splints climbs up Raphie’s back so he can lay a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes, children just do things they are told not to, and they need to learn there are reasons they are told not to do some things.”

“But what if we’ve been setting a bad example?” Leon sits on the edge of the rooftop, dangling one leg over the side and using the other to rest his arms and chin on. “I mean, they want to fight so bad because we fight. What if we did jump into this parenting thing too soon, and because we don’t know what we’re doing, they’ll get hurt?”

“Not if I complete my full-body growth-acclimating armor,” Donald says, working on the blueprints as they speak. “I started working on it three hours ago, so I should have it done by… breakfast.”

“But if we coddle them it’ll be even worse!” Angelo chews on the chain of his ‘chucks. “If only we knew someone who knew what raising kids is like!”

Splints eye twitches. “I AM STANDING RIGHT HERE! I LITERALLY CAME ALONG TO GIVE YOU FATHERLY ADVICE!”

“That’s why? I thought you just needed a new robe again.”

“NO! Well, maybe. But the main reason is the advice! Listen, my sons. I, too, did not expect fatherhood to be a part of my life. I made many mistakes.”

Donald opens his mouth.

“Which we know without exact numbers!”

Donald closes his mouth.

Splints sighs, rubbing his forehead. “My point is, it is not easy. And you boys are already doing… a better job, than I did when you were their ages. It is impossible to be a perfect parent. But your sons love you, and respect you. They are good boys– they will understand why you had to do this, and learn from it.”

“But… they’ll be upset with us.” Raphie holds the drawing close to his chest.

“You have been upset with me, yes?”

“Plenty.” “Oh, sure.” “Upset is a strong word…” “You STOLE MY TURTLE TANK!”

“Okay, okay!” Splints huffs. “But you forgave me, didn’t you?”

“Of course we did!” “After a bit.” “We love you, Dad!” “What is your definition of ‘forgave’?”

“So your sons will forgive you four.” Splints gestures for them to move in, and to the best of his ability hugs all four of his sons. “And as I said. They are good boys! They are likely regretting their actions, already.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donnie sticks his tongue out as he tightens the bolt using a pair of bent metal chopsticks he welded together out of a makeshift blowtorch. “Pliers?”

Mikey laughs and hands over a pair of “pliers” fashioned out of some old kiddie scissors. Donnie carefully attaches a wire to the tiny engine made out of old cameras, broken computer parts, and the remains of an old gas-powered stove.

Donnie wipes his forehead and sighs, then smiles. “I think they’re done! Behold, the ah… the shellboards!”

He holds his hands out in proud display as his brothers’ eyes shine. Their little skateboards are now fitted with tiny rocket engines on the backs. Including a casing shaped like a turtle shell with a shark fin on top for Leo’s.

“AWESOME!” Mikey laughs widely as he grabs his and throws it down, flipping on top. “How does it work?!”

“This pedal turns it on, and to turn it off you just step on it aga-”

“TURBO TIME, DUDES!” Mikey steps on the pedal and blasts off.

“HEY, WAIT FOR US!” Raph hops on next and takes off after Mikey, the both of them whooping and cheering!

“GUYS! YOU’LL BREAK SOMETHING! … Well, uh, only one way to catch them.” Leo hops onto his own board and zooms!

“Maybe I’ll get in less trouble since I’m remembering my helmet.” Donnie straps it on, makes sure his knee and elbow pads are secure, and takes off after his brothers!

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let us bring home apology pizzas,” Angelo says as they walk through the sewers.

“At least wait until they’ve been grounded for more than a few hours!” Splints says with a groan. His ears perk up, and he stops. “Wait. Do you hear…”

Leon leans forward with a hand to his ear-hole. “Happy screaming?”

Donald sniffs the air. “Is that… gasoline?”

Raphie backs up. “And is it getting closer?”

