Chewie The House-Elf

[peachymilkandcream]

Waiting For Your Call|RE9 Leon Kennedy x Wife!Reader

(A/N: I'm still on the Leon hype train what can I say, and I'm sure this has been done but I wanted to do some fluff) WARNINGS: mentions of past trauma, mentions of mental health issues, marital issues, alcoholism, aside from that pure fluff <3 etc.

What's Playing: "Mr. Loverman" ~Ricky Montgomery

"Hey. It's me."

You and Leon had been fighting for a while, petty fights that had gotten far more heated than they should have. Bickering about him not cleaning the coffee grounds out of the sink, or you forgetting to tidy up. Pointless pet peeves that you used to be able to let go of, now spats that never really got resolved, leaving you both more bitter than before it started.

You both reasoned that all couples fight, you were just going through a rough patch that would eventually get better. Even though the truth was something you refused to face.

It was never about the sink or the tidying, it was about the bigger issues that never got addressed. The things that were swallowing you whole but you couldn't bare to acknowledge. When it first started, you made a list, determined to talk through them, now it was just a list you kept revisiting, shameful that once again you hadn't had the courage to address the problems. Just like you were now. The list mocking you with your neatly printed writing.

Leon's job, how you hated that he kept it. It paid well, but putting him in danger more than you thought worth it. His insistence to keep it.

Kids. You wanted them, he didn't. He never explained why. You wanted to know why.

Leon's unwillingness to open up. You'd been understanding once, now there were somethings that were kept hidden that were tearing you two apart.

Leon's drinking. It had always been bad, but lately it had gotten worse.

Your jealousy. You couldn't help the gnawing fear that he secretly still pined after Ada. Even when he told you he didn't. (If he just told you honestly about what went on between them it would be easier. But he refused)

Both of your paranoia, both of you obsessively checking each other's locations to make sure the other was safe. Fearing when either of you left the house.

They were killing you. Slowly, like a poison micro dosed into the very air surrounding you. The joy and love you'd had for each other in the beginning being choked out until that was left was bitterness and resentment.

Days once filled with laughter and intimacy now cold and consumed with distance. You both woke up on opposite sides of the bed, silently preparing the day, leaving for work with one of Leon's cold pecks to the cheek. Coming home at different times, especially when you suspected Leon was staying late on purpose to avoid you. Staying up as late until he came home, falling asleep on the couch only for him to move you to bed when he came back.

A soulless routine, sucking the life out of you both. You weren't sure how much longer you could go on like this.

"I've got a call. I'll be back."

It was what he always said when he ran away to another crime scene. Once you knew that he would be back, sooner than later. Now you knew that he'd probably stumble in at two in the morning, sleep on the couch so you couldn't smell the beer on his breath. He still thought that you would scold him for it, when in truth you'd lost the energy to do so. Now you couldn't bring yourself to care like you once had. If he wanted to drink himself to death, all you could do was watch on the sidelines and worry.

"Do you have to take it?" It was what you always said, hoping that just once he'd say no. Stay home, where you could keep an eye on him, keep him away from temptations.

"I do."

But he never said no.

"What time will you be home?" Translation: "Are you going to the bar after work again?"

"Late, probably." Answer: "Yeah. I don't know when I'll be home."

"Stay safe, don't take any risks." You held up your face for the peck, trying to not let it show how much it hurt you to see him hesitate.

"I won't." His stubble scratches your cheek as he presses his lips to it without much warmth.

As Leon turns from you, you can't help but call out, in case he didn't know it.

"I love you."

Leon almost seems surprised to hear it, but quickly composes himself. "I love you too."

Before he shuts you out with the door closing behind him.

Leon hesitates, he should call. He has to call. He'd been gone for who knew how long, without so much as a word. Of course you'd be worried about him. How could you not be? He'd run off telling you that it was just to be a quick stop in, and then he'd disappeared, almost gotten himself killed. The news cameras had already been propped up, there was a good chance you were already watching.

And yet, he still hesitates.

Leon was a man who had stared death in the face countless times, almost died to his infection, and yet calling you was what terrified him the most. What would you say? Would this be enough to finally pull the plug on this marriage?

For the longest time, Leon hadn't particularly cared. He'd wanted you two to stay together, but the guilt he'd felt towards those he hadn't saved consumed him. You'd thought that giving him his space had been what he needed to get better, when in reality all it had done was give him an excuse to continue hiding. What you had thought was consideration had allowed him spiral. Could Leon even go back? Crawl out of this pit?

