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owliellder · 1 year ago

Text

My Superstar

post RE4! Leon Kennedy x afab Musician! Reader

MDNI 18+

Description: Leon was a fan of you. It was a well kept secret, how much he enjoyed your music and watching you perform. A little bit of lying can get a man a long way.

Warnings: Not proofread, Porn w/ lots of plot, Unprotected p in v (stay safe), some minimal stalkerish behavior, vague mention of a PTSD-induced panic (it's very short), awkwardness

Tags: Strangers to lovers, post RE4! Leon, Dom! Leon, Sub! Reader, this can be considered slow burn (?), multiple instances of masturbation cause Leon is touch starved, praise kink, handjob, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, nipple play, inappropriate use of mama, grinding, cowgirl position, Leon manhandling the reader a bit, this man cannot keep his hands off of you!!

Word Count: 11k

Cross posted onto Ao3

Note: Spent days working on this. DAYS!! It's crazy that I can sit here at work all night, multiple nights in a row, and write smut.

Anyways, thank you for reading

ψ(｀∇´)ψ!

Leon Kennedy was one of the government's best agents; fighting horrors beyond the general public's comprehension like it was nothing at this point. He was only 28, yet he was rugged, stoic, and damn near emotionless. Every agent he's ever interacted with knew next to nothing about him. Outside of work, this man was an absolute enigma.

He stayed in a comfortable one bedroom, one bathroom apartment that was provided by the government. It was practically barren due to his line of work. What was the point of having anything if you're never there to enjoy it?

On the rare occasion Leon had more than a few weeks of quiet, he strictly kept to himself; declining invitations to go out and drink with his fellow agents, ordering in whenever he decided he was hungry, and even flat out ignoring anyone who approached him when he was performing his more domestic duties, like grocery shopping.

The blond had manners, sure, but he didn't want to entertain anyone's idea of him, especially the women. He was approached in that way often due to his muscular appearance and mysterious atmosphere. It was a bit of a pain for him to deal with. He just wanted to be left alone during his highly valued time away from agent work.

Leon looks and acts like the type of guy to just be a stick in the mud. He rarely ever indulged the other agents in his personal affects.

One evening while stuck doing paperwork from his last mission, the blond was dragged into a nearby conversation when one of the agents asked about his music taste. More specifically, if he preferred one music artist over another. All he did was shrug and said he didn't know the names, which stunned everyone involved in the conversation. When asked about not knowing two very popular artists, he even went so far as to say: "I don't listen to music."

Little did everyone know that Leon Kennedy was a filthy, dirty liar.

He listened to music, oh he did. This seasoned agent, who fought actual hellspawn, was a fan of you.

Actually, fan would be an understatement. He was a super fan.

Leon discovered your music a year ago while in a drunken stupor after he'd come back from Spain. He was in an incredibly tough spot mentally, physically too, and he just needed something to help with the constant feeling of dread clouding his thoughts. Amidst his drinking spree, he caught a glimpse of you when scrolling through TV channels.

The agent paused for a long moment before switching the channel back, his body lagging behind his brain. He was very wary at first, seeing as he really wasn't a music guy, but something about your voice drew him in further. Of course Leon blamed it on the massive amount of alcohol he'd drank, dismissing the tickling in his stomach with a shake of his head as he switched to a different channel.

From there, it spiraled.

Everywhere he went, he heard bits and pieces of you; the grocery store, in a car passing by that had its windows rolled down, even from the other agents occasionally when he got stuck doing paperwork late into the night. You were slowly taking over his thoughts, and though he seemed calm and collected on the outside, it was driving him insane.

Leon didn't understand why you were able to mess with him like this. It was so unfair. He'd managed to keep his personal life the way he wanted it, the one thing he had control over, and now he owned all of your CD's and even a t-shirt for god's sake...

He indulged himself in everything that was you; the way you smiled in the few music videos you had, the nervous habits you had when he was able to watch your interviews, old and new, and even the way you dressed. It had him almost browsing similar clothes at the store, his gaze lingering for just a moment too long as he wondered if you'd like something like that.

The whole thing made Leon feel gross, perverted even, especially when you crept into his thoughts late at night. Turning down other women's advances meant he never really got any action, never really feeling the need to touch himself either, so he found himself a little more pent up than he originally thought he'd be. The smallest of thoughts about you had him straining against his pants at work.

Yes, embarrassingly, he'd masturbated to the thought of you. Multiple times at this point. He felt terrible, but what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? He could live with the shame.

The agent made sure not a soul knew about his growing obsession for you and your sound, that much he could control.

Despite feeling incredibly emasculated, you did well by him. He didn't drink as much as he used to and he spent just a little more time each day off making his apartment cozier, though that's not the craziest part. That title belongs to the fact that whenever you were brought up at work, he rather subtly joined in on conversations willingly. He acted uninterested, didn't even add to the conversation really, but it was an opportunity for him to learn about you that he wasn't going to pass up.

From that, Leon learned that you were doing a concert in this city next month! That seemingly insignificant bit of information that was casually mentioned by one of the other agents nearly knocked the fucking wind out of him.

"Yeah, they're going to be in town for a week or something." One agent spoke up, shrugging before he tilted his disposable coffee cup towards their slips to take a small sip. Leon managed to collect himself internally to reply, clearing his throat quietly beforehand. "This isn't a big city. What're they doing here?"

In an attempt to seem casual, he rested his left arm rested on the back of a chair as he held his own cup of coffee in his right hand, taking a sip from it.

"Dunno." The agent responded simply, shrugging a bit. The topic quickly shifted after that, leaving Leon to mull over the simple tidbit he'd learned.

The next few weeks were grueling for the blond, feeling as if time was purposefully slowing down on him. His anticipation was growing by the minute.

He had managed to finagle himself a backstage pass along with a VIP ticket the second he made it home to his personal computer after that conversation with his coworkers, thank you special government access. The printed ticket and pass taunted him from where it sat propped up against the bottom of the computer monitor.

Leon kept the ticket and pass somewhere he would remember them, somewhere they couldn't get lost when he had to rush to work in a haste, which was a common occurrence for the agent.

The last week of the month was when you were going to be in town for your concert. Thursday, to be specific. It was relatively easy for Leon to play off his absence at work, having called out sick for the entire week so no one would suspect anything. Honestly, everyone was more concerned since he never got sick and even on the rare occasion he was, he never called out.

It made Leon feel just slightly guilty when a few of his fellow agents decided to send him get well cards... he'll worry about that later.

Every day until Thursday decided to roll around, Leon was practically vibrating in his apartment. He was so worried he would somehow miss the concert, so he decided to occupy himself by scrubbing the damn place top-to-bottom. It helped him release that ever-building tension he was accruing as he oh so patiently waited.

Wednesday night, he couldn't sleep, the anticipation of this one single event made it hard for him to sleep ever since he learned about it. But with the promise of seeing you tomorrow, he was actually trembling in his bed.

The man had tried his best to control his urges regarding you, but tonight was really getting to him. Just to relax, he thought, it can't hurt. A common thought in his mind.

Leon lost track of time and spent over 2 hours edging himself, the adrenaline from knowing he'd get to see you in person, be in the same building as you, had him biting down on his knuckles as he roughly fisted his cock. He at least still had the dignity to keep himself quiet, mostly not wanting his neighbors to hear how needy he was. He also didn't want your name to accidentally slip out of his mouth.

God, the things you did to him. All he had to do was simply imagine you were the one stroking his cock and he was gone, pathetically whimpering into his hand. You didn't even know he existed, but hopefully you would after that concert. He wished he could show you how much he appreciated you one day soon.

After the agent came with your name on the tip of his tongue, he decided to give up on sleep. He was wide awake, now needing a shower after making a sizable mess all on his hand, exposed abs, and the blankets that had bunched up near his groin.

Only 10 minutes later, he came again, this time in the shower.

Leon checked himself over numerous times during the hours leading up to your concert; dressing in a shirt a size too small to show off his muscles, spritzing himself with just the right amount of a cologne that he totally didn't buy because you said you liked those certain perfume and cologne notes once before, even going so far as to make sure not a single strand of hair on his head was out of place.

The anxiety got to him and, of course, he left almost 5 hours early to stand in line at the stadium you'd be performing at. He found himself felt awkward standing by himself in line, almost second guessing his decision to even be here. Almost.

Once the employees at the stadium started checking tickets and leading people inside, the blond began to tremble with anticipation. This once stoic, cold man was now reduced to nothing more than a nervous fangirl, his lips pulled tight as his ticket and pass were checked and he was lead through a set of double doors. Despite all his years living and working in this area, Leon had never been inside this place. Hell, he didn't even know there was a stadium here.

The VIP ticket granted him one of the best spots in his opinion. He wasn't right up against the stage, but he was close enough to where he'd be in the crowd that got to interact with you personally.

Once again, Leon was feeling awkward as he sat stiffly next to people he didn't know. Hopefully he can grow a pair quick so he doesn't make an absolute fool of himself in front of you.

The crowd waited for a good 30 minutes or so, probably to give everyone enough time to settle, before the lights dimmed, causing everyone to cheer loudly. The man tapped his fingers against his muscular thigh anxiously, attempting to get his breathing under control.

He did not like being crowded like this, but he had to put up with it for just a couple hours in order to see your entire concert. He could handle that...

No he couldn't.

Only a few minutes after you entered the stage, everything got to him fast. The screaming, the lack of any form of personal space, and his climbing body temperature caused him to flee as casually as physically possible. Leon never considered that he wouldn't be able to handle such a loud and crowded environment.

He pushed his way forward, flashing his backstage pass to one of the security guards standing in front of the temporary fencing put up. They moved the fence slightly to let him through, to which he speed-walked his way towards the bathrooms, following the signs that led the way.

Thankfully the bathroom was empty since the concert had just started. The man chose to go into the family bathroom since it the door had a lock and he didn't want anyone walking in on him while he calmed himself.

For fucks sake, he can do this! He knows he can, he has to. He bought the damn ticket and pass, he needed to see you.

After giving himself awhile to calm down, Leon eventually walked out of the bathroom, ready to go back in and claim his seat once more. The sound of music echoed through the large hallway that surrounded the area you were performing, causing his nerves to spike again for just a brief moment.

He took a deep breath and walked over to another security guard that stood by the set of doors he walked out of previously, using his pass once more to get back in since it led through the fenced off area.

The second the blond walked through, he froze, his eyes landing on you up on the stage. Your voice was so clear now, the way you moved and sang with a smile causing the corners of his lips to peak up slightly.

He just couldn't keep his eyes off of you, making his walk back to his seat incredibly drawn out. Seeing you at every angle possible at the moment was making his heart flutter, and shamefully, his dick twitch. He was grateful anything below his torso was obstructed by everyone jumping and dancing around him.

The lyrics to your songs resonated with Leon like nothing before, your proximity making it feel like you were singing directly to him. For him.

The concert lasted a little longer than either you or Leon had anticipated due to a random technical issue with the mic you were wearing.

It was funny to you, the slight and very short lasting hiccup caused you to joke with one of your bandmates, your hushed voice and laugh being picked up by their mic. God, Leon could listen to your laugh for hours.

Regardless of any mistake, your concert was nothing less than perfect to the man. To him, you could do no wrong, that much was clear by the way he zeroed in on you and you alone for the entire duration of the performance.

After thanking the audience with a grin and a wave, you exited the stage with your bandmates and retreated backstage to shed that post-concert adrenaline. All those eyes watching you? Yeah, that'll always be nerve-wracking, no matter how many times you do it.

You settled next to your drummer on a particularly uncomfortable couch, your guitar sitting propped up on a stand not too far away. The downtime after a concert was always very appreciated, considering you lacked any sort of energy after the adrenaline finally wore off. Your voice had grown hoarse, throat now sore, and ears ringing from the volume of the music earlier.

You wanted to have a chance to collect yourself properly before you met up with anyone that had a backstage pass, which was normally reserved for people actually working the event. You liked to keep it easy for you and everyone involved, which meant you only ever green-lit a very small number of them to be sold to the general public.

As much as you loved your fans, you wanted to keep your after-concert relaxing at a maximum. This kind of life was stressful, as fun as it was. You didn't want to come at your fans' throats because you were too exhausted to answer questions. The last thing you wanted was to get mad at people who were just excited to meet you.

Luckily for you, it doesn't seem very many people were able to acquire a backstage pass. Most were left to event workers, it seemed. A few stragglers had made it backstage with the help of security to get a picture and have you and your bandmates sign a poster or a shirt.

One final man wandered backstage an hour after the concert had ended, one you didn't notice as your exhaustion was really presenting at this point. Your bassist was the first to notice Leon, righting themselves from their spot leaning against the wall to greet him with a handshake.

The drummer and keyboardist followed suit, slowly leading the agent over to where you now sat on the floor, back against the couch since it had grown too uncomfortable for you.

You were nudged by your bassist, causing you to grumble and open your eyes to look up at whoever decided to rouse you. Catching sight of Leon prompted you to quickly stumble upwards onto your feet.

Smiling awkwardly, you reached your hand out to shake his hand, which he gladly accepted with a tender smile of his own.

"Leon." he stated simply, his eyes lidded as he looked into yours. "Very happy to finally meet you and your band."

This man was fucking gorgeous and he had the voice of a pornstar. Maybe he was a pornstar? Who knows, you weren't one to judge, especially not someone who's looking at you like that.

You introduced yourself, rather breathlessly as you'd stood yourself up too fast. "I'm sorry, we're all a little gross from the show.." you laughed out nervously, pulling your hand back from him to wipe against your shirt after realizing how sticky from sweat you were.

Leon laughed a low laugh with you, his eyes quickly raking over your figure before making their way back up to yours. "It's no problem, I'd be a little confused if you weren't gross after that performance. It was amazing, by the way."

He followed you and your bandmates over to a circular table sitting near the corner of the room, accepting a seat after everyone sat down and gestured for him to do the same. The blond really wanted to talk to you alone, but getting to talk to you at all was a feat in his books right now, and getting to sit across from you was more than enough.

"Thank you, Leon. We're very happy you enjoyed the show." Your drummer spoke, giving Leon a quick smile. Everyone else agreed, including you with a quiet, tired chuckle.

Leon was surprisingly good at hiding his hard on, but your hoarse voice and tired, disheveled look had his thoughts leading a less than innocent path. It was hard for him to focus on anyone else.

The agent asked general, boring questions that the band was asked almost every time they encountered a fan, though he was a lot more casual about it.

He kept giving you these looks that you couldn't quite describe. It almost seemed like he was eyeballing you for a reason. You were used to getting a bit more attention since you were the main face of the band, but wow he was really giving you some questionable looks. Not that you minded, of course. Hell, you started giving him your own coy glances here and there.

After about 10 minutes of general chatter, Leon began to single you out in questions; asking about your guitar, how you come up with your lyrics, and how you learned to sing, all the while staring at you with those half-lidded eyes of his.

You answered as best as you could, taking note of a smirk tugging at his lips. He'd noticed you blushing, his low tone and staring effecting you in your tired state.

You couldn't quite place it, and as cliche as it was, he seemed different to you. Leon wasn't like most of the other fans you'd met over the years, he seemed so nonchalant about everything.

This type of behavior was obvious when it came from younger fans. You and your band mates have dealt with a fair share of teenage crushes, but having a grown man display the same kind of mannerisms was strange. Not in a bad way, though.

In your defense, it was a bit refreshing to know you were desirable in that sense. You'd grown so busy with music that you just haven't worked to put yourself out there. Plus, there's always that inkling that anyone who would try their hand at you was just out for the money and fame, not to mention that handling a relationship with the spotlight always watching is really difficult. It can wear on it.

As everyone stood up from the table, your bandmates shook Leon's hand and said their thank you's again before beginning to make their way to a door where a couple security guards stood ready to lead them out to the tour bus. You waved them on before walking over to grab your guitar from the stand it was on.

"You're not gonna go with them?" Leon asked quietly, watching you from where he stood next to the table. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb as your bandmates walked out, his eyebrows furrowed slightly with confusion.

"Oh, I just have to put this away before I follow them out..." You yawned, grabbing the guitar case that wasn't too far away from you before sitting yourself on the floor, opening the case up. You began to examine the guitar for any damage that went unnoticed during the concert.

Leon nodded and moseyed over to you, standing a couple feet away before leaning over just a bit to watch you as you looked over your guitar, giving a small smile once more.

"You know," he started, voice almost a rumble as he spoke. His eyebrows raised as he turned his focus down a little further to look at you. "...you really were the star of the show."

You placed the guitar in it's case before looking up at him, having tilting your head upwards since he was currently towering over you. You smiled, huffing out a laugh through your nose. "Please, I wouldn't sound very good if it wasn't for my band.."

Leon clicked his tongue, bending over a little more to get closer to you. He was looking at you with those same half-lidded eyes from before, his voice lowering to a hushed tone. "I'm being serious. All I could focus on was you. And that voice of yours? Wow.."

He was now giving you a bit more of a serious look, though he still had the faintest smile. Your face relaxed with his words, smile widening ever so slightly. He spent the time to gauge your reaction before continuing to speak, moving next to you before crouching down.

"I know I'm just a fan, but I'd really like to see you again sometime." Leon turned his head away from you to look down at the floor, fiddling with his fingers nervously after resting his arms on his knees.

Now it was his turn to blush, his sudden proximity to you bringing out a more bashful side to him. He hadn't felt this way in years, so he wasn't quite sure how to act.

You followed him with your head as he crouched next to you, never moving your gaze away from him. Normally you'd never let a fan get this close to you for so long, but Leon didn't give off any sort of threatening energy. If anything, he just seemed like a nervous kid asking his crush to hold his hand during school. It was endearing having such a well-built, handsome man acting this way for you.

You averted your gaze for just a moment to zip up the guitar case before quickly looking back at the blond sitting next to you. "Do you have a pen?"

His eyes shot up from his lap to meet yours, his eyebrows raised up again. "What?" he asked, his voice a little too loud before he caught himself with a wipe of his palm across his lips. "Sorry- what did you say?" He must've been zoned out after admitting to wanting to see you again.

