#poor unlucky bastard

[dyinggirldied]

Current status of TSCTIR and ORV novel: end + side stories.

Current status of TCF novel: ongoing at 1000+ chaps

[blueteller]

Cale lying to us about the very premise of his own story be like...

[wandering-tides]

ALL HAIL GOD FIVE COLOUR LIGHT... CALE HENITUSE‼️

[savythenillerwaffer]

tired eyes

[ikamigami]

I don't have a boop button and I feel like an outcast.

Nihil novi 😑

[ohdeersthings]

Okay, so you know that scene from Disney's Hercules? With Meg when she stands up while ringing out her hair and the water is beautiful behind her and Hercules is whipped? Yeah that but with Neteyam.

~.~

After relocating to the Metkayina and learning their ways, Neteyam had finally grown into one of their own, in both spirit and body. Now an adult, he grew taller, broader, his physic left many girls and women watching him like predators from a distance.

Coming back from a successful hunting trip, he carried a large net of fish on his back, Ao'nung and other men walking along side him with their own. "I'd say today was an excellent hunt,"Ao'nung had a smug look on his face, dumping the net off fish into a large basket that the clans cooks used in their little pavilion to keep track of the food brought in.

"You only say that because you got the biggest catch of the day," Neteyam gave a playful glare to his friend, shoving the next clan leader out of his way before dumping his own net of fish as well.

"Ah, come on my friend," Ao'nung placed his arm around the dark blue Na'vi, giving him a teasing noogie to the head before the man pushed him with a growl, pointing his finger at Ao'nung.

"Keep on, we'll see who's the better hunter," Neteyam challenged, their friends of the group letting out hoots of encouragement at the sound of the banter. "So you say Forest Boy," Ao'nung was quick to push Neteyam down out of surprise, taking off into the village laughing.

"Ao'nung, you skxawng!" Neteyam quickly stood up and took off after his friend, a grin on his face as he quickly caught up. Ao'nung had never been that fast of a runner.

"Watch it!" A older clansmen yelled, pulling his mate out of the way of the two young men who were too busy acting like children than the adults they were. "Sorry!" Neteyam waved back in apology, not looking to where he was running when he collided with something, or rather someone.

Someone much shorter, much softer, much plumper than him, he noted before both were sent flying to the sea from the walk way, Neteyam briefly hearing his friends chortle of laughter from above the water.

He resurfaced and shook his braids out of his face, Ao'nung holding his stomach, pointing with a laugh as the other guys joined in. "Way to use your eyes Neteyam, I should take notes," One of the hunters mocked, Ao'nung reaching a hand out now to pull his friend up.

It was only when Neteyam turned to view who he'd run into that his breath caught in his throat, eyes wide as he saw the most beautiful woman.

She stood a few feet away onto a lower part of a marui she'd climbed onto. Half bent over to ring our her hair, her eyes trailing up his person as she stood up, her eyes shining in the sunlight like the sea behind her, painting the most gorgeous picture in his eyes. One he didn't wanna forget.

"You are probably the most lucky or unlucky bastard ever," Ao'nung mumbled, a grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around his star struck friend, the rest of the hunters now looking at the young woman.

Only she was not just any young woman, she was the daughter of the lead hunter in the clan, a true treasure to any young man who could gain her father's approval, which really meant her approval.

"Who, is that," Neteyam was starstruck as she girl looked him up and down, water trailing down her body to places he wanted to explore in a more, secluded, area with just the two of them.

"Why don't you go find out," Ao'nung pushed his friend in her direction, Neteyam tripping over his feet to walk properly at first but approached the young lady who watched him walk over, a small hint of amusement hidden in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," Neteyam bowed his head in apology, somewhat guilty for having run into her, but also relishing the fact he had.

"Mmm, for someone who is such a wonderful hunter, you're not that good with watching where you're going," Her voice was firm but soft, almost playfully condescending the poor man who felt ready to drop to his knees.

"If I'd been watching, I never would've run into you, and I would've hated to miss that opportunity," He flashed a grin in her direction, the girl crossing her arms as she gave one back, "A shame this will be your only opprotunity for the day," she huffed, turning around and letting her hair hit him in the face before beginning to walk off.

"Wait, you don't have to run off, I didn't even get your name?" Neteyam called out to her, watching as she stopped only a few feet away, turning to look over her shoulder, "I said you already used your opprotunity today, who knows what opprotunity you have tomorrow," she smirked, flashing her fangs before walking away, hips swaying just a little bit more than before.

"What a fine opprotunity indeed," Neteyam hummed, his eyes trailing after her body as she disappeared around the corner of Marui's.

[neo--queen--serenity]

I can’t stop thinking about the Mid-Autumn Festival Banquet drinking game from book 3.