He had to. The infection sapping away all his strength had brought him low enough to realize that he couldn't live without you. All this time, you've been what allowed him to go on. Without you....Leon didn't know what he would do, a dark pit would open for him that he wouldn't be able to get out of. He'd do whatever it took to get you to stay.

With a sigh, Leon held the phone up to his ear, swallowing his nerves as it rang.

It only rang twice before you picked up, your barely audible breathing the only indication you were there. Waiting, hoping that it was him, that he was alright.

"Hey, it's me." It's all he could say, his throat suddenly tight with emotion.

"Leon? Where are you? Are you alright?" It killed him how worried you sounded.

"I'm just fine gorgeous."

"I'm watching the news, don't tell me you were there."

Leon sighs, raking a hand through his hair as he turns his face towards one of the news cameras, giving it a sheepish grin and small wave.

"...You bastard." Clearly he'd been in frame.

"I'm alright sweetheart, in fact, I feel better than I have in a long time. Once this mess is all sorted I'm on my way home."

"Actually this time?" It was a loaded question, like you were more so asking if he had a change of heart on something.

"Yeah, I'll be home before you know it." He glances at the various DSO agents and medics around and ducks into a quieter corner. "I think we should talk about some things. Actually talk."

Your breath catches. "I think we should to."

"I...I miss you. And I don't think I say it enough when I'm gone. But I miss you and can't wait to come to you."

The pause is enough to make Leon question if it was too late, if you no longer felt that way about him.

"I miss you too. I can't wait to see you."

Leon can't hide the small smile that comes to his face, how his heart soars. "I gotta go wrap it up here, and then I'm off. See you in a bit sweetheart."

"Bye, I love you."

The grin on his face widens. "I love you too."

You paced, constantly checking the window for his Porsche to pull up. It was pathetic, how desperate you were to see him. And yet you couldn't deny the relief at seeing those headlights finally pull into the driveway, the engine turn off.

Running to the front door you post yourself, waiting, heart in your throat. Would anything be different? Did he have a change of heart? Would things be different? Or would you both just slide right back into your toxic routine?

The handle turned and there he was, dishevelled, exhausted, but with a light in his eyes when he looked at you that you'd missed so dearly. Like he'd been waiting his whole life just to lay eyes on you.

"Hey gorgeous."

It was enough to send you flying into his arms. Kissing him with every once of passion and longing that you'd kept bottled up this whole time. Kissing him like you'd been starved of him for far too long and finally got a taste.

Leon met you in the kiss, taking you in his arms while kicking the door closed. Each of you hungry and and desperate, missing the feel of your lips pressed together.

It had been far too long.

"I missed you so much-" You breathed against his lips.

"I know sweetheart." His hands slid up your body to hold either side of your neck. "I know I've been lacking, but I promise, I'll always come back to you."

A glance down at your lips is enough to have Leon pull you in once more, gripping you like he was afraid to let you go.

It was the old Leon that you had loved and missed so terribly, brought back to you. And for once in a long time, you had hope.

[thefriendlypigeon]

A whispering wind through wheat and gold,

The sun slips low, the air turns cold.

Boots on rails, worn heart in tow,

He walks where only shadows go.

A bag half-empty, jacket frayed,

By time and truths he’s not yet weighed.

Each mile he moves, a thread unwinds—

Of hunts to come, of ghosts and signs.

But now he's just a boy alone,

With nowhere safe, and no real home.

He doesn’t know what he will face,

What love he'll lose, what blood he'll chase.

He only knows the road is long—

As he carries on, the wayward son.

🌾🌾🌾

[thefriendlypigeon]

The water’s warm and still with time, its surface green with age and grime.

A boy too young, a heart too wide, he leans back, watching the sky.

but all that’s coming, all that’s near, will burn those wishes into fear.

For now, he breathes the summer air, and lets it tangle in his hair.

🍉🥤🍉🥤🍉🥤

👉COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN👈

[my social media links]

[veeaziel]

every day i am percieved™️

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

There is a reason for this though!