"Do you have a pen? Or a sharpie?" You repeated yourself with a gentle tone, eyes crinkling with your smile as he looked over at you. "Oh! Oh, yeah.. yeah yeah, I do.." He muttered, quickly standing up so he could dig through his pockets with both his hands. After a few seconds he pulled out a pen, clicking it a couple times before holding out the pen to you.

You nodded with a giggle, gently taking the pen from him. You grabbed his hand and flipped it so his palm was facing up, drawing a couple quick circles on your own arm to make sure the pen worked before carefully scribbling your number out onto his open palm.

Leon focused all his brain power on keeping his hand as still as possible for you, watching you intently as you wrote on his hand. He never thought it would've been this easy, imagining he'd have to follow you to at least a few other cities before even getting a chance at this.

Once you finished writing, you placed the pen back into the same hand. You held his hand with both of yours, closing his fingers for him before patting them. Every single nerve ending in his hand was tingling with your touch, his eyes wide as he turned his gaze from his hand and back up to your face where his eyes met yours.

"I have to go, but don't be afraid to call, okay?" You slowly slid your hands off of his and stood up, grabbing the handle on the guitar case. "I'm easily reachable."

Leon pulled his hand close to his chest, opening his fingers to sneak a glance at your number. He balled his hand right back up before shoving it into his pocket, like he'd somehow lose it if he didn't keep a tight hold on it. He started to speak, voice cracking a bit which caused him to clear his throat before attempting to speak again. "Yeah, okay.. yeah.."

The agent was reduced to nothing more than his nerves, taking a shaky breath as he gave you a crooked smile. You nodded in acknowledgement, blush dusting your cheeks again as you stood awkwardly next to him.

You pointed towards the door before starting to shuffle away from him, muttering out a quiet "It was nice to meet you, Leon.."

You take quiet note on how nice his cologne smelled as you walked in front of him to the door.

"It was nice to meet you too, sweetheart." Leon responded, his shyness immediately falling away as he watched you leave, allowing a security guard to lead him to the main arena so he could walk out to the main parking lot where his car was.

He slid into his car and sat for a moment before leaning his head against the steering wheel, arms above his head as he laughed. It almost felt fake, but when he angled his head to look at the number written on his hand again, he knew it wasn't.

The man almost crashed 3 times on the short drive home, getting honked at numerous times as he sat unfocused at traffic lights when they turned green. He even sat at a stop sign waiting for it to turn green for a whole minute until he realized that it was not going to be turning green.

At least he made it back to his apartment building alive, that's all that mattered to him right now. He wanted to enjoy this moment of euphoria before his own exhaustion caught up to him, calmly walking into his apartment in case any of his neighbors saw him. Once his front door was closed and locked, he scrambled into his office to write down your number onto a piece of paper. He wanted to make sure the numbers were at least legible, seeing as his hands were trembling.

Afterwards, he moved to his bedroom to sit on the edge of his bed, having taken off his jacket and shirt, leaving them both abandoned on the floor somewhere in his room. The entire night was finally setting in for him, his breathing turning ragged as he leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees.

The blond shared the same analogy you had, feeling like an awkward teen all over again with how he could barely calm himself from such a simple interaction.

Leon kept himself on the edge of his bed, sitting up only slightly to pull his cock out from his boxers and unzipped pants, rock solid and incredibly sensitive. You'd been so close to him, and god the way you looked and sounded after giving the concert your all made it so easy for Leon to paint a picture of what you'd look like after he got his hands on you.

He's been hard for hours at this point, not even caring to undress fully before jerking himself off with the same hand that you'd written your number on. He was so thankful his precum didn't stain through to his pants during that whole ordeal, he wouldn't have known what to do if you knew about his problem.

The pen smudged as he wet his hand with his precum, the liquid smearing the ink all along his hand and dick. He didn't care, it'll wash off, he just needed to take care of himself right now. He wanted you, and now he knew you wanted him too, to some extent.

Leon closed his eyes, moving his left hand down to fondle his balls as he stroked himself faster, doing his best to imagine it was you playing with him like this. Whimpering with every breath, he started to wonder how you'd handle him: Your hands were a lot smaller than his, would you have to use two hands to stroke him properly? Would you touch his balls like this? Bet you'd be so willing to suck his cock, fuck, you probably taste so good too. Eating you out would be so fun, hearing you moan out his name with that pretty voice of yours-

It only took about a minute for him to cum onto the floor, eyebrows furrowed and panting heavily as he gripped the base of his cock tightly, feeling it throb with each string of cum that pumped out.

Wonder if you're on birth control..

Leon had to return to work the next week, feigning the flu in its final stages to keep up with his little white lie. No one questioned him, only offering smiles and the occasional "glad you're feeling better".

He didn't really do his work to the best of his ability, his main focus being when would be the right time to call you.

Embarrassingly, the agent went out and bought a flip phone since he didn't have his own phone. He hadn't needed his own phone before, using only his work phone when anything work related came up.

He didn't want to risk putting your number into your work phone and he figured having your number was a good time to invest in a personal phone.

Now, Leon had to gamble with the idea of calling you. Obviously he'll wait until he's home, but it's hard to think of anything else when you're only a button away.

His aloofness was normal to his coworkers, even more explainable considering he was "sick" last week. He was incredibly thankful no one bothered him with extra work tonight.

After work, he was sat on his couch, staring down at his new phone while the TV was on, flashing only colors in his periphery since he'd muted it. It was only 5pm, he was contemplating calling you. He wanted to hear your voice again, but he didn't know if it was too late in the evening or not.

You said you were easily reachable, so it's all or nothing, he guessed.

He pushed through his nerves, pressing the call button before slamming the phone against his ear with a slight wince. Every ring caused him to tense up.

On the final ring you finally picked up, breathing out a quick "Hello?" into the phone. Leon sat there frozen, sucking in a harsh breath before letting out a cough.

"Hey-.. Uh, hey. It's uh, it's Leon.."

There was a bit of a pause on the other end before you responded, voice cheerful despite sounding out of breath.

"Oh hey! I was wondering when I'd hear from you! How are you?"

"Uh.. I've been alright... how about you?"

Leon patted his thigh with his left hand, mentally chastising himself for his voice cracking again.

"I'm doing good, uh, I'm fighting a spider, so.."

You breathed into the phone with a laugh, causing Leon to smile and relax a bit as you kept the conversation alive.

"Oh yeah, spiders are kind of evil. Need me to ward it off?"

"I mean, I would take you up on that offer, but I'm already about 100 miles away from your city at this point."

Leon cursed internally, turning his head away from the phone to sigh where you could hear it.

"I appreciate it, though. This thing is nasty."

Your voice pulled him back to the phone, bringing a smile back to his face.

"You should get uh... that drummer of yours to help you. Two against one."

"Everyone is out at dinner. I'm all alone in this, Leon."

Your dramatic tone made him chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch.

"Okay, well, I'm with you in spirit."

The laugh you emitted only egged Leon on further.

"How long are you gonna be in the next city? If uh.. if you don't mind me asking."

"For a few days. It's our last city on the tour we're doing, then we go back to LA."

The agent nodded silently with a hum, his confidence slowly coming back to him. He needed to put his intentions out there.

"Would you mind if I drove out and took you to dinner tomorrow?"

He's now sweating bullets. There was another brief pause before you responded, the silence causing him to tense up once more.

"...I normally wouldn't accept something like that... but, you know what, I'll take you up on that."

Leon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, now leaning forward with a relieved look. You could hear the relief in his voice too.

"Uh- awesome! Okay, I'll find somewhere nice to take you."

You two said your goodbye's and hung up after you told the agent which city and hotel you were staying at.

He took it upon himself to go into his office and search up the location on his computer, easily memorizing the path to where you were since it mostly just involved following a freeway the majority of the way.

It took awhile for Leon to calm down after that call, now busy anticipating his journey tomorrow to see you. It'll be easy to call out of work again, saying the sickness flared back up or something along those lines. Anything to see your pretty face again.

He spent the night with himself, finding himself unable to fall asleep once more, just like the night before your concert. The man had never been or felt this desperate before, chasing some person he barely knew over a silly crush. Okay, it was more than a crush if he had to be honest with himself.

Planning on leaving early, he was more than frustrated when he finally fell asleep close to 4am. He wanted to scope out good restaurants and nice places to park, if it came down to that. The hopeful bastard.

Groggy, Leon got himself up only 2 hours after he'd fallen asleep, drinking the coffee he'd made himself on the stove days ago. It tasted stale, but it would have to do.

He definitely sounded the part when calling out sick again, which was accepted without question.

Wanting to make sure he looked his best even after a long car ride, he showered and shaved his stubble right before leaving, making sure to bring his cologne, hairbrush, and gum.

The drive was boring, traffic irritated Leon, but he eventually made it to the city you were in at around 3pm. He called you again, thankful you answered, and asked if 6pm was a good time, to which you happily accepted.

The three extra hours provided the blond with the much needed time to explore restaurant options and generally nice places to walk around. You probably weren't in this city often, if at all, so wandering like tourists seemed fit.

He eventually settled on a nice sushi restaurant since he hadn't had sushi in awhile. They had plenty of non-sushi options on the off chance you didn't like sushi. Or, you could pick the restaurant, he didn't mind, as long as he got to spend time with you.

Leon was nervous. He had to wipe his hands off a good few times since they'd grown clammy while gripping the steering wheel. He was parked outside the hotel you were staying at, having called you just a couple minutes before to let you know he was outside.

While waiting, the agent decided to get out and lean against the passenger door of his car. He wanted to be a gentleman and open the door for you, though he wasn't really sure people still held the door for others anymore.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you walk out past the main sliding doors of the hotel, immediately straightening his posture while giving you an awkward smile. You looked absolutely amazing.

"Hey," Leon breathed out, frozen for a moment before suddenly remembering to open the passenger door for you. He just couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

"Hey." You replied back, almost just as winded as he was. "Sorry, I didn't expect the elevator to be so busy. It took a couple rotations before I could even get down here."

You smiled at Leon as a silent thanks, sitting yourself down in his car before he carefully closed the door once you'd settled. After getting into the car himself, he gave you a quick glance and a smile of his own before driving to the restaurant.

Although the conversation between you and Leon was airing on the side of awkward, the two of you slowly loosened up as the night went on. Your apprehension regarding going out with a fan quickly left once you realized how charming the man actually was.

The power dynamic was one of your main worries. You didn't want to feel like you were taking advantage of a man so eager to please, but Leon actually had the same worry, considering his work as a government agent gave him a lot of special privileges that aren't normally handed out to the common person.

Luckily for him, you didn't pry about his work. You gladly accepted his vague description about working for the government and that was that.

You also didn't pry about his interest in you as a musician when the topic came up. That was a given.

After dinner, the two of you wandered around the downtown part of the city for awhile, sightseeing while chatting about anything and everything. You felt oddly safe around Leon, something about him just screamed stability.

Leon felt the same way about you, but the way he described you was fluffy. You made him feel fluffy and warm. And the promise of domesticity and love only made him want you more.

You were so easy to talk to. He rarely ever indulged anyone about his personal life, but he found himself talking about anything he could remember about his childhood on a whim with you.

You were stopped a few times by fans that recognized you. The majority of them had driven up to the city to see your concert.

He knew it was going to happen, but Leon really didn't like how they so carelessly wandered up to you. Did you not look busy to them? Pretty disrespectful, if you asked him.

Leon made sure to make his presence known by placing a gentle hand on your shoulder which pulled you from the brief conversation you'd been so rudely dragged into. If he actually got an opportunity to be with you, the attention you receive will definitely take some getting used to.

A reserved, near isolated man with a popular musician? What a combo that would be.

Eventually, you and Leon ended up back at the hotel you were staying at. The blond didn't want to leave, and it was clear you didn't want him to leave either, but he had work the next day and you were going to be extremely busy the rest of the week. So, as one does, you invited him into your hotel room anyways.

To hell with work, calling out again wouldn't hurt. He was good at feigning illness.

He followed you inside like a puppy, his chest practically pressed against your back the entire way up to your room. You didn't share a room with your bandmates, Leon thanks god for that, so he was able to settle a lot quicker once you led him into the room. You both took your shoes off, leaving them near the door.

As expected, the agent was awkward at first. The two of you just sat on the edge of the bed next to each other and talked for awhile longer.

"I'll admit, it's been a really long time since I've done anything. With anyone." Leon admitted quietly, his hands clasped together in his lap since he didn't quite know what to do with them in the moment.

You laughed nervously in response, almost mimicking his position. "Yeah, it's been a long time for me too. I'm very out of practice.."

He turned his head to look at you with a weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips, eyebrows furrowed upwards. "We don't have to do anything. We can just... hang out for awhile if you want to?"

You contemplated for a moment before responding to him again. "I mean, I'm totally fine with either or..?"

Leon really wanted to fuck you. He's been imagining this moment ever since he first discovered your music. He wished he wasn't so anxious, but he needs to power through that. He needs you.

"Can-" the man cleared his throat before taking in a small breath, voice hushed. "Can I kiss you?"

The second he heard you whisper out a weak "yeah", he quickly angled himself so his body was facing yours, tilting his head to the right as he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours.

It only took you a brief moment to bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, his hands moving to grip your waist, rubbing circles against it through your shirt as the kiss deepened.

He loved how vocal you were. You sang beautifully, sure, but he never would've guessed you'd be so sensitive to touch. The little whimpers you made just from being kissed and caressed were already driving him crazy.

Leon moved down to kiss your neck, nipping and sucking hickeys wherever he could. He tucked his fingers underneath your shirt, bunching it up partially before moving away from your neck to pull your shirt off.

He took some time to ogle at your figure, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he shifted himself on top of you, gently pushing you back against the bed to continue his assault on your neck.

Your breathy moans only continued to egg him on. Everything he's ever felt regarding you quickly came bubbling back up, leading him to leave a trail of hickeys down your neck, all along your collarbone, and on the tops of your breasts.

Leon had moved his right hand to grip the point of your hip, the left groping one of your boobs through your bra while keeping himself propped up with his knees on either side of your legs as he sat hunched over you.

The man couldn't keep his hands off of you, his hands dragging up and down your body as they swapped places every few seconds.

"Leon-.. god, please..." You moaned breathlessly, chest heaving. He groaned at the sound of his name leaving your pretty lips, dragging himself back up pull you into a heated kiss.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it." Leon growled against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip which caused you to gasp, allowing him to lick into your mouth. "You taste amazing."

Your hands moved from the sheets to wrap around his neck again, carding your fingers up through the that fluffy golden hair on the nape of his neck. When he pulled away so you both could catch your breath, he wasted no time standing up to shuck off his own shirt.

Leon smirked when you sat up on your elbows, watching your wide eyes rake down his sculpted torso.

"Glad you like what you see." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, causing you to scoff playfully and grab one of the pillows off the bed, tossing it at him. He laughed, catching the pillow to throw right back at you, albeit a little softer than you had. "Hey, hey, alright."

You laughed with him as the pillow landed on your chest, letting it slip off to the side as you sat up fully. You tucked your legs under your ass, sitting back on your haunches as you reached forward to rest your hands against his thighs.

Looking up at Leon with those doe eyes, he just couldn't resist. He knew what you wanted. "Go on, don't be shy.." he spoke in a hushed tone, moving his right hand to rest on your head to play with your hair.

He angled his head down so he could watch you fumble with his belt, wanting to let you set the pace now.

"Thaaat's it, there ya go mama..." Leon whispered with a gravelly voice, eyes half lidded as he watched you finally pull his belt from the loops. Your hands were shaky as they now worked to unbutton and unzip his jeans, glancing up at him occasionally to make sure you were doing everything right.

Once you were able to fully undo the agent's jeans, he moved his hand off your head so he could tug them all the way down for you, kicking them away which left him in only his boxers and socks.

As mentioned before, you were out of practice. You didn't have a very good frame of reference for men, but Leon's sizable erection straining against his boxers was more than intimidating.

The man could tell you were worried. He didn't want to scare you, no, that's the last thing he wanted. So he brought his right hand up to hold the side of your face, caressing your cheekbone his thumb. "Don't feel pressured, sweetheart. Take your time for me."

You looked up at him as you took in a shaky breath, leaning your head against his hand for a moment with a nervous smile. "Thank you... Just-.. just work with me here.." you huffed, moving your gaze back down to his bulge.

You lifted your head away from his hand to which he moved back up to stroke your hair, keeping his gaze fixed down on you.

You tucked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, glancing up at him one last time, prompting him to smile in approval. You nodded, swallowing dryly as you slowly tugged them down.

His cock sprung out at you and you let out a quiet gasp as it stood directly in front of your face now, tip red and angry. "Oh wow... okay.." you whispered, mostly to yourself as you took in the size of it.

Leon gave a breathy chuckle as he watched you, moving his legs a bit so his boxers would fall the rest of the way down.

You let your hands rest against the tops of his thighs again, a bit closer to his v-line as you looked back up at him. "I like your uh-.. I like your happy trail..."

Your quiet admission dragged another laugh from the man, who was looking right back at you with probably the most endearing expression. "Oh, do you?" You nodded. "I'll make sure to keep it for you then."

The way Leon kept stroking your hair felt so nice, his voice was really encouraging too. You were incredibly thankful he was willing to take things slow and let you lead for the moment.

Speaking of taking the lead, you brought your eyes back down to stare at his cock, watching precum pearl from the slit. You gave yourself one last mental push before bringing your right hand up to wrap around the base, glancing up at Leon when he hissed from the sensitivity.

Your eyes moved from his dick to his face every few seconds as you began slow, languid strokes. Once the blond was able to get past the sensitivity, he was smirking at you again, those encouraging words beginning to slip from his mouth again. "Mmm~... that's gooood... just like that, baby.."

Your confidence in the whole situation was growing with every word of praise Leon directed at you, leading to your hand beginning to move faster. Slick was pooling into panties now, especially with the way he was looking at you with that blissed out expression.

