#It's better to think of it as critique that I can either keep in mind
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you ever miss your comfort character so bad you gotta go outside about it
#idk i've been pretty stressed that's probably why i randomly got rly sad abt it#and by it i mean the uh. gestures vaguely at fandom i guess#either nobody's there or it feels like i'm not exactly welcome. or both! which tough shit i'mma take up the space regardless but like#this weird sense of elitism I get in a space that's built by and nurtured by people whose MO is 'caring a lot' is.. hm.. interesting#idk just got reminded this morning that some people view critique as a free pass to drag a creator through the mud#when what you SHOULD be doing is uplifting them so that they can improve and reach their maximum potential. you clown. you absolute buffoon#it wasn't targeted at me or anything it just made me so angry/sad. smad. i'm smad about it#i just get hit with a wave of what's the point. what's the fucking point nobody cares abt things made with passion for the love of the game#we don't have time/it's not good enough/it doesn't matter/it's been done better/why x when we have y#and you know what fair enough everyone's entitled to their own emotional responses of course.#if you think your opinion is reason enough to tear it down then we're gonna have to agree to disagree on that one i think#just keep in mind that you could have loved what they made. other people could have loved it. it could have changed something for someone.#i personally know artists and have worked with artists who have put so so much effort into making something work over and over and over#only to have no audience and get back up saying guys let's give this just one more try.#hell back in the day I was an accomplished writer kid who was told that you may be good but nobody gives a fuck#artists who use up all these resources just to bring something new into the world and nobody's looking. what's the point. what's the point#anyway. i'm gonna go wade through the snow for a bit maybe sink my bare hands into it you guys want anything#started the post thinkin abt my blorbos ending it crying putting my shoes on alright I'm going I'm GETTING the FRESH AIR fuck off#i'll be god once i've gotten a bottle of coke and some mozzarella sticks. wait am i pmsing. fuck#god i hate that i don't drink sometimes.
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don’t have to pretend | blake hughes au




[blake hughes au]
summary: how blake hughes and nico hischier finally confess their feelings for each other
word count: 4.1k

“Nico, you know you don’t have to keep coming over anymore,” Blake whispered. she had been thinking a lot about their relationship lately, or lack thereof. she didn’t know how much longer she could take being so incredibly infatuated with him but unable to say anything.
Nico looked confused, like the idea of not coming over to visit Blake was incomprehensible. Blake stared at Nico, waiting for him to respond. she hoped he would say that he wanted to be with her, that he had feelings for her… anything to suggest that he wasn’t just here to make her brothers playing less sloppy. she had watched the games, she knew that Jack was struggling and the reason was probably her.
“I want to come over,” Nico finally responded, and although that's what Blake wanted to hear it wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it would be.
They both sat in silence for a moment, drinking hot chocolates out of mugs decorated with little ice skates. “yeah but, if you’re here just because of Jack then-”
“I’m not,” Nico butted in. They both stared at each other.
“Right well,” Blake was the first to shift away from Nico’s heated gaze, uncomfortable in whatever awkward tension she had just created.
Nico cursed himself in his mind. She doesn’t want you like that, he kept repeating over and over again. Although, no matter how many times he told himself that Blake wasn’t interested in him, he would still hold out on any string of hope that he had.
They had really connected over the few months that they had gotten to know each other, and either would be damned if they let that all go to waste. So, they both held on without knowing that the other person felt the exact same way.
*
“You're going to get cold,” Jack had pointed out to Blake as he picked her up to go out. but of course, she decided against better judgement and had decided to wear her sluttiest top without any form of coverup so that she wouldn’t chicken out.
Jack hadn’t mentioned Blakes tiny top, and so she counted it as a win that his critique came in the form of needing something warm. “Like, I'm seriously not going to give you my jacket when you start complaining,” he continued with the roll of his eyes.
“If all goes well tonight i won't need your jacket,” Blake had rebutted to Jack's distaste.
“Yeah well, with your luck you're going to be single forever so I'll be waiting for you to complain about the cold,” Jack teased.
“Right and… where’s your girlfriend?” Blake played into the sibling banter. “Last I saw your ex was on a lingerie mag and here you are… coming over to your sister's place before going out so she can help you pick out an outfit….”
“Right, okay I'm done fighting now!” Jack said, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “But seriously, do these pants match with this top,”
“You're wearing black skinny jeans, anything you wear is going to match, now go!” Blake responded, shooing Jack out of her apartment and into the hallway. She looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time before leaving, making a mental note to put on some more lip gloss in the car.
“Who are you trying to impress anyway?” Jack had shouted once he and Blake got inside the bar. He was trying to find his teammates among the crowd, but it was no luck.
“None of your business!” she shouted back, catching the boy of her affections eye from across the bar. “Nico’s over there!” she yelled, turning to her brother who was already being pulled into conversation by somebody else. It seemed like fate was on Blake's side as she made long strides over to Nico who was, luckily, alone.
Nico looked hot, and god… the things Blake wanted to do to him… she should be locked up.
Blake wasn’t the only one appreciating the view though, because Nico was very clearly checking out his teammate's sister. His eyes trailed down Blakes face and onto her top, and if Blake had noticed him shift in his seat she hadn’t said anything.
“You look good tonight!” Nico had leaned over so that Blake could hear him through the loud music. Blakes face burned at his comment, and she was glad that the bar's lighting was dim otherwise it would be very obvious that she liked her brother's captain. although, liked seemed like a very meager word when her whole world turned upside down upon seeing his dimples.
“And you look very handsome!” Blake had turned her head close to his. She was going to need a few drinks if she was going to be this close to him all night. Especially, when all his teammates were here.
Nicos face lit up with a smile, and Blakes immediately matched it with a bright smile of her own.
“Sit beside me,” Nico said, pulling out the last empty chair beside him. He was still waiting for his drink.
Blake easily complied, smoothly sliding the bar stool as close to Nico as was possible without raising suspicions. “So….”
“Soo…” Nico copied Blake, both giggling at each other. They were two lovesick fools and yet, they didn’t recognize that the other was also helplessly in love.
“So, how have you been?” Blake smiled, leaning an elbow onto the bar so that she was even closer to the brown eyed man. She was so down bad…
“I’ve been good, just waiting for a pretty girl to come sit with me, you?” he replied flirtatiously.
“I’m really good! just waiting for a hot man to order me a drink…” she trailed off, focusing her gaze away from Nico and back to the bar staff.
“What do you want?” he said, already pulling out his wallet.
A bartender came over to their section, dropping off a cold beer in front of Nico while offering all sorts of apologies for the wait time. He waved the waiter ramblings off, and instead looked towards Blake for her order.
“A vodka cran,” she told the bartender, “double shot”
Nico had handed over the cash.
After some more harmless flirting, Nico led Blake back to the team’s table where she was greeted by everyone.
“Nice outfit,” one of the boys piped up, eyes trailing down Blakes body. she was wearing some jeans and a tight corset top that pushed her boobs up just right…
“Don’t talk to my sister,” Jack huffed, swatting the guy in the chest.
At Jack's words, your eyes immediately turned to catch Nico’s who was already staring at you. He looked torn, and before you could make any sort of move to question him he was shuffling chairs and sitting as far away from Jack as was possible.
All night, Blake had been trying to catch Nico’s attention from down the table. He barely glanced in her direction for the rest of the night, and now she was afraid that when he did she’d start to cry. She felt so pathetic as the other guy's attention fell to her chest, reminding her that the guy she was trying to get wanted nothing to do with her at this moment.
“I'm going to get another drink,” Blake said as she swirled the ice around in her cup. Jack nodded at her, and then she was walking towards the bar by herself.
Blake let the bartender make her “something special”, and she sat at the bar watching him pour a shit ton of juice and gin into her cup.
“Hey, you new here?” Some guy, blond and skinny sat in one of the many available seats next to Blake.
“uh no i’m not. Is that your opening line?” she huffed, giving the bartender a tip when she finally came back with her drink. Yes, Blake was being rude to the guy but she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Something that was impossible to happen in a bar at 1am.
“Uh, can I have this dance?” The guy tried to correct himself, and Blake cringed as a mix of two songs from 2010 blared through the bars speakers.
“No you cant-” Blake said, just as her head turned just enough for her to see a girl approach Nico. she couldn’t make out what they were saying, just that he was smiling in the same way he was earlier.
“Actually,” Blake corrected herself, and the blond guy turned to his group of friends as if to say “i told you so, girls cant resist my charm…”
the girl touched Nicos arm… “I’ll dance with you!” Blake forced a smile onto her face, turning back to the bar one last time to take a large swig out of her drink.
The blond guy grabbed her hand, and with a deep breath Blake let herself be dragged onto the dance floor which was coincidentally right beside the table filled with her brother's friends.
The blond guy, who still didn't have a name, spun Blake around so that her back was against his front. she tried to lean back into him, but it all felt so wrong.
The guy guided her hips, and her face heated up in shame as her brother's teammates started turning their attention towards her.
Blake turned herself back around, now facing the guy who brought her to dance. they swayed together for a few more minutes, and as soon as the next song finished Blake was immediately bidding her goodbyes.
She rushed over to the table, ignoring the blond guy's shouts for her snap. she grabbed her purse from her brother's chair. “Can we please leave Jack,” she practically yelled in his ear.
he turned to his sister with a look of concern in his eyes. “Did he do something..?” he said, gesturing to the guy from earlier who was now retreating back to his group of friends.
Blake shook her head. “I think i’m getting a headache,”
Jack stood up then, waving to his teammates as he bid them all goodbyes.
Nico had tried to catch Blakes eyes, but she refused to look in his direction.
By the time she and Jack got out to the car, she could feel tears of frustration threatening to fall. She had to keep her head glued to the window so as to not raise any suspicions with Jack, who was well… oblivious to all things that weren't in his direct line of sight.
“Thanks for driving me home!” her words were rushed as she scrambled out of his car. “I’ll call you in the morning!”
When her apartment door slammed shut behind her, Blake broke out into quiet sobs. She just wanted the mood from seeing Nico at the bar to continue for the rest of the night. It seemed that despite how hard she tried, nothing would ever come out of whatever she and Nico had going on.
*
When Blake was 15, she had dated this guy who had lived a few doors down from her. The relationship didn’t last long, but sometimes Blake liked to think about the boy who broke her heart. Usually at night, usually when she was upset, and usually when she had nothing better to do than upset herself with her own life's events.
He had been nice at first, someone Jack had talked to a few times when he was out playing street hockey. She couldn't remember if Ryder had ever joined Jack and her brothers games, but that didn’t matter much anyway.