The original tweet summarizes it pretty well. Fanfic tends to be popular among certain types of neurodivergent people (aka people most likely to read excessively as a child, and have burnout as an adult) for the same reasons that we tend to hyperfixate–neurochemical signaling (I hope I’m using that phrase correctly). What I mean is, for people who are really dependent on changes in dopamine/serotonin/neurotransmitter levels, who have low levels or wonky neural reward systems (perhaps the most common types of neurodivergence)…people like us rely on dependable external sources of those neurochemicals. In order to function, we spend a lot of our free time trying to level out our brain chemistry using things that can reliably bring us a steady stream of joyful moments (rewards) without costing too much of the mental effort that is already in short supply. 

significantly: the investment of reading has to be balanced with a steady “return on investment”–and this return has to start fairly quickly. because again, we don’t have a lot of attention/energy to invest on tiring things. we have perpetual “low batteries” in that regard.

that doesn’t mean these stories are “simple,” or that they lack complexity or value–only that the reward has to come in short regular intervals, and it has to have a low “upfront cost.” these stories are only “easy” to read in the sense that the effort we put into them is rewarded in a timely manner. which is why fanfic stories are so perfectly formulated for neurodivergent readers–they are often beautifully written, but skip a lot of the upfront costs (of introducing new characters, of world-building, of getting the audience emotionally connected to the story elements).

the nature of fanfiction is that the reader has a pre-existing relationship with this world and these characters. that–combined with the shorter average length of fics–means that fan fics very quickly start rewarding the reader in a way that traditional fiction struggles to. that’s not a bad thing! and maybe it’s something more traditionally published writers should be paying attention to.

Fanfic, as a genre, has been uniquely helpful and accessible to many neurodivergent readers who would otherwise struggle to immerse themselves in stories. I’m glad so many of you have found a way to love and enjoy reading again! The important thing is that you are spending time inside stories you love–the way those stories are published or presented to the world is just one detail. The fact that you find joy in the process of reading (or listening!) to stories–that is what matters.

[satirenatural]

[phillip-bankss]

my chiikawa fanart 2

[biscuitsandspices]

Encouragment for writers that I know seems discouraging at first but I promise it’s motivational-

• Those emotional scenes you’ve planned will never be as good on page as they are in your head. To YOU. Your audience, however, is eating it up. Just because you can’t articulate the emotion of a scene to your satisfaction doesn’t mean it’s not impacting the reader. 

• Sometimes a sentence, a paragraph, or even a whole scene will not be salvagable. Either it wasn’t necessary to the story to begin with, or you can put it to the side and re-write it later, but for now it’s gotta go. It doesn’t make you a bad writer to have to trim, it makes you a good writer to know to trim.

• There are several stories just like yours. And that’s okay, there’s no story in existence of completely original concepts. What makes your story “original” is that it’s yours. No one else can write your story the way you can.

• You have writing weaknesses. Everyone does. But don’t accept your writing weaknesses as unchanging facts about yourself. Don’t be content with being crap at description, dialogue, world building, etc. Writers that are comfortable being crap at things won’t improve, and that’s not you. It’s going to burn, but work that muscle. I promise you’ll like the outcome.

[heyitsmetonid]

For any writers that need encouragement

[thefriendlypigeon]

Up high in the swaying tree Sits a fledgling, finally free With curious eyes, the angel sees The world move on in mysteries— He listens close, he learns, he stays, Bathed in gold, in fleeting days.

💛I wanted to draw a young, wild haired Castiel (pre-Dean era) that just sits around in trees like the autistic weirdo he is 💛

Patreon

👉COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN👈

[my social media links]

[darkandstormydolls]

PSA to all historical fiction/fantasy writers:

A SEAMSTRESS, in a historical sense, is someone whose job is sewing. Just sewing. The main skill involved here is going to be putting the needle into an out of the fabric. They’re usually considered unskilled workers, because everyone can sew, right? (Note: yes, just about everyone could sew historically. And I mean everyone.) They’re usually going to be making either clothes that aren’t fitted (like shirts or shifts or petticoats) or things more along the lines of linens (bedsheets, handkerchiefs, napkins, ect.). Now, a decent number of people would make these things at home, especially in more rural areas, since they don’t take a ton of practice, but they’re also often available ready-made so it’s not an uncommon job. Nowadays it just means someone whose job is to sew things in general, but this was not the case historically. Calling a dressmaker a seamstress would be like asking a portrait painter to paint your house

A DRESSMAKER (or mantua maker before the early 1800s) makes clothing though the skill of draping (which is when you don’t use as many patterns and more drape the fabric over the person’s body to fit it and pin from there (although they did start using more patterns in the early 19th century). They’re usually going to work exclusively for women, since menswear is rarely made through this method (could be different in a fantasy world though). Sometimes you also see them called “gown makers”, especially if they were men (like tailors advertising that that could do both. Mantua-maker was a very feminized term, like seamstress. You wouldn’t really call a man that historically). This is a pretty new trade; it only really sprung up in the later 1600s, when the mantua dress came into fashion (hence the name).