You must've had your own look going since he felt the need to comment on it. "You like that, mama? Like the weight on my cock in your hand?" You only moaned out in response. "Yeah you do. If only you could see the way you look, fuck- I wish I could take a picture. Those pretty eyes lookin' up at me while you stroke it, pouty lil' lips- shit~..."

Leon let you stroke him for awhile longer before patting your head softly, pulling your hand away from him. "C'mon, love. You're a bit overdressed for this, aren't you?"

Damn, you hadn't even realized you still had your bra and pants on. You made quick work of the bra, reaching back to unhook it before letting it fall forward and off your shoulders.

"Ohh~.. There's my gorgeous girl~.." Leon purred, eyeballing your now exposed breasts, cock twitching as he looked over the hickeys that he'd covered the tops of them with. "Those tits of yours look a bit heavy, mind if I hold 'em for ya?"

The agent chuckled as you clicked your tongue at him, and though you didn't want to, you couldn't help but smile at his joke.

He gently pushed you down back onto the bed by your shoulder, letting you move your legs out before he climbed on top of you again. "At least let me love on 'em for a bit?"

The way he said that almost seemed like he was begging, and maybe he was, but regardless you nodded, blush deepening as he brought his head down to your breasts.

He resumed how he was before when he was on top of you, caging you underneath his broad form. Leon teased you, kissing all around the soft mounds before bringing his right hand up to grope one while he attached his lips to the other, licking and sucking your nipple. Your hands flew up to grip at his hair, needing some sort of register.

"O-oh... Leon- ah~! ..Pl-ease be gentle..." As much as he tried to hold back, he couldn't help how desperate he was to taste and feel all of you; your soft cries of pleasure, the way your voice broke when he rolled his tongue around the perked bud, he wanted it all. Soon he was moaning, nearly whimpering, eyes closed while his mouth swapped from one nipple to the other, making sure both got equal treatment.

Leon had shifted his legs up a bit more, almost sitting on your thighs as he sat hunched over you, hands tight on your waist as he centered his focus on using his mouth to toy with your nipples, cock laying right below your belly button as it weeped onto your stomach. He was soaking you in, in love with how responsive you were, in love with you.

Eventually, you tugged his head away from your tender breasts, his mouth wet with his saliva as he looked at you with a dopey smile.

Leon needed more of you. He needed to taste more of you.

Pulling you to the edge of the bed as he stood, Leon quickly yanked off your pants, tossing them to the side. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you; blush running down to your chest, hickeys covering your upper half, nipples swollen, that beautiful body, panties absolutely soaked. He really wanted to take a picture now.

After the agent finished taking in the scenic view in front of him, he slipped down onto his knees, pulling you by your hips so your legs dangled over the edge.

He sighed contently, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs as you attempted to close them. He wasn't really listening at this point, but he could hear you whimper something about 'not staring at it'.

Alright, Leon won't stare. He'll do you one better.

He planted his face right against your clothed pussy, breathing in your heady scent with a low groan, causing his cock to twitch again. "Ohh-ho hooo.. shit baby~.. that's good..."

You gasped, legs trying to close instinctively again which Leon didn't allow. He was so strong, barely straining to keep you spread wide for him as flattened his tongue against the gusset before closing his mouth around it. His nose bumped against your clit over and over as he moved his head up and down, taking in everything you had to offer through your panties.

Your panties started to irritate the man fast, growling as he had to pull himself away from you to tug them off. He dropped them next to where his knees sat on the floor, making a mental note to take those whenever he left your hotel room.

As soon as your panties were off your body, he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, using his right hand to reach up and spread your pussy lips. You whined again about not wanting him to stare which was cut off with a moan as he moved his thumb to press against your clit and rub in small circles.

"If I wanna look at ya, I'm gonna.. and you're gonna let me too..." Leon slurred slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he watched you clench around nothing with a whimper.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" He rumbled, now stroking his index and middle finger through your folds, spreading slick up to your clit so he could keep massaging it. "You like when I get a little bossy with you, pretty girl? Hm?"

You nodded, eyes shut tight as you balled your fists up in the sheets. "Look at me, mama.. Watch me..." Your eyes opened at his words, teary from the stimulation, and he laughed. "There ya go~.. Watch me devour this sweet little cunt of yours."

His words barely had a chance to register in your clouded head before his face was buried back into your crotch, immediately licking along your folds. He slung your other leg over his shoulder before sliding his tongue around your slit, moaning as slick ran into his mouth. You responded with slurred moans of your own, hands flying back to grip at his hair. You muttered out barely legible nonsense, words almost always cut off by moans and whines as Leon sucked on your clit, nipping at it ever so gently.

The agent hadn't experienced this in so long. You sounded so pretty, tasted so good. You were all his now and he had to make sure you knew that too.

"Taste so good. All mine." He growled into your cunt, wrapping his arms under and over your legs so he could place his hands on your hips, holding you steady to keep you from squirming. "This pussy's all mine." He repeated with a chuckle as he continued to lap at your folds, tongue dipping into your hole.

"L-Leon-! I-...I can't-!" You cried out, tugging at his hair as you tried to pull his face away from you. You were close, it was too much.

Oh he needed this. Leon needed you to cum on his face. He brought his still partially slicked up fingers to your pussy, pulling his mouth away for just a moment while he wet them again with a mix of your slick and his saliva.

Immediately, he placed his mouth over your clit, sucking as he pushed one finger into your dripping hole, drawing a breathy gasp from you.

His finger was quickly buried to the knuckle, wiggling it a bit inside of you before starting to pump it in and out of you.

The combination of feeling Leon's thick finger inside of you, curling to hit just the right spot while sucking on your clit had you tumbling over the edge, choking out a moan as tears spilled from your eyes.

It had been so long since you'd done this with anyone, and even then, no one really took the time to focus on you like this.

Your orgasm racked through your body, legs trembling as you gasped, trying to catch your breath. Leon eased you through it, pulling his mouth away so he could look watch his finger slowly disappear into you repeatedly. Once he pulled his finger out, he sucked it clean, leaning down just a bit to drink you up.

"Mm.. good job, sweetheart.." He sighed, taking the chance to stare at your glistening cunt for a bit longer before setting your legs back down on the bed so he could get up off his knees.

The man sat you up as he crawled onto the bed, holding onto your waist as he moved to sit against the headboard, legs out in front of him. He pulled you up onto his lap, making sure you were in a comfortable position.

"That good, mama?" Leon whispered, running his hands down your arms as his eyes trailed down to where your cunt sat right against his cock.

"Yeah... yeah that's good..." You whispered back, angling your head down a bit as you moved your hips experimentally. You did it again when Leon moaned, his hands moving down to your hips so he could grind you down his dick.

The agent harshly huffed through his nose, watching your puffy lips glide across the length of him. "Damn, that's it baby- grind on my fucking cock... god you're so wet."

You let Leon grind you down onto him, weak and drawn out moans being pulled from your lips every time the head of his dick bumped against your swollen clit. He was so focused on you.

"Lift up for me." He ordered, moving one his hands to pat your thigh. You mindlessly did as he told you, lifting yourself up onto your knees so he could line himself up with your hole.

"Gonna fuck ya good.." The blond grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows as he brought his hand back up so both were on your hips again. "Gonna have ya bouncin' on this cock, baby.."

He slowly pushed you down, both of you moaning in tandem when his head pushed past that tight ring of muscle. He gave you a moment to adjust before pushing you further down, mouth agape as your pussy sucked him in.

Once you were fully seated on his dick, you let out a shaky whine, placing your hands on his pecs for balance even though Leon would make sure to keep you upright.

Giving you more time to adjust, he tightened his grip on your hips, feeling your walls clench around him before relaxing a bit. His breathing was ragged, doing everything in his power not to pound into you right then and there.

Instead, he began to grind you on his cock, moving your hips back and forth. You gasped and moaned, nails digging into the taut muscle on his chest. He couldn't help but moan as well, just the sight of him balls deep in your cunt was enough to have him ragged.

"Okay..." You breathed out, causing Leon to hold your hips still. "Okay.. okay I-.. I'm good.." you nodded, looking down briefly where the two of you sat connected before looking up at his face.

Leon didn't need to be told twice, breathing out a groan as he slowly lifted you up. The head was almost pulled out of you before he sat you all the way back down onto his dick. Your lips made an 'o' as you felt him caress the inside of you, breathing still shaky.

After repeating the process a couple more times, he started to pick up the pace, even meeting you with thrusts of his own.

"God- shit baby-.. fuuuck~.." Leon breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on bouncing you up and down while timing his thrusts. "Bounce on my cock, mama.. Feel it deep in that pussy?"

He spoke breathlessly, eyes moving from your face down to where his dick drilled into you, almost drooling at the erotic sound of skin slapping and your pussy squelching.

"Uh-huh.." You moaned, moving your hands up to his shoulders so you could start to bounce yourself without Leon's help. "S'good.. ohhhh~.."

"Yeeeaahhh, it's good, huh?" Leon smirked, though it faltered a bit as you ground yourself down onto him again before starting to bounce again. "You love it, don't ya?"

You nodded lazily, tears starting to run down your face again while your legs trembled as they grew tired from the workout. The agent took notice of this, taking it upon himself to start bouncing you again since his hands were still firmly planted on your hips.

"Sing for me, sweetheart. Let me hear my superstar sing." Leon's thrusts turned hard as he felt you clench around him, listening to the way your voice rose again as your sensitivity grew. He filled you in all the right places, like you were made for him.

Your second orgasm made you scream, though it wasn't as loud as you thought considering your voice cracked. Your back arched, pussy clenching around Leon's cock like a vice.

He moved his arms up to wrap around your lower back as it arched, muscles flexing as he pulled you against his chest. He fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting up into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. You were so overstimulated, tears now streaming down your face as choked out moans were forced out of you.

"Want me to cream this sloppy cunt of yours?" He growled into your ear, only getting a loud whine in response. "Words, use your words, c'mon."

"P-please-!" You managed to stutter out as he pounded into you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so you could bury your face into his neck, tears dripping onto his exposed skin.

"Fuck- finally..." Leon rasped as he thrust into you for a few seconds longer before he held you firmly down on his lap. He came with a low groan, chuckling at your gasp when you felt him throb and pump you full of cum. "Take it, baby, fucking take it all..."

You both sat unmoving for a long minute, catching your breath before sitting up with a whine as your legs screamed at you and his cock shifted inside you.

The agent eased you off with a hum, watching his cum drip out of you and onto his stomach. You sat back once you felt him spread his legs for you, slotting yourself between them.

"Oh you're just perfect, aren't you? Gonna clean me off?" Leon chuckled when you nodded, sighing when you pressed your face against his cock after laying yourself on your stomach.

You licked a lazy stripe up the length of it, eyes closing as you tasted a mix of your juices and his cum. He placed a hand into your hair, gently combing through it as you sucked the head into your mouth with a soft whimper.

Leon watched with hungry eyes as you sucked on his cock, fitting what you could into your mouth before pulling away to lick him

clean, even going so far as to lick the cum off his stomach that had dripped out of you a minute prior.

"Perfect.. So good for me." Leon muttered out bits of praise for you, petting through your hair once you'd finished and just had his dick pressed against your cheek while you stroked it with your right hand. "My perfect superstar."

You smiled weakly, sitting up and crawling to the side so he could lay down, pulling your back flush against his chest the second you laid down.

The both of you were up early the next morning showering, Leon helping you clean by holding you against the shower wall so he could eat you out.

You had to go in to help your bandmates and crew set up the next stage you'd be performing at, so you gave Leon a tender kiss goodbye, reminding him to call you.

Oh he'll be calling you, right after he calls his boss. He forgot to call out and he already had a couple missed calls from them.

#Leon would 100% keep his music taste a secret #look! a dom leon this time #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #baby baby boy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #resident evil leon #leon x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x fem reader

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aviiarie · 3 months ago

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⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ FLESH AND BLOOD — platonic douma & reader !

synopsis. douma’s child knows there is only one way to truly escape: killing their father. warnings. kny-typical blood, death & yknow... eating people. knives, threats of violence. unhealthy family dynamics. douma is his own warning tbh. notes. PLATONIC. (terrible) father figure!douma. gn!reader. they/them used. angst. 3.6k words. read warnings pls! @romaritimeharbor you were right, i couldn't write a happy ending. this man was made for horror, not fluff.

Every step [Name] takes is heavy.

There’s a knife strapped to their belt, hidden under several layers of clothing. They swiped in from the kitchens one night on a whim, sneaking behind two chefs who were too engrossed in an argument about spices to notice them. Once they left—with neither chef noticing them at all—they took to work fashioning a strap to attach it to their belt, and tucked it under their clothes. When they were finished, it swung on their hip, occasionally bumping against their thigh if they ran too quickly. Secure, but still accessible; exactly how they wanted it.

It isn’t the most ideal weapon. They haven’t had enough experience wielding it to even know what to do with it if their situation called for a fight, but it hangs by their side like an anchor. The slight pressure, with the glint of metal separated from their skin by a single layer of fabric, grounds them.

Every night, they make sure the edge is sharpened, before tucking it under their pillow with one hand slotted underneath. Idly, their fingers trace the edge of the handle, prepared to close around it should they wake up to an attack.

And yet, even with the care they have to make sure the knife is always close to their side, they have never once used it. It’s a safeguard more than anything else; a reminder that no matter what happens in the lion’s den they call a home, they are ready and prepared to fight their way out to safety. It didn’t need to be withdrawn; a simple pat to their side to make sure the weapon was still safely attached to their belt was enough to steady their nerves.

As they walk through the halls with feather-light footsteps, their heartbeat pounds with the wings of a hummingbird. They force their breath to even out into a steady pattern, squeezing their hands into fists to stop them from shaking. They were not the apex predator in this place, but they’d be damned if they were reduced to mere prey.

Through the halls of their home, they pass countless faces that greet them with big smiles and waves. They don’t stop for a single one, only nodding slightly and murmuring a greeting for each. One woman in particular gasps as she sees them, peeling away from her group to catch their arm as they walk by.

“Ah, [Name]! I was speaking with Lord Douma earlier, and he requested that you join him for dinner tonight!” The woman smiles brightly at them. They bite back a sharp retort, instead forcing a smile.

“If you see him again, tell my father that I might be late,” they say smoothly. The words feel like poison on their tongue, but they spit them out anyway.

Father was once a word they used with pride. It was babbled through lips that barely knew the sounds they were making, but the title was met with a blinding smile. Douma seemed to take pride in the word as well, if the way he scooped them into his arms every time they called him it was any indication. He’d press his cheek to their hair, squeezing them against his chest like they were a stuffed toy. A laugh, brimming with almost childlike glee, and an excited, “Yes, yes, that’s it! I’m your father, and you’re my darling little child.”

They were happy as his child, for a long time. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t their family by blood; he was the one to take them in when they were only a baby, giving them all they could ever want or need and spoiling them beyond comprehension. He adored them, more than anything. That was what he promised, at least.

Their childhood was happy, as happy one can be when raised in a cult. The followers loved them as much as they loved Douma himself, showering them with attention and gifts when he wasn’t there to give them it instead. [Name] learned to look past the smiles, to not get attached to the voices that spoke their name with reverence, because it was almost never the same face that greeted them twice. It didn’t matter too much, because Douma was always there to fill the gaps with his warm embraces.

But they grew older, as children do, and the haze of paradise slowly cleared. The mysteries of their youth that once felt like exciting secrets to unearth began to weigh on them, and they found themself pestering Douma with endless questions. Questions like ‘Why do people keep disappearing?’ and ‘What’s beyond the Eternal Paradise?’

To their frustration, his responses were vague and dismissive, never leaving them satisfied. The only answers they received were ‘They’ve achieved Paradise.’ and ‘Nothing. There is nothing worth seeing beyond here.’

Douma always said they were naturally inquisitive, but that burning desire for answers only brewed a frustration in their chest that never seemed to be quelled by his distant answers. He was hiding things, they could see it on his face. There were too many things that he kept secret to be coincidence, too many details that didn’t add up.

Their fervent pursuit of answers led to one place: the door at the end of main hall. It was locked at all times, the only place they were forbidden from entering. Douma was especially serious when he informed them the room was off limits, his eyes turning sharp when he questioned him about it.

“This is my home and yours, and you are free to roam everywhere else, but that place isn’t for you, little one.”

The words might have deterred them as a child, but they couldn’t let their curiosity fester any longer.

There was one key that opened every lock in the cult, hidden in a secret compartment in the main room that Douma didn’t think they knew about. One night as slipped through the door and locked it behind him, they stole the key, slipping it in the lock and turning the handle.

The first thing they noticed was red. It covered the room, spilling across his table, dripping steadily on his tiled floors and splattering across the walls in an angry scarlet. The second thing they noticed was that their father was covered in it. The colour was smeared across his face, trickling from his lips and down his chin. It stained his robes and coated his hands, but he barely noticed; he was too busy swiping his tongue across his lips to soak up the excess droplets.

Among the carnage was the lifeless figure of a woman, her body mangled and thrown carelessly at his feet. Douma himself was lounging on a chair, his legs crossed, unbothered by the nightmarish scene surrounding him. One of his hands clasped a severed arm, bringing it to his teeth and tearing off a chunk of flesh. He hummed as he ate, licking his lips like he was savouring the taste.

In all their years of growing up by his side, they’d watched as Douma had ignored the gifts of food his followers brought him, yet now, now he seemed to find his appetite. Their skin crawled, memories of rejected meals and his claims of already eating echoing in their ears. When he locked himself in the room, was this what he was doing? Was this where their missing followers ended up?

They clutched their arm, pressing their nails hard enough to leave marks against their skin. The sight was something out of their worst nightmares, yet the sting of pain was a sharp reminder that it was reality. Nausea bubbled up in their stomach, but they forced it down long enough to close the door with a quiet click and lock it again.

They never confronted him after that day. They could barely look him in the eye long enough to do so. But one thing was clear: as long as he lived, they and all of the followers of the Eternal Paradise faith were in danger.

Their hand brushed against their hip. The cold press of metal through their clothes eased their nerves.