Angelo peers down the tunnel as a light shines from around a corner. “They can’t be–”

“HIT THE DECK!” Splints yanks his sons down to the ground as four tiny figures nearly fly overhead- if not for Raphie’s spikes catching on the wheels of the skateboards, sending them all tumbling off to the ground. The boards, still on, carry on down the tunnel without their riders.

“Ow!” Mikey rolls over. “What was tha… oooh.”

Angelo scoops Mikey up. “Ohmigosh! Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay, Dad!” Mikey covers his shoulder.

“What are you hiding?”

“It’s just a scratch!”

“Raph!” Raphie picks his son up as well, dangling him at arms-length. “What are you guys thinking?! You don’t even have your helmets on!”

“I do!” Donnie looks up at his dad, who stares down silently with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Donnie looks down. “Um, we didn’t use the TV?”

A robotic arm from Donald’s battleshell reaches down and plucks the helmet off Donnie’s head. “It would have been better if you did.”

Leon crouches down to look his son in the eyes. “I know being grounded sucks, but this was literally the worst way to deal with the boredom! And, as awesome as rocket-powered skateboard are, you should not be messing with fire and high speeds when we aren’t around!”

“They were working really well until we got knocked off!” Leo defends. “Donnie nailed it this time!”

“What do you mean ‘this time’?”

“... Um…”

“Okay, new rules!” Angelo tucks Mikey under his arm like he’s carrying a football. “From now on, no anything technology while you’re grounded! Y’all can color, eat already-cooked snacks, or talk to your aunts and uncle and grandpas, but nothin’ else!”

“But Daaaad!” Mikey pops into his shell. “That’s so lame!”

“We wouldn’t have to be lame if you guys didn’t almost get yourselves killed today! Twice!” Raphie plunks Raph on his shoulders. “And you know what? No ninja lessons for the rest of the week!”

The chorus of four little “Noooooo!”s is almost enough to break Raphie’s resolve– until Leon puts a hand on his shoulder and nods.

“And you, young man.” Donald’s robotic arm holds out, awaiting something. “Hand over whatever tools you used to make your highly impressive skateboards.”

Donnie sighs, and reaches into his belt. He hands over the butterknife with the paperclip, the chopstick-wrench, and the scissor-pliers. Donald’s disappointed-dad look melts away as he examines the tools.

“Did you make these yourself?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Ohmigosh! Look at how resourceful my son i-!” Donald’s sparkling pride ceases when he turns and looks into the faces of his judging brothers and father. He clears his throat. “I mean, uh, don’t do it again. While you’re grounded. I’ll put these in a completely not showing-off display case until you earn them back.”

“How did you even do that while Shelldon was watching?” Leon asks as they all trudge back to the lair. “I thought he had some kinda alert system.”

“We went in another room,” Raph grumbles. “Told him it was hide-and-seek but using the lair cameras was cheating.”

“You guys are too smart for your own goods,” Raphie says, pinching between his eyes. “Okay, no more lying to your robot-brother/uncle or your human one or anyone else!”

“We can’t lie, can’t ride, can’t fight.” Mikey pops out of his shell, dangling from under his dad’s arm. “What can we do?!”

“How about you write your own comic?” Angelo looks around. “That’s uh, not against grounding rules, is it?”

“Uh… I don’t think so.” Raphie looks at Leon. Leon shrugs, so Raphie looks at Donald. Donald also shrugs.

“I think that will be fine.” Splints nods once. “It will be a good outlet foooooOOOOOO- BOYS!”

The four children wince as their fathers and grandfather stand in shock at the state of the lair living/entry room. The beanbags are singed from the passing rockets, there’s rubber marks on the floor, and smoke hangs heavy in the room. Shelldon’s tablet lays on the floor, the icon of his face showing X’s for eyes as he groans.

“... Oops,” Leo whispers.

“The comic can start… AFTER YOU CLEAN THIS ROOM!” Splints shoves various supplies into all of their hands. The four children whine, and Splints growls and glares.

“Yes, grandpa,” they chorus.

#tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #tmnt 2k12 #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt crossover #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #reincarnated au

11 notes · View notes