#Steep Extreme Pack

[incidentallysunny]

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.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

A bit of a theory that I’ve struck on while rereading the start of FOTR. I think there’s something guarding Rivendell besides the Bruinen. I think Elrond has taken a leaf out of Melian’s book.

There are some hints that the distance to Rivendell varies depending on who you are. Frodo starts approaching the Ford in late afternoon; he is in desperate need of healing, and is brought to Rivendell midway into that same night.

In The Hobbit, in contrast, the dwarves and Bilbo cross the Ford of Bruinen in the morning, and the sun is down by the time they reach Rivendell. There’s lot of references to the journey being longer than Bilbo would expect:

They came on unexpected valleys, narrow with steep sides, that opened suddenly at their feet, and then looked down surprised to see trees below them and running water at the bottom. There were gullies that they could almost leap over, but very deep with waterfalls in them. There were dark ravines that one could neither jump over or climb into. There were bogs, some of them green pleasant places to look at, with flowers growing bright and tall; but a pony that walked there with a pack on its back would never have come out again. It was indeed a mich wider land from the ford to the mountains than you would ever have guessed. Bilbo was astonished.

Then there’s Aragorn’s line when Merry asks him how far it is to Rivendell:

“I don’t know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond The Forsaken Inn, a day’s journey east of Bree. Some say it is far, and others say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk are glad to meet their journey’s end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune: twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen.”

(By the way, it always amazes me, now I’ve noticed it, that the hobbits manage this journey - which Aragorn says would take him 12 days on the Road, with “fair weather and no ill fortune,” in only 14 days with Frodo severely injured, travelling mainly off the Road, and with some bad weather and wrong directions. Some of that’s due to the extremely fast pace Glorfindel sets for the last twoand a half days, but it’s incredibly impressive.)

If anyone should know the distance from Bree to Rivendell, it should be Aragorn, a Ranger of the North fostered in Rivendell, who has probably covered that journey dozens to hundreds of times. And the Road is fairly straight; it shouldn’t be hard for travellers to keep track of the general distance. And also, Aragorn only gives the distance to the Ford, not to Rivendell itself. What if the distance and difficulty of the Road from the Ford to Rivendell varies, based on how well a guest is known. Frodo is the Ring-bearer, in desperate need; he makes it there fast. Thorin & Company are vouched for by Gandalf, but are largely an unknown quantity; it takes them the better part of a day. Someone with hostile intentions might never find Rivendell at all, even after days of wanderings.

[absolutebl]

Top 10 Best BLs on Gagaoolala

My Beautiful Man AKA Utsukushii Kare

Japan 2021

One of the most Japanese BLs to release in the last decade, as weird and as messed up as any 2000s yaoi: emo af and hella warped, entirely true to itself with no attempt made to modify its POV for modern sensibilities or current BL fandom. It used seriously old school problematic and kinky tropes, like whipping boy, for a truly uncompromising piece that also manages to hit up themes of communication, consent, and self acceptance. It’s a wonderful BL but uniquely dirty and harsh, in the best possible way - Japanese cinema, uncompromising.

I lost my ever loving mind over the ending. This show won the Grand Prix “My Best TV Award” at the 16th Galaxy Awards.

Minato's Laundromat AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry

Japan 2022

A classic age gap romance where a high school student pursues the man of his dreams (who runs a laundromat). This BL is so steeped in yaoi nostalgia, not to mention a classic romance arc, that it will overload some, but those of us who love this genre for its DNA will adore it. It made me very happy because it did everything I want a BL to do - there’s not much more I could ask of a show than this. It’s the closest Japan has come to perfect live action yaoi since Seven Days (and I never make that comparison lightly).

Squee watch-along here.

My Ride

Thai 2022

Thai BL grew up with this pulp (the first ever to make my end of year top 10). It’s a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine (AKA a cinnamon roll couple) plus mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest, and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede, the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple.

Takara & Amagi AKA Takara-kun to Amagi-kun

Japan 2022 I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this BL. Reserved cool kid who must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charming: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning. Was there plot? Not really. Was it emotionally tense and paced well enough for me not to notice? Absolutely. Did I enjoy the hell out of it? Oh yes.

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Taiwan 2023

The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged, but that’s normal for Taiwan. It involves all the tropes under a very casual framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. Absolutely every character is queer. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs, and a KILLER side couple. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan 2023

This style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that part is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan.