What mattered was Blake overhearing him tell his group of friends that the only reason he was dating her was because she was going to compete in the olympics.
“she’s like, the perfect girlfriend to have,” he had said to his friends. “i never have to see her, she's a champion, and like, I can make out with her and shit whenever i want,”
The last part hurt the most. Ryder was the first guy she had ever kissed and really been with. She didn’t have time to have boyfriends that weren’t always at the rink or the gym. Her seeking out Ryder and being with him was her own little act of deviance.
Now that she’d gone to enough therapy sessions though, she was sure that the reason she wasn’t upset that he was with her because of her titles was because she wanted to be with herself because of her titles. When she was younger, she was solely defined by her medals. Therefore, it came to no surprise to Blake that her relationships would be defined by her achievements too.
Anyway, that didn’t stop her crying to her older brother about the whole thing.
She had bursted through Quinn’s door, tears silently streaming down her face as she fell face first onto his bed. He had brushed her hair from her face, asking her what was wrong.
“He’s using me,” she had said, and Quinn looked upset enough for the both of them.
“He’s such a fucking asshole,” he had said, looking at his younger sister with so much pity. “He doesn’t deserve somebody like you,”
At the time, Blake wasn’t sure what “somebody like you,” had meant. All her life she was defined by her skills, her body, her wins and loses… she wished figure skating and relationships didn’t have to be so difficult.
She hadn’t seen Ryder again after that. She had made no effort to go and see him, and Blake could’ve sworn she saw him slowly sneaking back inside his house whenever her brothers would go outdoors.
Now at 20, Blake lays in her bed and reminisces on all the shitty parts of her life with a new lens. She remembers Ryder and how he had used her, her coach and how she forced Blake to compete through injuries, and then her mind turned to Nico. who hadn't necessarily done anything to hurt Blake but his lack of action made her feel pathetic.
How is it that a man can flirt with you at a bar, make you believe for weeks that he truly likes you, and then refuse to make eye contact with you later?
Blake’s head spun like one of those spins she used to practice. She had thought of calling Quinn but then what? She had already told him how convinced she was that Nico had liked her. It would just be embarrassing now to have to tell him that now she wasn’t so sure.
So, Blake did what she did best, wallowed in her own self-pity until she eventually drifted off into sleep.
*
A few days later Nico came knocking on Blakes door. She wasn’t surprised to see him, but she had already decided that she shouldn’t talk to him anymore.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come over anymore,” she had told him. She hadn’t let him step through the threshold of her apartment, and she hadn’t changed her mind under his soft gaze.
“But… Blake?”
“Nico, I'm really busy right now. There's a lot of stuff that i’m going through and I cant handle-”
“You can’t handle hanging out with me?” he had said, voice quiet.
Blake had to look away from his pointed gaze, wanting nothing more than to just confess her feelings. But if Nico did like her like she thought he did, then his reaction to what Jack had said at the bar a few nights ago just proved to her that a relationship just wouldn't work out. And so, as Blake always does, she prioritised what she thought would end up working in the long run. Instead of pushing through pain to win medals, she was pushing through her feelings for Nico to protect her heart.
“I’m sorry,” she had whispered to him, gaze falling to the floor when he finally walked away from her.
*
Nico had thought that he was doing the right thing. Sure, he had let things go too far when he started flirting with Blake at the bar. But come on, she was so gorgeous, and she was exactly the kind of person that he wanted to be with. Forget “kind of person”, Nico thought. She was literally the only person he wanted to see or talk to.
He thought that maybe he was taking advantage of her in some way. after he had started stopping by her house and visiting, and they had become friends… Jack had started telling him stories of Blakes abusive childhood. He couldn't even imagine growing up in a sport so toxic. And then of course there was her career ending injury, which is the reason behind them even starting to hang out.
Blake Hughes was vulnerable, she was hurt and she was upset, and Nico wasn’t sure if love was even something she was looking for right now. He felt like he was stepping over some sort of invisible line, and that if Blake didn’t reciprocate his feelings, she wouldn't want to talk to him anymore.
But he was proven to be right regardless, because Blake wasn’t talking to him and he had no idea why.
*
blake.hughes added to their story!


The devil’s holiday event was lackluster. Jack had caught the eye of some pretty brunette and so he was off flirting and doing god-knows what. She had hoped that by now that Jack would stop insisting she came to these kinds of events and outings. But Blake guessed watching Titanic every night for the last week counted as a setback in her recovery journey.
She swirled the drink in her cup, watching mindlessly as couples mingled and talked amongst themselves. This was just getting depressing.
As the night continued nothing changed. She sat in her spot by the bar, conversing with the bartenders with as limited a vocabulary as possible. If her mother were here, she would definitely be scolding Blake for being rude.
“You okay?” one of the girlfriends had asked Blake as they waited at the bar for another drink. Blake had nodded respectively, and when that didn’t appease the girl she sighed.
“Boy troubles, you know?” she laughed, hoping that the awkwardness would be too much and that the girl would take the hint and leave.
“Hit me,” she had said instead, and so that’s how Blake spent the next 45 minutes explaining to Jesper Bratts girlfriend all the ways in which an anonymous man had shown feelings for her.
“I mean, it really sounds like he likes you. you know how men are, maybe you should make the first move?” the blonde had replied.
“But there’s a lot at stake here… this guy is.. Well,”
“Standing over there?” Bratts girlfriend said, pointing to Nico Hischier. He looked gorgeous, and if Blake wasn’t so shocked that she had guessed correctly she probably would have melted to a puddle on the floor.
Blake fumbled with what to say, opening and closing her mouth pathetically as her gaze moved from Nico to the girl perched in front of her.
“You guys aren’t very subtle, Blake” she said, patting the girl on the shoulder before launching into strategies in which Blake could “get her man”.
After the talk and another drink, Blake was ready to pour out all of her feelings to Nico because when she really thought about it, could life get anymore awful? she was already never going to be able to figure skate again, and she and Nico weren’t talking… nothing could possibly be worse than this.
Wrong.
In the 35 minutes it took for Bratts girlfriend to convince Blake to confess her feelings to Nico, he had moved on. Like, literally moved on from the group of guys he was talking to and onto a far too attractive blonde.
Life was actually cruel.
Like they always do, Blake and Nico caught eyes, and before he could make a move to come talk to her she was pushing past people to get towards the exit. She’d text Jack that she left when she was far, far, away from this cursed event.
*
Blake had just taken off her heels and pulled the backs of her earrings off when loud knocks echoed off her front door.
“Jack, I literally told you I was going home. I’m fine!” she stressed, yanking open the door without really looking at who was standing outside.
“It’s not Jack,” Nico’s voice was soft. Blake paused where she was standing, slowly turning so that she was face to face with the man of the last few weeks… Nico.
He looked even better up close. His beard was shaven, tie a little loose. He was her weakness if that kind of thing even mattered anymore.
“Nico,” she had breathed out, like she hadn’t imagined a single possibility in which he could be standing right in front of her. The weeks had seemed that long. Like there was no possibility that he’d still be waiting for her.
“Blake,” he sighed, walking into the apartment and shutting the door softly behind him.
“I really like you, you know that right?” she admitted. “Like, every time I'm with you I feel so calm and yet so overwhelmed with the idea that you were made for me?”
Nico didn’t have a chance to react before Blake continued saying her thoughts out loud. “Whenever I'm near you I get butterflies and I've never felt that way about anyone before. You're, youre so different to anyone I've ever known. And I know that you're Jack's captain and that I'm his sister and that could make things really awkward for you but I really don't care! Because I like you and Jack’s just going to have to get over that when the time comes,”
“I bought your jersey! I don't even own my twins jersey!” she continued, pulling out her phone from her small shoulder bag. She flicked it open, pulling up her duolingo streak. “And Duolingo! I have Duolingo to try and learn Swiss German!”
“Nico, if you don't feel the same way that's fine. I'm so sorry for thinking there was something between us,” Blake began apologizing, dropping the phone to her side as she started to calm down from the shocks of the evening.
“I have a notes app filled with all of your favourite things,” he interrupted Blakes ramblings.
“When I'm missing you, I make two portions of my dinner and bring some over to you as an excuse to see you. When Jack told me I didn’t have to come over to visit with you anymore, I was upset. My first thought was that I really liked you and that I didn't want whatever we have going on to end,”
“you liked me?” Blake spoke, her timid voice breaking through Nico’s speech.
“I still like you,” he responded, and not a second later was Blake’s purse falling to the ground as her hands wound themselves around Nico’s neck.
He grabbed her by her waist, fingers dancing over the small of her back as he brought her into a passionate kiss.
By the time they realized what they were doing, Blake was backing Nico into her room. “Are you sure?” he whispered, breaking away from their heated make out session to rest his forehead against hers.
“I need you,” she was basically whimpering, but Nico paid that no attention as he slowly started sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders.
“You're gorgeous,” he whispered, trailing kisses from her lips all the way down to her cleavage.
Blake moaned, gripping onto Nicos hair as the both of them sunk down onto her plush bed.
*
In the morning, Blake woke up to her and Nico cuddling. Blake ran her hands lightly through his hair, all of last night's events rushing back to her with pleasure.
Nico groaned when he finally came to, head moving against Blakes shoulder as he tried to shield himself from the light that was shining through her curtains. He placed a few soft kisses onto her shoulder before snuggling closer to her.
She set one of her legs over his, and then allowed him to pull her as close to him as possible.
They would discuss the nature of their relationship later. but now, all the two cared about was spending as much time with one another as possible before life got in the way. They went back to sleep peacefully, knowing that they don't have to pretend anymore.

#blake hughes au#nico hischer x reader#nico hischier x oc#nico hischier fic#hughes!sister#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fic#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl x reader
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I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader
Real!Dad Leon
Dead dove warning.
13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.
I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.
Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.
As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.
PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.
The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.
So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.
You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?
Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)
“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”
You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.
You didn’t answer.
Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.
“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.
“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.
“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.
No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.
But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.
“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.
He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).
“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.
“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.
“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.
He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?
He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.
Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.
“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.
You scoff.
“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”
“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.
He continues, though.
“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.
“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.
“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.
He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.
When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.
—
Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.
That’s already lost to you.
He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.
You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.
Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.
He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.
“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”
Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.
“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.
His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.
“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”
Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.
“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.
“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”
Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.
“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.
He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.
“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.
“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.
“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.
You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.
You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.
You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.
—
It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”
‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.
Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.
“Oh, okay..” silence.
“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”
You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.
“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.
“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”
You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.
“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.
“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.
“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.
“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.
“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.
Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.
Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.
After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.
-
Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.
Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.
“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.
“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.