A proper fighter would have a sword, and use it to slice his head clean off, but they would have to make do with a simple kitchen knife. Eventually the moment would present itself, eventually he would be off his guard, and they would have the chance to ambush him. The edge of the blade was sharp, all it would take is one slice across his throat and his life would be snuffed out.

They ignored the nagging part of them that told them it wouldn’t be enough, that Douma had to be something inhuman, something powerful, something that took more than a slit throat to kill. It whispered that a creature so heartless that it would slaughter and consume innocent humans couldn’t possibly be an ordinary mortal being.

They especially ignored the part of them that blanched at even the thought of harming him, the man that brought them in and doted on them every day of their life. That was the part that wished they could go back and never look through the door, maintaining a fragile bliss that wasn’t wrought with fear and uncertainty; the part that urged them to forget, to close their eyes and let him be their adoring father again.

Their footsteps haltered as they approached the open doorway that led to the main room of the building. Even the entrance was ornately decorated, with delicately painted screens separating it from the rest of the rooms.

“Is someone there?” A voice called out sharply. Their breath caught in their throat, and they patted their side instinctively. With a careful glance around the door, they saw him, sitting in the centre of the elaborate room on his usual cushioned seat.

“Are you hiding?” Douma asks, his eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable. He leans his head on his hand, smiling at where they are half-concealed behind the doorway. “My child, is that you? Come on out, don’t be shy.”

There was no point trying to pretend they weren’t there. With a deep breath, they step into the light.

“It is my child!” He laughs, in a voice that could be mistaken for delight. If they were a little younger they would have beamed at the sound, but their maturity had earned them the skill of seeing right through his cheery demeanour. “[Name], have you come to visit me?”

“Yes.” They say stiffly, forcing a neutral expression. They ignored the way his smile softened; it was a lie, it had to be.

“Aren’t I a lucky father?” Douma pauses to wipe away a fake tear, the sight making something curl uncomfortably in their gut. He pats the area beside his chair. “Come, sit down.”

When they were a baby—back when the brightness of his smile felt genuine—he would sit them on his lap, letting them play with his fans while he spoke to his followers. They were too old for that now, so instead they tiptoe inside and settle beside the chair, sitting with their knees tucked to their chest.

“How are you today, [Name]? It feels like forever since we’ve caught up.” Douma asks them as they sit, smiling over at them. They pick at the edge of their clothing, not meeting his eye.

“What does the writing in your eyes mean?” They suddenly ask, instead of answering.

“Curious today, are we?” Douma chuckles. He taps his nail just below his right eye. “I’m sure you know what this one is.”

They nod, recognizing the numeral. “It’s… two, right?”

“Yes, it is! Such a smart child I have.” Douma’s grin widens, and he points the other one. “What about this one?”

They squint at his eye, observing the thin brushstrokes over the rainbow-coloured iris. It wasn’t a character they recognized, even after their studies. “I don’t know.”

“This one—” Douma tapped his nail against his skin. “Is a combination of two characters. Together it means Upper Rank.”

“Upper Rank…?” They echo. “Upper Rank Two? What does that mean?”

“It’s my ranking.” Douma hums, not bothering to explain further. “Is it my turn to ask a question now?”

Their posture stiffens. “If you want.”

Douma clapped his hands together. “Oh, how fun! What to ask… what to ask…”

He pauses to think, tapping his finger on his chin. “Oh, I have one! What have you been doing with your days?” Douma leans his head on his hand with a smile. “I’ve barely seen you recently. You used to spend so much time with me.”

They swallow down the anxiety that bubbled up at his question. The truthful answer was that they had been carefully avoiding his room, not bothering to stop by unless they were called specifically. The rest of their days were spent sneaking around, scoping out potential escape routes, or making sure their knife was sharp and ready to kill.

“Just… things.” They say vaguely.

Douma stares at them with a pleasantly puzzled expression. “Things…?”

“Yes.”

“How fascinatingly mundane!”

“I guess I’m just a boring person.” They shrug.

“And what about that knife you’ve been carrying around, hm?” Douma asks, his smile not faltering, even as their heart stopped. “I would love to know what you’re planning with that one!”

His eyes are crinkling with the force of his smile, but there is no warmth behind it. They narrow their own eyes, quickly rising to their feet and taking a step backwards. His gaze tracks their every movement, following their hand as they fumble at their belt to pull out the knife from their makeshift sheath.

“Guess.” Their hands shake, but the ready the weapon anyway. “Take a guess as to what I’m planning with it.”

One slice at his throat. One slit, and he’s dead. One cut, and this whole nightmare will end, and he will never be able to hurt anyone again. This was what they'd been preparing for.

“Are you going to kill me?” Douma coos, standing from his chair and grinning. “How adorable!”

“Sh-Shut up!” They hiss, gripping the handle tighter. “I know what you did! I know about that poor woman, the one you murdered and devoured! How many followers have you killed, huh? Was I next? Have you just been raising me like a pig for slaughter?”

“Oh.” A tilt of his head, and a saddened expression that looked… almost real. Almost. They tighten their grip on the blade, reprimanding themself for nearly falling for his act. It wasn’t real, none of it was. They couldn’t forget that, no matter how hurt his expression looked. “I don’t want to kill you, my child.”

“I don’t believe you!” They yell back.

Douma tilts his head to look at them, his face still twisted in that same mask of pity. He took one step towards them, then another, until they were face to face. Before they could blink, his hand was gripping their wrist tight enough to bruise.

“I’m not going to kill you, [Name].” He says sadly, twisting their wrist to seize the knife and holding it up out of their reach. “I am not going to hurt you, nor am I going to let anything else hurt you. It makes me sad that you can’t see that.”

“You’re a monster.” They hiss, their eyes filled with tears. They stumble a few steps back, putting some semblance of distance between them.

Douma chuckles slightly. “And you’re my child. What does that make you?”

They flinch as if he had struck them, stumbling back even further at his words. “I am nothing like you!”

“Aren’t you?” Douma says, his voice thick and sweet like honey. “Oh, we aren’t related by blood but I raised you from birth. Why do you think I would spare such a frail creature like yourself, if I didn’t see a part of myself in you? We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I. You’re my child, through and through.”

“I’m nothing like you!” They cry out. “You’re a murderer!”

“Yet you’re the one who was plotting my death.” He waves the kitchen knife in front of their face with amusement dancing on his lips. “That sounds an awful lot like the work of a murderer to me.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it though? It’s still homicide.”

“It was self-defence!”

Douma chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Killing me isn’t self-defence if I haven’t laid a hand on you. I’m afraid that’s just called murder.”

“You’re—” Their words died in their throat. No matter how cruel he sounded saying them, he was right. They were planning to kill him. Maybe they were no better than him after all. “You’re… you’re a monster… I had to kill you. Before… you killed me. That was why I had the knife.”

“Oh, I’m afraid this little thing wouldn’t do much,” Douma laughs as he waves the weapon. With a smile, he drew back the sleeve of his robe and pressed the edge of the knife to the back of his arm. He drags the blade across it, smiling serenely as a line of bright red blood drips down his skin. In seconds the cut is knitting itself back together, leaving only a stain of scarlet over his fully healed skin. “It’s adorable that you thought you could hurt me, but simple weapons like these don’t leave a scratch on me.”

Their heart stopped, watching the mark smooth out and fade into nothing.

It… didn’t matter. All the nights of cutting their fingers of the edge in their haste to make sure it was still under their pillow didn’t matter. The comforting weight at their side wasn't worth anything; it never would have achieved a thing in the first place.

They were a sheep wandering around the den of a wolf, confidently thinking their blunt hooves would be enough to pierce its hide. A painful feeling washed over them—powerlessness.

Their eyes began to burn, along with their chest. As quickly as the rush of adrenaline filled their body, it left, knocking all the air out of their lungs. Tears slowly started dripping down their cheeks, quietly at first, before they were followed by heaving sobs.

“I do love you, my child.” Douma sighs. Lie, it was a lie. “I wish you wouldn’t have done something like this. I was so happy to watch you grow up, content keeping you alive and human. Now what am I to do?”

Their shoulders hitch, hands scrubbing desperately at their eyes. There was a calculating glint in his eyes, before Douma stepped forward again and pulled them into a cold embrace.

“What am I to do with you…” Douma muses, holding them against his chest as they sobbed. The front of his robes were covered in tears and snot but he paid it no mind, just sighing softly and running his fingers through their hair. “My poor child…”

The feeling of his fingers through their hair made them shiver. Were his nails always so sharp, or was his touch just soft enough to hide it?

“What was your plan?” Douma pulls them away to look at their face properly, a sparkle of amusement in his eye. “Where were you going to go, after you killed me, hm? You know there’s nothing out there for you. No one would want to take in a murderer, especially one who killed their own father in cold blood.”

“I would have found somewhere.” They mumble, slowing their sobs to quiet sniffles.

Douma shook his head fondly, like they were discussing something trivial. “Oh, my sweet child, who put such an idea in your head? There is nowhere you can go. Here, it is safe. Here is happy. Why would you ever leave?”

They wanted to scream their anguish, kicking and clawing at him until his face was red and bloody. This man—no, this monster masqueraded as a loving father for years, all while blood spilled behind his gilded doors. But the saccharine sweetness that his voice carried wormed its way into their ears, poisoning their thoughts and—

Such a disappointing, ungrateful child they must be. He welcomed them into his arms, and they were planning to—

Their mind was split. All of their instincts screamed at them to run, run until their lungs burned and their feet bled, but there was a gnawing part of them that clung to his honeyed words. At least when they were in his favour they were safe; they could turn away from the truth and cling to their fractured picture of family. Maybe if they fell to their knees and begged him for forgiveness, he would forget all about their betrayal and welcome them as his child again.

They weren’t anywhere near strong enough to kill him. The least they could do was survive.

“What do you have to say for yourself, [Name]?” Douma asks gently, and something in them snaps.

They fall forward, burying their face in his chest and clutching onto the back of his robes with a wail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“That’s what I thought…” Douma sighs in almost amusement. He places his hand on the top of their head, ruffling their hair gently.

“I’m sorry… I’ll never do it again, I promise. Please… please don’t leave me! I don’t know what I would be without you,” they cry, the words spilling out so easily they can’t tell if they’re a lie or not.

It wasn’t the end. One day his guard would drop and they would seize the chance, taking everything they own and running away into the night. They will run, not knowing where they will end up but knowing they need to be anywhere but there. Even if it means spending the rest of their life shying away from dark corners and patting their side to check on their weapon, they will escape.

For now, they weep in the arms of their father.

#★ — avie's writing.#kny x reader #platonic kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #platonic demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic kimetsu no yaiba x reader #douma x reader #doma x reader #platonic douma x reader #platonic doma x reader

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technically-a-kiwi · 3 months ago

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Lol, imagine this : cosmic horror AU

The Noise would be the charismatic TV host of chaos, hosting his mysterious show, his public would be the souls of the damned, and his audience would be random people who watched TV at the wrong time and at the wrong place, they are the unsuspected victimes of The Noise's game, a game starting as simple challenges and slowly turning into psychological torture, he'd be narrating your moves like a sports narrator you hear on TV, if you survive those challenges, you'll go back to your life... But you'll never be the same... If you fail, you'll be part of The Noise's audience... forever. Ooooh this is so edgy I love it >:)

Appearance wise it'd just be Cosmic Noise in a less cartoony style with half of his face skin missing revealing a second row of teeth on top of his current teeth (you know like you see in children skull X rays) it's gross, it's creepy, I love it

As for Peppino he'd be the Great Primal Cosmic chef, creating every level of existence from his mighty pizza oven, and blessing humanity with the art of cooking and the Holy Book of Recipe. His words are of unmatched wisdom (and loudness) but are somehow of common comprehension, his presence is overwhelming and yet somehow comforting, he's so calm and so unstable at the same time, he creates in love and in wrath. Peppino is a contradicting deity and his authority is often challenged, his existence only been reduced to fairytales (so yeah basically Italian Arceus). Despite having an age beyond compression, his omnipotence and omniscience and his status as the Cosmic chef, he's one of the most human cosmic entity of them all, experiencing feelings like loneliness, stress and fear. He combats those feelings by cooking, pretty much being a workaholic, it kinda works but he's still pretty lonely.

Appearance wise he'd be cosmic pep in less cartoony style but absurdly huge, like no matter how you tilte your head up you'd only see the beginning of his collar at best, basically being like miss Bellum. And if somehow you manage to get around head level he'd cover his face with a pan, if you're mortal it's because you'd burn if you see his face and if not it's because he doesn't want you to see his disfigured face he got after a cosmic battle with The Noise. He'd be translucent, his body is marbled with scars of past fights, and his overall color palette would be a lot more cooler and darker with his apron and chef hat being the only bright thing on his body.

Yes it's absurd, yes Peppino is God in this AU, yes I made my favorite character into an OP being, yes I'm being a kid. It's meant to be edgy and it will.

Ohhhh but I see you from miles away "BuT wHaT aBoUt CoSmIc FaKe ???!?!!??!" I KNOW YOU WERE ABOUT TO SAY IT, KIWI SEES ALL 👁️👁️, well lucky for you, I may have an idea for our fav ticket stand

THE FAKER is a shapeless dark entity, with infinite amount of faker faces on its body, it hides itself inside a ticket stand where it waits for unsuspected victimes, if you go to the ticket stand and ask for a ticket, a voice will invite you inside, wether or not you accept the invitation, a hand will drag you inside, your body will slowly be assimilated, your mind shifts into one that isn't your own, you feel like you don't know who you are, you feel cold, but one thing is for sure, you have to be so big, strong and mighty to the point you'll rival the might of the Cosmic chef. So yeah basically here it's the thing who wants to be a god.

Okay I'm done with my trip, obviously it's not canon in anyway and it's just my inner kid (and idiot) expressing itself. It doesn't have much of any link with True cosmic, only vaguely taking some of its ideas and exaggerating them to make them sound creepy. I really love horror in general and since Cosmic Au is already absurd I just want to push it to the max and make it an edgy and angst mess. I'd probably design it someday but I already have so much to do ! You know what, to anyone who managed to read this far, I challenge you into drawing those characters using the description I wrote.

If this post gets some people interested maybe I'll do the rest of the cast...

Okay NOW I'm going back to work...

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #the noise #fake peppino #cosmic au #ahhh and here I hope to make actual cosmic horror when I pissed my pants playing the Stanley parable #and my goofy ahhh style will not help #maybe someday

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i-am-rano · 4 months ago

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Oh god the crushing wave of nostalgia I just felt at the mention of Warhammer 1e, back when dwarves could be wizards and there were only three Chaos Gods, and also Wizard Eugenics wasn't a thing, and also wizards were actually cool and also you could play as a druid, and also there were elementalists, and also there were Madness Points, and also, because it was one of the few TTRPGs available in my country for a long time, there were so many absolutely amazing fan made GM supplements like a proper weather mechanic or survival-esque thirst and hunger mechanics, and when the metaplot wasn't so normalized and hadn't yet ruined some really amazing premises (forever united in pain about this with the WoD folks about this) and also there were no names for the supposed "horrors beyond comprehension", and also the game was in no way perfect, but damn was it interesting.

Yeah, anyway, I think I know what is the next game I'm going to try and force upon my friend group now.

TTRPG idea:

Every time your group wants to do a new thing, you completely change what system you're playing. Everything within the game world remains the same; same town, same characters, same plot hooks. But you only get to play Dungeons & Dragons when you're doing the traditional dungeon crawl. You're back in town and killing time now, so it's time to use Lasers & Feelings rules. And that downtime in town leads you to a heist, so now you've gotta play Blades in the Dark rules. Except the heist failed spectacularly! So spectacularly, in fact, that now your kingdom is at war with the neighboring kingdom; time to pull out Warhammer!

@probablybadrpgideas @prokopetz @thydungeongal

#warhammer fantasy #wfrp #warhammercommunity #tabletop rpg #ttrpg

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spearxwind · 2 years ago

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that inside view is fuckin sick (teeth on the inside is so mean and so cool god damn), and im so happy to receive an answer tyty. one of my evil bitches works like a furnace but can shift their insides into a Grinding Machine (an impractically spiky one that you might see in some horror game or another) to mangle someone into sad meat paste before erasing them from further existence via ungodly amounts of firepower, though thats reserved for when they really wanna turn up the Bastard vibes. once devoured, only a fated demise awaits. anyway thanks for clearin that up i wish the best for you! cant wait to see more stuff whenever, you never cease to impress!

AYO THAT SOUNDS SO FUCKIN SICK DUDE,,, LOOKING,

Also shaking ur ocs hand, Adri used to also be a furnace wayy at the start, but now hes just a horror beyond comprehension

Thank u for sharing though we need more bastard ocs who are immesurably fucked up like this

#chucking people into a furnace is a 100/10 as well yeehaw #ask #anon #once again does this need to be tagged. god.#interior decor #sure alright ok alright

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utilitycaster · 3 years ago

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So, to keep dunking on Pathfinder/3.5e and also for lack of a better term...indie, looser systems, I do have a handful of reasons why the systems themselves don't sound like things I'm into but more generally the reason I keep making cheap jokes is because the way people sell these systems is so antithetical to what I want out of TTRPGs. Which doesn't mean they're not good, or that they're not right for other people! But god...you are not superior for liking something other than D&D 5e, you are just a person who isn't into that particular experience and if you want to get people to play other games...learn to fucking sell it.

The crunch of pathfinder has some appeal, because I do love math and rules, but it always feels like the arguments go like this.

"I can't figure out how DCs in 5e get set!"

"well, the DM sets it based on a rough estimate of difficulty, using their brain; the DM's Guide gives a scale broken down by 5-point increments that you can use."

"What? You mean I, an inveterate metagamer cannot find it by adding up 8 numbers based on the weather, my class, my feats, active spells, and the migration patterns of nearby birds in a process that brings the narrative to a screeching halt?"