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku

Japan 2023

A lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. I was always gonna love this show if they stuck to the manga (which is very dear to my heart). And they did, paralleling it almost exactly. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me as the best of what Japan can do with softness (like Restart After Come Back Home). It’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, but that's OK with me. This is a very safe show for anyone to watch.

Step By Step

Thai 2023

This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This office romance between a stern boss and sweet subordinate felt more authentic to cubical work than previous Thai BLs of this ilk. That authenticity added tension to the narrative and its characters development (how novel). I also really enjoyed the charming side characters and the brothers' relationship to each other (although I could have done without that brother's side BL).

Long Time No See

Korea (Strongberry) 2017

Catfishing assassins on either side of a turf war who fall in love not knowing they are on opposite sides. Or do they? Suspenseful plot, good fight sequences, mature characters, hot sexitimes and even hotter beating the shit out of each other and kissing while covered in blog (this came from KOREA?), plus an HEA. One of the hidden gems of the BL genre.

About Youth

Taiwan 2022

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweet and colored by real world authenticity and grit.

Some of these shows ALSO appeared on Viki or iQIYI, but these BLs will appear only once on these round up posts (here for Gaga), not on the other platforms top 10.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that aired on Gaga (or was taken off the platform) after that date.

This is part of a series more here:

[amiserableseriesofevents]

[giving them a panicked hug] "no, no, no, no!" OR "shit, no, that's not what i meant." (if one of them inspires you dear 🥰)

After a week spent hiking, it's their turn! Modern AU, not Such Stuff related 🥰🏔️

John has been acting weird for weeks, and for the life of him Gale can't understand why.

For starters, he personally suggested the location for their holiday, a task that usually Gale takes on; one day he came home to a depliant of a quaint camping site in the mountains, amidst the nature, with suggestions on several hiking trails. It's not the first holiday they've spent hiking, they both like to stay outside and breath fresh air when they're not in the office and they're both in good enough shape to take on even steeper trails if the view is worth it, and it seemed like this particular place meant a lot to John so Gale had agreed to his plan, secretly pleased that he was the one taking the initiative for once.

That was only the first weirdness, though.

Since then, John keeps acting like he's hiding something and he's such a terrible liar that Gale knows something is going on, he just knows it.

He packed his own suitcase without accepting any help from Gale, and he triple checked everything before leaving when he's usually one to shrug and say he'll deal with it even if he forgets to pack something crucial like a clean pair of pants or a toothbrush. If it were winter Gale would think John's hiding his birthday present; but it's fucking July, their anniversary is not coming for two more months, and Gale cannot think about another date worth celebrating.

The strangest thing though happened just this morning, when they were getting ready for the hike and John dressed all in blue – an extremely sober choice for him that usually wears clashing colors like a hot pink tank top with yellow shorts and neon green socks. “Are you feeling alright?” Gale ventured to ask him, genuinely worried.

“Yeah of course Buck, why?” Was John's answer, with a hint of hysterics in his voice, so Gale decided to not push him; whatever is going on with him, sooner or later Bucky will tell him.

The hike he's chosen for today is splendid: a narrow dirt track amongst tall trees whose shadow provide a welcome respite from the summer heat, the air filled with the fragrant smell of resin and dirt. John told him there's a lake waiting for them at the end of the trail, with several bits of sandy shore all around where they can lie their picnic blanket and rest after the long walk.

“It's pear shaped, you know Buck? The lake I mean,” John tells him, his rambling never stopping even when he'd need to save his breath. “It's great, you're gonna love it. The water's a bit cold but no worse than Lake Michigan.”

“You came here with your family, right?”

“Yup, for three summers when I was a kid. I've always wanted to come back and I thought, what better chance to do it than, ah, with you, my love,” John answers, clearly almost giving up his secret. Gale feels his gaze on him, nervous, and he smiles back at him, grabbing his hand. He's not usually the type for PDA, but they're alone in a forest and John seems to be needing it, so Gale weaves their fingers together and they keep walking like that for a while, careful not to jostle each other on the uneven ground.

“I'm happy you decided to bring me here,” Gale says after a while. “Thank you for always sharing these things with me, John. It means a whole lot.”