You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.
“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.
“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.
He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.
Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.
You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.
He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.
“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.
He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.
Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).
Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.
“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.
He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.
As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.
When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.
The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.
You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.
Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.
He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.
“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.
“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”
You. Is what you want to say.
He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.
“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.
“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.
So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.
You glare at him.
“Seriously?”
Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.
“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.
“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.
“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.
“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.
“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”
You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.
Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.
“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“
“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.
“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“
“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.
“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.
“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.
Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.
“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“
“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.
He’s silent for a moment.
“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?
“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.
“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.
Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.
—
Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.
He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.
Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.
A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.
The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.
“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.
It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.
Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.
He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!
Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.
But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.
He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.
He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.
Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.
Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.
His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.
Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.
Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-
“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.
Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.
Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.
He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.
You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.
Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.
That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.
Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.
He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.
“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.
“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.
You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.
“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.
You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.
You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.
Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.
Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.
He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.
Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.
The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.
“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.
“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.
You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.
Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.
Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.
Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.
“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.
“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.
“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.
You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.
“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.
Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.
“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”
Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?
His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.
You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.
“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.
He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.
“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.
No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.
You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.
“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’
You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.
“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?
“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…
Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.
You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.
The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.
“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.
You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.
But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.
He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.
You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..
“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.
Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.
“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”
His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.
You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.
Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.
But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.
“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.
You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?
“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?
“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.
You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.
“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.
The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.
It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.
Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.
The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”
“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.
Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.
“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.
You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.
You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.
“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.
“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.
“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.
“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.
His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.
He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.
“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.
You eagerly shake your head.
“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.
“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”
You scrunch your face in disgust.
“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.
He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.
“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.
You apologize again.
“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.
Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.
“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.
“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.
“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.
He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.
Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.
“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.
You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.
You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.
“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.
You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.
“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.
You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.
He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.
"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.
“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.
“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.
“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.
“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.
“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”
You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.
“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.
“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.
And your silence tells it all.
“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.
Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.
“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”
You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.
You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.
“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.
“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.
“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.
You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.
You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.
“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.
His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.
The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.
Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.
When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.
“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.
“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.
Leon laughed darkly at you.
“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.
His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.
Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.
‘Cause you’re both disgusting.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy death island#leon kennedy vendetta#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x reader smut#leon s kennedy#tw inc*st#tw#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic#leon s kennedy smut
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This is my petty complaint time, this video annoys me SO MUCH and even more so what annoys me is that the latest comment on it is this:
HE TAUGHT YOU SO MUCH BULLSHIT, PLEASE NO, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM
And yes, I've been thinking about this stream for nearly three years now, I've been meaning to go through it to critique Wilbur's arguments, I just never got around to it
Wilbur: "Tubbo, you've created an anti-state capitalist dystopia"
So all Tubbo had explained so far was that his town had a big company that owned two other big companies. Nothing about the government or anything. It's true that one company owning all the major businesses is pretty dystopian, sure, but I have no idea where Wilbur got the "anti-state" thing from, usually capitalist companies are fine with the existence of states, states do a lot of dirty work for the capitalists
Spoiler alert: Tubbo's city turns out to be pretty much a city state so Wilbur is just wrong anyway, not that he ever acknowledges it even when it does come up
Also it's not like corporate acquisitions are completely unheard of in the UK, as far as I know. Admittedly the UK is also arguably a capitalist dystopia but you know what I mean, the concept shouldn't be all that shocking to Wilbur
He's being so dramatic and trying to make it sound like he's caught Tubbo in a mistake or something. He also keeps asking questions and then not letting Tubbo answer properly before taking like one word Tubbo says and running with it
But this is the one that I find the most obnoxious:
T: "I did some research into like economics and stuff and I discovered this thing called UBI, have you heard of it?"
W: "What's it stand for?"
T: "Universal Basic Income"
W: "Yeah, I know about that"
He clearly does not know what UBI is.
It becomes very apparent very quickly:
W: "So you've got universal basic income but then also the rich exist still?"
T: "Yeah! Yeah they do."
W: "How does that come about then,"
T: "So in my mind--"
W: "is this universal basic income different for different people?"
T: "No, no, the universal basic income is better for everyone, just the people who have--"
W: "In order for there to be a 1% that means someone's earning more,"
T: "Yes, someone is earning more"
W: "but that means the universal basic income isn't universal!"
T: "No no no, not everyone's getting paid the same but everyone gets the same to begin with, okay? But then you can build on top of it."
W: "Oh no, you've got a-- Tubbo, you've got a fucking social point system!"
T: "Have I made a social point system??"
W: "Tubbo, you've made China!"
None of what Wilbur says makes ANY sense here. The only explanation I can think of is that he didn't know what UBI was, made an assumption that it just meant "everybody gets paid the same amount of money" or something like that and then just spoke fast enough that Tubbo couldn't correct him
Tubbo is correct here, Tubbo knows what he's talking about, but he can't out-speak Wilbur who is just throwing so much bullshit out of his mouth that there's no time to even respond
So, UBI means that everyone in the society gets a regular payment of a specific amount of money that's the same for everyone regardless of their life situation (and generally a requirement would be that it has to be enough to live on, altho people do like to water this down a lot...) This would be completely irrelevant to your wages or salary or capital gains. You can choose to either live on the UBI or you can just do the regular capitalist things to earn extra money on top of the UBI
Obviously I'm not one of those people who think that UBI would solve all of world's problems, I mean I am an anarchist and all (and not an ancap either), but it's literally just a very streamlined welfare system. That's all. It would probably be a lot better than the current models we have but it's not fundamentally different. There's nothing particularly weird about it, the point is just to make sure that everyone has enough money to live on, in every other regard it's just normal capitalism
Wilbur completely misunderstands the whole thing (because, again, he does not know what UBI is so he's just trying to imagine what it might mean based on what Tubbo is saying) and jumps immediately to something he apparently has heard of, which is the Chinese social credit system, which has nothing to do with UBI. In fact I'm pretty sure it also doesn't actually have anything to do with income either, or at least not directly, so I don't think Wilbur knows what the social credit system is either
He's literally just talking in buzzwords
Like if you actually wanted to make a leftist critique of Tubbo's city, you could, don't get me wrong. But instead Wilbur keeps insisting that he's made a social point system despite Tubbo trying to explain why it's not that at all
Wilbur just keeps yelling over Tubbo until his own chat turns against him and finally Tubbo himself also kinda gives up
And from there Tubbo also kinda just starts playing into the bit and just lets Wilbur direct the whole conversation, the rest of it is just them getting more and more into the roleplay. Wilbur keeps talking about the state pension plan, even though Tubbo already tried to explain that it's part of the UBI (this actually is how UBI is supposed to work, it does indeed streamline most of the welfare spending! Obviously you can still raise questions about that (I can think of a few at least) but Wilbur didn't let Tubbo explain so I have no idea what Tubbo actually had in mind)
I could try to go through all of what Wilbur says here but it's just too much, so maybe some other time. Although to be honest there are so many other streams that I probably should talk about instead that some fans unfortunately took a bit too seriously because they assumed Wilbur knew what he was talking about
My point here is mainly that just because someone sounds really confident and knows a bunch of buzzwords doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.
#wilbur soot#tubbo#this is literally just petty grumbling#not a serious post#altho i do genuinely hope that people reconsider all the things they've 'learned' from wilbur
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BLU Team Headcanon yap
I haven’t finished Missing in Action, (a RED team Fic) yet, but here’s some stuff about BLU team.
BLU Soldier is was Spy’s only friend. BLU Spy is not like his RED counterpart, he’s grating and overly critical and distant. The other teammates dont know why Soldier wasted his time hanging around Spy; he’s never been nicer or any less of a downer to the veteran.
But at the same time, why did they suddenly stop being friends? Spy had begrudgingly tolerated Soldier’s small talk and lingering near him, on a good day. It was like he wanted to be all alone forever.
BLU Heavy is an ex-bodyguard from Russia and still firmly communist. He isn’t arrogant about it, but it doesn’t take long to see that he puts his faith in Soviet leadership despite living in the States.
More imposing and gruff than RED Heavy, because of his old line of work. Definitely a fun guy to play cards with and a dependable teammate in battle, but no one’s super buddy-buddy with him either.
In general BLU team doesn’t open up about their secrets and personal lives. They’re politely nice, not a tight knit pack like RED. For most of BLU team, being distant with Heavy is just the same distance they keep with their other teammates.
BLU Soldier doesn’t trust anyone who’s seen that much of the Soviet government and come out of it still loyal to them. Heavy’s faith in the Commies has always left a bad taste in the American’s mouth. But that being said, he’s not so hung up on it that he can’t work with the man or joke with him.
BLU Sniper and Demoman are here to do a job, not make best friends. They aren’t unapproachable like Spy, but don’t expect to hang out in Sniper’s van or hear Demo drunkenly tell a tale about his childhood.
Spy’s overly critical and negative way of speaking has always annoyed Demoman. Would any of them’ve been bloody hired if they didn’t do a good job? No. They don’t need Spy to lecture them about how skilled RED team is, or make it sound like they are unskilled amateurs.
Demoman believes that the Frenchman is arrogant, thinking he’s the best asset to BLU on their team. Why else would he be ready with “suggestions” and not compliments? Didn’t seem to matter how good you were, Spy thought he’d seen better. Demo keeps his distance and skepticism.
Sniper usually just ignores Spy. He told himself a long time ago that there was no way of knowing which gravel war spies were double agents or traitors. Nice, slimey, rude, quiet, didn’t matter. Just don’t trust em.
That being said, the fact that Spy seems to go out of his way to critique their work and be unapproachable.. it seems counterintuitive to mining their information. Sniper’s pretty sure Spy isn’t one of the Admin’s eyes looking for blackmail on his teammates.
Spook’s annoying, but Sniper doesn’t let his attitude get to him. He’s confident in his own skill, and if he decides to train harder it’ll be his self-evaluation that leads him there, not Spy’s.
BLU Pyro is the only woman on the team, but Scout and Medic are the only ones who know. She’s 24, and scrawny looking. Cheryl would rather the others not know her identity, because then they might think she’s fragile. Scout knows she can handle her own, and they are good friends.
Spy seems to avoid critiquing her as much as the others. Probably because she could be anyone under the mask, and everyone tends to give her a wide berth. It means a lot that Scout trusted her enough to become friends instead of assuming she was another feral menace like the RED Pyro.
Medic had special locks installed in the Medbay, so whenever he starts acting different the others can lock him in. While his sudden brutality on the battlefield is a shock to the system, he’s never turned on the team while like that. But Dr Ludwig still doesn’t trust himself, so if it gives him peace of mind to lock the doors, they will.
