#silvercaps

[phoenixmetaphor]

not much of a knight, are you

[no-thanks-bro]

if anyone is interested in a Chreon playlist! Here ya go!!

[whumpprentice]

✔️✖️?

From this ask game!

✔️ favorite symptom to read?

I love a good fever, but one of my other faves is voice loss and like voice cracking, especially if they are required to speak a lot for one reason or another, and it is not something I see a lot around here ! 

✖️ least favorite symptom to read

I don’t really like stomach stuff/emeto? I don’t mind it and don’t necessarily avoid it (especially given our significant overlap with that community) , but it’s not something I actively seek out 

Thank you so much for the ask ! <3

[fonulyn]

Metaltango apocalypse au? 👁👁

this is another one i haven't yet properly started but like... Leon wakes up in a bunker, with Krauser. he's pissed and confused and why the hell is Krauser alive he's been dead for decades and then Leon is all "You can't keep me here." and marches outside only to realize that yeah the world is gone as he knew it lol. so he misses the entire apocalypse knocked out :'D but yeah he won't know anything about Krauser's motives and if he was somehow partially responsible for what happened and in general there'll be a lot of mistrust and confused feelings and so. y'know, like in metaltango usually lol.

[velkyr]

1, 16, 25 for the writer asks? :)

the last sentence you wrote

'Maybe he should have just suffered through this by himself, consequences be damned.'

surprisingly, this is not a sentence that has anything to do with leon - I just love writing characters with guilt and shame and the tendency to isolate themselves like wounded cats 😭

16. favorite place to write

I basically only ever write at my desk in my office room haha so I guess that! and by extension, the comfier chair I have in the corner of the room, if I'm in the mood to sit and write on my tablet I'll go there. which I just was right now ❤

I struggle to write anywhere else because of a need for a lack of distraction, and a need to be able to sit comfortably for a long time. out of the house is out of the question because literally just the possibility of someone being present while I write makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong regardless of subject matter 😔✌

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I'll keep the scope a bit narrower than the obvious ones uhhhhh I enjoy playing rhythm games, I play them after work every day pretty much. I like editing and curating stuff, particularly music playlists, screenshots I've taken in games, code for character profiles on toyhouse, all sorts of things really. annnnd I love tabletop and getting to play characters through it, I'm so glad to finally have some of that back in my life recently!

tysm for these silver!! 💜

(original post)

[seekingthestars]

🥠 :)

✨fortune jar says....

"You will be showered with good luck."

[silvercap-art]

I have been enabled. Some Leon sketches!

[thebrandywine]

started a WHOLE ass new AU thanks to @silvercap. small town country boy leon/city boy piers Nivannedy romance anyone?

[herbs-and-poultices]

More plotless self-indulgent stabbing...

(I actually finished writing something in a reasonable amount of time?!?!)

@silvercap wrote this lovely piece and it got stuck in my brain, and they were so kind as to let me run with it a bit :) so uh... now available with extra plotless self-indulgent stabbing?

Graphic description of blood and injury, hurt / not much comfort, character death.

Resident Evil characters, there's a kiss at the end but it's more whumpy than anything, possibly a bit of implied past relationship (?) of some sort but I kept that whole thing fairly ambiguous

A bit outside my usual aftermath/caretaking content, but I do love a good ol' knife between the ribs. Ship stuff is definitely outside my usual, I just (mostly) left in what Silver wrote.

I don't actually know these characters (only from hurt/comfort fanfiction and a cursory glance through fandom wiki), so things probably won't be accurate to canon/fanon for those who are properly familiar with it.

Silver's original / close-to-original is in italics. Silver, let me know if you want me to change anything about how I did this, since it includes your wonderful work.

With a ruthless twist of his wrist, Krauser sends Leon’s knife clattering to the floor. Leon follows an instant later, aching legs swept out from under him. But the hard crack of his spine on the concrete is dull compared with the bright white pain that cuts suddenly into his chest.

His free arm flails desperately against Krauser’s shoulder, scrabbles at his wide throat, but the pull on flayed muscle ignites a fire that flares from sternum to fingertips, turning the limb frustratingly weak and uncoordinated. The rest of him is well and truly pinned, Krauser’s meaty fist heavy on his other bicep so he can only claw ineffectually at the sleeve of his camo uniform, one knee between his legs with the thigh pressing his hips into the rough warehouse floor, the other leg planted wide in an unshakeable stance. 