John pulls him closer for a kiss, then stares seriously in his eyes. “I'll always share everything with you Buck, I promise,” he tells him. Gale hesitates, wondering if that's John way of suggesting him to ask about whatever he's hiding right now, but then John's focus shifts back to the trail and he decides to drop the subject.

After an hour or so they reach the last part of the trail, the hardest one: a steep staircase carved into the side of the mountain, more or less thirty steps to reach the other side before climbing down to the lake's shore.

“Once we're up there we'll be able to see the lake!” John exclaims, his childish enthusiasm making him all the more jittery, a smile on his face wider than any Gale has seen before.

Gale goes first, eager to catch a glimpse on the view. The sun beats down on him, unforgiving, and he feels beads of sweat forming along his hairline, his t-shirt progressively more and more stuck to his back. There are more step than John remembered, bordering on sixty, but once Gale reaches the top he immediately forgives him for his inaccuracy because the view is truly breathtaking: the lake is blue, the deepest blue Gale has ever seen in his life, and the light hits it just right so that parts of its surface look like they're made of shimmering diamonds. All around the shore there are more tall trees, their bright green in contrast with the sapphire hue of the water and the turquoise of the sky, dotted here and there with fluffy white clouds.

Gale leans back against the rock wall, breathless and mesmerized. He hears John reaching the peak after him but doesn't turn too him, too entranced by the view. “John. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he says, voice shaky with wonder.

“I know, right?” John says, and by the mirth in his voice Gale knows that he's looking at him and not at the view. He turns to him, ready to affectionately scold him, and he finds him down on one knee with a small box in hand.

His brain short-circuits.

“No!”

How did he not think about it? Every single one of John's weirdnesses of the past few months suddenly makes sense: he chose a place that meant a lot to him, dressed all nice for Gale, and waited for the best possible moment to propose. He can't believe it. It was so obvious, so-

It's only when he notices that John has gone pale, his eyes wide with confusion and heartbreak, that he realizes he's spoken out loud. John got down on one knee to propose, and he shouted no at him.

“No?" John asks, little more than a whimper.

"Shit, no, that's not what I meant!” Gale says, frantically trying to make up for his mistake. “It was a no to me, not to you! Because I've been trying to understand what was going on with you for weeks and now that I know it was so obvious, I can't believe I couldn't see it!”

“...so?” John asks, still on one knee.

“Ask the question. I promise I'm not gonna say no.”

“You promise?”

Gale nods, and John takes a deep breath. “Buck, my love, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Gale shouts, louder than the no he spoke before, and throws himself at John when the other rises back on his feet, kissing him with all the passion and joy he can muster.

“Buck, the ring!” John tells him between kisses, and Gale reluctantly lets him go; there are tears on John's face and in his eyes, but Gale hopes they're of happiness just like the ones he feels wet on his cheeks.

The ring is beautiful, a simple silver band with a B engraved on the inside. “It's perfect, John” Gale tells him, beaming.

John gives him a kiss on the tip of the nose. “Never do something like that again,” he half threatens, half pleads. “I was about to throw myself in the lake from here.”

“I promise. I'll make it up to you.”

“Your wedding vows better be fucking fire, Buck.”

[th3-0bjectivist]

My visit to the NASCAR Hall of Fame (Charlotte, NC - JUN 29 2024)

Every year for a few years now, I try to do an Independence Day post where I walk around a few cemeteries and snap some cool photos. But this is an election year, and I'm concerned that I'm going to have to soft-block some political zealot high on their own farts that will leave intellectual gems in the comments like 'Drumpf IZ Hitler!' or 'down with left-cucks in 24!'. So instead, I'm going to share some pictures that I took at the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte, and you can leave all the unrelated jabbering political frivolity that you'd like in the comments section.

For the record, I'm not into NASCAR at all. I haven't watched a full single race in my lifetime, and I tend to associate it with rednecks driving in circles. Which, to my chagrin, I was dead wrong in my interpretation on. Well, except for the redneck part. There's a hell of a lot more to these beautiful cars than I thought. My visit to this specialized museum was a delicate mix of history, art and science lessons!

The first thing I learned is that although these cars look fully assembled from the outside, they have nearly all the standard parts taken out (the radio, the average driver wheel, the headlights, etc.) and the bodies are composed of a flat sheet of durable metal. These days the car panels, which are composite materials like plastic coated with fibreglass, are then painted over to make a colorful, and often very corporate piece of art that is ready to drive at breakneck speeds. This all makes the modified car as light and agile as possible on the speedway.