One time Scout ended up stuck inside the locked Medbay, since he was trying to get Medic’s pet cat out of there. The locks were set to stay on for 2 hours minimum, so the others couldn’t just let him back out right away. The doctor didn’t do anything “evil”, but no matter how much the others told him once he returned to normal, he was mortified.
Scout said the “other” Medic was jaded about being stuck in there, but that they got along. Dr Ludwig still doesn’t believe it was sincere on his part, and has forbidden everyone from being in the Medbay when he’s like that. But Scout has taken to talking to “that” Medic from outside the Medbay, and the others are letting him, and keeping it secret from normal Medic.
#Tf2#BLU team#emesis blue#Emesis blue medic#Emesis blue soldier#emesis blue spy#tf2 scout#tf2 pyro#tf2 heavy#Tf2 Demoman#tf2 sniper#tf2 headcanons#I didn’t have anything for Engineer lol. Trying to decide if he’s related to Dell somehow. Or if he is Dell
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Could i request G, I, L, O, and U for Mihawk with the alphabet please? I love your takes on these characters.
Aww, thank you!
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
His love for you isn't a game, but by god does he love the thrill of a good hunt. His darling being feisty is ideal for him. With his dream already being well achieved, he's honestly quite bored in his day to day life. Terrorizing random pirates that irk him in one way or another only entertains him so much. He needs something with real substance, and that comes in the form of playing a cat and mouse game with you (he frequently calls you his little mouse as a term of endearment and slight teasing jab).
Fighting back against him and running away is an extremely frustrating process, and not just because of how unsuccessful it is. No, it's his attitude that drives you up the wall. He keeps giving you critiques and pointers. You tried to run while he slept? He's admonishing you for not even trying to drug or poison him. You tried to fight him? He's correcting your stance, your hold on the weapon, and your technique the entire time. You made some elaborate escape plan? He calls it cliche and says that he knows you can do better than that. All of this combined almost makes you want to throw in the towel and sit quietly in his castle just to spite him.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
While he adores the fun of you running away and fighting him, he does hope that you'll settle down and come to love him eventually. Even then, he still wants you to be a little feisty. Like having some playfully sharp banter and doing little things to get a rise out of each other. Think like a somewhat vitriolic spin on a Morticia and Gomez Addams type relationship.
Outside of that, he wants to have a quaint life with you in his castle. He'd also like to teach you how to fight with a sword because he does want you to be self sufficient to a degree, plus he considers it to be a fun bonding activity. Once you've calmed down, he plans to marry you. The rings will be uniquely gothic yet simple, and you'll have a quiet ceremony in his garden... At least it was quiet until Shanks and company showed up because they someone caught wind of this despite Mihawk's best effort.
Mihawk isn't super interested in children, but he doesn't hate the idea either. On one hand, he thinks that Perona's spontaneous appearances are enough, but if you two were to have a surprise baby or some kid washed up on shore, he wouldn't be upset about it.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
In hindsight, it's a little embarrassing how easily he drew you in. Mihawk is an attractive and charming man. The first interactions are short and sweet. They give you a taste while still maintaining an air of mystery. He gives you little gifts, like an article of clothing that he thought would suit you or some well-aged wine that he made himself. After that stage, he offers for you to come have dinner at his home. At that point, he's been a suave gentleman, so you see no reason to turn down him. What you don't realize is that he has no intention of letting you leave once you're there. That will be an after dinner surprise for you.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Beyond trapping you on his island, you're pretty much free to do whatever your heart desires. He won't even disarm you because as mentioned in G, he loves a good fight. On top of that, he won't force you to do anything with him besides just staying on the island. If you two kiss, it's only going to be because you initiated it. He wants you to want him, and he also admittedly gets a kick out of how annoyed you are when you start to want him due to him being one of the very few people you ever get to interact with. He won't harm you either because he simply finds no reason to. It's not like you're going to be any real threat to him, so hurting you would be like a hunter giving a handicap to a baby deer.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
A few things: He enjoys your fighting and escape attempts, he's shockingly respectful of some of your boundaries, and he isn't prone to jealousy.
#dracule mihawk#hawkeyes mihawk#one piece#yandere one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#reader insert#x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#yandere alphabet#ceridawn#yandere
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Hi! Can you write yandere Vyse like you did for yandere Chamber and Reyna?
Hella! First HC request in a hot minute I hope I do well! As usual SFW above the cut, NSFW below.
Content: Blood, Free use, Vines, Restraints
SFW
Vyse is the type to act overly uninterested in you, what you do, what you like; basically anything to do with you to the point she is dismissive should these topics be brought up
Yet, oddly, she knows nearly everything about you down to what perfume you wear and what type of socks you prefer. You'll groan about misplacing something and she knows exactly where it is, she remembers the last time you did laundry, the last time you ate and what you ate. Despite giving the impression of giving a fuck less its clear she gives a fuck, quite a big one.
She is 1000% the type of Yandere you're convinced hates you. Complains about you a lot. Always finds something to find fault in. Even is over critical of the simplest things to the point you're anxious the moment she addresses you.
But here's the trick, only she gets to be like this at you. Only she gets to be your #1 hater. Only she gets to critique you. Only she can find flaw in you and if anyone else does they are entirely wrong and she will point out their own flaws in turn.
Its never really clear to you when she started having an interest in you, you still aren't sure if she hates you or not, but its clear she at least has some sort of affection towards you? Even if that's rooted in getting to be the only one that bullies you. You get head pats, stuff that sounds like hollow praise, she even gets onto others for being hard on you. It's weird but oddly pleasant?
At the same time its clear after a while that nearly all of her ridicule is to try and make you better, to try and support you as well as keep you healthy, safe, and the best version of yourself you can be. She may be insulting your form during training but shes also the one that trains privately with you so you get better. She noticed you were eating only take out for a week and gave you an ear full but is also making you both healthy and amazing lunches. Picking on you about not doing laundry? Shes already, bitterly, loaning you her own clothes while still telling you to wash yours now since she made sure no one was hogging the machines.
When you're upset she does genuinely listen, especially when its clear its not just some low level sulking, and shes ready to confront who ever she needs to to avoid you being miserable again.
On the battlefield you're almost running into her vines, her scolding you to be careful, but no matter what they are always there where ever you are as if shes protecting you. Just when you think you're about to get shot there's a wall up and shes coming around the corner, as if she was there the whole time, yelling at you to not walk off alone.
Every agent becomes well aware of her eyes on you regardless of where you are. She just appears, sat quietly minding her own business with that business being you. Ready to bite should someone push their luck.
You never really 'start' dating her. Shes simply so involved in your life you forget her not being there. Should she be asked, by others, what up she will tell them to mind their own business. If you should ask she might be a tad rude, not directly answering you until you plead with her and admit your own interest/willingness to date her. At that point she acts like its a burden but does accept directly before scolding you for not eating on time.
NSFW
Sexually Yandere Vyse takes possessive to a new level.
Her vines are used near religiously. From the moment she can you're bound with thorns either teasing the skin or just barely pricking it.
She has you on display often and by on display I mean bound up with vines just in her line of sight ready for her when ever she wishes to take you. Fully nude, as always, of course.
She never critiques your body but will critique your behavior as well as how well you bleed for her. Impatience leads to tighter restraints that pierce your skin just enough to sting. Being good for her gets you both praise and attention, be it by her or one of her less thorny vines.
Her favorite places are scarred from the punctures of her vines but are all easily hidden under clothing. No one needs to know how easy it is to restrain you let alone how easy and willing you are to let them make you bleed.
She toys with you using everything at her disposal. You are hers, that's so very clear, and that means she can use you as she wishes. Most often this leaves you an overstimulated exposed mess and her as happy as a well fed cat.
Youre encouraged to be nude from the moment you step into your living space. You're encouraged to come to her should you 'need' her. Free use is just another thing that becomes normal for you, not that you don't enjoy it. Waking up to her vines fondling you often even though she may not be there.
Speaking of not there, its hard to know if she really is or isn't. You've been strung up, fucked within an inch of your life by metal vines that leave you so badly bruised and crying out, all while she was off on a mission. Sometimes you've been kept on display, just on edge, for several minutes until she walks in just off the plane back. It's unclear if this is to treat you, to apologize for her being gone for so long and unable to please you herself, or if its some twisted game to keep you on edge. either way you do get used to these sex traps, enjoying them even, which only encourages her to place more.
Vyse is also demanding but subtle. When she wants you there's a vine just creeping up your clothing, letting you know where you need to be. Sometimes this vine doesn't wait and you're forced to stay quiet as it rests or slowly fucks you. Its yet another way she exerts control over you. Control that shes not going to let up any times soon.
#valorant fanfiction#valorant headcanons#valorant x reader#vyse x reader#valorant vyse#vyse headcanons
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THIS IDEA HAS BEEN ON MY MIND 24/7 AND I FINALLY FOUND HOW TO PUT IT TO WORDS.
the party is electric, pulsing with music, laughter, and the sharp tang of tequila in the air. bodies press together in the packed frat house, neon lights casting flickering colors over the crowd. somewhere in the chaos, ethan sips awkwardly at his beer, tara sways to the music, and mindy critiques the playlist with a smirk.
but your focus? it’s been locked on him all night.
chad meeks-martin, standing across the room, leaning against the counter like he’s completely at ease. he’s been watching you, the same way he always does—cocky, amused, like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you.
the two of you have been playing this game since day one, trading flirtation like it’s second nature. he teases, you tease back. neither of you fold. but tonight, there’s something different in the way his eyes linger, something heavier in the way he closes the space between you.
you’re perched on the counter, swinging your legs, when he steps between them, hands braced on either side of you.
“you havin’ fun?” his voice is low, edged with something that sends a slow thrill down your spine.
your lips curve, fingers dragging lazily along the rim of your cup. “oh, tons. you?”
his eyes flick to your mouth before meeting yours again. “mmm. could be better.”
you tilt your head, playing along. “and what exactly would make it better, meeks-martin?”
his smirk deepens. “i think you already know.”
before you can fire back, a shout cuts through the air—shots. the crowd shifts, and suddenly, a bottle of tequila is being passed around, shot glasses clinking against the counter. chad finally steps back, but not before his fingers brush against your thigh, just enough to leave heat in their wake.
“hope you can keep up, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dark eyes glinting as he hands you a shot.
you roll your eyes but knock it back, the liquor burning as it slides down your throat. across from you, chad does the same, watching you over the rim of his glass.
then, because it had to be mindy, she grins and announces the next dare.