Like imagine. You pass a goblet around, duck-duck-goosing it until one of you is unlucky enough to trip the mystery loser wire that signals you're "it," for this round.

The poor idiot gets their name plugged into the xianxia version of an AO3 search bar, and whatever mortal-made fanfiction of your life pops up first gets broadcast in front of ALL your coworkers. Your only hope is that whatever absurd fanfic of your life is written well, because mortals are horny bastards, and you have no control over who they ship you with. Half of these plays are just your mortal fans smashing barbies of you and some heavenly rando together yelling "NOW KISS" and you just have to fuckin'...sit there. I would die.

[blueteller]

[TCF Spoiler of the week]

I love how Cale casually steals a power of one of the Ancient Gods and conducts a divine purification ritual like WITH CLOPEH LITERALLY DRESSED UP AS HIS PRIEST BESIDE HIM and this dumb mf still thinks he's going to be able to hide all of this and peacefully retire after they finish dealing with the Hunters

Like, Cale. Honey. You are so. So dumb.

[blueteller]

Cale, using Instant in front of Raon for the first time: "Raon, don't be like me." Raon now, bleeding from his mouth: "What was that, Human? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of you sacrificing yourself again"

Tcf part 2 chapter 325

RAON PROTECTED HIM!!! RAON PROTECTED HIS BIG BROTHER!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[michanvalentine]

Unfortunately, I played Baldur's Gate late, so I often find myself reflecting on concepts that have probably already been discussed a million times. Bear with me — I need to vent these thoughts somehow.

So... Every now and then, while reading various posts around the web, I find myself wondering what those unfortunate 7,006 souls ever did to be so quickly dismissed and condemned. Seriously. I’m stunned by how easily people judge and by the lack of moral and objective analysis. In the game, of course, everything goes — I myself sent them all to hell without much hesitation in one of my runs. They're not real people and the point is to have fun.

But when you stop and analyze the situation from the outside — not as players inside a videogame, but as people with empathy, morals, and common sense who are engaging with a narrative — I genuinely struggle to understand how this act can be seen as justifiable. Among all those souls used in the ascension ritual, the only one that truly deserves to burn in hell is Cazador. The others? Unlucky, foolish, maybe in love. Astarion says it himself: they were people who let their guard down and fell for his sweet words.

"Every one who ever trusted me enough to let down their guard... innocents, idiots, and the unluky."

Among them, there’s surely some piece of shit who hurt Astarion, who abused him, and maybe does deserve to rot in hell alongside Cazador. But others were just drunks, not entirely in control of their decisions. Were some of them whoremongers? Sure — but that’s not a crime. They were seduced, lured in, encouraged — they didn’t drag Astarion into an alley to use him. It was Cazador who exploited and raped him, forcing him into that role.

Were some of them jerks, criminals? Sure. But Astarion himself isn’t a saint — that doesn’t mean he’s more worthy of mercy than they are. He’s not inherently more deserving of survival than his brothers and sisters, for instance. And I say this as someone who loves Astarion. On top of that, these poor bastards have been imprisoned for centuries, starving, neglected, stripped of the most basic decency. Astarion himself points it out.

If you believe Astarion has paid for his past sins by enduring Cazador’s abuse (and on this point I fully agree), then that same logic must apply to them. A little consistency, for God’s sake. Yes, they’re starved vampire spawn — but they’re also capable of self-control. And more importantly, they want to live, just like Astarion. In fact, I would go even further: they are Astarion. They represent the mirror in which he sees himself — and what he sees is so unbearable that he wants to erase them entirely. Just as he would erase that part of himself he considers pathetic and miserable. When in reality, it’s not pathetic at all — it’s the strong part, the part that survived the 200 years under Cazador.

"[...]I don't want to be like them... They are patethic, horrible... [...] That weakness in me is dead. It's dead! I have a higher purpose."

Moreover, it’s made very clear in the epilogue that they’re not mindless bloodthirsty monsters without reason or restraint. If they were, it’d be easy for everyone — for the player, for Astarion, and for the rest of the companions — to sacrifice them all. There wouldn’t be a moral dilemma. There wouldn’t be consequences. No tension in the plot, I might add. It would be completely flat.

But there are consequences. All the companions react accordingly. They condemn the act. They realize Astarion has become a monster. Because the ascension isn’t a walk in the woods with birds chirping — it’s a vile act, a deeply repugnant devil’s bargain, as Raphael himself says. It condemns a multitude of innocent souls to eternal suffering, after being deceived by Astarion (just like the player, who’s drawn in by his charm and simple plan), and after already enduring unspeakable pain under Cazador.

It’s monstrous.