In the U.S. south, where I reside these days, stock car racing's roots took hold from prohibition. Stock car racing wasn't just about competition; it was about taking your very fast car and running moonshine and illegally imported booze to different regions around Appalachia. Getting away from highway patrol meant stripping your car of excessive weight and parts, allowing for maximum maneuverability around hairpin turns and extreme acceleration up and down steep hills… all while a 1000-pound barrel of booze was strapped down in the back seat.

This is a picture I snapped inside the Hall of Honor, and that man is Richard 'the King' Petty. As a non-NASCAR fan, his face is the face I most associate with NASCAR, as his signature moustache, glasses and hat stand out to me as a truly memorable and iconic driver. But it’s not just the driver that participates. In NASCAR, your team is composed of a chief, who spots opportunities from television monitors and signals the driver through radio to execute specific moves to win the race, all while managing the rest of the team.

The pit crew consists of mechanics, a jackman (runs around the car with a heavy jack to raise the automobile during a maintenance pit stop), a cut-off valve attendant for refuelling, and a driver attendant who helps the driver get in and out of the car. It doesn't just take an individual driver, but a full team to assist the driver in winning the race. Drivers have suffered concussions, bone fractures, severe burns, whiplash, traumatic bodily injuries and death. Talk about bleeding for your craft!

And now for some art! Pictured above is a full-scale clay model of a Next Gen Ford Mustang. These days, clay models of racing cars are developed from digital designs and used to capture approvals from companies to lay down a final design for a race-worthy automobile. Once you pack a V-8 engine into one of these babies and recreate it out of a steel tube frame, you've got a vehicle that can reach speeds above 200 miles per hour.

Here's my pops, Dave, who I took to this museum as a birthday present. He's a NASCAR freak, and this little excursion to the Hall of Fame actually made him cry for a beat as he recalled decades worth of memories of racers, historic moments, and images of historic back-to-back victories for drivers and their teams.

Every car has the potential to be a race car. It just takes some weight-loss surgery or a good initial design, some driver safety features, and a colorful skin to make the whole thing faster, more agile, and more appealing to the eye. I have to say I never expected to absorb so much from the NASCAR HoF. I was grateful for my visit and wanted to share a portion of what I learned to Tumblr as a fun little sidebar.

I hope you enjoyed this post. And rest assured, you will never see another NASCAR post on my page ever again… y'know, unless it’s a meme or something!

Happy 4th,

th3-0bjectivist (Luke)

[ADDENDUM (07/05/2024): Tumblr ryanthedemiboy pointed out to me in the comments that the third paragraph in this post probably needed some modifications regarding the actual description of the panels, which I originally and ignorantly described as an ‘outer metal hull’. While this might have been the case with older NASCAR vehicles, in modern times the panels are at best ‘metal-skinned’, if that, and manufactured from carbon fibre. Also, older NASCAR vehicles were painted and repainted, but ever since the early 2000’s these vehicles are simply wrapped in a vinyl skin. Thank you for your insight ryanthedemiboy, I will ‘stay in my lane’ so to speak in the future and give these topics, that are alien to me, the research they deserve before I post!]

[my-name-is-heartache]

Promise braids -part 2

Just wanna say I hate this so much but ehh we'll see

I might write a part 3 but honestly the only way I can see that happening I if goose-gremlin comes back cause she deactivated and it's just not the same☹️

@goose-gremlin love you gurl! Tysm for hyping this up for me❤️

@maeriel-arnosel you too 🤗

I'm so sorry everyone else who wanted tagged it's just not working 😞

Warnings: legolas, injury, shitty writing on my part, adult theme?, lil rushed, violence, smut, public sex,

When the time came for you both to rise from the floor and say goodbye you felt your heart sink into your stomach. So little time had been spent between you two.

You both walked to the door, a fresh braid in your hair.

"I shall miss you my love," you whispered to him in elvish.

"as I shall miss you," he hugged you tight and snuck kisses along your neck.

Then he joined Gimli and Aragorn outside.

"you know I happen to own a certain cloak that makes the wearer completely undetectable to those she does not wish to find her."

"and what about an unbetrayed heart? Because I happen to be in need of one," you sighed.