“bj shots. who’s in?”
a chorus of laughter, a few cheers, and suddenly, you’re kneeling at the counter with a group of other girls, hands behind your back, lips hovering over the shot glass.
you don’t have to look to know chad’s watching. but you do anyway.
he stands with his arms crossed, head tilted, gaze locked onto you with something dark and unreadable.
holding his stare, you lean in, wrapping your lips around the rim of the glass. slow. deliberate. teasing.
the liquor is sharp, heat curling down your throat as you tip your head back, finishing first. you let your tongue flick out, catching the last drop, and when you pull away, you don’t break eye contact.
the room around you fades—the cheers, the music, all of it.
chad doesn’t just watch. he feels it. shivers and all.
his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, jaw tight, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s holding himself back. his eyes never leave yours, dark and locked in place, tracking every slow movement, every shift in your expression.
you rise to your feet, stepping in close, your breath ghosting over his jaw. “that good enough for you?”
his hands twitch like he wants to reach for you. like it’s killing him not to.
his voice is lower now, rougher. “you know it is.”
you let your fingers skim along his arm as you turn to walk away.
his eyes never leave you. not for a second.
…
IMSCREAMINGGG
i #lovethis
#chad meeks martin x you#velvrei#trending#smut imagine#smut#writing#scream smut#scream#velvrei smut#mason gooding scream#scream 6 fluff#scream 5 smut#scream 6 smut#scream movie#chad martin#chad meeks#chad meeks martin smut#chad martin smut#smut chad meeks martin#chad meeks smut#chad martin meeks smut
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[analysis] the school system in fourth wing
I've decided to reread fourth wing and I have questions and theories that I need to share with my corner of the internet.
This post will include an in-depth (i hope) analysis on the war school system in fourth wing and how all that ties into the country's politics.
a rant no one asked for:
The thousands of twenty-year-olds waiting outside the gate to enter their chosen quadrant for service are the smartest and strongest in Navarre.
First and foremost only the smartest and strongest enter in Basgiath, which implies that this War college is the elite of the elites. There must be thousands of students who never pass the tests, which also begs my first question: where do these failed students go?
The easiest scenario is if Basgiath is the only college in the continent (which for such a big continent seems like a poor choice) does it mean that you either pass the exams or you don't get to continue your education? Ever?
That would prevent a high number of people of getting superior education and acess to knowledge, which is exactly what a fascist regime would do. However the author paints the government as being possible to be reckoned with.
Our main characters negotiate with them over and over again about various aspects, which in my opinion doesn't sound totalitarian to me. It's true that they killed hundreads of people for trying to rebel, which DOES sound facist to me, but during the ongoing canon events they seem like a different government altogether. To me a totalitarian force doesn't negotiate and the only way to end it is to break it. There can be no space for tyranny, or for oppression, and the only way to assure that is to rip its roots, not by negotiating.
But for the sake of everyone's sanity let's ignore that for now, Basgiath wants Navarrian citizens to think "you'll only be sucessful if you go to the military". And they drive their point even further when they reduce the entrance to candidates who are the smartest and strongest. Again to be a part of the elite is anyone's dream come true.
There's also other incentives. We know they promise good pay: Dylan, the guy who dies on the parapet, says "I keep telling her [my mother] that I’ll have better chances for advancement as a rider,". For struggling families Basgiath may seem the only solution, and isn't the King so kind to give good financial compensations to those who decide to fight for their country's honor. The higher the risk, the higher the reward. We also know that this is a matter of pride, just as in the real world when you go to a prestige college you can boast about it. You can use it to show other people how smart and good you are, I assume the same happens in the Empyrean.
This would be an excellent premise if it all didn't unravel by the end of the first chapter.
That's not to add to the fact that there has been no critique on Basgiath except "they let students die" which is not the nuanced commentary we would and should expect, instead that nuance is reduced to: the government is hiding evil soulless monsters for reasons we still aren’t privy to (I digress, that's another post).
Every Navarrian officer, whether they choose to be schooled as healers, scribes, infantry, or riders, is molded within these cruel walls over three years,(...)
Lazy writing and overbearing exposition apart, I want to note that the students, the candidates choose where they'll be going. (this will be important later)
Also important detail is that "Every Navarrian officer" does in fact imply that there's only one war college in the whole country, which is simply wild to me. But with that in mind we now know that everyone who wishes to be a part of Navarre's military forces needs to survive Basgiath, those who can't either die or don't even enter the college at all.
Again those who fail where do they go? My answer would be they go on to do other jobs, non military jobs if you will. We don't actually get an answer to this I don't think. Because Rhiannon's twin sister (enphasis on the twin, they're 20 years old) which is the only person of their age that we know never went to Basgiath is already married with a baby and we don't know what she or her husband do to make money.
On this reread it also stood out to me that Violet calls the college as a whole cruel. So not only is the riders quadrant cruel the rest of the quadrants are also cruel. I wish we got to see more of that cruelty in the books, especially in this first one. We know riders die, that's the whole premise of fourth wing, but what happens in other quadrants? Why are the healers and scribes cruel? These are answers that will never be answered I'm afraid.
I would have been better off failing the admission test to Basgiath and going straight to the army with the majority of conscripts.
Now this is the line that inspired me to make this post because I don't know if I'm stupid or if my english is failing me.
Earlier in the chapter we have established you need to go to Basgiath if you want to be in service. So how and why does Violet failing the admission test equals to going straight to the army?
If by "the army" Rebecca means to refer to the infantry this needs to be clearer to the reader. I've reread the first half of the chapter so many times, to see if I was missing some context clue, but I don't think I am. Rebecca must think that being a soldier in infantry is different than being a rider but when you get to the bottom of it, it really isn't.
Because by all logic Basgiath is a War College meaning everyone in there will belong to the Navarrian army at some point in their lives, that's the goal of studying there. It doesn't matter in which faction of the army you end up in, the only true thing is that you will serve your country whether you're in infantry, riders, healer or scribe quadrant. You're all part of "a bigger" thing.
So again how does failing equal to going straight to the army?
Would Basgiath accept mediocrity?
And even this logic contradicts itself because the infantry is still set in Basgiath. There is no way Violet could fail the entrance test and still join the army. I know Rebecca probably wanted to give the idea that the only promising future as a Navarrian would be going to the army, and by doing that she’d be criticising the system as a whole, and yet she undoes that in the next two pages.
Each of Navarre’s six provinces has sent this year’s share of candidates for military service. Some volunteer. Some are sentenced as punishment. Most are conscripted. The only thing we have in common here at Basgiath is that we passed the entrance exam—both written and an agility test I still cannot believe I passed—which means at least we won’t end up as fodder for the infantry on the front line.
There's a lot to unpack here, so let's start by world building inconsistencies.
If one needs to pass the entrance exam (is it called admission or entrance exam? decide on a name rebecca for the love of god) to study at Basgiath and to be part of the infantry you need to study there, how would Violet failing mean she would become fodder for the infantry?
As established before Infantry is a part of Navarre's army, also remember when I said that the candidates choose in which faction of the army they will serve? (We are not considering those with a rebellion relic here) That choice means nothing if you're just going to end up in Infantry anyway.
If those at Basgiath are "the smartest and strongest in Navarre" how are you going to accept someone who didn't even pass the admission exam to become a part of your military forces? Again does Basgiath accept mediocrity?
On the topic of the Navarre provinces sending their share of candidates for military service I also have questions: Does each province have a quota which they need to fill? How do the canditates volunteer? Is there some sort of paperwork they need to do to show they want to make part of the military? Is the volunteering made public?
I wrote in my notes that each province may have to send in a specific number of candidates depending on how they helped during Unification. In a way, for the whole country to stay together, the King may have decided it would be best for everyone to have representitives in the army. That way lower income provinces wouldn't be slighted and undermined when it came to the entrance exams.
This is in theory of course, there's always the underlining issue of who gets the better acess to information in order to study. Violet grew up in the archives, the acess to information was a book away, all she needed to do was ask her father for a book and she would have it. When it comes to strength training she didn't even need to queue or wait for any tutor, Lilith got her one immediatly after she informed her she'd be going to the rider's quadrant. I doubt many people get acess to private teachers.
On the other hand, when we look at Rhiannon's situation for example, she grew up in a humble home (i'm basing this on the fact that her twin still lives with her parents even after married or at least very close by), we don't have any indication that her village is either big or small, but we can assume that if they do have a library is not nearly as rich as the archives. That puts her in disadvantage from the start in relation to Violet. I also doubt she had a private teacher for her strength training.
Back at the quote I underlined, I still don't know the difference between sentenced and conscripted seeing as the dictionary says both of those mean being forced to serve in the army, highliting obligation. But that could be my english failing.
Conscripted: to force someone to serve in an army or one of a country's armed forces - Cambridge Dictionary
sentence: to decide and say officially what a punishment will be - Cambridge Dictionary
Do those who are sentenced need to pass the entrance exam to be in Basgiath? They could simply fail on purpose to make sure they don't go. How does Basgiath prevent that? To purposefully fail would be seen as an act of rebellion?
Unfortunately I don't have any theories on these last questions.
This is the only quadrant at Basgiath that doesn’t accept conscripts—only volunteers.
To end this post on a positive note I have to send flowers to Rebecca for this. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not but I'm choosing to believe it was.
The quote above refers to the riders quadrant, they only aceept volunteers, which we know to be a lie. The rebellion kids are sentenced to the riders quadrant, but this is a perfect showcase on how propaganda works. If the law/rules of Basgiath forbid it, logically the government would never force kids into the riders or any specific quadrant, they wouldn't break their own law. Candidates can be sentenced and still choose their own quadrant. Which is why Violet is so surprised when Liam tells her they are forced to the riders quadrant: it's unlawful.
#this is an insane long post#i had things to say i guess#this is supposed to be a friendly and healthy discussion#we don't need to offend each other actually#this might be a critique but i still love this world#or i wouldn't be rereading it#fourth wing#fourth wing meta#education in fourth wing#basgiath war college#meta analysis#forth wing politics#i need to make a post about class division in fourth wing#but that is for when i'm a bit more advanced on my reread#also i decided to make this post after rereading the first chapter#if some of these questions are answered in my reread i will make a new post about it lmao
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Just letting y'all know ahead of time, this is about to be a long post where you learn that your favorite Tony apologist actually took a neutral stance while watching Civil War because pretty much everyone was both right and wrong at the same time. If you want to read through those 3am thoughts from after that critical rewatch and critique me as you see fit, go on ahead.
Okay, so... Y'all know how I've been getting back into Marvel -mostly the MCU- full time again, which means a proper rewatch was already ordered because I do not remember these films as well as I should.