"[...] It's a rather grim tale, even for my tastes. [...] The contract states that Cazador will be granted knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile it has never been performed. [...] Your soul will set off a very weave of death bringing Cazador his twisted life."

A diabolical act that will bring forth something twisted and corrupted, a sick imitation of life.

Somewhere I even read: “The companions suddenly treat AA like he’s evil incarnate when he hasn’t done anything wrong yet!” Seriously?! Honestly, it sounds less like we’re talking about victims and more like parasites. And besides, I don’t even see why these vampire spawn should be considered more dangerous or less deserving than the ones AA would go on to create. So no, you’re not doing the world a favor by eliminating them.

The morally right and more humane choice is to set them free.

Then, if someone in the game wants to kill them because they’re playing an evil character, prefer the ascended vampire, or whatever else — fine by me. Far be it from me to ruin anyone’s fun.

But to justify the act in general, outside the game? Mmmh…

The fact that people love Astarion and that he has suffered — and no one is denying that — at the hands of Cazador, doesn’t automatically give him the right to do whatever he wants or to be excused and treated like a righteous man because of it, especially when he acts like a monster beyond redemption (the damn ritual). Otherwise, why not grant the same satisfaction to Cazador himself? He also suffered at the hands of Vellioth, poor thing. And he suffers deeply because of his condition as an undead, even though he stands above his vampire spawn and possesses everything Astarion believes to be important—power, wealth, status.

"These deathless dreams hold memories of a mortal life once-forgotten. Of the boy I was, the man i became, the monster that will not end. I sleep, but cannot rest. I live, but cannot die. I'm eternal, and I grieve."

Astarion is just one of the many other spawn meant to be sacrificed, identical to the others in every way. The only difference is that we happen to get the chance to know him, that’s all. And most importantly, in what way, during the act itself (the performance of the ritual), is Astarion any different from Cazador? In none. He literally takes his place. So if Cazador is the evil one—the bastard, the monster who must die and be punished—then in that moment, Astarion becomes one too. And it’s precisely by refusing the ritual that Astarion sets himself apart and becomes morally deserving of something—respect and admiration, to begin with—better than the others, better than Cazador. Otherwise, he’s just a thief who brutally steals his tormentor’s life’s work.

It’s not like I’m trying to overanalyze the concepts and the characters — which, for the record, are crystal clear to me and thoroughly explained within the game itself — it’s just that I genuinely can’t understand how mass murder or condemning innocent souls to hell can be seen as just or acceptable outside the context of the game.

[2-dsimp]

Hi 👋

My head cannon is actually something that was brought up in the discord.

Nokka and Wifey having 4 kids, 3 daughters and 1 son. Eldest daughter is basically Nokka's mini-me and the two are always butting heads.

Son is the youngest and is a carbon copy of Wifey, just an all around sweet boy, who loves his mother and likes to bake.

I'd just love to see some dabbles of Nokka interacting with his kids.

Like what if he found out his eldest daughter has a secret boyfriend that he only finds out about because one of his other daughters blurted it out during a fight the two girls were having?

『Yandere Husband family bonding times』

Tw: wife reader! pure fluff, and tons of sass, Nokka butting heads with his look alike daughter.

◣────•~❉᯽❉~•────◢

“Well I’ll be goddamned, I wish whoever that unlucky bastard is good luck and good riddance once he takes her off our hands. We can finally get some peace n quiet round here.” Nokka chuffed, you slapped his chest giving him an exasperated glare. You had just finished setting the table, only to come back to this nonsense chatter. “Seriously, honey? That’s our daughter we’re talking about.”

“Hell, we ain’t gotta worry about shit, I’d hate to admit it but I know she’s the man in the relationship.” The other daughters busted out laughing, enjoying the snide remark from their father. Meanwhile your baby boy was hugging onto your waist, equally amused. Eyes flickering from his elder sister. Who looked like she was about to flip the damned table. She was her daddy’s daughter after all, a hothead to the core.

“If anything, we should be worried about that poor sap she’s with, who’s gonna end up as her lil bitch.” Your husband snorted, taking a swig of his protein shake. Before lazily, returning a rude hand gesture that his look alike daughter gave him via middle finger. “Old man fight me if you wanna be talkin shit about my man!”

“Girl You betta thank ya mother for puttin you on this earth as a female… Otherwise I would’ve” He sassed, pointedly ignoring his raving daughter, opting to flicker through sports channels.

“Wife come get this brat already. She giving me indigestion.” Shaking your head with a sigh, from their habitual bickering. You went over to pacify your fuming daughter. Eventually it watered down to you listening to her gush about her secret boyfriend. Who seemed like the good natured type of guy to bring home to parents. Ultimately, leaving you pleased.