TAILORS make clothing by using the method of patterning: they take measurements and use those measurements to draw out a 2D pattern that is then sewed up into the 3D item of clothing (unlike the dressmakers, who drape the item as a 3D piece of clothing originally). They usually did menswear, but also plenty of pieces of womenswear, especially things made similarly to menswear: riding habits, overcoats, the like. Before the dressmaking trade split off (for very interesting reason I suggest looking into. Basically new fashion required new methods that tailors thought were beneath them), tailors made everyone’s clothes. And also it was not uncommon for them to alter clothes (dressmakers did this too). Staymakers are a sort of subsect of tailors that made corsets or stays (which are made with tailoring methods but most of the time in urban areas a staymaker could find enough work so just do stays, although most tailors could and would make them).

Tailors and dressmakers are both skilled workers. Those aren’t skills that most people could do at home. Fitted things like dresses and jackets and things would probably be made professionally and for the wearer even by the working class (with some exceptions of course). Making all clothes at home didn’t really become a thing until the mid Victorian era.

And then of course there are other trades that involve the skill of sewing, such as millinery (not just hats, historically they did all kinds of women’s accessories), trimming for hatmaking (putting on the hat and and binding and things), glovemaking (self explanatory) and such.

TLDR: seamstress, dressmaker, and tailor are three very different jobs with different skills and levels of prestige. Don’t use them interchangeably and for the love of all that is holy please don’t call someone a seamstress when they’re a dressmaker

[thefriendlypigeon]

James being punished for his sins 🔪🔪🔪

Prints available here!

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[my social media links]

[yv-sketches]

Do you ever read a fic so interesting you want behind the scenes lore, ten pinterest moodboards and one of those fancy .gif edits but none of that exists bc it's a fanfic?

[granny-griffin]

fun fact! most fanfic authors would be thrilled to provide behind the scenes lore! all you have to do is ask about it! they may even have a fic playlist or moodboard

[ellatholmes]

it’s always “oh you’re writing? when will you be published and famous??” and never “oh you’re writing? come sit down and talk to me about every aspect of it unprompted for 6 hours”

[lesbianboyfriend]

the best part about having a job is being able to go through doors other people aren’t allowed to use the worst part is everything else

[raw-detergent]

Dean Winchester is saved.

[ghosthan]

Okay, Cas was raised super religious but when he got out, he got the Dean tattoo (they were/are dating) and he's FWB with Meg (they do love each other) and anyways alt bisexual Megstiel that is all thanks, featuring close-ups on some of the tattoos bc they took forever to draw

[chewiehouseelf]

I kind of dig this

[winchestergifs]

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 132/327 (part 2)

6.10 Caged Heat Written by Brett Matthews & Jenny Klein Directed by Robert Singer Original Air Date: December 3, 2010

[chewiehouseelf]

Re-read All Shook Up by @teaandchess last night and fell in love with it all over again. I remember why I loved it so much in the first place. Such a wholesome emotional ride.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361389/chapters/28117854

(The work is limited to registered users only now. You need to log in to read.)

[hawkland]

Hello hello and I can't tell you how excited I am for this one. Finally I have had the chance to collaborate with @autisticandroids — and with some Megstiel, no less! On a story for the SPN Angels & Demons Reverse Bang: "not him/not her/not me."

The painting below was actually the first piece I did for the @spnangelsanddemons-rb. I really wanted to get some Megstiel out of this bang, and while deep in my pre-Raphaelite fixation I discovered Sidney Meteyard's Hope Comforting Love in Bondage, and, well...even the title of the art piece seemed perfect to me.

Those wings took me FOREVER, I'll have you know. I wanted Meg's dress to look like blood/demon smoke...and I feel like it ended up with a bit of a Francis Bacon feel as well? Anyway, it was a really fun (if at times tedious) piece to work on but I love how it came out in the end.

The Meg piece was actually something I'd started a long time ago, ended up shelving for over a year, but in thinking about how the story was going I reworked it and finished it to go with the Empty/demon smoke vibes:

I also did this piece as a close-up of Cas's eyes...originally I wasn't quite sure what project it would be for, but in the end @autisticandroids jumped on it to go with this story and who am I to object?

>>Read "not him/not her/not me" at AO3 here<<