Or else it goes like this (this is a literal screenshot from a reply on a shitpost I made about paladin archetypes):

Well, in 5e you are allowed to ride things without being good at dex on the grounds that the average normal person in a pre-industrial society would probably be able to sit on a horse (animal handling is also an option). You can play a halfling paladin by playing a halfling whose class is paladin, and if you cast summon steed a reasonable DM will allow you to flavor said steed as a celestial wardog. You do not need special abilities to...turn around? in 5e? damn you lived like this? and sure, you can have a spear or lance as your weapon. I guess charging doesn't do much in 5e (the charger feat exists but isn't amazing) but like, you could do it.

Like, seriously, so many posts are like "I don't see a ruleset for how I can confirm I was able to drink my coffee without dropping it on the floor? 5e seems bad" and in general 3.5e/Pathfinder appear to treat your character as a Sim or something, where if the ladder disappears from the pool you're just like "guess I'll die" [note: I haven't played either 3.5e, Pathfinder, nor the Sims but like. I'm right.] And if you want to play this that's fine! Crunch can be very fun! but god it's unnecessary and it seems like there are too many rules for the sake of just like, having rules.

Moving on to the looser systems, the "just a d100" or "just a d6" ones that "foster more RP": so many of these "foster more RP" by having systems that actively corral the conversation, or PC emotions, instead of just...letting people talk. I actually find things like Monsterhearts "turn someone on" mechanic or the sanity mechanics in Call of Cthulhu really off-putting! I'd rather be allowed to respond to things genuinely, in character.

"But M," you say "that's kind of the point of Call of Cthulhu, the sanity slippage." And you know what? You're absolutely right! Because that is where my point is leading:

The TTRPG game you pick should be mostly based on the kind of story you want to tell, and anyone who ignores that in their considerations can themselves be ignored.

I happen to enjoy Dungeons & Dragons because I enjoy that particular form of fantasy in a quasi-early renaissance* setting, and I would, perchance, like to explore a dungeon and maybe even fight a dragon. I do not want to be dealing with horrors beyond comprehension**, except in the sense that I'd like to smite/disintegrate/viciously mock them. I do not want to pretend I am in high school again, under literally any circumstances, even if I can hex people. I like fantasy combat because I am both simmering with incandescent range basically always and yet I cannot typically act on it*** and I'd like to be able to save the world through hitting things with a sweet-ass sword or casting. Hyping up a system because it lacks combat is absolutely the wrong tack with me.

And if you don't like that it's fine! But I have yet to see someone actually make an argument, to me specifically, for a different system, that actually accounted for even a whiff of my own personal preference and honestly at this point the damage, while not irreversible, is pretty severe; my attitude towards anyone trying to steer me from D&D 5e is pretty cynical.****

*look I will pick many battles on any hills wagering that ultimately I will only die on one and this is on the list. Anyway if printed books are available and gunpowder has reached your vaguely European-in-flavor society? It's Renaissance.

**always thought this quote was from Lovecraft but it's from Tesla, objectively a much better dude despite a shitty dude using his name to sell cars.

***Yes. I am an eldest daughter. Why do you ask.

****This is also the root cause of why I adamantly refuse to watch either Titanic or Finding Nemo.

#did u know: caring about people's motivations is helpful in motivating them #kids i have to be honest with you: the wizard breakdown tracker was a great rambly writing outlet I no longer have #i should maybe channel this into actually writing fanfic? or I can drink weird gin & lemonades and write this.

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imaginewarehouse · 4 years ago

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Tate Staskiewicz x Reader || Oneshot

Plot:

Inspired by ‘Something That We’re Not’ by Demi Lovato. Basically, you and Tate hooked up one night… for the second time… and you’re content with that just being a wrap (That’s that! That was good, that’s enough- why push it?). You aren’t a relationship person, you don’t like the commitment. But… Tate has other plans.

Warnings: Hmmm, I don’t think so. Commitment issues?

🔆 🔆 🔆

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm?” I look up from my - fucking bottom, - locker and to the table Sarah and Justine are at eating their lunch. Sarah, the talker, is staring at her phone; A deep frown plastered to her lips that causes my eyebrows to knit together in confusion. Justine notices, too, and leans over to see what’s on the phone- and when she does see, her brows promptly shoot up. Oh, boy. That’s not good to see. What’s happened? “Yeah?”

“Did you and Tate really hit it off the other night??”

… w h y? My heart just about stops beating in fear. Why. Why mention Tate. Any mention of a one night stand in that tone is not going to be good. I get up from the floor and rush into the empty seat beside Sarah, looing expectantly for her to explain but she just looks right back. Looking for an answer to her question. “Uhh? Yeah, I guess?? We had a good time. Why! ?” Oh good god, tell me the whole store doesn’t know. What is it?? A video, pictures, a running gag!? Good god, I thought we were beyond slut shaming but I guess not-

Sarah’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Are you dating then, now??”

Now that really causes my heart to feel like it’s skipped a beat. Or two. “What!? No! Why would you say that? It was just sex- Oh.” I look sheepishly to Justine, waiting for the high five or the ‘Heyo!’ that’s classic from her at the word ‘sex’… but receive nothing but an awkward look- her gaze turning to the wall as she takes a nervous sip of her coffee instead of talking. Realisation that this is really not good dawns on me. Jesus christ- Justine skipping the chance to talk sex? Its like a sign of the apocalypse. What’s next? The river Nile turning to blood? “Show me the phone, please.”

Sarah glances at Justine, before letting out a sigh and revealing the screen of her iPhone to me. It’s Tate’s Instagram profile- and it says, ‘In a Relationship’, at the top. I look up, deeply confused to Sarah and Justine.

“It didn’t say that before Saturday night.” Justine explains. The night Tate and I were at the bar and hooked up. “Trust me, I keep a close eye on those kinda status’.” She grins, proudly, before sobering again and adding lowly, “And Tate is pretty anal about how his social media looks, so… “She shrugs, meaningfully. So, he knows that that incriminating, incorrect phrase is printed there in his bio.

Sarah vocalises my assessment. “We can’t see him putting that kind of thing down willy nilly… Also, it says that on all his other profiles, too. Snap Chat, Twitter, even Facebook.”

“Yeah, and I mean,” Justine’s cute little nose scrunches up and her eyebrows knit together as she looks at Sarah who mouths ‘I know, right?’, back. “Who even uses Facebook anymore?? Ugh.”

I’m running through the night in my head, wondering if there was any point that I might have hinted to the pharmacist that I was looking for anything more then casual sex, at all. And I find nothing! I did not treat him any differently to how I would usually treat a person in his position- and that treatment has been carefully strung together and thought out so confusions like this do not occur. And it has nothing to do with us working together, I know that much seeing as Isaac understood just fine!

… well actually, honestly, mayyyybe I shouldn’t have slept with him at all this weekend… seeing as this was not our first time… that might have given him the wrong idea...

But god fucking damn it, Tate’s handsomeness obscured my rational and interesting conversation distracted me. I’m a fucking idiot!

I am not a relationship kinda person! I can’t be in a relationship with, fuck I don’t know… Channing Tatum- much less Tate the Pharmacist! Commitment is not for me; No, no, no-no, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck… I have to talk to Tate.

“I should go talk to him,” I say, excusing myself from the table with a polite smile but freaking out inside as I get out of the chair, kneel down and lock my locker back up, then rush out of the room leaving the girls behind in my dust. As I’m passing Grocery, I’m stopped by Cheyanne and Marcus who have their phones out, and show me a picture of me on Tate’s Twitter w i t h a h e a r t emoji and the tag #bae. My eyes bulge nearly out of my head as I look in horror at it over Cheyanne’s shoulder.

“You know, now that I’m seeing it- you two are a cute couple.” Marcus’ words cause a tsunami in my brain- all the little Inside Out-type emotions are drowning and struggling- and Fear is screaming.

“Yeah you do, but- I didn’t think you ‘did’ commitment, Y/N?” Cheyanne adds, sceptical.

“Uh, I do- “Damn. I slam my mouth shut again. I can’t talk to her about this before I talk to Tate. So instead, I just toothlessly smile, and shrug at the two- For lack of any appropriate words. “Anyway! I gotta go- see y’all later!”

And then I’m off again.

I find Tate exactly where, and in what position, I thought he would be; Sitting behind the lonely pharmacy desk with his feet up on the register bench and his nose buried in his phone rather then working. I approach with caution, but confidence also, and knock on the desk surface by his feet to get his attention- and watch his eyes light up when he sees me.

Oh dear god.

“Hey, love bug.” - Oh god, oh god! - “Nice of you to visit me at work!”

Oh… is it? Is it really? Nerves swallow me whole and I nearly shrink back down because to just go with this relationship for the rest of our lives until we get married and have 4 children together and raise them and send them all off to community college instead of having an awkward conversation, sounds really good. How dare he look so soft- this T a t e. Tate is narcissist and an asshole. This isn’t how the world is supposed to work-

“Hey… “My voice cracks like pubescent teenage boy, and I avoid eye contact like a criminal. “Tate, um- So! I think that… maybe, possibly… we might have gotten our signals crossed the other night?”

Tate tilts his head to the side and sets his phone down- all attention on me. “How so?”

“Well,” Why is my voice so high??? I cough into my fist, trying to clear it and return it to its regular register, but fail. The show must go on, though. “Um, I-I was under the impression, that… what we were doing, was, uh… a one-time thing? I guess?” Tate’s eyebrows begin to knit together. “A-and, I think you might have interpreted it a different way?”

“So… you’re saying, that you were just using me, for sex. And somehow that’s my fault?”

My eyes blow wide open and I rush to amend his reiteration as he gets up from his chair and stands, looking down on me now. And… I… oop. That’s just great “No no! Not your fault, at all Tate!! I was just at that bar looking for… err, well, sex! And I thought you were too, but apparently not, and… do you understand?”

“I understand.” For a millisecond, I begin to relax- before Tate’s eyes narrow so much so that they’re nothing but sparkly, black-lashed slits of death. I wish I was at that bar now- I would order a Long Island Iced Tea and black out. “You’re screwing me.”

“What- No!”

“Yes! You want the rig, but not the rest of the machine.” Does he know what a rig is?- Either way, I solemnly, apologetically, shake my head. Well, yes, he’s correct, but I also don’t want to lose the, uh, machine! I really like talking to him when I’m stuck stocking shelves in the pharmacy! I don’t want to lose that? Then, suddenly like the changing wind, Tate’s eyes widen and a ghost of a smirk flickers across his face. “Oh, or- its more than that.” Hold on what. “Cuz Y/N, this isn’t the first time this has happened, you know? The first time, fine. I get it, you need a release. We all do- especially working a lowly job like you do, unlike mine. Heh. But you came back. To me. You could’ve approached anyone else at that bar and gotten the same results… but you came back to this one.”

Now I narrow my eyes and furrow my brows, leaning back from the self-absorbed chemist. “… what are suggesting, Tate?”

He lets the smirk come out, now, and the only comprehensive thought that passes through my brain is: ‘shittttt’.

“You just can’t get enough of me.”

“What!?” I gape, jaw dropped. Ridiculous!-

“I’m Y/N-Nip.” Oh sweet jesus. The thought genuinely seems to please him. Of course, it does. Ugh… No way. This cannot be right. I do not want a relationship! No way no how! “So it doesn't really matter if you don’t want me right now- because you will. We both know you will.”

“I- Tate! You’re cracked!”

He chuckles, dipping hands into the pockets of his lab coat and shaking his head slowly. “Love you too, babe.”

“TATE!”

“Yeah... you keep screaming my name like that. Good practise.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaim, covering the bottom of my face and closing my eyes, a grin hidden behind my hands at how ridiculous this is. He’s too cute, oh my god! “How have you twisted this, you insane person. I do not have feelings for you!- Well, romantic feelings.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I do not have the romantic feelings, for you. All the feelings that I have for you can be simply summed up by whatever insane, terrible illness that kept putting Lorelai and Christopher together.”

“Gilmore girls?” He grimaces.

“Yes.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and his eyes light up even more, despite his apparent aversion towards my chosen American favourite, and I immediately regret my analogy. “So, you admit there are feelings there?”

“Yeah- raw, animal sex-drive! That’s it!” I try to explain, looking away to avoid his eyes and feeling my cheeks warm up.

“But you like talking to me, too, don’t you.” Its not a question, its a statement. He knows! And... it is not totally wrong. I do like to talk to him. He’s a narcissist and he’s smug but I happen to find that funny on all but bad days, and he keeps up with my antics like no one else. But so does Sarah. So does Jonah. So do Mateo and the guy on Echat so charmingly called ‘B1gHairyDucksRunTheW8rld’- long story short; I’m darling and lots of people like to talk to me!

“Oh, Tate. Since when has an amusement by intelligent conversation been considered a for sure indication of desire for a romantic relationship?”

“Oh, its not. But combined with the ‘raw, animal sex-drive’ that you so aptly named, it kinda does.” He leans closer a little bit over the desk towards me. “Also, you’ve said my name no less then six times while you’ve been here.”

I laugh out loud- a definite sense of nervousness laced through the sound. “That means nothing!”

“No, no-no. It means... “ He raises his eyebrows again at me and sets me with a wise look, like somehow he knows the deep secrets that hide out in the recesses of my mind. “Something.”

Maybe he’s right.

“No!”

“Oh, believe what you want, love bug.”

“This is crazy, Tate. We are not in any kind of relationship and I do not have feelings for you!”

“So I’ll see you tonight?”

“No?”

“My place? 7?”

“You will not see me tonight!”

“Do you think you’ll end up staying over? Just because, man of riches and luxury that I am, I need to change the sheets if you are to set the right mood.”

My jaw drops. He’s lost his mind... and maybe I am too a little bit, because for some reason I’m leaning towards agreeing and going to his place tonight. Is there anything that I can say to him to dissuade him from these delusions of me being in love with him? Because I don’t!

But... I wont lie. This is the most stimulating conversation I’ve had in forever, it feels good. It always does, with Tate. But again still, I am not commitment girl. He is commitment guy. He may not seem like it, in fact he has the complete guide and tool set to be a grade-A douchebag, but he isn’t and he apparently somehow likes me which is not a horrible feeling and I do not want to let him down. I... really don’t.

Sighing, I collapse against the register and roll my eyes back. “Tate... I might like you. A lot.”

“Oh. Shocker.” He rolls his own eyes, pressing some buttons on the register. Oh, he thinks that he’s funny. Hm.

“... but I want you to hear me now. Okay? Listen.” Thankfully he looks up and focuses on me, blue eyes meeting mine. “I am not relationship compatible. I cant do it. I’ve tried it before and I couldn't hack it. Its not in my genetic make-up!- please don’t push this and make me ruin what we have.”

He takes a deep breath, and sighs it out... before reaching over and holding my hand on top of the desk. He sets me with a reassuring look. “... I’m a Pharmacist. We don’t ruin things.”

BONUS:

“... Jesus Christ you’re self absorbed.”

“Maybe you can work on that with me at my place at 7. Now I have to get back to work, pharmaceutical business waits for no man.”

“Oh boy.” I’m dating this guy...

#Tate Staskiewicz #Superstore #Tate Staskiewicz x Reader #Tate x Reader #Superstore Tate #Superstore Tate x Reader #Oneshot #Superstore Sarah #Superstore Justine #Justine Sikowicz #Superstore Cheyanne #Cheyanne Lee #Marcus White #Superstore Marcus

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autistic-paul · 5 years ago

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hello do you have any autistic paul headcannons :)

Oh, I sure do! This is by no means comprehensive, but it’s still… Kind of a lot, sorry. I am also projecting for some of these and I have no intentions of hiding that.

Most of his stims involve his hands. They’re pretty much constantly moving, from little, barely noticeable comforts like tapping his fingers one at a time, to the fist taps in the show, to full on happy flapping.

The coffee is partially a sensory thing. Warm cup good. He flicks the lid a lot. He is heavily caffeinated all the damn time because he just doesn’t want to go without it. It’s also very much a routine thing, his mornings are very structured and that includes the mindless sleepily making coffee.

Ties are comfort items, I don’t make the rules. So is his collar. There’s security in the steady feeling of something around his neck.

Echolalia!! He says okay a lot. It’s not super easy for him to get other things stuck in his head, phrases on repeat, but that single word is very stimmy for him.

Film is his special interest. He just loves the whole process of how movies are made, the thoughts put into it. He can appreciate any genre, though he has to be in a specific mode for horror. The only thing he won’t watch is musicals. When he latches onto a movie, he’ll watch it on repeat for ages. Put it on in the background of whatever he’s doing and mouth along to the lines. Sometimes Charlotte or Bill have to gently tell him that he’s mumbling and it’s rather distracting. When he was younger he was very much a Film Snob. He mellowed out a little after college.

He goes nonverbal from pain. That includes sensory overload. He can still communicate, and his phone is his lifeline, but he just can’t speak.

He doesn’t get special interests very easily, they’re a little more lifelong for him. However, his Pokemon card collection from when he was a kid is stellar. He still has them.

He has a briefcase. It is brown. It is the most boring briefcase he could have bought. He has had it for a decade. It is incredibly beat up. He will cry if it ever tears beyond repair. Sometimes you just get weirdly attached to specific objects and that is very good.

He’s got an oral fixation! Somehow things just end up in his mouth. He cannot explain it. He can’t wear hoodies, the drawstrings are Addictive. Sometimes you just gotta chew. An extension of that, he doesn’t like water. Most of his hydration is coffee (Paul no) but he’ll drink juice at home. From juice boxes only. Straws are good for chewing.

He has a rubix cube on his desk that he has no idea how to solve, but the spin is nice, and a giant pile of paper clips that he routinely unbends. He’s fun in meetings. Give him something and he’ll destroy it. A fresh pen gets chew marks on the cap and he dissects it.

He doesn’t understand fashion. He does not care. He has two modes: Goofy dad outfits + khakis, or a full suit. That’s it. Buttoning up shirts is satisfying. He genuinely will wear a suit to a grocery store. Suits look nice, fuck you, why do clothes need specific occasions to wear?

