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#we have yet to figure it out
fleurmatisse · 2 months
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me 🤝 my mom 🤝 my brother: what the hell is that thing in the neighbors’ field
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waywardstation · 13 days
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Look for anything (or anyone) that could be familiar
For part two:
❤️ 300 likes
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Reblog with the hashtag:
🔼 for Ingo to find Emmet
🔽 for Emmet to find Ingo
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inkskinned · 2 years
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there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)
i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.
i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.
and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.
HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.
now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.
my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.
i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.
by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!
keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"
similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."
the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"
if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.
the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.
godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.
the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.
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emry-stars-art · 6 months
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When the misunderstanding is mutual but they’re both so sweet about it (coffee shop au edition)
Inspired by the tags below (originally on this post) from @blahblaheverythingisgay and @lovelyprincejehan accompanied by some thoughts:
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thank you for bringing this GALAXY brain take to my attention 😂 this guy comes in, all cagey about his past and his scars, always wearing baggy clothes but complaining about compression clothes (being on the run does a number on your joints and muscles), picking out a name for himself??? OBVIOUSLY he’s trans right
They somehow manage to have like three separate conversations about it without realizing they’re talking about two very different scenarios. Andrew only was so wrong for so long because scars on their own (and even being a criminal lbr) are such non-issues that it didn’t even occur to him that Neil could be talking about anything less important than being trans lol
Andrew had his little crisis about it and landed pretty solid on yeah he’s still into Neil regardless, and yeah he’s still super gay. He’ll figure out the rest from there. The only thing he didn't prepare for was Neil being uh. Cis
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 8 months
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Happy Year of the Dragon!
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idontcaboose · 3 months
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Haunted car au pt 4
Previous
Jason was worried. He bet the new kid some good money to just put a sticker on the Batmobile. It would serve B right for parking it so close to his Alley, and let him give the kid some cash for new clothes. The kid hadn't come back, though. It shouldn't have taken him this long. He had watched the alley that Bruce had parked, only to see the Batmobile launch out from in between the buildings and speed off. When he checked the alley, there was no kid. He knew the kid would not have been hit by the car, too many sensors for that, but where was he? Jason decided to make a call.
“Hey, O? Could you check the cameras where the Batmobile was just parked?”
“What a surprise Jay, what am I looking for?” Babs joked lightly, Jason could hear her typing though.
“A kid, adoption bait, gave him a bet to put a sticker on the Batmobile to piss off B. He never came back out and the Batmobile just left. He isn't in the alley.”
“I see him enter, but the cameras in the alley are spotty. It looks like he may have gone under the car, but the static gets bad after that. It clears up a bit after the Batmobile leaves. I don't see anyone leaving from the other side, though.” Barbara hummed.
“Wait, did the little punk try to put the sticker on the bottom of the car? Cheeky shit. B wouldn't have seen that for weeks, he just did a tune up.” Jason chuckled. “Kid probably got a zap from the anti-tamper B put on after that prank a few years back. But where did he go after that?”
“I don't know Jason, the only other way out could be the storm drain, he is small enough for it.”
“Little guy is probably mad at me if he did get zapped, he will come back for the money though.” Jason paused. “Keep an eye out though, he is fresh meat here and is still learning the ropes.”
“Of course Jay, does he have a name? Age?”
“Danny, though he is gaining the nickname 'Scrappy' for his tinkering and rabid fighting style. I think he is about 14 years old, but he is tiny. Some 10 year olds here are taller than him. He is almost like a mini-me, so keep him from the fam as much as you can.” Jason let his worry bleed into his voice, knowing Babs would keep it to herself.
“Understood, I will give you a call if I see him. Let me know if you find him first?” Barbara asked softly.
“ ‘Course, O.” Jason hung up and looked down the alley again, hoping the kid would pop up demanding the money, and hopefully more if he did get zapped. But silence was all he got.
Next
I got a pretty good timeline and bullet points plotted out. Granted, one just says, "2ish days' worth of Shenanigans".....
@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism
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hinamie · 3 months
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please any atla gojo lore. anything please im begging on my knees hands pressed together like im praying to god
I really wish I could anon :'> we tried to think of non-spoiler-y lore we could share but turns out every aspect of his character is either a. major spoilers or b. a near-direct echo of canon but make it atla flavoured (ie. his relationships w/ geto/shoko/nanami/haibara; him being The Strongest(tm) in-universe, etc). I guess there's technically the satosugu betrothal but that's already Public Knowledge given that there's art, plus the details are (surprise!) more spoilers
so ...yeah.... unfortunately you'll just have to wait to learn more about him in the fic :"> please accept this compensatory art as apology even though i am Not sorry in fact the pleas of the commonfolk make me cackle
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jjk atla!au with @philosophiums
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chaoticace2005 · 8 months
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Inspired by this fic: Something New (For Good Luck) - Chapter 1 - False_Fantasy - Hazbin Hotel (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]
@falsefantasy
Lucifer, talking to Husk and Angel: I’d take a page out of your boyfriend’s book and-
Angel: *spits out drink*
Husk: My what?