"no I don't however I do have a spare horse if one was to need it."

"I can't go with you," you looked him dead in the eye.

"why not?"

"because he needs to know I'm safe," you replied honestly.

"then stay safe with him," the old wizard smiled, and you returned it.

"he wouldn't let me leave," you could feel giddy butterflies in your stomach.

"then wait for us to be out of sight then head northwest."

"thank you," you grinned before dashing off to gather your things.

By the time you had everything together and changed into riding clothes the others were well on there way. Checking you had everything you glimpsed the bow legolas had trained you with many years ago.

Grabbing it you brought everything outside.

Just as you packed everything onto the horse Gandalf had left you, you heard a horn blowing of in the distance. Your stomach dropped.

The orcs had arrived.

Your heart in your ears you quickly mounted your horse and directed her north west.

You could hear the beginnings of fear as screams rang through the town.

You felt sick to your stomach as you kicked your horse's sides and galloped off.

Praying you'd made it out in time you glanced back at the town which was gradually being ingulfed in flames.

You let out the breath you'd been holding.

You rode faster up the steep hill, when you turned around you saw them the orcs unlike any you'd ever seen.

Bigger, stronger, scarier.

They had swords the size of ponies and spears to match.

The archers had bows the size of saplings. The arrows as sharp as broken hearts.

The same arrows that were souring through the sky.

Quickly you forced your horse faster, but not fast enough.

You could hear the others. They had stopped in a valley with a lone tree near the edge and a small stream gurgling around.

There chatter blurred almost as much as your vision as you slipped from your horse. Hitting the ground with a thud.

***

Legolas turned his head picking up his bow as he went.

"what are you doing?" Asked Aragorn.

"I heard something," legolas answered simply.

Quietly Aragorn, and Gimli followed him.

Then legolas saw you lying on the ground your breath coming in uneven gasps.

"Y/n," he rushed towards you dropping his bow and arrow to the ground. He picked you up in his arms.

Then he saw the blood streaming from the arrow wound in your lower back.

"She's hurt," Aragorn called to Gandalf.

"Bring her to me," Gandalf called and legolas sprung to his feet almost running over to the wizard.

Your eyes fluttered open as legolas placed you down on your stomach.

"I have something that may help," said Gandalf and he took a small bottle filled with a clear liquid out of his pocket.

"will it hurt her?" Legolas asked.

"extremely," replied Gandalf. "I need to access her back."

Legolas undid the laces at the back of your dress top, leaving your back exposed but he made sure your breasts would be mostly hidden.

"elavate her head and chest so she can breath," Gandalf said.

Legolas shifted so that your top half lay across his lap, his legs crossed.

Then Gandalf removed the cork from the bottle and poured a little of the liquid onto the wound.

It smoked and sizzled. And you screamed.

Legolas tried to comfort you by holding your hand and stroking your hair but it did nothing.

Pain racked your body as the liquid entered your blood stream and ripped its way through your entire being.

Gandalf flinched away momentarily before pouring more liquid onto the gash.

You screamed louder.

"STOP!" You screeched. "PLEASE!" Legolas bent over you holding you tight to him.

Gimli turned away and Aragorn stared at the ground.

"please make it stop," you whimpered tears stinging your eyes.

Gandalf looked at you simpatheticly.

Your wound had disappeared leaving nothing but a faint red mark.

Legolas tied your top closed and sat you up in his arms cradling you into his chest.

"I'm sorry my love," legolas muttered to quietly for anyone else to hear.

"why did you leave?" You murmered before losing conciousness.

Legolas felt tears escape his eyes for the second time that day as he sobbed over your unconscious form.

When you awoke you were on a fine white horse with someone riding behind you.

As the horse jostled you about you felt yourself sliding right but the person behind you quickly righted you pulling you into his chest.

"legolas?"

"I'm here," Legolas replied from behind and stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand.

"where are we going?" You asked sleepily.

"into the mountains," he answered leaving a sweet kiss on your neck. "Don't worry you will be safe there."

"Your leaving me?" You turned to look at him.

"We have to my love," he whispered his name for you in elvish.

You sighed and looked at your surroundings, you didn't want to argue with him right now.

You could see the level path gradually steepening, higher and higher until it disappeared amongst the trees.

Once you had traveled for what seemed like hours you reached a small cave in the mountain side. The cave extended about 5 meters back and 3 wide.