Many things have changed in the years since he trained in the military with Krauser as his CO, but some things remain the same. Krauser is a mountain of a man, and, skilled and combat-hardened though Leon might have become, in a position like this his agility is no match for the Major’s sheer bulk. When the knife digging into him was rubber and he was - if not exactly fresh nor well-rested - at least not exhausted from two days trying to survive another goddamn mission gone ass-up, he had tried a few times to find an opening in Krauser’s stance or force him to shift his weight enough to take back the offensive, but it never once ended well. And now, even if he could somehow power through the pain long enough to get his muscles to obey him…  The blaze of agony is abated - or perhaps simply concentrated - enough that he can feel with terrible clarity the blade of Krauser’s knife, cold metal sunk into the muscle of his chest, the fine tip resting neatly between two of his ribs. Pinned, indeed. Like a butterfly in a biologist's display case. Any resistance could only hasten the inevitable.

Even as the recognition settles in his mind, his limbs continue to struggle, searching instinctively for any leverage, until Krauser leans ever so slightly forward. The pointed blade drags roughly through the gristle of muscle and tendon protecting his rib cage; his already clenched jaw knots in tooth-crushing tightness and his head slams back involuntarily against the floor, eyes scrunched tight as a keening sound escapes his throat. And then with an awful tear it slips free, gliding into viscera. His eyes fly open, head lifting off the floor again to take in the sickening sight of his own blood spilling across his chest and staining Krauser’s hand where it grasps the knife, but all he can do is gasp in a slow trickle of dank air.

Their eyes meet. Krauser pauses for a moment. Then one corner of his otherwise hard-set mouth twitches up by a hair’s breadth. 

Leon coughs a spray of blood as the knife sinks deeper into his breast, eyes widening and breath catching in a wheeze as the wicked blade carves remorselessly into his chest cavity. The chill of sharp metal through the warmest, vitalest core of his body is beyond his mind’s ability to accurately comprehend. Above him, Krauser's ragged expression has twisted into something unreadable, scars blurring as Leon feels him force the knife another inch deeper to settle it fully into place, the guard pressed flat against his skin through the blood-drenched fabric of his jacket and shirt which are far too thin to offer any protection against the chill creeping into him. The tip scrapes bone somewhere under his shoulderblade; static runs up and down his spine and out to the ends of his fingers and toes, and nausea pools in the back of his throat. His head falls back, hands loosening where they'd been desperately trying to stop Krauser's attacks. He's---he's failed. And he knows - from the frantic fluttering just below his sternum every time he tries to take a breath, from the way the burning pressure in his chest cavity builds and builds like a volcano about to erupt, suffocating him in a tide of blood and crushing him within the cage of his own ribs, from the way Krauser’s lip curls in grim satisfaction - there will be no coming back from this one.

The knife shifts a fraction of an inch as Krauser releases it. Leon gasps another agonized sound, unable to feel anything but the radiating, piercing pain skewering his major organs. A moment later, Krauser removes the other hand from his bicep, evidently confident at this point that he's in no position to try anything. Krauser's knee brushes over Leon’s leg where he'd jammed it in the fighting, his broad chest emanating humid heat as he props an elbow next to Leon's head and lets his weight come to rest partly against Leon's uninjured side.

Leon finds himself leaning into the contact, unable to deny that it is perversely comforting.  The man’s body is solid, feels almost protective as it curls around him. And warm, so warm against his cooling skin, a blissful shelter from the chill which has been soaking through his limbs. Everywhere that isn't an inferno of pain has turned to ice, and he feels like he'll never be warm again. He won't, he realizes. Sudden memories of happier days make his heart ache in a different way, tears starting in his eyes. Warm sunshine and cozy rooms, smiles and laughter, back-slaps and tight embraces. Many of those people are dead. Some have been corrupted, bought out, turned traitor. The rest he fervently hopes are far away from here, safe from this nightmare. It's silly, to be crying as the life slowly stutters and drains from his broken, exhausted body, but Leon doesn't have the strength to stop himself. 

Krauser rumbles from somewhere deep in his ribcage, like the purr of a lion. "Give in, soldier. It's useless to hold on like this." His voice is the gravelly rasp that Leon once thought was caring. He knows better, now.