[selfundiagnosed]

[revelboo]

I know Space Crack Peepaw (TFP Megs) stole his human away while the world around them burned, just to goad Optimus out of hiding. But was there anything else (Outside of their lack of survival instincts.) that drew his attention to them in the moment?

It was just a wrong place, wrong time situation. Reader was unlucky enough to be seen by a vehicon talking to one of the kids and assumed to be an ally. Reader was actually fussing at Miko for returning a book after drawing in it (it was doodles of Bulkhead and Wheeljack) 18+

Broken Arrow Pt 16

TFP Megatron x Reader

• It had come down to his own possessiveness to convince him to find you a cover up so everyone doesn’t see “what’s his” and you don’t know where the poor Vehicons found you the silky blush colored robe, but it’s at least covering the important bits as you sit on the arms of his throne while he- mostly snarls and threatens his followers. He’d already seized one hapless Vehicon that had shot you a curious look and slung the poor guy across the room. Apparently getting some hadn’t done anything to improve his temper or people skills

• Optics narrowing as he sits through debriefing after debriefing, he curls his servos around you and pushes the robe off one shoulder to show off your harness, grinning when you pointedly tug it back into place. And he catches your leash to twist about a servo, gently tugging just to annoy you. “Have you ever tried being nice?” You ask, little hands grabbing the leash and pulling. “Instead of just an asshole?” And you’re aware of the nearest Vehicon sidling quickly out of reach at your words in case Megatron takes it out on him.

• “Nice is weakness, pet,” he growls, hooking a claw carefully under your chin to tip your face up toward him. Before dropping the servo between your thighs, splitting the front of your robe. Damn him! Squirming and trying to shove his servo away as he strokes against you. Baring those sharp denta in amusement. Face flushing when another of his commanders walks up with a datapad, the mech frowning slightly as you wiggle trying to close your thighs and push his servo away, and the mech’s wings flick before he begins droning on about a potential energon mine. Startling when you gasp on a moan and hide your face against Megatron’s hand. “Problem, Starscream?” Megatron asks, propping his chin up in his other fist like he’s not doing anything, servo still petting.

• Expression daring Starscream to question him as he plays with you, listening to the Seeker stutter, wings flicking as he tries to look everywhere but at you, while you make a strangled noise and rock yourself against his servo. Giving in. And he’s struggling not to laugh as Starscream all but runs off the bridge. “I like it better when you were threatening them,” you gasp. And he’s taking a savage delight in punishing you for denying him. The fact that it probably just scarred Starscream for life making it even better. Let them see you and know you’re his. Reminding you of it doesn’t hurt either, because it’s driving him crazy that you’d not surrendered fully to him. Can’t stop thinking about it.

• Instead of just making the other giant aliens and you really uncomfortable. And he won’t let up, stroking you lazily as the next poor bastard to traumatize walks up. Clinging to his servo as the giant spots you, his one optic flicking down to you as you can’t help but squirm and his antenna flatten back. At this rate, he might as well just fuck you on his throne and make everyone watch. Because as soon as he’s mass displaced again, you’re going to slap the heck out of him for this.

Previous

Next

[honeyflashbang]

My theory on Sampo's true identity...

(Minor Spoilers for 2.4) (also, I’m no expert in… anything, really, but these are just my ramblings).

So, this has probably been mentioned before, but I have a teeny-tiny theory about Sampo’s true identity, and it relates to Finnish mythology.

So, “Sampo” in and of itself doesn’t have a set meaning, but it has its roots in Finnish mythology, particularly the “Kalevala” which is a 19th-century compilation of epic poetry. In it, a blacksmith god by the name of Seppo Ilmari(nen) forges the mythical device known as “The Sampo”. It’s never quite explained what The Sampo really is; some versions depict it as a mill, others as a cornucopia from which bountiful creations flow from, and some even have it as being a world tree/world pillar, so what The Sampo really is, isn’t entirely known. But, what is known, is that it brought riches and good fortune to its holder (again, the same as the cornucopia from Greek mythology).

But why am I mentioning all of this? Why bring up the Kalevala? It could be that Hoyo just chose the name “Sampo” for some flavour—befitting of a character who magics up relics from seemingly thin air and is trying to create riches—and yeah, it’s a possibility…

Until I saw these two screenshots from the 2.4 story:

You know what this means, right? 

Kalevala is a real planet in Hoyo’s Star Rail universe, and I find it awfully coincidental that they would use this name for a planet and not have it related to a certain blue haired conman, especially since The Sampo is such a pivotal element in the plot of the Kalevala—there is no way this is a coincidence (I refuse to believe it).

This leads me to believe that Kalevala is Sampo’s real home world, and is where he originates from.