Lucifer:
Lucifer: Oh, sorry, are you two married? Okay, husband’s book-
Angel and Husk, both blushing: NO!
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helpimstuckposting · 3 months
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Ink5oul: “I made contact with some kind of power and it’s changed me, do you know what’s happening?”
Gwen: “Wow, I’m not sure but it sounds like you made contact with some kind of power and it changed you”
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skitskatdacat63 · 1 month
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Here are some other F3 Seb pics I thought were really cute
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si1verghosts · 3 months
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Hi!
3. A kiss on the forehead😌
helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33
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you taste like the 4th of july
di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)
wc: 3.5k
18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying
tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons
read on ao3
a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine
additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!
not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own
i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3
please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.
-----
"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.
You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.
Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.
He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.
You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.
You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.
Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."
You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.
Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."
Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.
Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.
She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"
You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."
"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.
"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."
With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.
Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"
Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."
Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.
"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.
"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."
You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."
He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.
Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.
You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."
He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"
"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."
He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"
He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"
It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"
She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."
"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"
She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."
You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.
Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"
"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."
"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."
"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."
"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.
He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."
With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.
Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.
Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."
"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."
He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."
You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.
He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."
You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.
It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.
But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.
You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.
He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.
"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.
He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.
A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.
He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.
You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.
Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.
You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.
"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.
You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.
Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.
He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."
He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.
"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.
He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."
He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.
"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.
"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.
"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.
He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.
"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."
You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.
He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.
He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.
His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.
Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.
Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.
But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.
"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"
"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."
He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.
"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.
You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.
Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.
"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"
"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."
"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."
She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"
She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"
Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"
You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.
Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.
"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."
Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.
Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.
You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.
He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."
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brbuttons · 4 months
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"It ain't no private island... but look at us, kid- all've us. We made it."
This was meant to be a quick design sketch and now it's a part of a whole post-game au that's consuming my mind. 10/10, canon ending of our heart.
[ comms // shop ]
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butchmartyr · 1 year
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ultimately you have to remember that complaining about "4chan white trans women who are bigoted and so and so" is almost entirely pointless for any purpose aside from raising transmisogynistic sentiments in observers. this specter of an evil tranny is constantly looming despite the individuals being rare and often total shut ins, and people expect transfems to take this shit seriously and be constantly swearing off association with """bad people""". these people, when they do exist, by and large lack the power to actually do anything with their beliefs; obviously if they do it sucks but this idea that there are trans women ~getting away with it~ and that all transfem communities allow and hide this behavior is blatantly transmisogynistic in addition to often being completely imagined! its insane to act like you have to choose between resisting white supremacy and resisting transmisogyny, and yet, people wind up continually portraying it as this
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omaano · 1 year
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Rex meets R4 once he's somewhat recovered from his 200 years of dying-not-dying in the vacuum of space. I cannot wait for you all to read @dharmaavocado's The Old Guard AU fic they wrote for the @rexobibang!
If I Ever Leave This World Alive
Out in the vast well of space, Obi-Wan dreamed a man. He drifted from system to system, eternal and endless. Time and the cold had rendered the durasteel shackles around his wrists and ankles weak and brittle, and he had snapped them at some distant point in the past. Arms and legs free, he curled inward, knees drawn up to his chest. The man died. And then he lived. In which Obi-Wan and Rex may never leave this world alive.
Check out the other fantastic art pieces by @flowerparrish HERE and HERE and by @inqorporeal HERE !!
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juney-blues · 9 days
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june egbert is proof that half of you people can't even comprehend the idea of a pre-transition trans woman.
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hoofpeet · 8 months
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I'd probably have to read the printed version and web version back to back at some point to note all the differences but... ough
#sorry i'm going to be excited about this comic for the next month#nofna#okay having finished this now--#and sorry if this doesn't make sense to anyone who's completely unfamiliar with this comic in advance-#the 'popcorn ending' (printed version) is nice to see but i think the web version hits harder. if that makes sense#so i'm kinda tied on which ending i 'prefer'- i think both are good though#also considering i've read the web version a good 4-5 times and the printed version only once- i probably can't make that judgement yet#easy answer- i do like Nutsedge :] so it's nice to see the ending where nothing bad happens to her#but also- NT suddenly becoming a greenie-esque villain out of nowhere felt a little jarring#as well as SV suddenly turning a corner and becoming a 'good guy' (arguable)- considering the first three books are about#/him being too stubborn to change or accept any outside worldviews . Him suddenly coming to his senses felt out of place#<- probably biased because i like characters being bitter to the end and ultimately destroyed by their own hubris#the web version is probably‚ objectively‚ a bit better#but -#(spoilers- if you're planning to drop ~70 bucks on getting these books)#the conceit of SV actually perfecting his style‚ using it once‚ and then immediately getting tooth-brained- was pretty cool#assuming it's meant to parallel him spending months tormented by trying to perfect it while something's still missing-#and then dying before he can narrate it to the audience‚ so that we never know what he figured out.#hard to articulate these thoughts but tl;dr- popcorn ending also had a lot to think about
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