And you guys already know how much I adore Tony. How he is hands down my favorite Avenger because of his inner depth, the kind of stuff you can only see if you actually take the time to look beyond his facades to the man beneath. So I bet you're expecting me to say that upon watching Civil War, I was 100 percent Team Iron Man, right?
You'd be wrong. So very wrong.
But at the same time I'm not Team Cap either.
Tony was facing the consequences of what he and his co-run team of misfit vigilantes had caused all in the name of good in a way that he could not possibly ignore. Wanting some kind of structure, someone to keep him and the team in check to prevent there from ever being another Sokovia is a good thing, because these incidents got out of hand due to that lack of supervision. But at the same time, leaving things to Ross is a shitty move altogether because we know he cannot be trusted to make good decisions when it comes to world ending calamities like this.
There should have been a better compromise, someone else to oversee those decisions for the world at large before they even thought about signing that thing.
Maybe I dreamed it up, but I remember seeing a What If? comic that touched on that aspect. How instead of letting the government control things directly, they instead left that final decision up to Steve. That he and Tony talked it out before he signed and found that to be the most optimal solution, because everyone knows they can trust him to make the best decisions when it comes to protecting people and handling these situations with proper tact.
And I feel like a compromise like that would have solved this issue right out of the gate.
But that's just on the Accords. Because you know I've also got to talk about the situation with The Winter Soldier and Tony's parents. I'll preface this by saying again, not Bucky and Tony's parents, but The Winter Soldier. Because I do NOT blame Bucky in any of this.
Okay, so. Should Tony have straight up tried to kill Bucky like that? No. Any reasonable person would say no, that after thinking about it and realizing that as The Winter Soldier he wasn't responsible for his actions so killing him would not have done anything except create even more animosity that doesn't need to be. But would I have done the same thing? Uh, yeah.
I know what it's like to have lost your parents, or even just your mother, to a freak accident. To lose the one person who cared about you more than anything else in the world, to something you could never have seen coming. I don't know what he thought had happened, not fully, if he had thought Howard just decided to do a murder suicide or what have you, but that day he learned the truth. He went through all of this trouble by sneaking behind Ross's back, potentially turning himself into a criminal just like Steve and Bucky if any of that had ever gotten out, only to learn that one of them had caused that whole 'freak accident'. He learned that The Winter Soldier took his mom from him. He has his suit, so he could easily overpower him. He could avenge her.
He cannot differentiate between Bucky and The Winter Soldier in those moments. He does NOT know him the same way that Steve does. All he sees is a murderer. You just know he had to be seeing red even before he started questioning Steve, that he already had his mind made that he was going to be killing him that day.
And I highly doubt that Steve would have fully known, so why say that he did? Watching from here, it felt like a lie meant to make Tony pull his shots a little so that he wouldn't have to watch his newest friend try to kill his oldest friend in cold blood. A lie that backfired. Tremendously.
I'll reiterate there, in case it gets lost in translation: Tony was incredibly wrong for trying to kill Bucky. Bucky was not in control of his actions when he killed Tony's parents, and someone else who has less of a partial judgement should have been the one to figure out how to handle that mess once it was brought to light. But it was still a very valid crash out when you take the emotional aspect into consideration because let's face it, if you were standing in the room with someone who had killed someone extremely near and dear to you and had the means to take them out to avenge that person without barely even breaking a sweat, you would likely have tried the same thing.
Anyway, tldr: Everyone was wrong. They should have had a more serious discussion before everyone shipped off to sign and everyone needs serious therapy. Also Peter made me smile. Thank you and good night even though I know I won't be able to sleep.
#mcu#marvel mcu#ca:cw#sokovia accords#team cap#team iron man#tony stark#iron man#steve rogers#captain america#team: they should have compromised#seriously like what were they thinking#talk about this like adults and figure out something that works for everyone before you sign the final doc for fucks sake#3am ramblings
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Confidence is Underrated, Humility is Overrated
That title is misleading. This is to any of the writers who are waiting until they think their writing has to reach a certain level of "awesomeness" before they can share it with others for editing, beta reading, and/or publishing.
You are going to want to share your writing before you write it. I know. I understand. The issue? Your writing looks like shit! (Not really, this is just the critique in each of us telling us we could never be a good author or writer.) You think you can't share it until you've attained damn near perfection!
Let me tell you, this simply isn't true. HOWEVER! If you'd like a few quick and dirty tips to make your writing a slight bit better before trusting yourself to share your story, I've included a few things below.
1.) Take a break from your writing.
Work on another project or don't write a single word on anything. Either way, give yourself and your mind a break. Try a few days or a week for a good cleanse. When you open the document back up, change the size and font of your story then reread it. Go through and make comments or use parentheses for commentary as to what you want to change or fix. If you have time, you can wait even longer than a week! I've done this with a few works, a few times. I've waited a year before touching a WIP. It's up to you.
Another thing: sometimes the person and writer we are now isn't the person and writer that needs to create your story idea. Sometimes, you need to grow and mature a bit before you can touch that idea. That's okay, too.
2.) Know your strengths and weaknesses.
If you know you suck at keeping to one tense or one perspective, write that down. Reread your work with that ONE goal in mind. Don't approach two or more unless you can multitask. Even then, you may miss some and you'll need to be okay with that. You aren't perfect and no one expects you to be.
3.) Utilize Resources
Pinterest, Tumblr, Youtube, and many more will teach you grammar if you're willing to learn it. In fact! I'll hold grammar lessons any time for any one FOR FREE if you want to learn and apply it to your own writing. I have plenty of textbooks and plenty of resources to help anyone who wants it. Pinterest includes hot tips, Tumblr includes detailed descriptions and people who are willing to help, and Youtube holds lessons.
Find what works for you and get down to business. If you really want to improve, you'll take the time to learn. And be patient with yourself when you don't get it immediately.
4.) "The BIGGER the issue, the smaller you write"
Think of the war scene in the first Mulan movie. There's a burning/burnt village int he background and what's int he foreground? That child's toy. A doll. It shows how evil the opposition was, that they could kill a child and leave her toy next to a soldier's helmet. The opposition not only didn't care for the innocent lives they were taking but they were cruel enough to mock our protagonists with a dead child's toy. We saw so much more with that than we ever could if they'd shown the burning village. We could only guess the horrors but with that picture set, we don't have to guess how cruel the opposition is. We know.
This also goes into the "Show don't tell" thing and I'm not gonna get into that right now because plenty of people have. I feel like it's still strongly debated because everyone has their own method.
5.) "There is/was"
I saw a tip saying to search up every instance of "there is" or "there was" and rewrite it. They said it helps "declump" the writing.
Ex. "There is a strike of lightning" becomes "Lightning strikes the sky"
In my opinion, the "there" isn't what's bad. But, you are making the action happen quicker? I don't know if that makes sense. It sounds better because the lightning is actively striking rather than a strike is happening "Oh and it's lightning". Make your action active rather than just happening.
______________________________________________________________
Hope this helps. I have a few more tips but this is a good start.
Keep in mind that the first draft is so the story exists and makes sense to you. The second draft is to make sense to your beta reader/free audience and to make it functional. The third draft is to achieve the goal you set when starting this journey. You can create more drafts than three. Some steps take longer than others.
Regine Thomas Tumblr Arse | With (His) Spunk [email protected]
#fanfic#books#writing stuff#writeblr#on writing#writing life#writers#creative writing#writing#my writing#female writers#writerscommunity#ao3 writer#writers and poets#writers on tumblr#writer#writer community#tips and tricks#writing tips and tricks#writing tool#write it
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Oh golly, a continuation of my Thor: Ragnarok rant!
Based on what I said about possibly making another post based on how botchered Thor and Loki's characters were in the movie.
If you have read my last Ragnarok rant post, which you can find right here, you already know the rules: don't read or simply don't leave hateful comments if you disagree.
Are we ready?
A few months ago or so I made a rant post about Thor: Ragnarok (as some of the people reading this may already know). To my surprise, it actually got a bigger and better reception than I could imagine and, to surprise me even more, turns out that Tumblr is full of people that dislike Ragnarok and Taika Waititi's direction in general.
Now, even though I rarely rant about movies (both irl and online), I started with that post simply because I pretty much wanted to "let it out". What do I mean whenever I say that? The brief explanation is going to be the first part of this post, and then we'll get to the core, don't worry (feel free to skip it tho, it's not really that important).
For a long time, as most of you may know, Ragnarok was one of the most praised movies on the internet, and as (once again) you may know, talking ill or even just making a critique about it was basically a death sentence, especially on sites like Twitter or even Tumblr itself. I was in the minority of people who actually didn't enjoy it (or at the very least recognized its deep flaws) and pretty much avoided expressing an opinion back then, partially because I knew I'd get blasted, but also because even though I really thought it was overrated I didn't exactly feel the need to comment on it (on a sidenote, keep in mind that it's more than fine to enjoy this movie or even consider it great or your favorite, obviously, I was just irked by those who praised it while absolutely wrecking those who disagreed). But now things have changed. After the Love and Thunder flop people actually started to look at the director and even at the movies with different eyes, which encouraged me (as well as others) to actually come out and express our frank opinions.
And, for me? Let's keep it simple and honest. Yes, I think it's overrated as shit. It's not a good movie, but it's arguably not the worst either. I just think that some (most) fans of it watched it while blatantly skipping some (many) scenes to fit in with headcanons and such.
Here it is, the part you were probably here for.
Thor and Loki's characters were annihilated in this movie, (Thor's more than Loki's I'll admit, but this movie was just the beginning of the complete destruction of Loki's arc and personality that eventually came in the form the series), and I want to try and explain why and how.
Let's do this step by step.
First of all, they disrupted the setting and definition of Asgard (and its people). How, one might ask? We'll start with the language. As you probably noticed, there was a pretty heavy shift between the language used in the first two Thor movies and the language used in Ragnarok.
In the first two movies (and pretty much any other movie where Thor appeared before Ragnarok) he, along with pretty much any other talking Asgardian character, uses a somewhat formal, maybe even "noble" language that pretty much obviously takes inspiration from a Shakespearian/Old English form of language; sometimes it's more evident and sometimes it's more toned down, but you can hear the great divide between this way of talking and the one used in Ragnarok.
I have seen some people express their opinion on this change, stating that an older, more elegant English probably seemed more of a Christian-ish inspired way of talking and, honestly? Fair, and even if I disagree I could see how some may actually see this as a "negative" or even just OOC trait for Norse entities.