Now, this is all well and good, knowing where “The Sampo” hails from, but I want to focus on its creator—Seppo Ilmari(nen)—and his parallels to a certain blue haired conman. For one, Ilmari(nen)’s name is quite interesting as the ‘Ilma’ part is Finnish for ‘air’ or ‘weather’, and as we know, Sampo’s element is that of ‘wind’ (And also the fact that Ilmari(nen) is credited as “Godlike smith-hero and creator of the sky”. I could go into a whole spiel about Ilmari(nen) and Qlipoth swinging their giant hammers in tandem together for all eternity (Go Sampard! Geppie is Qlipoth's true heir, you can't convince me otherwise!), but that’s for another conspiracy theory lol).

So, ‘Ilma’ means ‘air’, and Sampo wields ‘wind’.

Cool.

If the parallels ended there, I’d just say I was being crazy… but there’s more.

Sampo’s 4th (and arguably best) eidolon is called “The Deeper the Love, the Stronger the Hate”. Two out of his six eidolons refer to 'love', whilst the other 4 are to do with wealth and riches. The wealth and richest aspect leans towards The Sampo of mythology, whilst the ‘love’ aspect, well…

According to the story, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is the unluckiest bastard alive when it comes to love. Like, seriously. His whole storyline is that he can’t find a woman. For one, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is double crossed by his so called buddy, Väinämöinen, into creating The Sampo for the evil witch Louhi of Pohjola in exchange for her daughter’s hand in marriage (which, Ilmari didn’t even want in the beginning), but when the poor guy actually sees the daughter and falls in love with her (and subsequently creates the Sampo—after failing miserably a number of times, mind you—he creates a crossbow, a boat, a cow(wtf?) and a plough, all which are somehow either evil or flawed), she ups and just leaves him hanging! (in the original runes, however, he is successful in gaining a wife, as his ‘unlucky in love’ spiel was later added by Lönnrot in compiling the Kalevala).

As with any mythology and re-telling of it, there’s so many different versions of the same event. In “The Maiden of the North”, a 1898 opera written by Oskar Merikanto, both Ilmarinen and Väinämöinen compete for the chance to marry Louhi’s daughter, who is then mentioned as being “Ilmari(nen)’s first wife” and who later dies to Kullervo’s curse (apparently she was a bit of a bitch to Kullervo by taunting and tormenting the poor boy—who was a child slave mind you!). Distraught, Ilmari(nen) forges himself a wife of gold and silver, but he finds her to be too cold and callous—he forges her out of love but only finds hate—so he tries to gift her to Väinämöinen (who doesn’t want her either, lol), and suggests he cast her back into the furnace and to “forge from her a thousand trinkets”.

Here’s the accompanying poem:

Never, youths, however wretched,

Nor in future, upgrown heroes,

Whether you have large possessions,

Or are poor in your possessions,

In the course of all your lifetime,

While the golden moon is shining,

May you woo a golden woman,

Or distress yourselves for silver,

For the gleam of gold is freezing,

Only frost is breathed by silver.

It is apparently your standard Aesop’s fable of “money can’t buy happiness”, which is something else I see in our dear old Sampo Koski. During our time in Belobog, we see how different he acts with the Underworld and Overworlders. To the poor, he actually seems approachable (albeit a bit of a nuisance), going so far as to help the Underworlders (an example being the questline “Survival Wisdom” in which he and Peak set up a business together renting out his tools to help the miners make a decent wage to support their families). In contrast, we actively see Sampo being very hostile towards the Overworlders, scamming them and putting the nobles in their place or setting them up to be caught by the Silvermane Guards (an example being during the museum questline where you discover his identity as “Mr Cold Feet”. Sampo clearly states to who he thinks is his mark that ‘we are not friends’ in a very hostile manner, something which we’ve not seen from Sampo before as he is usually quite amicable). 

For all Sampo’s showboating and flashing his money around, he helps where it counts. He wants to make money, sure, but not at the detriment of the people who need it the most, only to those with excess.

Anyway, back to him being unlucky in love…

In another rune entitled “Kosinta”, Ilmari(nen) goes on a journey to compete for Hiisi’s daughter, and wins by completing various feats, one of them being “ploughing a field full of snakes”:

And as we know, Sampo is very heavy on the snake motifs (the head of the snake on his shoulders, the spine wrapped around him, the daggers are its fangs…etc.)

So that’s another interesting link between Seppo Ilmari(nen) and Sampo Koski.

So, why have I gone on this long winded tangent about Seppo Ilmari(nen) when I’m supposed to be talking about Sampo Koski?

Well, that’s because I think Sampo Koski’s real name is (or a variant of) Ilmarinen.