"F-fuck you," Leon wheezes, blinking heavily to fight off the black spots encroaching on his vision. He can't breathe right, and God it hurts to try. A rough hand cards through his hair, the sensation lost in the sudden numbness that's begin to tug at his consciousness with a gentle insistence that makes it impossible to want to fight. He struggles for a moment, overwhelmed by the panicked fluttering caged beneath his ribs, only to sob and let himself go limp a moment later. "I'm s-sorry."

He’s not quite sure who he’s saying it to. To the many people he couldn’t save from so many tragic, horrific hellholes. To the mentor who for so long he could never seem to please no matter how hard he tried, throwing himself into training until he was worn down to the bone but never good enough for the stern-faced Major. Or to the bright-eyed police academy recruit from so many years ago who thought he could somehow put the world to right. Maybe all of them.

"Stubborn." Krauser sounds almost fond, blue eyes fading in and out of focus. He strokes Leon's hair again. He seems to hesitate. "I'm sorry, too."

Leon’s body convulses weakly, some primitive instinct still struggling in vain against the raging sea of agony. Each breath is shallower than the last, a great weight pressing down on his chest until he's sure his ribs must be buckling in, choking him on mouthfuls of hot copper.

“Let it happen, Rookie.” Krauser’s hand brushes a last strand of hair from his forehead and tucks it behind his ear before curving to cup the back of his skull, tipping his head up slightly. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth finds Leon's somewhere in the darkness that's settled over the world, hot and sharp with the acrid tang of blood and smoke. It's shockingly nice. Scarred lips brush softly against his own, the soothing sensation of mingling tongues and skin on skin easing Leon's distress. Krauser is here, with him, kissing him. It's steadying, comfortable. Bittersweet.

Leon can’t breath, could barely anyways, but he finds this way he doesn’t mind so much. His throat spasms once, twice, three times for air he cannot have, before the shuddering muscles are quieted by a heavy palm on the crests of his collarbones.

He exhales, and the world ends. 

[goodpointsandbadpoints]

having fun isn't hard when you can cut up a bunch of your dad's magazines that he doesn't want anymore.

I'm at home now, so I thought I'd make a RE zine of some of my favorite bookmarked stories!

It's a fifteen-page booklet, but that's still not going to be enough for all 21 titles that I picked. I couldn't narrow it down any more than that! So my solution is I'm going to make extra page inserts (like @colesabi's Home in the third picture. that's technically an insert card, and I'm going to turn into a vertical page that goes over When Time Runs Out).

The point was to capture the general vibe of each story for me personally, so it's more of a surrealistic approach. Some of them use the summaries from ao3, while others use sections that I went and found. I am especially pleased with the background for Home, the general layout for @silvercap's Chemical, and that I found a picture of a taxidermy deer in an architecture magazine for @thebrandywine's cabin fever. iykyk.

there's also a timelapse, if anyone is interested in that kind of thing. I love a timelapse. It mostly shows how freeform my whole process is 😅.

[herbs-and-poultices]

The descriptions here are just. so. perfect.

I'm a big fan of cold weather whump, and add in an injury? Oh my.

for the whump drabble ask game... "frozen" and your character of choice please <33

For sure!! I got a little carried away on this one, haha. Something about spooky rotting frost BOWs...

Leon's so cold.

The frigid snow around him seems to have crawled into his very bones, the relentless blizzard pelting him with icy flakes that stick to his hair and cut through his jacket with every gust of wind. His toes ache as he runs, numb flesh pulsing painfully whenever his boots catch on the icy terrain, the cold leather doing nothing to hold in the heat. All he can see through the blinding snowfall are the forest's towering trees. The frozen air stings his lungs, gasping breaths turned painful in the plummeting temperatures, but he can't stop now. He can hear those creatures behind him, chittering voices crackling like breaking ice as they pursue him into the fading afternoon light. Blood drips from the wound in Leon's side, three vicious claw marks that sap his strength and leave a crimson trail behind him in the snow, undoubtedly leaving the perfect path for BOWs to follow.

He can't keep this up for much longer.