Mimicry. This one is kinda canon, honestly. He’ll mimic people’s body language automatically because he doesn’t know what his is supposed to be. It’s also proven that mimicking people’s body language makes them perceive you as more friendly. This is good. People tend to like Paul.

He’s,,,, so tactile. My god. He just has zero sense of personal space whatsoever. This might just be Jon Matteson but I appreciate it anyway.

His social scripts… The way he talks to children… Repeating Emma (The godspell jokes, Fuck ‘em)… thank you for your service… he’s doing his best and I’m so proud of him.

More canon things! He shows every emotion he has on his face. When he is uncomfortable, you will know. When he’s in love… You’ll know. He’s just very expressive. He has an abundance of feelings.

His worst sense is auditory stuff. It’s so easy to get him to a sensory overload through hearing. He carries earplugs around everywhere.

He can’t lie. At all. He doesn’t even try. It makes him very easy to trust, a lot of people get the innate sense, based on how open he is, that he’s someone they can rely on. Everyone in CCRP seems to like him, he’s easy to love.

…Okay, I think that’s enough for now. I might reblog this with more later, if anyone has some, feel free to add on!

#tgwdlm #starkid #black friday #paul matthews #jon matteson #autistic paul matthews #mine #Anonymous

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voidselfshipp · 4 years ago

Text

The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie

Chapter 1

♤|Chapter 2: Smoke And Mirrors|♤

Wordcount: 1,220

<♤|♡|♤>

You know how they say everything reflects ourselves?from the way we talk,to the way we walk,how we move and how we phrase things.

Sometimes its like a clear mirror ,other times its covered by smoke.

And yet jerico managed to be both.

It was beyond errons comprehension how she managed such duality.

In duty she was professional,lethal and efficient,she was snarky and salty all the way,but outside work she was quite the opposite, humble and charming,helping and funny,reckless even,and to this point he wasnt sure what part of her was true.

So he decided to ask her one evening,as both relax in a bar after a Long day of killing people and doing terrible things.

--So sugar..-the Man asks taking a swig of his whiskey-- tell me now, whats the deal with this civilian façade?

She sighs with a soft smile,hitting her nails against the glass of her irish whiskey, looking up at erron with those green eyes he started to love so much --Truth is this is who I am really, work for me is one thing,and I dont like to fake stuff,but you aint gonna ask your target how they feel about becoming shredded cheese I mean...--the texan gives her a soft nodd,listening carefully-- look erron,I shouldnt be saying this,but I have siblings,family out on the world who need money, I myself need it,because as much as I love doing art,it aint gonna pay my sibs schools loans and food,plus other expenses Like medical bills or clothes,so here is big sister jerico helping them...-she looks away back to her drink-- my siblings are the most important thing to me, and I can and Will kill for them,I mean,thats where the money comes from anyway

Both share a soft chuckle.

--y'know sugar, I do appreciatte you openin' up to me, in this bussines is rare to find noble people

--As noble as a hitwoman can get...

--Dont go saying that now, what you do its not for greed, look I May have not had the best upbringin' but I do know someone noble when I see one

Erron takes her hand,their glances meet and both lean in.

--You smell of death

--You aint far behind darling

--come over to my place and I can help you with it

--That a date?

--is this?

Erron shakes his head breathing a chuckle,both back off and enjoy the night softly talking about anything.

The bar slowly emptied and less and less people were coming in.

--Look I know you can take care of yourself erron,but my place isnt so far, come over

--Is this part of your civilian mask?

--for the last time erron-- this is me talking,jerico, ugh look I dont need to explain this again

--Easy sugar,I was just joking With ya,of course...

He folds his arm and she takes it,both walk in silence.

Erron would ocassionally take a peek at her and what she was doing,she seemed deep in thought.

--You planning my murder there sweetheart?

--huh?-jeri lets out a giggle when she realizes what he said- no no,i was trying to remember if I had food in my fridge,I probably do, you Picky with what you eat?

--Not at all darling,though dont think ill let you do it yourself

--Erron please--

--You invite me to spend the night at your place plus giving me a Plate of warm food?like hell im gonna let you Cook, you sit back and ill manage

--I thought we were trying to kill eachother

The cowboy shakes his head--to this point darling...do I need to drop on my knees for you to realize?

--no no...I do get it completly, I really do, but if you want to,I dont mind,You seem like a good Man erron,uh work aside that is --She lets out a small laugh as he opens the door for her--quite the gentleman you are

--after you

Both go upstairs to jericos appartment,third floor far behind on a corridor.

--This place gives me the chills,this corridor looks like its part of a damn horror movie,sheesh

Erron didnt imagine her place to be so...her,an earthy green colour painted on the walls,paintings And trinkets hung on the wall, fairy lights.

--Ill go change,the kitchens right there

She pointed at a door and went into what the Man thought was her room.

Two big dogs and a cat sleep on the dark brown sofá.

He smiles and softly kneels to pet them.

The black feline purrs sleepily.

He spend a couple of minutes until he hears someone talk.

--So,what do you think?

He stands up to look at jerico,her hair down with q big light Gray hoodie on.

The Man takes some steps towards her and holds her hands leaning down to kiss her-- ravishing sugar...

--Thank you cowboy

Both stare into eachother eyes for a while,before closing them and leaning in for another kiss.

Long and soft it was,holding eachother close.

When they pull apart both press their heads togheter.

--Food?

--Food

And so the house was soon filled with the smell of food, wich awakened the pets,who sat infront of erron.

--the husky is Luisa,the Manchester terrier is missy,and the black cat is calcifer, and dont give them food,they are well fed

--They are looking at me with puppy dog eyes

--If you feed them then youll have to kiss me right--

He doesnt take long,and so he yanks her to him,kissing her and deepening it,making her moan in the process.

Jerico sighs in defeat-- Fine, feed them,you smooth bastard

The Man chuckles proudly and quickly cuts pieces to feed the animals.

Its pretty late after dinner.

--Here, I got these comfy pants for you to use,they are loose enough

--Mind if change here sugar~ ?

Jeri snorts--Hmph sure, eye candy for me

She lays on the matrimonial bed and lets her back face erron,who quickly sneaks into bed too, wrapping himself around her.

Its silent as a graveyard, and for maybe half an hour it stays like that.

--Hey cowboy,you wake?

--Yes sugar,whats up?

--Respecting what we talked about today on our way here,about Us being togheter ,I really want to y'know?, for me youre...for me youre perfect erron,and I swear to god I mean it you, you make me happy,and I want to be happy with you...

So...what do you say?

The Man pulls her closer to his chest,and he kisses the top of her head-- I would love to sweetheart...

Jerico turns around hugging him tightly, he returns the gesture and both start to laugh softly.

--So no more killing eachother now?

He said.

--im gonna kill you with love!lost of love!

She made him lay on his back,on top of him,hiding her face on the crook of his neck, kissing it and then aligning her face with his.

Even though it was dark,he could easily see her eyes,those he could get lost into.

--I swear I could get lost in your eyes sugar..

--Thats corny

--oh shut it,you love it

--Hmm youre right,but you know what I love more?

--what?

--You, you dork

She kisses him,chupping his cheeks.

Erron smiles and yanks her back besides him,hugging her tightly as he does so.

--Its late now jerico,tired yet?

--Very,the confession was keeping me up

The texan hears her sigh,and press her lips to his.

--night sugar. . .

--night cowboy

#f/o community #romantic f/o #f/o #f/o x s/i #my f/os #self shipping #self insert #self ship #f/os #f/o tag #f/o fic #erron black

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bondsmagii · 5 years ago

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dude idk abt u but I'm scared shitless of radiation. after reading about the USSR and what they did with it, don't u feel scared of how people can commit atrocities? anyway. radiation is invisible and scares me a lot. geiger sounds make my skin crawl and reading about disaster did NOT help lmao

oh man like… same. radiation is one of those horrors that I sincerely cannot believe exists in this world. radiation poisoning – the idea that your body is breaking down right at the very level of its DNA – is an existential terror beyond comprehension. it is absolutely baffling how we can just exist in a world where that also exists, and we’re not all terrified wrecks all the time.

something that absolutely fascinates me is the efforts being made to warn future civilisations (or even extraterrestrial visitors) of the anger of radioactive waste. nuclear power plants create waste that is obviously incredibly radioactive, as do various other things like weapons testing; scientists are worried that, should humanity die out or else become so reduced that this knowledge is lost, the radioactive waste could be discovered by unknowing descendants, new civilisations, or visitors from other planets. without knowing the danger, they could unwittingly expose themselves to the waste (which, thanks to long half-lives, would still be deadly) and end up unleashing a radioactive disaster, resulting in deaths, illnesses, and uninhabitable lands. because scientists have no idea who might stumble across these places, nor of the languages they might speak (languages from other planets, or languages that haven’t even evolved yet), there’s an ongoing effort to create universal warning signs that can hopefully be understood even by these civilisations. it’s incredibly interesting, but terrifying that it’s necessary. this waste could have been buried for tens of thousands of years at this point, but its killing power – its destructiveness – would be just as deadly as it is now.

so far scientists aren’t sure how they can guarantee understanding, but they have agreed on the text that should be used. this text will be translated into every written language recognised by the UN, and put at the location of the waste. reading it is very eerie:

This place is a message… and part of a system of messages …pay attention to it!Sending this message was important to us. We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture.This place is not a place of honor … no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here… nothing valued is here.What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us. This message is a warning about danger.The danger is in a particular location… it increases towards a center… the center of danger is here… of a particular size and shape, and below us.The danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours.The danger is to the body, and it can kill.The form of the danger is an emanation of energy.The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically. This place is best shunned and left uninhabited.

reading that, does that not sound exactly like the kind of warning a bunch of people would ignore at the beginning of a horror movie? but in a way, it’s kind of touching -- if a little damning. as a species, we recognised that we have unleashed something terrible, and even in the face of our own destruction we are actively trying to find a way to prevent others from making our same mistakes.

#sorry for Going Off but this is endlessly fascinating to me!!#anon #asks

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angel-scythe · 6 years ago

Text

Take the hand (Crackship)

Hi everybody!!

I’m offering you my part of the day 01 of the DBH ship month. I chose crackship so I could use one of my ship and headcanon I don’t work a lot with. I’m sorry i’m a bit late but I had lot to do. Also, I won’t probably not apply for every day.

Also, I wanted to do a GavinxSimon but let’s say you could see it if you want to and not see it if you don’t want to?

I’m just so happy to have been able to finally write my two babies in the same fic. I definetely should do this more often!

Anyway, I let you enjoy the whole thing.

Just know that Phileas is the robot that give Jericho’s location to Markus in the Junkyard!

Summary: When Connor needs the location of Jericho, he uses Simon but never turn him off, leaving Simon with his past, his memories and a lot of doubts...

If you want to read my fanfiction on AO3 push this door => | °| <= or just keep reading?

HAVE FUN!!

“Lucy will help you.”

“Help me…”

Everything was spinning in Simon’s head. Of course, he could always lay on Lucy’s back but he didn’t like it. As much as Phileas, standing in front of him with skin showing off. Sometimes, Thirium was leaking from his blue plastic shell and he just… swallowed it because what could he do except that?

“Yes. She’s the most reliable person I know. Beside you…”

“And you?”

Simon had a strong trust in Phileas. He was the one who led him here. Yes, it was a sad place, an abandoned ship who had difficulties to stay on the ocean but that became their Nest… Phileas had found this place, this unexpected providence and they offered their hand to every Deviant.

And now….

He didn’t get. Phileas was saying words but they had no meaning for him.

“I won’t stay there, Simon. It’s over. I don’t want to stay there, in fact…”

“I’ll come with you!” Simon said, passing an arm around his shoulders with a smile.

Sad and tired smile.

“No. I don’t want you to come with me. You stay here and you take care of Jericho,” Phileas ordered.

“What? I want to stay with y…”

“I don’t want to. Stay here. Take care of Jericho.”

Simon was frozen as the old Android was moving back and turned toward the rusty constructions of the board.

“But…” he managed to say. “When will you come back?”

“I don’t know. One day, maybe…”

“Maybe? Phileas… Phileas! Wait! Don’t leave me!”

When Simon opened his eyes, he couldn’t see. Everything was black and he could hear movement around him but he couldn’t get what was happening. He couldn’t have the slightest access to what was going on and the fear was hugging him like a mortal friend.

“Everything’s alright, don’t worry.”

Markus?

Markus… It was Markus’ voice. The guy who came out of nowhere and take away from him the burden of Jericho. He valuated him so much. He did with Jericho everything he couldn’t even if he wanted it. He had no words enough to thank that guy that helped them, tried to save him when he had been shot in the Stratford Tower and who spared his life.

Well…

What he did wasn’t really useful, to be honest.

“Why did you leave me?”

The words came out from his lips stained by Thirium without he even understood this. Maybe it was because of the memory flooding his data? He could remember how he tried to kill himself to protect Jericho, the connection with a strong Android… That was messing up his data. Error messages appeared sometimes and he felt as if he wasn’t alive anymore.

“I had no choice, they’ have to kill us all!”

Everything was still messy.

No… No, he asked for Markus to leave. It was okay because North and Josh, Jericho, mattered more than his life.

Those words had no effect on him…

And at the same time…

“I come to take you home. Just…”

Simon wanted to see, to chase the memories.

“Give me the location of Jericho, we’ve got to leave now…”

Coming back to Jericho? The Jericho he promised to take care of? Take back to his family? The only people that seemed to care a bit about him?

Yes… he would be better in Jericho where he could repair his body and try to fix his memories.

The data errors were flooding him. He even didn’t realize that Markus should know the location when he pushed out his skin to connect with him. It was only when the connection hit him hard that he realized… it was the cop. The cop who pushed him to kill himself.

Burst of memories and error message mixed and shook his whole system.

The robot was strong. So strong. The energy he used to connect to him was on his body and animated his limbs. He reached out to him, to this guy who clearly wasn’t Markus but was maybe his only hope left?

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me again!” he begged.

He felt fingers around his Thirium pump and a wave of new panic overwhelmed him.

“Please!”

“Move out!”

Simon heard the new voice. Human voice?

“Don’t do it, Gavin. I know how to…”

“Shut up. I’ve been dreaming of this since the first second I saw you.”

“I know how to stop the Deviant,” the robot-cop said.

“You’re off the case! And now… It’s gonna be definitive.”

And then… a shoot echoed in the place. Panic swirled even more in his data. Especially because the body under him had fallen out of his reach.

“Don’t leave me, please!” he said without being able to restrain himself.

Neither the tears that melt with the Thirium in his damaged eyes.

He heard pace coming to him. Breathing. He felt fingers on him.

“No please… Please…”

“Who are you?”

It was the Human…

“S… Simon,” he said.

What could he say except that? Was he waiting from him? He wanted to know who he was before becoming a Deviant? Wanting to know he was the leader of Jericho before someone else more skilled came to him? Wanting to know… just the fact he was a Deviant?

“I’m… I’m a PL600…”

“I can see that. What are you doing there?”

He was a Deviant. An important clue to a case he didn’t even know. Why they couldn’t just be free without Humans trying to kill that?

“I…”

Simon couldn’t reply.

“I see.”

“Don’t turn me off, please…”

“What did you do? You’re what? A Deviant or worst?”

“Wo… worst?”

“Yeah, you’re one of those activists? Jericho’s crew?”

Simon couldn’t lie but his data were swirling. Should he lie after all? Should he tell the truth and let the guy, Gavin?, kill him? Why not…

The only thing he didn’t want was to be left again.

But dying?

Dying sounded okay…

“I’m one of them.”

“Okay. Run a diagnostic.”

Simon was lost. Damn lost… But he did it anyway. He ran the diagnostic and could feel the bullet hole, knew from where the Thirium leaked now he was activated again. One and two pieces that didn’t function anymore… And his eyes, of course.

He said it to the guy, wondering what kind of game he was playing right now. He knew Humans can be mean, really mean… but this…

He felt arms around him and didn’t try to flee because he had no reasons to do it. And he hadn’t really been touched like that since a long time. Markus had touched him but the way he dragged him away wasn’t… like that. There was something really soft and strong in the way this guy did it and he soon felt something under his behind. He moved his hands and clenched his fingers around the side of the things. A kind of tilted table?

“Turn off your sensor captors. Be sure to do it because if you don’t, you’ll pass a bad moment.”

“Why?”

“I’ll replace your destroyed pieces. There is a destroyed model here, the same as you.”

“There is another PL600?”

“Yes. Old case. But he’s totally destroyed, as I said. It won’t be possible to fix him. Not today, not in this situation.”

“Wh… what situation?”

“That robot, Markus, he led a revolution, powerful… The population started to freak out and now Androids are destroyed. To protect humanity.”

All his sensors down, the PL600 had some difficulties to know what he was doing. He could barely hear him as they were talking.

“You’re sure you’re one of the JeriCrew?”

“Yes… But I have been left after the Stratford tower incident. How many times passed?”

“Not much. If you want your people to be free, everything will be played now. Connor will have to choose his side and if he’s smart enough, which I don’t doubt, Androids will win.”

“You want Androids to win?”

“Hm… Don’t move, I have to put your eyes on. It’ll ask for a moment. I could also repair the rest first if you’ll be afraid to see me doing that?”

“Why… Why are you doing this?” Simon asked.

“Why not? I do what I want to do. So, I start with what?”

“Eyes, please.”

He wanted to see this man because he was so strange. He wanted the revolution? When he was a Human? That was so strange…

He thought the man will kill him and he was repairing him.

Everything was beyond his comprehension. He thought Markus was the savior, the one he could lay on after Phileas but in the end, it wasn’t the case. He had shown some fear and, in a way, he could understand it and at the same time… he had left him in the Stratford Tower because they couldn’t deal to save him. Because Markus couldn’t find the right solution in such a short time.

He could forgive.

He could have stayed but he had been found and everything had crumbled down.

He had left. Again.

And there, a human, who didn’t need to fight there, to care for him… was doing much more since Phileas.