In the Hoyo universe, I believe Ilmarinen came from the planet Kalevala and ‘created’ the persona of Sampo Koski, much like how in the Kalevala, Seppo Ilmari(nen) forged The Sampo.

As I’ve listed above, there’s so many links between the two:

“Air” as a name and “Wind” as an element.

Seppo Ilmari(nen) ploughed a field of snakes to win Hiisi’s daughter’s hand in marriage, whilst Sampo Koski relies heavily on snake motifs for his attire.

Sampo’s two eidolon names that relate to love (which are completely different from the other 4 eidolon names), whilst Seppo Ilmari(nen) is known to be unlucky in love.

I’m pretty damn sure Sampo creates his own bombs and tinkers with the old relics to bring them back to life, whereas Seppo Ilmari(nen) is a smith who created the dome of the sky! They’re both artificers!

And now the revelation that a planet by the name of “Kalevala” exists is no mere coincidence.

So, either Sampo is Ilmari(nen) - or! - Sampo is a puppet (like Herta) created by someone called Ilmari(nen). 

(I would love if his 5* version is him with this name).

Right, I’m finished rambling. Gonna go huff some copium...

[d1wn]

Desperate times call for desperate measures || RE6 or DI Leon

first fanfic post! i apologize if this is bad.. I haven’t wrote a fanfiction in years… enjoy! — dawn ♡

wc: 1.1k short and sweet <3

switch!leon, switch!reader, soft dom leon and reader tw/cw: one night stand, breeding, erectile dysfunction (poor old man forgot to take his viagra </3), mentions of alcohol addiction, one quick mention of drugs, body worship (kinda), foot job (?), cowgirl position.

God, this is embarrassing. Leon didn't expect to feel so pathetic while trying to pick up girls at the bar. In his youth, he would have gotten one easily, maybe even two if he was lucky, and he's been one unlucky bastard.

After what felt like hundreds of years fighting bioweapon after bioweapon, he was tired beyond his years. And, to put some sweet icing on the cake, he's pushing fifty and can hardly get his dick standing straight, years of toxic alcoholism catching up to him like wildfire.

That's why he can feel his body yearning for you when his eyes lock onto yours like some sick drug, a tantalizing glass of whisky he just had to sip. Now, he just had to get your pretty little heart wrapped around his fingers.

He watched you momentarily, eyes scanning your body as you walked through the crowded bar. Two people trailed behind you, seeming to be your friends since they happily chatted as you walked through the room.

By some grace of God from the heavens above, you made your way right next to him, sitting your little ass on the bar stool while your friends followed suit.

He continued to watch you, keeping his glances sharp and quick. Leon waited impatiently, trying to keep his wandering eyes to a minimum. Your little friends eventually left, leaving you all to himself.

“Hey,” Leon lightly tapped your shoulder, causing your attention to focus on him. “Haven't seen you around before.” Simple, classic. Nothing too scandalous. “Are you new around here?” He chuckles as he watches your face go from mild surprise to a small smile.

“Yes, I am. Was it that obvious?” You giggle, and your sweet smile and voice slowly make Leon’s heart melt. “Painfully obvious, sweetheart. You were looking around like a little lost puppy.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen as your face becomes slightly flushed. “I guess it was obvious then.” You laughed, subconsciously fixing your hair. Leon's eyes watch your every move, leaving a quick moment of silence to fall between the two of you. “Have you had anything to drink yet?” Leon asks, cutting through the silence with his voice.

“Just a martini. I try not to drink too much,” you shrugged, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. “Let me get you something to drink, then. I’ll put it on my tab. My treat.” You smiled at that, your plush and glossy lips curling into a sweet grin. “Aw, that's sweet of you, Mr…?”

“Kennedy. Leon Kennedy.”

—

“Shit.”

Well, one drink turned into two, which then turned into four, and, well, you get the idea. Now you were back at Leon's place, sitting perfectly on the side of his bed, with Leon on top of you.

Leon groaned as he felt your soft skin underneath your shirt. His hands wandered up to your chests, squeezing your tits as his lips latched onto your collarbone like a leech. “Let me help you take this off, honey,” Leon smirks, his touch ever so delicate as he removes your shirt.

He then moves down to his knees, spreading your legs as he places soft, sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. Leon chuckles as you whimper, feeling your hands move up to his hair. “Do you like that, sweetheart?” He grins, gently playing with the hem of your panties. “Want me to keep going?” You nod, soft gasps leaving your lips.

“Hm? Use your words, hun.” Leon smirks as he gently lifts your left leg, placing a small kiss on your ankle. “Please keep going.” You finally reply, watching Leon drop your legs and spread them again.

He places his tongue flat against your clothed clit, teasingly rolling it around as he hears you gasp. “Stop teasing.” You huff, pulling on Leon’s hair tightly. A soft moan leaves his mouth as he gets impatient, pulling your panties off with his teeth.