My counter argument (even if I wouldn't even call this an argument, just a rather- hopefully- calm way of expressing opinions), though, is that, first of all these are obviously free renditions inspired by ancient legends, therefore not entirely accurate in regards of the original mythology (and that, even more importantly, never claimed to be such). Then, Asgardians are seen as a superior alien species, to the point where they literally call themselves gods, so I would think a more noble/formal way of talking fits with the Marvel standard rather well.
Then again, Ragnarok completely disrupts this.
Now, I'm more than fine with seeing Asgardians break the formal, solemn attitude every once in a while, especially if they do so when in a more private setting/with people they are close to. Well, that nice little touch is completely destroyed by having them talk like they lived in 21st century Midgard all their lives.
The entire movie sees Thor and Loki break this down completely, always using a non formal register, even when it's just the two of them. I'm not saying they always have to be "chivalrous" when talking, but they at least used to have a more serious tone before, even when they were using a more chill, modern register, which checked out considering that was a big part of their upbringing, which I remind you lasted more than 1000 years. Sure, a few months or years on Earth can influence that, but not in such a radical way.
Another problem is that Asgard and its people are pretty much treated as a joke. The first thing that comes to mind is the whole play that Loki is watching while pretending to be Odin. There are so many wrong things going on with it that I'll just try and cut it short, but not too much so that everyone can understand what I'm talking about:
1. Asgardians not being reactive to the whole shift of personality of "Odin". A man that has been known for being a powerful ruler and also a conqueror is suddenly acting like a lazy ancient Roman senator and no one is batting an eye? Yeah, it has been a while since Loki actually started to rule in his place, so they would be "accustomed" at that point, but still they let him take it that far without saying anything? Really?
2. The play casually mentioning Loki being a Frost Giant in front of everyone, as if they were merely stating that he was born on a Friday or something. Are you for real?! And, once again, no one bats an eye. Yeah, ok, AGAIN, maybe this had been revealed earlier to the Asgardians but HOW?! And most importantly WHY?! It's supposed to be a secret. Something Loki is painfully ashamed of. He wouldn't just throw it out there casually.
3. Skurge. The man is a problem of his own, and so I included him here to cut it short. I've never seen a character so useless and also written so out of character from the original comics/cartoon counterpart. Now, I love Karl Urban, I think he's a great actor and I'm sorry he had to play this part because it makes no sense. Bro just casually grabs weapons from Earth? No one notices him? On both Asgard and Midgard? Asgard misses a guardian of VITAL IMPORTANCE and Midgard sees a guy in full armor walking around and stealing weapons? (Which, honestly, fair since people on Earth probably see weirder stuff at all times, but the rest of the list is still very much a big part of this point). And this is just one of the problems here but hey, this alone is triggering my headache and my neck pain together, so we'll just cut it very very short. He is stupid, a coward, switches sides, shows immediate signs of regret, turns back in the end just to make a DOOM reference, dies.
Since we are getting closer to the main course of the post, I would love to take a very specific thing that happens in this movie and use it to connect the first part of the post to the heart of it.
What thing am I talking about? The (in)famous childhood story of Thor and Loki. When Loki stabbed Thor and they were both eight years old (?). Yeah, that.
Now, that one sentence did some pretty noticeable damage in the Thor fandom, and for two reasons. First, it disrupts the ages of the characters. Loki is the younger brother (even if technically we don't know how much younger he is, I just know I'm not taking the 1047 y/o or whatever age people on the Internet have been giving him, since I don't remember seeing it being confirmed in canon ever), so it doesn't make sense for them to both be eight, not to mention that it sent people onto a pretty lengthy debate on how Asgardians and Frost Giants actually age physically and mentally and also how they count it, (but that's something that was bound to happen anyway so we won't cover that here).
Second, that simple, stupid joke sent people positively spiralling. All of a sudden, Loki's entire fanon personality was stabbing people (mostly his brother) and being a narcissist that only wanted to have his own throne, that would do anything to get it (this happened because of the Grandmaster, which is something that I hate so much because Loki was obviously just surviving on Sakaar, so he had to do whatever he did to get there, or else he had to go to the trenches, so fuck people who say he liked the Grandmaster when he was clearly distressed around him and fuck people who say that he's a power hungry bastard and--).
Not only that, but the joke + Loki's behavior as Odin on Asgard, made him look so stupid and undeserving of power. He jokes about his heritage, like nothing. He doesn't act kingly at all, despite being previously shown as someone that cares about rules and the way people are ruled over, (I'm talking about Thor 1 Loki, not brainwashed "kneel!" Loki, clearly). He would be in no way cruel to the Asgardians and he surely wouldn't let the other worlds fall into despair (and yes, he's the God of Chaos, but it doesn't mean he would be downright evil and let them destroy each other or Asgard). And then, boom, there goes Ragnarok, taking away what little redemption and also any interesting thing Loki could have achieved after TDW, after taking Odin's place. I don't even want to start imagining the possibilities they had, showing Loki's reign free of Odin, the changes it could have brought not only to the Thor lore but potentially in the general MCU lore. But no, Ragnarok comes along and treats Loki's character and the cliffhanger of TDW as the dumbest joke around, showing that "Hey, Loki is a good for nothing, bratty asshole who just wanted the throne to laze off and compensate for the lack of love he had!"
Phew, that about covers it about Loki.
Now, let's talk about Thor.
His mischaracterization is so severe it still holds up today, even if it's been SO LONG.
Thanks to this movie, Thor was reduced to a himbo, not only in the fandom but also in the movies, and it hurts so bad.
Thor is supposed to be clever. Highly intellectual stuff might not be his strong suit, he's not the "smart brother" and he's probably better when it comes to battle wits, but he also isn't a complete, total, blabbering imbecile and he's a crown prince, so he would be cultured and educated. He was shown to have plans, complex ideas, and even a pretty fast comprehension of other's traditions, (as showed in the first Thor movie, when he smashes the mug, gets told off for it and immediately understands what's wrong with his behavior on that particular planet, acting apologetic and not complaining about it being different from what he's used to).
Thor is supposed to be somewhat posed. Yes, he's a strongman, he's praised for his strength and he is proud of it, showing it off at times, allowing himself to do so for others. But does it mean that he's a completely classless jock that doesn't know how to make himself presentable and that would panic and start lashing out like crazy as soon as he finds himself in a difficult situation? He's royalty. He's over a thousand years old. He's a literal god.
Thor is supposed to be kind. Yes, once again, he's a god and a prince, and he has a bit of an attitude. His pride may come in the way of manners, especially if he's arguing or something along the lines of that, but he isn't an asshole. He was nothing but kind as soon as the other characters became his friends (I'm talking about different movies, it's a general example), he was generous, playful and careful.
And yeah, I hate how terrible his relationship with Loki is in this movie. It goes from him literally being desperate for his death (but in a FuNnY wAY), from him being cold to Loki, to him literally torturing Loki for funsies. It's like seeing a goldfish interact with its owner again and again, changing opinions everytime it looks at said owner.
To wrap it up, I would like, once again, to make a short, decisive list of Things That Annoyed Me to close the argument: Thor and Loki barely reacting to the reveal of having an older, evil sister; said sister barely being shown in the movie despite having such a great premise; the three of them having little to no interaction; Korg joking about Asgard exploding and Thor not blowing him to smithereens the next second.
Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!
#marvel#avengers#loki#loki odinson#mcu#thor odinson#thor#anti thor ragnarok#thor ragnarok#thor ragnarok critical#yeah it took me over five months to finish this stupid post#so if something seems off or wonky that's the reason why#please though interact if you want to peacefully debate or correct me or something#I'm more than happy to chat over this#I lowk gave up trying to write it as a well planned essay halfway through it so I just decided to put in the major points and call it a day
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If I can share this, ‘cause I know that there’s a lot of feelings going around right now.
I think season 7 was the best season in arc 2. I just don’t think as a finale it warrants it as being considered the best. But if we don’t consider it to be one, I was pretty satisfied with this season overall. And I just don’t think the fact that there was some things left open in the end should deter it from being considered a good season in general.
Really, my biggest complaints about this season were about how it confirms what I already feel negatively in regards to previous seasons (like the handling of Viren’s death for one), some pacing issues that it repeated from previous seasons, the handling of one arc because I thought they could have done more/better then what they gave us (that would be Terry’s), and how it functions as a finale to the series. But even considering all those feelings… It wasn’t all that bad.
I still have mixed feelings about seasons 5 and 6 that I don’t feel like I’m in the majority of the fandom for having. So there’s something funny about seeing people who have largely been very supportive of this series up to this point, a lot of season 4 defenders here included, suddenly start to grow very agitated with the series finale.
I absolutely understand the criticisms it gets, and I definitely feel like a lot of them are well deserved. But I also feel that if we want arc 3 to happen… we should still continue to be supportive of the series and be mindful of why they made the choices they did in season 7. Sure, they could have given the series a more conclusive ending knowing that the possibility of an arc 3 being granted could have been unlikely, but there was also other things that they simply had to leave open if they wanted to continue the story. Please be understanding of that.
This isn’t to say to keep your commentary to yourself, but just to be more understanding when sharing your commentary. If you guys are so afraid that there won’t be an arc 3, then don’t actively tear down the show completely over minor grievances with it when that creates even more of a likelihood of arc 3 not happening.
I’ve already seen several big content creators in the fandom on other social media platforms not only threaten to leave the TDP fandom entirely over this season but also go as far as to suggest that the show no longer deserves a 3rd arc and should no longer be supported in its pursuit to get it simply because of their dislike for this last season.
Regardless of whatever takes on this season you might have, some of the outrage I’m seeing is a little extreme. Again, not saying by any means to avoid critiquing the show till we get confirmation of another arc, but there is definitely ways to go about publicly sharing your criticisms without immediately reacting so strongly against the series and its creators to the point you’re not even offering criticism you’re just being insulting. At that point, it’s no longer fun at all for either the creators or the show’s fandom to deal with, let alone fair to force them to deal with.