Phileas who left him, without reason. Why? Months later, he was still lost, had still much difficulty to get attached, knowing he will be left behind. For the greater good, it was okay, though. Even North, his best friend, wanted him to be left there.

For Jericho.

All he wanted, in the end, was some replies…

But he couldn’t have those. It was something he had to accept… In the same way, he had to accept it when the horror came in his life for the first time. For weeks, even months, he waited for Phileas to come back but he never did. Never ever…

One day, he just realized that he will never see him again. He got use to the idea. Use to the sadness filling him and with the late events, he got use to a lot of other things…

“Okay. You can turn off your eyes sensors.”

Simon complied.

When he was able to see, his data had a lot of difficulties to understand what was going on. He already saw this face. Not exactly this face but near. And it was written in his data. Everywhere… Something as strong as the need for rA9. The face of the one who created him many years ago.

“Mister Kamski?”

“That’s my brother,” he replied with a smile.

Bright, puffing his cheeks.

“You are… Elijah Kamski’s brother?”

“Yes.”

“Is this… why you want something else for Androids?”

“I want or he wants? That’s your question, right?”

Simon bit his lower lips and watched as the man started to replace his piece, to repair as much as he could. If he had any doubt, now he was fully sure the cop was related to Elijah Kamski because he was really skilled with his hands for repairing.

And then, he felt bad because those kinds of thoughts were bad… He shouldn’t think about that! That wasn’t because he was Elijah Kamski’s brother that he was able to work with Android!

And he felt even worse to have thought about that because the guy was really kind to him. One of the kindest lately since…

The memories came back to him. Since he tried to kill him, shooting through his data and eyes processor, and under his chin, the past was coming back again and again. He wanted to ask the cop, Gavin, right?, to erase all of that. This was a hurtful part of him and he didn’t want to keep it there… He wanted to drown it again under a lot of other things. Anything, he would take it.

“Do you have…”

A ring echoed in the room.

“Wait,” Gavin said. He picked up his phone. “Yay?”

He frowned and seemed to bite the inside of his cheek. Simon could sense that something was wrong. He was designed for this purpose. His whole existence was turned toward others.

There, he just wanted to throw his arms around his shoulders and ease away the feelings that passed over his face.

“Are you sure?” He rose his eyes, looking at the ceiling with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” New sigh. “Yeah… I’ll come.” If he’d rose his eyes even more in the ceiling, they will become blank but he did anyway. With a powerful sigh. “Yeaaaaaah. I know. Phck ya.”

And he hung off his phone.

“Bad news?” Simon asked with a tiny voice.

“Yay. Didn’t planned Dick Perkins to be such a dick. Jericho had been attacked.”

“Ho… How?”

“Connor had a clue from you when I killed him, from CyberLife in a new body, he went to Jericho. Dick had been warned from CyberLife’s headmaster and he followed him,” Gavin explained as he fixed a piece.

Then, he put his hands on the end of Simon’s shirt.

“Mind if I check your cable?”

“No… But, Jericho? What happened?”

Simon only looked Gavin’s face as the man pushed up his shirt and opened the part of his belly to arrange the cables.

And then, he realized that Connor’s body was still there next to them. Knowing that this corpse was just uploaded in another body was so strange…

“Jericho is a shipwreck in the river now.”

“No…”

“Your people are fine,” Gavin said. “Stop moving or I’ll rip your cable off.”

Simon couldn’t feel it but it was right: the man had still his hands in his guts…

“No… No. I had to take care of Jericho! I had to…”

Gavin looked up to him with a frowning.

“Why? Who says that to you?”

“What?”

Simon looked down and their eyes met…

“Who says to you you had to take care of Jericho?”

“Why do you think…”

“I know, that’s all.”

Simon gulped. In a way, he felt as if he could clench on him but at the same time, he was even more afraid because he felt… He couldn’t explain that. If he wasn’t a Deviant yet, such an amount of feeling would have made him mad and push him to break the wall.

Sure it would!

“So? Because if it’s an asshole, I won’t bring you back there!”

When Gavin smiled at him before looking back on the cable, Simon’s eyes widened and he lost control.

Thirium exploded in his circuits and some splattered on Gavin’s face who drummed on the table the Android was sat in with a sigh.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Simon closed his eyes. “And I don’t want to come back to Jericho.”

“So… you want it floating but you don’t wanna come back? Either I should congratulate you or I should be really worrying?”

“Worry? Why?”

Why worry for him… The only people that used to care, it was Phileas but… Now that the memories were coming back again and again he wondered if the man had even cared for him or not at some point in his life…

He would have come back if he cared for him.

“Well, you don’t wanna come back there. Either somebody is frightening you there or something even worst.”

“But… why would you even care?”

“I’ve my hands in ya and ya dirtied my face, I think we’re close enough for that.”

He winked.

Well…

Simon couldn’t help but laugh when he saw him winking that way.

And then, he lost it, looking at the man who seemed so rough and full of… he didn’t know what. But there was something, sure it was. Maybe the way he cared for him? The way he had asked if this was because of someone? Like he knew.

He certainly knew in his own way…

“Sorry, I moved,” he said with a new laugh.

“I guess I’ll just end up with more blue blood in my face,” Gavin grinned.

“Sorry!” Once again, Simon lost his smile. “I can’t come back to Jericho because of him… “ He glanced at Connor’s corpse. “He took the information from me. I betrayed Jericho. They’re all suffering because of me…”

“I see… I think Connor could have taken the information from anybody. He would have found anyway. It’s not because of you.”

“I can’t… I’m so sorry but… But I just can’t. I know that my friends had been endangered because of me. I know that… I betrayed them and…”

Gavin looked up to him, his hands full of blue.

“And?”

“And… The one I promised to take care of Jericho.”

“You loved him.”

Simon didn’t want to admit it. Suddenly, it was ridicule. And telling a Human he, an Android, had been in love? That seemed even more stupid. How could he believe him? Even being Elijah Kamski’s brother.

“It’s okay, ya know? I got weak for an asshole too. Dick Perkins. The worst mistake of my damn life. The guy is an asshole and he still proofs it.”

He didn’t want to remember how he asked him, begged him to just don’t take the case or take it but work on his side. Of course, Richard Perkins took his begging but still followed the case, fooling him.

“He created Jericho. For long, it was our Heaven but after, we helped others. And one day… he left. Without a word. I never saw him again.”

“Then he just doesn’t deserve you. Easy to say, I know, but don’t think about the jackass. You’re better without him. And you had been tricked by Connor.”

Gavin put out his hands from Simon’s belly and close the plastic part.

“You should go back to your people. Your friends.”

“And if they hate me because…”

“Gosh. You’ll tell me they never made a mistake? If you wanna, lie. Say that the plastic pet got you by force? You don’t have to tell you gave the information because… whatever your reason. You don’t even have to say it’s your fault.”

Gavin got up, passing his hands on his jeans to dry them. As much as he could.

“But I know it… I just… I can’t.”

“Don’t you think they’ll want to see you again. They’re your friends, right?”

North was his best friends and Josh a really dear friend but did they really wanted to see him coming back? North could be really savage and she didn’t show any need to have him saved on Stratford Tower. He realized how much he could not matter… He had promised to go back to Jericho and to take care of it but no, it was laying on the ground of the river.

“You… with your asshole… what did you have planned to do?”

“Ugh… nothing. Just break his nuts if he comes to see me. Can’t wait to see him,” Gavin smiled.

Simon almost admired him because him, if Phileas come back to him, he just could yield to him. He perfectly knew that…

“Should I have to go back to Jericho or whatever it is now? Really? Because… maybe, you need a PL600? Any householder? I can do really good plates…”

“I don’t eat. Barely throw minute soup,” he replied.

“I can tidy up your house?” Simon offered.

“I don’t live in my own house.”

“I… I’m doing nice hug?”

Gavin tilted a bit his head with a smile.

“Let me try it,” he said, opening his arms.

The man had a tiny smile on his lips and Simon felt relieved. He came down from the table and could walk without any problem. He reached Gavin and hugged him. The cop replied to this.

“If ya wanna, you can stay at home but you’ll get bored pretty much quickly.”

“I’m okay with this.”

After being thrown away, mistreated, having someone accepting him, even through spite, it was a good start for him.

And he liked his hugs. They remembered him Phileas’ one but… in a good way. Away from a role he never wanted, he could be happy.

Maybe?

At least…

#dbhshipmonth #It's on ao3 #Simon PL600 #DBH #Detroit become Human #Phileas #Jericho #Gavin Reed #My two babies finaly together #Gavin and Simon together maybe one day?#I hope the ship is present enough #SimonxPhileas #rareship #Past ship #Crackship

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akaluan · 6 years ago

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When All Is Known (Nothing Is) Pt2

((Uh, so I did a thing? Yeah, it’s an AU now.))

Uryuu watched Urahara as Ichigo recited their story, skipping over far more than he revealed in the process. Urahara likely /knew/ it, too, judging by the man’s sharp gaze.

It didn’t matter, Uryuu reassured himself. They’d get what they needed out of Urahara or they wouldn’t. It would be worse if they /didn’t/, but at this point… well, the information they wanted was more for peace of mind than anything.

Yhwach remained asleep within the depths of the hidden fortress, in the last stage of regaining his abilities. He was defenseless, and the Wandenreich would never — could never — expect Ichigo and Uryuu. Not even Haschwalth with his temporary gain of Yhwach’s Almighty.

Uryuu was still Yhwach’s Antithesis, and he’d learned to /use/ that in the years they’d been at war. He was an emptiness in the future, a black hole that could not be divined, and he’d learned to stretch that to cover those he loved. There were ways around it, of course, ways to look /sideways/ that the Haschwalth they’d left behind had become proficient in.

But this Haschwalth?

This one didn’t even know what he was searching for.

(Uryuu would make sure it stayed that way.)

Uryuu combed his fingers through the soft fur at Ichigo’s wrist and tried not to listen to Ichigo’s words. To the story that, even cut down as it was, laid out the devolution of their world. Laid out the way everything just fell apart.

The way Ichigo fell.

(Ichigo’s berserker rage. The searing pain of being stabbed.)

(Ichigo’s /shriek/ of fury, as he tore at the mask obscuring his face, leaving Uryuu to slump to the ground, still impaled. Ichigo’s agonized screams as his body /remade itself/ all over again.)

(The sounds and images still clung to Uryuu’s nightmares, years and horrors later.)

Ichigo’s fingers flexed, his claws pressing into Uryuu’s side, the pinpricks of pain snapping Uryuu back to the present.

Urahara’s sharp gaze was focused on /Uryuu/, his fan out and covering the lower half of his face. Uryuu clenched his jaw and looked away, disgusted with himself.

(Nothing like revealing weakness to a potential enemy.)

“We’ll survive,” Ichigo murmured in his ear, confident and focused and /grounded/.

Uryuu nodded once, drawing strength from Ichigo’s reassurance. Part of him was certain it was a lie, but… it was what they’d done for years, wasn’t it? Survive. Even as the world fell in around their ears and their companions died one by one, they kept surviving, kept pushing on. Kept destroying Yhwach’s forces and struggling against the insane conquerer.

Until Aizen, that damn /bastard/, had caught up with them, all madcap grin and razor-edged darkness. Had declared that they were both /fools/ for continuing to struggle against Yhwach. That the Three Worlds were ruined, and nothing could ever be undone.

And then he’d grabbed both of them, and the hogyokou had shone brighter than a star, and suddenly…

Suddenly they were back in the Living World. Out from under the crushing weight of three worlds’ worth of reishi combined into one.

Back to a time before everything was destroyed. Before everyone died.

Urahara made a startled noise when Ichigo said Aizen’s name, then narrowed his eyes at both of them. “So /Aizen/ sent you back? With the hogyokou.”

Ichigo shrugged. “Well, we think so.”

“You think so.” Urahara gave them a flat look. “So that would be why you wanted information on the hogyokou. You realize that informing me that /Aizen/ sent you back does not paint you in a trustworthy light.”

“And lying would have been worse,” Uryuu piped up, finally looking back at Urahara and meeting the man’s gaze. “We didn’t get along, but the enemy of my enemy is, at the very least, an ally. /You’re/ the one who initially convinced him to keep working with us.”

Urahara narrowed his eyes, snapped his fan closed, and crossed his arms over his chest. “And now the situation he was recruited to help you with has been unmade. It’s unlikely you returned alone, if he was the cause of this, and the chances of him stabbing you in the back—”

“We’ll deal with him later, if he did come back and decides to try fighting us again,” Ichigo interrupted with a dismissive shrug. “It’s the Quincy that need to be dealt with, and he knows that too.”

Urahara’s knuckles went white around the handle of his fan, before he controlled himself and relaxed his grip. “On your head be it. Remember that you will have no third chance at this.”

“/Our/ Aizen just wants an equal,” Ichigo responded coldly. “Someone to stand in front of him and /survive/. He /has/ that in the two of us.”

Uryuu grimaced but nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t call Aizen a friend, or even an /acquaintance/, but the man /was/ a constant. “Besides. After seeing the Soul King, and witnessing the downfall of the Three Worlds, even /he’s/ no longer interested in becoming /that/.”

Urahara scoffed. “Aizen is a consummate liar and conman. The idea that he would not take up his goal once more, now that the danger is passed—”

“His goal was to /not be lonely anymore/,” Ichigo grumbled, burying his face in the crook of Uryuu’s neck. His arms tightened around Uryuu’s waist and he took a deep breath, clearly calming himself down. “We’re done here,” he announced, lifting his head to look at Urahara again. “You won’t share your research, that’s fine. It was a long shot anyway. Kurotsuchi should have most of what we need on Quincy anyway.”

“Kurotsuchi,” Urahara repeated slowly, almost as if he didn’t quite trust his hearing. “And what, pray tell, would he have to do with the Quincy?”

“He’s fascinated by them,” Uryuu said, trying to keep the loathing from his voice. The idea of trying to read through Kurotsuchi’s ‘research’ was /sickening/, but Ichigo was right. There might be an answer somewhere within the pages. More of an answer than simply having Ichigo shove as much Hollow reiatsu into Yhwach’s sleeping body as possible.

Ichigo moved Uryuu from his lap, then stood from the stool and nodded at Urahara. “We apologize for breaking in.”

“Wait,” Urahara said before the two of them could take more than a step towards the door. “Stay the night.” At their puzzled, wary looks, Urahara sighed and flicked open his fan once more and played with it absently. “You’re exhausted and clearly intend on charging headfirst into danger. Stay the night. Rest. Consider your options.”

“I thought you didn’t trust us,” Uryuu said.

Urahara smiled sheepishly and tugged at the brim of his hat. “Maa, you two seem like earnest young men. And if what you told me is true, then I at least owe it to your younger selves to help you out.”

Meaning Urahara wanted to keep an eye on them, Uryuu realized. Not entirely surprising, given what Ichigo had revealed and whatever conclusions Urahara had drawn from the tale and their reactions.

(A place to rest…)

Ichigo stood at Uryuu’s back, body tense and unnaturally still in that /way/ of his, but he remained silent.

(Could they trust this Urahara enough to accept?)

“You’ll be better off for the sleep, and some food in the morning,” Urahara cajoled. “Whatever your plan currently is, surely it can wait a few hours?”

Uryuu swallowed and twisted around to look at Ichigo, tilting his head in question and darting a glance towards Urahara. Ichigo’s face was shadowed by his hood, but Uryuu could still read his friend; Ichigo /wanted/ to trust Urahara, wanted to accept this offer so they could /finally/ rest in safety.

(It had been too long on the run. Too long since /their/ Urahara had the time or resources to craft a ward-set as comprehensive as this.)

(In this time before Yhwach woke and destroyed the barriers between the worlds, all that could threaten them /here/ were the ex-Shinigami who called the shoten home.)

“/He/ won’t wake for years yet. He can’t,” Uryuu murmured, resting a hand reassuringly on Ichigo’s shoulder. “A night won’t matter.” Unless Urahara decided to turn on them, but in all honesty the only place they could likely escape beyond his reach was Soul Society, and neither of them was interested in returning /there/ to sleep.

Ichigo’s shoulder relaxed under Uryuu’s hand, his hand coming up to grip Uryuu’s wrist. “You sure?” he asked, scanning Uryuu’s face. When Uryuu nodded, Ichigo hesitated a moment longer then looked past him and back to Urahara. “Fine. We accept for tonight.”

“I’m glad!” Urahara said cheerfully, then gestured for them to follow. “I’ll show you to your room, and the bathroom, and we’ll get everything set up for you!”

Uryuu exchanged a look with Ichigo, then sighed and turned to follow after Urahara, Ichigo immediately on his heels.

They were going to sleep within the dragon’s den, but at least the dragon had invited them in. And Uryuu didn’t /think/ Urahara had any current plans to end them, so… they were probably safe. For a night, at least.

(Aizen would never let them live it down if they survived everything only to die at /this/ Urahara’s hand.)

(He probably had the right, honestly.)

#bleach #my fic #drabbles #unedited #arrancar!ichigo #Kurosaki Ichigo #Ishida Uryuu #Urahara Kisuke #yeah so that's a thing #Enjoy?

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popwasabi · 7 years ago

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“The Disaster Artist” Review: Oh hai James Franco...and all his friends...

Directed by James Franco

Starring: James Franco, Dave Franco, Seth Rogen and Allison Brie

If you were to ask me what my all-time favorite movie going experience was it wouldn’t be the first time I saw Luke Skywalker blow up the Death Star during the re-release of “Star Wars” during the 90s. No, it wouldn’t be when I watched Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and the men of Rohan mount a daring defense of Helms Deep in “The Two Towers.” Hell, it wouldn’t even be seeing Heath Ledger and his iconic performance as the Joker the first time in “The Dark Knight.”

No, it was a midnight screening in San Jose with a few beers in my system watching the infamous cult classic “The Room” at my college’s local indie theater with a bunch of other rowdy fans. “The Room” is more than just simply watching a movie, when you go out to see it at these events, it’s a total audience participation unlike any major film of the past few decades that defies logic and comprehension.