Leon immediately leans back in, his mouth devouring your sex. You groan, keeping your hand locked in Leon’s hair as he buries his face into your pussy. “Taste good?” You teased, a cocky grin on your face.

Leon's soft blue eyes lock into yours, glazed over with desire. You moan, squeezing his head between your thighs. Leon pulls away, licking his lips. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” You frown, leaning down to kiss Leon, groaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Leon unbuckles his belt, freeing his half-soft cock while you kiss. He rubs himself gently, trying to get himself hard to spare himself the embarrassment of begging caught with a limp dick.

You break the kiss, leaning back to see Leon pathetically trying to get himself hard. You grin, watching Leon sheepishly smile at you you. “Need some help?” You teased, pressing your bare foot against his cock.

“How’s this?” You ask, getting a soft moan in response. “Good, huh?” Leon nods, and a soft yes leaves his lips as you fill his dick, getting harder. After a few more seconds of rubbing, you removed your foot and pulled Leon up to his feet, pushing him down on the bed.

You remove the rest of your clothes before crawling on top of Leon, straddling his waist. You grin, spitting on his now hard cock, messily jerking him off. After a few more seconds of spitting and pumping, you line yourself up with Leon and slowly bottom out on his cock.

Leon’s sweet whimpers and moans fill your ears as you start slowly moving your hips. “Fuck, sweetheart…” Leon grips your hips hard enough to bruise, trying to guide you to go faster. “Be patient Mr, Kennedy, unless you wanna come early.” You smirked, watching Leon remove his hands from your hips in defeat.

You pick up your pace, the feeling of Leon’s thick cock driving you crazy. You moan, bouncing on Leon's dick as your pace moves faster. “Leon…” you whine his name, already feeling yourself getting closer. “I know, baby.” He replied, his hand moving to your hair, moving it out of your face. “You can do it, sweet girl.”

A few desperate gasps leave your mouth before you come, tightening like a vise around Leon's cock. He hisses, grunting as he thrusts up into you, coming with you.

Leon wraps his arms around you, laying you down on his chest as you both fall from your climax, both of your bodies sweaty and sick. He gently fixes your hair, fixing any stray strands that fell during your intimacy.

“So… same time next week?” Leon asks, a clicky grin on his face. You giggle, your head lying on his chest. “I’ll think about it.”

[red5cars]

all that remains, pt.2

simon x soapsdaughter!reader | past ghoap

cw: discussions of death, soap is dead, alcohol/drinking mentions, brief instances of homophobia (not from simon nor reader)

prev | next

synopsis: after going no contact for nearly two decades, simon riley gets the closure he's always needed with his sergeant. except its through his daughter.

simon can count the funerals he’s been to on one hand.

the first was his gran's, a distant woman whose more memory than material. despite that, he can still make out the many lines on her face, the portrait that they used, and the way his mother squeezed his hand, the other half resting on her protruding belly.

second funeral, which he's unsure if he should count it, comes a year after his gran's. the year 4 class pet, findleton fishgerald, was found belly up upon walking into mrs.barett's room. playtime was instead used as a period for mourning, him and his fellow classmates listening to their teacher give a speech about the poor goldfish.

(now that he thinks about it, fish looked more like a corpse each passing day. it was only matter of time before the little guy kicked the bucket. well, swam out of it)

the third funeral was for multiple people, but they were mourned and packed into an urn on the same day so it counts as one. the contents of said urn include his mother, brother, sister-in-law, and his nephew.

it sticks with simon. his nephew in particular. he died when he was four, his first (and last) encounter with death beating simon's.

the few days after were a blur, but he can still taste the aftermath of his carnage, as well as the whiskey he drank following it.

now, he's attending his fourth funeral. johnny's.

well, 'attend' is an overstatement. stalking is a better describes simon. sitting in the shitty rental he got, parked in the second lot over of the cemetery, away from everyone who claims to love johnny.

bet they didn't love him like he did.

if he wanted too, he could walk over to the gas port, remove the cigarette from his chapped lips and toss it in there. last thing he sees would be this rusty pick-up, his soul barreling towards damnation.

he won't, knowing the muppets that come across his remains will leave him here, too close and yet too far from his johnny.

to others, it may be difficult seeing the gathering, but a trained eye like simon sees everything. he can make out gaz and price from the crowd, as well as johnny's mum.

age has not done her any favors, looking as bitchy as the day he met her. still, she was an important person to johnny.

if only she accepted he was too.

briefly, he thinks about getting out of his car, walking towards what would be a scandalous, bittersweet reunion. sure, price and gaz'll be there to defend him if things get ugly, but blood is thicker than water. even if the string binding johnny and him was red.