#the dragon prince#tdp#tdp season 7#the dragon prince s7#tdp critical#continue the saga#give us the saga
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Sonic 3 Spoiler Post Wheyyyyy
I’m gonna talk about literally everything so if you still haven’t seen the movie then scroll away, I will be adding images a week after this post goes up as well so yeah. This is NOT going to be well thought out at all it’s just going to be a ramble fest because why not shejsjjejejs
The fact that they made Live And Learn a song Maria wrote gives it SO much more meaning and a reason for the song to be included in the movie (besides fanservice lmao), a story line centred around the process of grief culminating with a grandiose reprise of a song made by the person one of the characters is grieving? CINEMA
The third act was incredible of course but god I wish they stopped going back and forth with the Robotnik stuff, the switch ups between the immaculate fight choreography and the slapstick bullshit really began to run its course and I was just waiting for peak to start again
Speaking of those fight scenes OH MY GOD THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY IS SOME OF THE BEST THIS SERIES HAS EVER HAD IT WAS ON SOME DRAGON BALL TYPE SHIT. When Super Sonic and Super Shadow were beating the everloving fuck out of each other in different countries I was stimming like crazy
Knuckles is the unsung MVP of this movie and I’m so happy they got to show his character development in a really natural way, he’s really become a big brother figure for the other two and the way he tried to talk Sonic down after Tom almost died really got to me he’s come so far 🥹
When the trailer fakeout shot came up I was LOSING IT 😭
Also I want to know what the cinematographer was smoking because some of the shots in this thing are BEAUTIFUL, especially the ones in space (when Sonic and Shadow enter their super forms and go around like blazing comets I was going crazy)
The colour grading is a huge step up from the last two movies as well, you can tell the budget went up because the models here are stunning (especially Shadow’s)
I wish Live And Learn got to play a little longer but I’m just happy they included it either way (when the vocals came in so did I)
Agent Stone continues to be one of my favourite human characters in the entire series, I honestly wouldn’t mind them adding him to the games because his dynamic with Eggman is way better than whatever Orbot and Cubot have going on
They definitely listened to the critiques for the second movie as well because the human stuff has been very toned down and I honestly think it’s for the better (and this is coming from someone who actually really likes Rachel idk man she’s just fun)
I’m pretty satisfied with how they handled Gerald outside of the usual Jim Carrey shenanigans, portraying him as a madman so consumed by grief that he’s completely willing to let Earth and himself die out of pure spite was crazy, I saw someone say that this is how he’d act if he didn’t get executed 50 years ago and I can see that pretty clearly. I loved the glimpses of humanity we get of him as well (the way he referred to both Maria AND Shadow as “kids” in the flashback made me feel like he genuinely did care for him at that point and the death of Maria just threw him off the deep end)
The scene of Shadow and Gerald finding Maria’s body was DEVASTATING, the way Shadow didn’t know if she was dead at first and all it took was to see how heartbroken Gerald was to figure it out killed me 😔
Speaking of which they actually did a rewrite for Shadow’s backstory while keeping a lot of the same elements and I’m pretty happy with it for the most part, him coming to earth in a comet is black arms foreshadowing 100% and the flashbacks of him and Maria just hanging out and having fun like normal kids was really nice (the inclusion of the biolizard being the monster in the movie they were watching was really cool too I didn’t even notice that at first until someone pointed it out)
Despite these changes he was handled SO well, Keanu did a great job voicing him and to hear that he actually wanted to play the character made me so happy, it’s almost like getting people who give a shit about the source material is a really important factor of making adaptations succeed idk
The reason why Maria’s around though is kind of weak? She isn’t ill in this version and the only reason she’s in the lab is because Gerald takes her everywhere? That’s it? Why couldn’t they have said that he adopted her or something? (Or maybe her parents had an incurable illness that Gerald tried and failed to help with so he took her in after the fact idk)
Ben Schwartz popped OFF in the third act god I love it watching whimsical characters completely losing their shit after they’ve been pushed too far
The fact that the iconic “announcement” was changed to a tragic yaoi send off is beautiful, I hope Agent Stone comes back in future movies his dynamic with Tails was really cute
Pansexual Eggman is now canon we are so back
Loved the brief snippet of E.G.G.M.A.N, it played for five seconds but I was stimming anyway
The soundtrack is also a huge step up from the first two movies as well (also Throw It All Away is one of the song titles holy shit)
The post credits scene was PEAK I love Metal Sonic and Amy’s designs so much, Im really interested to see if it’ll be a loose adaptation of Sonic CD or it’ll be its own thing (maybe Amy and Metal are originally from the games’ bad timeline and that’s how Silver shows up later? I’m not sure, I just want Silver fans to get SOMETHING they’ve been fucking starving bro I feel bad for them 😭)
#karm rambles#sonic 3 movie#sonic 3 spoilers#shadow the hedgehog#knuckles the echidna#tails the fox#dr eggman#gerald robotnik#maria robotnik
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Not sure how much meat this question has to it but if back in 2006 you were the one that spearheaded the shadow the hedgehog game, how would you have done it?
i'd want ShTH 2005 to keep the same core energy its final form ended up with, but tbh there's a lot i would have done differently lol. here's my 3 step plan for how i would have directed it previously/would direct any sort of reboot or remaster
1. TIMELOOP!!!!!!
i'm not the first person to come up with this idea and i won't be the last to talk about it, but the gist of this point is that ShTH's story makes WAY more sense when you treat it like a timeloop. you finished a story path and end up back in westopolis? great job, you're at the beginning of the timeloop again. it's a smart way to make this wack story a little more cohesive.
i would LOVE to further utilize the timeloop concept for this game because it could be a very simple addition to add flavor OR it be the core of the game's story and gameplay. small things like shadow going "hey wait, have i seen this before?" when he's going through westopolis for the third time can hint at the narrative, and once shadow realizes he's in a loop he's motivated to find EVERY path in search of the full truth. every new story path could be treated as a new game+ as shadow starts to consistently remember more from previous timeloops, carrying over certain weapons, abilities, and memories from his previous experiences.
one really cool idea i saw a while ago on here (edit: FOUND IT! i'm talking about this post) is someone's ShTH timeloop pitch where after a few resets, silver starts to show up and tells shadow to stop messing with the timeline. this continues, and eventually silver becomes a final boss of some of the paths. this idea has never left my mind since i saw it and i need to find the person that came up with it they mean so much to me
i have more timeloop thoughts but i will move on for now
2. simplify or rework the morality system and levels
this is my big gameplay critique - there is A Lot to do in ShTH and very little of it is consistently fun. i have grievances with the morality system i talked about a while ago, the gist of my opinion boiling down to "the system removes agency from shadow and the story doesn't fit within the morals you choose anyway." i'd either MASSIVELY rework the morality system to make it feel worthwhile or just throw the whole thing away. unfortunately i don't have many pitches for what to replace it with since i haven't played that many games with branching stories - maybe the story paths you go down are based on BIG story decisions shadow makes during boss battles or in cutscenes (?) like choosing which boss to fight, which characters to save, what moves or weapons to use, stuff like that. i just want the stuff that leads to branching stories to be more impactful and a little simpler.
this also applies to the levels, of which there are... a lot. and maybe there should be less? i think it would be smart to cut down or combine some of the levels, then really flesh out the ones that matter. and given the non-linear nature of ShTH, i think a version with levels more focused on exploration and combat would fit the game better than the linear mission-based gameplay of the original.
3. MORE GUN
listen man. they advertised this as the sonic game with guns and in my opinion i think they could've done better. i mostly just want a more fleshed out weapons system with upgrades, a little customization, better controls, etc. just put the merchant from resident evil 4 in there and have him accept rings and i would be happy
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those are the big points i would personally stick to, but i do have smaller points i would consider as well, including:
make black doom seem competent
explain who the chaotix are working for and fit it into the story
no more "kill this many enemies to progress" missions. please
super shadow can have a gun now
#I LOVE YOU SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG 2005 TIMELOOP YOU MEAN SO MUCH TO ME#sonic loreposting#long post#asks
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PICK A CARD: MESSAGES FROM SHIV-SHAKTI (DIVINE MASCULINE-DIVINE FEMININE)


Left: 111 ; Right: 333
Disclaimer:
Take what resonates and leave the rest.
Personal Readings are paid only. DM to book.
No one is allowed to copy my work under any circumstances.
Thank you for allowing me to read for you, and provide feedback.
✨111✨
Justice will be served, it’s been long due for you isn’t it? You have been waiting, praying, hoping and have been hopeless and joyless too. This is your confirmation of justice being handed to you. Especially in relationships, I see someone along thinking they will never find somebody, some people came almost too good to be true, and as you suspected they weren’t, they betrayed you, made a fool of you, but I am being told to tell you, that you were not the fool, how can someone so pure, someone who’s intent was nothing but innocent is the fool? Why do we think that pessimism is maturity and optimism being naive? Isn’t the true fool the one who betrays? Aren’t they the one who actually lost something good due to their own stupidity. Please go BACK TO TRUSTING YOURSELF. You will find a partner who trusts themselves too, a union of too mature adults, a union grounded in reality, a union till death do you part, a union with kids and family, a union of loyalty and legacy, a union joining two communities. MOST IMPORTANTLY, A UNION OF MUTUAL RESPECT AND UNDERSTANDING. You will be soon tied to your destiny, weather a partner for most of you or life purpose, or the balance of the yin and yang, but its time to go around the sacred fires and take sacred vows. Also the number 7 and 11 popped up, these are soulmate numbers, you could marry your soulmate or for some of you, they could be a friend. YOU or the, could be born on the 7, 16, 25th or 11th , 20th, 29th be a 7 or 11 life-path. COMMENT ’rose’ to claim 🌙DM to book a personal tarot reading, your mystery messages want to keep being channeled🌙
✨333✨
(There are many messages, take what resonates and leave the rest) For some of you: you don’t reach the sun from earth on foot, change your plans, you are dreaming big so why is the plan so hurried, you don’t trust this plan either so why are you hurried pushing it further, what’s yours won’t get copied, put your own unique touch, but for that you need time, you are a good leader, motivating and charming, but what’s the need to hurry. LEARN PATIENCE. I am seeing someone overwhelmed, who wants to stop or slowdown but won’t admit to themselves. KEEP MOMENTUM, but do not be hurried, you get hurried, then frustrated and then nothing seems to work out and then it forms a loop, relax. I AM GETTING VERY FRUSTRATED ENERGY FROM YOU and anxious. Oooo, BIG KING ENERGY! You are a person with intense passion and a solid plan, that’s rare. You might be the creative type that is logical too. Maybe you never could just fit in one category but like clay kept taking the shape the energy or the activity needed from you. It’s confirmed, you are not meant to be in a box. The message here is to take the logical, analytical mind take a back seat in the initial stages, don’t critique yourself or your plans too much, let the energy take form, during the course of times, things self correct automatically. SAVE THIS AND RE-READ THIS, take a print or screenshot, but please don’t just read and move on without doing anything about yourself. Hope you feel better, and keep taking deep breathes. COMMENT ’relax’ to claim message. 🌙DM to book a personal tarot reading, your mystery messages want to keep being channeled🌙
#free tarot#pick a pile#pick an image#pac reading#pick a card reading#pick a picture#ask response#pick a photo#pac tarot#pick a card#future spouse pick a card#divine feminine#the divine masculine#channeled reading#channeled message
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