Much like another cult classic, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” “The Room” has garnered a huge legion of fans that partake in midnight screenings around the world every month maintaining its legitimacy far beyond many of the “Best Picture” films that Oscars have touted for the last century. In a strange way it’s a more a classic and relevant than any of those films ever will be because of its notoriety.

(The applause this line gets every time at the midnight screenings I’ve gone to is louder than any Oscar nominated movie I’ve seen in my lifetime.)

And why is that? Because it’s beyond absurd, it’s so bad that the melodrama collapses in on itself like a dying star and you can’t help but watch as the destruction unfolds on the screen. It’s one of the greatest pieces of unintentional brilliance and humor in film-making ever, like a real life “Springtime for Hitler,” and in a crazy way director, writer, producer and actor Tommy Wiseau’s legacy will last long after many other “better” movies succumb to the sands of time.

That’s the story that the book “The Disaster Artist” tells, written by friend of Wiseau and co-star of “The Room” Greg Sestero. It depicts what it’s like to struggle as an aspiring artist and the crippling depression that comes with trying to be relevant in a world as unrelenting and unforgiving as Hollywood. Greg was an aspiring actor but he was also extremely self-conscious, like most of us would, and in Tommy he saw an untalented but nevertheless fearless individual who kept reaching for his acting dreams despite the whole world basically telling him “NO! GOD DAMN IT! NO!” and that made him strangely admirable.

Despite the fact that Wiseau’s film is ultimately a blasphemy to filmmaking and storytelling everywhere, he somehow failed so hard that he succeeded and in a weird way he should be lauded for that considering the Universe was completely against it.

(To be fair, Tommy is oblivious to all forms of outside ummm...things.)

James Franco’s “The Disaster Artist” however, which he ironically also directs, produces and stars in, will likely not stand the test of time and ultimately falls short of the book’s larger message, choosing to pay fan service rather than homage to the cult classic. It hits the right notes at times though and “Room” fans unfamiliar with the book will likely get a kick out of it but in the end it just isn’t as deep as its original source material.

“The Disaster Artist,” just like the book, tells the story of “Room” actor Greg Sestero and how he met Tommy Wiseau and the strange friendship that developed from there. Sestero is a struggling actor trying to find his place in show business while Wiseau flounders his way through his own auditions with his crippling lack of talent. One day, Wiseau decides he won’t wait for the big shots in Hollywood anymore and decides he’ll write, direct and star in his own feature titled “The Room.” As production gets underway however, Greg and Tommy’s relationship begins to fray as the film and those involved with it spiral out of control.

Let me first state that this film was likely never going to completely satisfy me.

“The Disaster Artist” is my favorite book of all-time, no joke, and one of the only stories I’ve read more than once. There’s so much relatable content in it that I think anyone who has ever felt small, or like their work or their relevance doesn’t matter could relate to and it details such an amazing and hilarious account of the production behind the scenes of this awful movie. I remember the first thing I thought upon finishing it was “Wow, this could be a great movie if done right” then literally a couple weeks later James Franco announced he was directing and starring in “The Disaster Artist” film adaptation before I could even start typing up a screenplay.

(Me upon hearing Franco beat me to it.)

So with that in mind, I went into this movie with middling expectations and for what it’s worth the movie does a mostly decent job of capturing the humor and most of the message of the book.

Despite James Franco not being my first, second or third choice for director/actor of this adaptation, he does a good job of going full method one as Tommy Wiseau and if there’s any character in history that needs to be portrayed with full cheese and melodrama it’s Tommy Wiseau. Franco delivers on much of the funnier bits of the story, chewing and destroying the scenery around him at times and plays off his younger brother Dave (playing Greg Sestero fairly well) fairly well.

Seth Rogen lends his comedic chops to the film as “The Room’s” script supervisor Sandy playing more or less himself but to be fair Sandy in the book is kind of a smart ass like Seth anyways. The film has a variety of cameos that are amusing and work fine within the story and the film does capture the funnier moments portrayed in the book describing the often headache inducing production behind the cult classic. Much of the film’s better moments take place on the set of “The Room” and this is where the book to film adaptation works best.

(Accurately describes what production was like on “The Room.”)

The film fails though in trying to detail the deeper levels of the story that take place outside “The Room” however and the result is a film that pays more fan service with “ooo I remember that scene” then actually detailing what happened and who Greg and Tommy are (or at least as best as we know about Tommy).

I hate to do the “but in the book” routine with this movie but there’s critical moments detailing Tommy and Greg’s relationship that just aren’t there in this movie. In the book (sigh), Tommy is more layered and his relationship with Greg gets strained beyond just the film’s crazy production but his own domineering and often jealous behavior causing friction between the two. He goes from talentless, admirable loser to talentless controlling loser in the span of a few chapters and in this film this strain is only portrayed through the idea that Greg just outgrows him.

The struggles of making it in Hollywood is what makes this relationship truly fascinating though as the book tells of Greg’s larger talents going unnoticed while Tommy’s lack of anything still swings for the fences despite seemingly all of Hollywood telling him no. The film really doesn’t go that far into this and the movie’s drama suffers for it.

The movie spends more time shoehorning in cameos of James’ famous friends than detailing this critical part of the drama in the book. The story behind “The Room” is more than just laughs at the film’s incomprehensible production but of Greg and Tommy’s relationship bouncing all over the place and this movie opts for the former more often than the latter.

(How I imagine James’ friends reacting upon hearing they were making a movie together, whether they were right for the role or not.)

Dave Franco also doesn’t do much as this film’s lead. Though better than expected as Greg, Dave is distracting in this role. The film at times feels like a party where James Franco invited all his friends to come make a movie with him rather than tell an actual story and it still somehow works despite this but having his brother play the main character alongside him is just a little too much.

Dave Franco’s obviously fake beard in the second act doesn’t help, nor the fact that he doesn’t look that much like Greg to begin with, but he’s just a little too obviously Dave Franco, if that makes any sense. He doesn’t become Greg in the same way James mostly becomes Tommy and the result makes his portrayal a bit forced at times. If anything James may have been a better Greg and a much older actor could’ve played Tommy but that’s neither here nor there.

(Me dealing with the film’s shortcomings after a while though.)

With this all said “The Disaster Artist” is still a decent watch at the theaters. The film has more than a few good laughs and James Franco’s portrayal of the baffling weirdo that is Tommy Wiseau is enjoyable enough for the price of admission.

The film spends more time telling jokes than a story and caters to the base level of “Room” fan needs but it’s still funny at least and better than most comedies you’ll catch at the theaters these days. It’s sad though that the larger, deeper parts of the books story weren’t completely portrayed here and while the film’s main message of reaching for your dreams isn’t lost on the audience the greater depths of that struggle isn’t properly portrayed here.

Maybe someday this book will be more properly adapted but until then Franco’s “The Disaster Artist” is an enjoyable but imperfect homage to the greatest worst film ever made.

But anyways how’s your sex life?

VERDICT:

3.5 out of 5

Now looks what’s coming up though...

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 7 years ago

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SO LAST WEEKEND I WENT TO SEE IT AND NOW I’VE FINALLY GOT SOME OF MY THOUGHTS IN ORDER ENOUGH TO YELL ABOUT IT

FIRST OF ALL, HOLY SHIT

I mean, I don’t want to say that this movie kicked the shit out of the old movie in a dark alley, stole its wallet, and then lit it on fire, BUT, this movie kicked the shit out of the old movie in a dark alley, stole its wallet, and then lit it on fire. (The book then immediately ran both of them over in a semi truck, but that’s beside the point.)

Seriously, though, it’s crazy how much of an improvement this was. I think I’ll go through it bit by bit, so I can try and get everything.

- I’ll start off with what everybody’s going nuts about: Pennywise!

As far as comparison goes, though I am hesitant to diss Tim Curry, because he is wonderful, the new movie’s version of the character is not only scarier, it’s much more true to the book. While Curry was clearly having a ball with his performance, Miniseries!Pennywise’s portrayal is severely hurt by lackluster writing, special effects that haven’t really aged well, and basically just looking like a guy in a cheap clown costume and makeup.

Bill Skarsgård, on the other hand, not only knocked it out of the park with his performance (and is tall and skinny as fuck so that helped), but the writing and design definitely up the scare factor a lot more. I love so, so much that they’re putting more focus on what It actually is: not just a creepy clown, but a predatory Eldritch Abomination beyond human comprehension. With the much higher focus on Its shapeshifting, Its unnatural movements (the scene where It comes out of the box all twisted and unraveling Its limbs was so fucking cool, I shouldn’t have been grinning but I was anyway), the way It’s literally drooling over Georgie, how when It feeds, It pulls out all those rows of teeth and Its eyes roll back in Its head like a shark attack and the jaw unhinges like a snake...It’s feral, vicious, animalistic, fantastic.

(Side note: I lost my shit near the end when Its jaws opened past Its fucking forehead and I realized that not only does its mouth look like an unholy fusion of the mouths of a lamprey and a leatherback turtle, but those are the fucking Deadlights at the back! I am just praying to the horror gods that this time we’ll get a take on Its final boss form that actually looks scary.)

- Speaking of which, the movie’s scary parts get special kudos for making the poor girl behind me in the theater jump so hard the seats shook a little on two or three separate occasions. I could hear her like quietly crying for a little bit, she was so scared, I felt so bad! :(

- Now, on the other side of things: The Losers’ Club. Long story short, I LOVE THESE KIDS SO MUCH OH MY GOD THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS THE BEST PART OF THE MOVIE

I will actually die for Beverly Marsh

You go girl, kill that abusive father, you’re doing amazing sweetie, 10/10

EDDIE IS FUCKING PRECIOUS

I actually think I love Movie!Eddie more than Book!Eddie, he is an actual adorable puppy

“they’re GAZEBOS!!!” mY BOY <3

And I definitely love Movie!Richie more than Book!Richie, because they dumped out all his racist jokes from the book and made him brighter and more cheerful than Miniseries!Richie

He goes from friendly sweetheart to pure awesome in a second and he’s honestly one of the best parts of the movie

“Derry started as a beaver-trapping town.” “And it still is, amiright boys?!?”

“wHAT THE FUCK”

“Go blow your dad, you mullet-wearing asshole!” bURN OF THE GODDAMN CENTURY

“Now I have to kill this fucking clown!”

Stan left the Losers first as a kid and 27 years later he’ll leave them first again and I’m going to lose it

All I could think during the lamprey-mouth-sucking-face scene and the ensuing trauma was, “Oh shit, they’re having Stan get hurt the worst here for a reason”

Ben Hanscom is darling and deserves the world

Every time he smiled I just wanted to hug him

SPEAKING OF DESERVING BETTER:

Mike is probably my second favorite Loser (right behind Bill), and while they gave him a nice character arc, I wish to God that he’d gotten more screentime and that they hadn’t given his Thing as the one who researches Derry’s history and figures out It’s pattern to Ben, because, you know, that’s kind of important since he’s the one who stays in Derry to be their lookout up to adulthood

But hey, if they let him keep that role, he’ll probably get more of the spotlight in the second movie, so we’ll see

I did love that he was the one who got to fight Henry and knock him down the well, maybe as a nod to the bad blood between the Bowers and Hanlon families from the book

- Special props go to the beginning scenes (Bill and Georgie at home right up to where Georgie gets it...ah, no pun intended). In my opinion, IT has the best opening that Stephen King ever wrote, and the movie definitely did it justice.

While the miniseries kind of skimmed over their brotherly relationship, here, it’s focused on like it should be, front and center, and was genuinely deep and touching. Maybe this is just me as an older sister talking, but watching the two of them together, clearly loving each other, and knowing that this is the last time Bill will ever see his brother alive seriously got to me

I liked how they had Georgie actually be creeped out by the clown in the sewer, like any normal child, enough that he almost ran off

And unlike the book or miniseries, his actual death here wasn’t just scary, it hurt my heart to see Georgie panicking and crying and trying to get away

“Billyyyyyy!” fucking kill me

And while Book!Bill will always be my favorite (he just seems to have more depth to him there), he’s definitely a lot more compelling here than he is in the miniseries

We actually get to see believable grief and denial, and a seriously heartbreaking speech about how walking into the lair of a murdering monster, with no guarantee he’ll come back out alive, is easier than walking into a home without his little brother

And then at the end, when he gets the undeniable proof that his brother died a horrible death and there was no way he could have saved him (btw, that shot of the raincoat came out of NOWHERE and HIT ME LIKE A BRICK), and finally breaks down crying -- !

Fuck. Me. Running; that all hurts

I don’t care that the online quizzes say I’m most like Ben or Bev, I’ve always identified with Bill the most. I’m not a natural leader, but I’m reserved, usually thinking hard, sometimes have trouble speaking, and if I ever lost my little brother, I don’t know what I’d do without him. His is the story I feel most connected to, and I’m glad it was done so well.

- (One more note on Beverly’s big scene, though: as much as I loved it, I have to say, I’m wondering how it will affect Chapter Two. If I remember correctly, Book!Beverly only ended up with Tom Rogan because she never got over what her father did, much less stood up to him when she was just a kid, let alone friggin killed him. The only reason I don’t have too much of a problem with her being damsel-in-distress captured to rally the boys together is that half the point of that scene is to show that since she’s already physically fought and killed her worst fear, she isn’t affected in the slightest by It. One could make an argument that it would be a result of all the kids’ memories of what they did fading as they grow up and leave Derry -- and Bev’s already leaving by the end of this movie -- but if she isn’t at all intimidated by the literal embodiment of everything humans fear while still a child, I don’t know that I’ll be able to buy that she inexplicably ended up trapped by a run-of-the-mill shitbag like Tom as a grown adult.)

- As for the human villains! Let me just start off by saying PATRICK HOCKSTETTER GOT FUCKING ROBBED.

Okay, to be fair, I’m not invested enough in his character to be actually irritated about it, and if they decided that the underage sewer orgy couldn’t be filmed (a decision I fully approve of, the blood bonding scene alone was a lot cooler and I don’t care what Stephen King says, the damn story didn’t need an underage sewer orgy), then Patrick murdering his baby brother out of solipsistic spite and jerking off Henry in a junkyard wouldn’t fly, either. His scenes add nothing to the plot, anyway; the guy is there purely to be fucked up and creepy. (Though I must admit, it was cool to see what It would do with a victim that could feel neither fear nor pain.)

But on the other hand, if you’re not going to include any of the parts that made him fucked up and creepy, then why even have him in the movie? It just seems pointless.

Seriously, this was my train of thought during that whole scene:

“Wait, Patrick? This whole time, I thought that was Victor...Wait, he’s clearly going to die, they’re not going to kill him off so soon?! They’re not...Oh, nope, yep, there he goes. He’s dead. And not a leech to be seen. Shame.”

Henry’s other friends didn’t leave much of an impression on me, but then again I didn’t care about them in the book or miniseries either. It was pretty much the same with Beverly’s father, except it was a great move to remove Bev’s mom to make it so poor Bev is trapped with just her father, in a much more vulnerable position than the book or the miniseries, with no one to stop him from hurting her

However, I did like how they did Henry; he’s a lot easier to take seriously as just a fucked-up kid now that he doesn’t look like Walmart Danny Zuko

While I feel like I prefer how his father was portrayed in the book, this is an interesting twist on his character: he can play the part of the strict but good cop in public, to make sure his son doesn’t make him look bad in the guise of keeping him on the straight and narrow, but in private, abusing and humiliating him as he pleases, and since he’s a cop, there’s no one Henry could go to for help and so he’s doomed to end up just as vicious and cruel as his father, just more obvious about it

“Ain’t nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble;” oh my god what an asshole but what a good line

(Side note, I kept thinking I recognized Henry’s face from somewhere, but I looked up Nicholas Hamilton on IMDB and I haven’t seen anything he was in. Weird.)

Also: since Henry didn’t stay in the picture long enough to be used as the scapegoat for the murders and end up in an asylum, I’m wondering how they’ll bring him back for the second half, since the creators confirmed that yeah, like the book, he isn’t quite dead

Oh God, what if they have it so It was keeping him unnaturally alive in the sewers for 27 years?! That’s some horrible I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream shit but if that’s how they want to go it might work!

Granted, though, having no asylum leaves the filmmakers without the impossible problem of trying to make a dog in a clown suit scary...

- I don’t think there’s any more characters I have any opinion on and it’s the middle of the night and I’m too tired to say much else but yeah, all the kudos to the cast and crew for being so amazing

- AND! MOST IMPORTANTLY OF ALL!

AFTER OVER A HUNDRED YEARS AND COUNTLESS ATTEMPTS, THIS MOVIE HAS FINALLY GIVEN US THE BEST MOMENT IN ALL OF CINEMA HISTORY:

LIKE, I SAW THIS GIF BEFORE I SAW THE MOVIE AND I WAS CONVINCED, 100% CONVINCED, THAT IT WAS AN EDIT

BUT NOPE, THAT’S THE ACTUAL SCENE. THE ENTIRE THEATER BURST OUT LAUGHING. NOW, AS MY FRIEND WHO WAS WITH ME SAID, “WE AS HUMANS HAVE ASCENDED TO THE HIGHEST FORM OF ART.” THERE’S YET ANOTHER ENDLESS SOURCE OF FUEL FOR MY BAD DECISIONS AT 2:00 AM:

(if you listen very closely, you can hear me and my undone homework sobbing in the distance)

(there’s over 20 parts to that series now, as of the typing of these insane ramblings)

(just in case anyone else would like to make some Bad Choices)

- I’m looking forward to the second half and how they’ll handle the adult Losers’ stories, because I now have 100% faith in all involved to do it just as well as they did the kids’ half

All I’ll say on what my expectations are for Chapter Two is, I will go into it knowing damn well that if they stay faithful up until the end, the ending will break my heart just like the book did and I’ll end up crying shamelessly in the theater like Les Miserables all over again

“I loved you guys, you know. I loved you so much.” fUCK YOU STEPHEN KING, YOU AND YOUR FUCKING ENDINGS, DONT PLAY WITH MY FEELINGS LIKE THIS

#kaen rambles #for seven years #IT #it stephen king #IT 2017

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