(is it severed because he's dead? or does it go deeper? six feet under and unfrayed)

he decides to let them mourn without his interference. the last thing he needs is that hag telling him this is all his fault, with his agendas and whatever the fuck they rant about at churches now.

without sparing a glance, he starts the rental. a small part of him is thankful for parking so far away, the obnoxious rumble of the engine would reveal his location if he were a few feet closer.

he backs out of the spot before heading south, vowing to come back later. only johnny and him.

and the groundskeeper, if his unlucky streak continues.

——————————————————————————

it continues.

shouldn't have. he came back in the middle of the night, the witching hour. while he isn't into the paranormal, a foolish part of him thought johnny's spirit might say some parting words. unless he already left the plane. bastard.

if anything, he was prepared for an intimate moment with the scot, say what he's wanted to say, or at least attempt to. the only feeling he can properly communicate is anger, this aching sadness an unwelcomed yet familiar weight on simon.

that's what he was ready for.

he wasn't ready to find a woman dressed in pajamas and an arm sling kneeling in front of johnny's gravestone.

while he can still see quite far, the night obscures more than it used too, only clocking her when he's a few feet away.

strange, he doesn't recognize her from the funeral crowd. then again, he didn't care for anyone else besides the corpse.

he thinks about retreating, would probably be best to visit when the sun's up, rather than lurk like some ghoul.

simon's begun to turn on his heel when a scream pierces through the air.

he turns back around to find the girl, hunched over the tombstone, clutching it with her free arm. her screams are alarming, like a siren going off in the middle of the night. it might just be a loon, having escaped the bin and is hugging stranger's tombstones because they aren't sane (neither is simon, but he has a semblance of common decency).

it's another sign he needs to go, do a 180 and come back in the morn. though, he pauses upon hearing the girl let out a strangled cry that vaguely resembles "dad.."

no, that can't be right. he knows the crash didn't just involve johnny, his whole family too (unfortunately not his mom).

he knows for certain johnny's wife didn't make it, but the daughter.. the daughter..

he turns back around, zeroing in on her like she's a target. it's hard to see her features, and from what he can see she looks nothing like johnny.

but she is injured. and a girl. and she keeps crying for her mom and dad rather loudly and-

fuck.

there's no denying that before him is johnny's kid. johnny’s daughter.

a mess of a woman, snot and tears running down her face, her skin stretching after she lets out another sob, curved lines surrounding her anguish.

he has to retreat now. simon has, and wants, no business with any of the other mactavish's. if she's anything like the rest of them, he's sure the girl hates him, will damn him to an eternity in hell if he so much as approaches her.

so for the third time that night, simon begins to turn, set on leaving this cemetery and never coming back. what's another twenty years without johnny? he's lived his life in constant pain, won't stop now.

he's taken about three more steps when something rustles underneath him. simon looks down, his foot landing on a pile of leaves. it isn't loud, but it's loud enough to get johnny's daughter (whose cries have quieted down by a few decibels) attention.

"..hello?" it comes out just as tear-filled as her other proclamations have. his back remains turned. if he can't see her, she's not there. this is all some fucked night terror, and he's going to wake up in his johnny's arms in 3, 2, 1-

"i said hello," her voice is a bit more firm, as if she's fully materialized into a person rather than some grief-stricken thing. reluctantly, simon turns , the girl now standing before him. the soft light of the moon illuminates her tear-stained face, the knees of her pants dirtied from kneeling over her parents' grave.

to think, his johnny would have a kid without saying anything. it might be low, but given how simon reacted to their split, he can't blame the man.

the silence continues to stretch on between them. poor kid, probably waiting on simon to break it. he's surprised her first instinct isn't to run or scream for help, but people in mourning tend to forget themselves in their grief.

simon knows firsthand.

a frown stretches across her face when she realizes simon isn't going to say anything. she sighs, wiping her damp face with the back of her hand.

"look, i'm not on anything, and- and i was here earlier for a funeral i just..," she takes in a shuddering breath, her whole body becoming loose as she exhales, "i need more time with my folks," a pause, "alone."

it's a sentiment simon knows all too well, having lost many people. even the damned fish, he wished he was able to spend more time with it.

and simon's ready to oblige, bid her 'goodbye' wordlessly, make her think he was just some hallucination her sorrow conjured up. be nothing more than strangers in an awkward situation.

although, this isn't just a stranger. this is johnny. well, his daughter. and even if she's annoyed at him, its not for the reasons he thought it be.

in another universe, he's already left. hell, he hasn't even shown up in the first place. but in this one, he doesn't do any of that.

instead, simon does the unthinkable;

“pint for your troubles?”

he offers her a drink.