how it feels when one of your hyperfixations comes back and stronger than ever
how it feels when one of your hyperfixations comes back and stronger than ever
how it feels when one of your hyperfixations comes back and stronger than ever
styofa doing anything
hello vonnie
ojovivo
dirt enthusiast

★

shark vs the universe
Three Goblin Art

if i look back, i am lost

pixel skylines

⁂
RMH
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Love Begins
Peter Solarz
d e v o n

No title available

#extradirty

JVL
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
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@oneevilresident
how it feels when one of your hyperfixations comes back and stronger than ever
how it feels when one of your hyperfixations comes back and stronger than ever
how it feels when one of your hyperfixations comes back and stronger than ever
𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝-𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫. 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞-𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧. —“𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫,” 𝑫𝒖𝒏𝒆, 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 (𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟓)
This applies to a certain kind of people, you KNOW who you are:
“I wanna fuck [fictional character]!” “Just one night with [fictional character(s)]!” “My girl doesn’t [insert sexual activity] that’s why I cheat!” “It’s too small.” “It’s not pink.” “[Fictional character] is sooo fuckable.” “She doesn’t know how to do it right.” “He’s too small to feel good, I should break up with him.” “[Fictional character] is so boring but I’d still smash.” “She’s boring, I need two at once.” “My man doesn’t [insert sexual activity] should I break up with him?”
“LATINA FETISH, ASIAN FETISH, BLACK FETISH, he’s too chopped, she’s too chopped, BLAH BLAH BLAH!”
I dont understand why human beings are so, so, so, soooo SOOOOOOO FUCKING obsessed with sex. Hypersexual as fuck. It’s literally everywhere. It’s all you talk about. It’s fucking annoying. We get it, sex is fun, smut is fun too, moderation, people. WHY is sex/sexual content always being shoved up our ass ANY CHANCE ANYONE GETS?!! Is it all you people think about?!!?? So many of this world’s problems would be fixed if humans weren’t so hyperfixated on SEX? (You know who you are)
Why does no one ever say “I wanna cuddle with him.” “I love her personality, she makes me feel so special.” “He’s so sweet.” “I wanna buy her a cute dress.” “I’ll always love him and him only.”
I don’t need a sex obsession to be in a relationship. I don’t need sex to be happy. Neither should you.
TLDR: I think sexualizing characters/people IS COMPLETELY OKAY, but I’ve seen sooooo many people who make it their entire fucking personality and all they can think about 24/7 is dick or pussy AND ITS FUCKING ANNOYING.
Edit: To those pussies sending me anonymous inbox messages, I D O N' T G I V E A F U C K :)
Despite it all it's still you... Leon Kennedy over the years bc i love resident evil now
bsky
Pictures. (Leon Kennedy)
Summary: you love to take pictures of everything, but Leon only loves taking pictures of you.
Since the very first moment you got a camera in your hands, you knew that had become your thing.
Everyone had something that made them special, something that quietly defined the way they moved through the world. Some people were good with words. Others were good at music, sports, painting, cooking, or any number of talents that made people turn their heads in admiration.
And you?
You got the camera.
It had started when you were young, with a small second-hand device that barely worked properly. The lens had scratches, the battery barely lasted an hour, and sometimes the pictures came out slightly crooked because the focus wheel refused to behave.
But none of that mattered.
Because the moment you looked through that lens for the first time, something clicked in your mind in the most natural way possible.
You liked moments.
Small ones. Quiet ones. The kind people usually forgot five minutes later.
And you liked the idea that a picture could make those moments last a little longer.
So you spent years taking photographs. Friends laughing during lunch breaks, sunlight filtering through trees during late afternoons, the expression people made when they thought nobody was looking. You learned to notice details others ignored, little gestures that meant happiness, comfort, affection.
People smiled for you when they saw the camera.
And you captured their happiness like a tiny collector of memories.
That was one of the first things Leon noticed about you.
The camera.
At first he thought it was just a hobby. Something you carried around for fun, the same way some people carried notebooks or sketchpads.
But it did not take long for him to realize the camera was almost an extension of you.
You always had it nearby.
Hanging from your neck during walks. Resting on the table beside your coffee cup during quiet afternoons. Sometimes tucked carefully inside your bag but ready to appear the moment you spotted something interesting.
Leon loved it.
He absolutely adored watching you enjoy that small part of life.
Before meeting you, he had never cared much about photographs. He had one or two pictures from his college days stored somewhere, old memories with friends who now lived completely different lives.
They were the kind of photos people took simply to remember that a moment had happened.
But Leon had never been the type to pull out his phone and take selfies or document everything around him.
So watching you at first was a little shocking.
You could stop in the middle of a conversation because the light looked beautiful through a window. You could interrupt a walk because someone’s dog was doing something funny in the park.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Your old camera made that soft mechanical sound every time you pressed the button.