A shriek echoes over the trees, and Leon redoubles his pace, but a moment later he's slamming into the ground as something cold collides with his back. Stunned, he can only tuck into a roll, crying out when the grayish figure atop him sinks grotesque claws into the meat of his shoulder. In the blur of his vision he can just make out its withered, frostbitten skin, sheer cold emanating from its atrophied muscles like it's just been submerged in liquid nitrogen. Leon thrashes, wishing he still had his gun. The creature hisses, unnaturally long fangs visible in the twisted mess of its mouth. Leon grunts, bucking his hips to dislodge the thing and seizing the opportunity to reach for the single combat knife he has sheathed at his hip. He plunges it deep into the thing's neck, but not before its claws sink deeper, agony jolting through his shoulder as icy needles carve paths of cold deep into his arm. The monster slumps as Leon forces the blade upwards into its mushy skull, collapsing over him in a blanket of icy, rotted flesh.

"Fuck," Leon pants, gritting his teeth. He pushes tentatively at the claws embedded in his shoulder, groaning as they shift. His numb fingers are clumsy when he pulls back the shredded fabric of his jacket, breath catching at the sight of frostbitten wounds already turned a waxy white and frosted at the edges. They sting as if he's doused them in acid, and Leon's body suddenly feels several degrees colder.

Not good.

[sleeplesstories]

Zero Context WIP tag game

If you’re tagged, make a new post and share 1-2 (a few) sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

Thanks @silvercap for the tag!

“Say that again.” his breathing was getting more labored. And his eyes, those eyes have that same look in them that he used to hide away.

Anyone who wants to do this can join in!

[fonulyn]

6, 12, 29! :)

6. the word that appears the most in your current draft

depends on the draft! but for the truth serum fic the most common word is apparently "even". (after "Piers" and "Chris" lol) now i gotta check how much i overused it :'D

12. a trope you’re really into right now

uhmmmm idk if there's anything specific. i'm always into hurt/comfort. and domestic happy endings lol. i have been going through the most classic cliched tropes lately too lol for some reason.

i also somehow keep wanting to write breakups and getting back together? idk? but it goes into hurt/comfort so i'm sticking with that :'D

29. how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

depends greatly. sometimes it takes two seconds, sometimes i agonize over it for two days. some fics just have a certain vibe or mood or so, and it's easy to draw from! but then some fics are impossible to name. and sometimes i like a fic so much no name feels good enough :'D

thank you for asking! 😊

(for these asks!)

[colesabi]

Tag game: what color is your name?

Thanks for tagging me @vizishereig & @resident-rats

All three are wild choices but if I had to choose one out of the three that is the closest? Probably Sabine. The lilac and couple blues are really speaking to me.

lmao that colesabi is all green slop. Real on brand.

I tag: @lliinno-blog @bluemindscapes @thebrandywine @silvercap @crabbycatt-norai and anyone else who might want to participate. :3

[resident-rats]

Inspiration Saturday/Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you @tommybuckleys for the tag!

Part of my current STARS Chris x Rookie Leon gay bar/no zombies au WIP, that will probably finished… at some point lol. But Leon goes to a gay bar for the first time and bumps into Chris.

“Shit sorry-”

“God, didn’t see you there-”

The pair spoke in unison. At Least Leon hadn’t tipped his drink over the guy, that was a silver lining. Kinda.

Though upon standing back, Leon got a better look at the features of the other man, and they both unanimously reached the same conclusion.

Fuck, it was Chris. Chris Goddamn Redfield. From work.

His first instinct was to panic. Running away to a different city and changing his name wasn’t out of the question. Not entirely. Once reality set in however, maybe he could pretend not to recognise him? Or even better maybe he was new enough that Chris had no idea who he was.

“Leon, right?” Despite Chris keeping his cool, there was a small hitch in his voice towards the end. Perhaps he was in the same boat.

“Y-yeah.” It was okay, once he ran away and changed his name it would no longer matter.

Tagging: @colesabi @lightenupcowboy @sleeplesstories @silvercap and literally anyone else who wants to do this <33 No pressure to do this either!!

[welcome-leon]

thanks for the tag @vizishereig !!

tag game: pick 10 characters from 10 different fandoms

Ashley Graham, Resident Evil

Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney

Fenris, Dragon Age 2

Geralt of Rivia, The Witcher

Karlach, Baldur's Gate 3

Nyx, Hades

Dom, Animal Crossing

BD-1, Star Wars Fallen Jedi

Shaggy, Scooby Doo

Nudge, Maximum Ride

tagging: @thebrandywine @samblerambles @goodpointsandbadpoints @silvercap @ghostdice @illmetkismet and anyone else!