At first Leon noticed it constantly.
But after months of hearing that familiar click echo through everyday moments, he got used to it.
More than that.
He started to like it.
There was something peaceful about the way you looked when you focused on a photo. Your brows slightly furrowed in concentration, your lips forming that small pout when you tried to adjust the angle just right.
You looked completely absorbed in the moment.
Leon often watched quietly while you moved around searching for the perfect frame.
But there was one small detail about all this that you never noticed.
You were the one taking pictures all the time.
Birthdays, casual hangouts with friends, quiet movie nights, little picnics in the park, spontaneous road trips. You were always there with the camera ready to freeze the memory before it disappeared.
But because you were the one behind the lens, you were almost never in the frame.
At first Leon did not think much about it.
Then one evening he scrolled through the pictures you had taken over the past few months.
There were hundreds of them.
Friends laughing.
Food on restaurant tables.
Sunsets.
Street lights glowing in rainy evenings.
And occasionally Leon himself, caught mid conversation or smiling at something you had said.
But you?
You were almost nowhere.
Maybe once or twice when someone else borrowed the camera.
But that was it.
Leon stared at the screen longer than necessary.
Then he made a quiet decision.
If you were always the one taking pictures, then someone else had to take pictures of you.
And apparently that someone was going to be him.
Leon did not say anything about it.
He simply started paying more attention.
The first picture he took was completely spontaneous.
You were sitting on the couch, adjusting the settings on your camera while complaining softly that the lighting in the room was terrible. Your lips were slightly pursed in concentration and one eye was half closed while you tried to focus the lens.
Leon lifted his phone quietly.
Click.
The photo was not perfect.
Actually, it was a little blurry.
But the expression on your face made him smile.
So he kept it.
Then he took another one a few days later.
You were standing near the kitchen window early in the morning, sunlight falling across your hair while you examined a picture you had taken outside.
Click.
Then another during a walk in the park when you crouched down to photograph a tiny flower growing through a crack in the pavement.
Click.
Leon was not a photographer.
He did not know anything about angles or lighting or composition. Half the time he did not even realize his finger was partially covering the lens.
But that did not stop him.
Weeks passed.
Then months.
And without noticing, Leon built an entire collection.
Photos of you laughing. Photos of you concentrating on your camera. Photos of you drinking coffee while staring outside a window.
Some were blurry.
Some were crooked.
Some had his finger accidentally visible in the corner.
But every single one of them captured something real.
You eventually discovered them by accident.
It happened one evening while you were sitting beside him on the couch.
Leon had left his phone unlocked on the table while he went to grab something from the kitchen. You reached for it absentmindedly when a notification popped up.
And that was when you saw it.
The photo.
It was you.
Holding your camera, lips forming that familiar little pout while you tried to adjust the focus.
Your eyes widened slightly.
When Leon returned a moment later, you were still staring at the screen.
“Leon?” you asked softly.
He glanced at the phone in your hands.
Then he shrugged.
Like it was no big deal.
“You took that?” you asked.
“Yeah.”
Your heart did something strange in your chest.
You tapped the screen again, opening the gallery.
And then you froze.
There were so many pictures.
Dozens of them.
Maybe even more.
Photos of you everywhere.
Someone might have thought it was actually your phone instead of his.
None of them looked professional like the ones you took. Some were blurry, some crooked, some accidentally zoomed too far in or taken from awkward angles.
But they were perfect.
Because they were you.
Moments you had never realized someone was watching.
Moments where you were simply existing without thinking about how you looked or whether the lighting was right.
When you finally looked up at Leon again, your chest felt warm in a way you had not expected.
“You took all of these?”
He scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeah. I figured someone should.”
“Why?”
Leon seemed to think about the question for a second.
Then he shrugged again, a little embarrassed this time.
“You're always the one taking pictures,” he said simply. “So I thought… maybe someone should take some of you too.”
Your throat tightened slightly.
Because that was exactly it.
Photography had always been your way of showing love. Capturing people you cared about, freezing their smiles and laughter so those moments could last forever.
And somehow Leon had understood that.
Even though he knew nothing about cameras.
Even though his photos were messy and imperfect.
He had done the same thing for you without hesitation.
You closed the phone slowly.
Then you leaned closer and wrapped your arms around him.
Leon blinked in surprise.
“What?” he asked.
You only smiled softly against his shoulder.
Because for someone who claimed he knew nothing about photography, Leon Kennedy had captured something very important.
You.
Baby Leon picture for all of you, thanks for reading 🫂
:((
Lost so much of himself just to help people find hope. Seeing 21 year old Leon genuinely breaks my heart so much.
All he wanted was to be a cop and help. So bright eyed and full of life, now hes completely stripped of the rookie he once was. I would think he couldnt even remember back to himself at that age. Not Raccoon City, not the virus. But him.
This poor man, dude 💔