Silently you all dismounted your horse's.

"here we are," said Gandalf jesturing to the cave.

"and I'll be safe here?" You asked unsure. Trying to resist the urge to cling to legolas even with his hand in the small of your back. Especially with his hand on the small of your back.

"yes," said Aragorn, "no one will pass through here and if they do they shalln't see you."

"ok," you smiled and you took your small amount of luggage with you into the cave.

"oh and y/n, if someone does happen to come this way do not make a sound. Even if you are bleeding out onto the ground do not let anyone find you. They cannot enter this cave unless they see or hear you. You understand?"

Slightly taken aback you agreed and the company moved on.

"GOODBYE!" Called Gimli and legolas waved.

Wishing legolas was there you searched through your bags for the book you knew you'd packed, as it was your favourite and you had often spent whole nights with your nose stuck in between the pages.

Finding said book you settled down in a small alcove at the back of the cave with your bags resting beside you and began reading.

The story was on old one written by the first elves to travel to middle earth. It was about valinor, a place so pure that many elves were now traveling back to it.

Alas you could not return, not because of your human father. But you could settle for your imaginery version.

You would love to hear how it was now but no elves ever returnes from valinor.

The last thing you heard before drifting of to sleep was a horn blasting through the still silence.

When you awoke it was mid-day and the sun was streaming into the cave.

Rubbing sleep from your eyes you looked out at the lone tree gaurding the exit to your cave you saw shadows moving across the entrance.

Stiffling a gasp you shot back into the alcove.

You could hear bustling around outside before it all went silent. Peaking around the rock you could make out vague shapes lingering by the door.

Hurriedly you ducked back down reaching for the double recurve bow at your feet.

A voice came from outside and you let out a shaky breath collapsing your head into your hands.

"I swear she was right here," said Gimli.

"She was, she was right here," added Aragorn.

"maybe something happened?"came gandalfs voice.

"hopefully she's close by," said Gimli.

You made to stand up but froze. There were four shadows, three voices.

Legolas was there but hadn't spoken.

Silently you sat back down.

"where is she?" Gimli asked.

When you realise your name hadn't been mentioned you thanked your lucky star you hadn't walked out.

"where is she?" Gimli's voice asked again.

It wasn't them.

"probably gone," said Gandalf.

Suddenly you felt a sharp twing of pain in your head and you massaged your temple.

"I can feels it," whispered a wet voice.

Clasping your forehead you curled in on yourself. Wishing for the pain to end. You could feel your consciousness disappearing.

"it's in here," rasped another.

Then you heard the twang of a bow string and the thud of an arrow finding its mark.

Then three more times, before silence.

The throbbing in your head stopped and you straightened your back. Tempted to peer around the corner you shuffled further back against the wall.

You could hear footsteps outside quickly closing in.

"Y/N! Y/N ARE YOU OK?" Came legolas's frantic voice.

You peeped around the wall of the alcove and saw him walking inside the cave.

"yeah, I'm here," you called back meekly.

"oh thank god," legolas rushed to your side and knelt before you, "are you alright are you hurt?"

"no, I'm fine," you replied truthfully and he sighed in relief.

"I was worried."

"where are the others?"

"they sent me ahead, they are just coming," he said but his eyes didn't meet yours.

"legolas?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I ran ahead when I saw you weren't alone "

He helped you to your feet. Then he peaked outside seeing that the others were quite far off legolas turned back to you.

"we have five minutes," he said before slamming his hand beside your head and pulling you into him, kissing you agresively.

Melting into him you trailed your hands up his side's, resting them on his cheeks.

Legolas pushed your back up against the wall, his hand which was previously gripping your waist found its way to your breast, slowly needing it.

You moaned into his mouth and you felt his tongue lick your bottom lip before he took it in-between his teeth and rolled it around.

You pulled him impossibly closer and rapped your arms around his neck.

Panting he stopped gazing into your eyes. His own filled with longing.

"I love you," he whispers you tried to reply but he silenced you with his mouth. You gasped and opened your mouth wider, this must have been what he wanted because seconds later he had his tongue in your mouth.

The sounds of footsteps haulted your kiss.

"Y/N!" Called a voice much to close.

"I thought you said five minutes?" You whispered to legolas. He merely shrugged and walked out of the alcove.

"we are here!" He called out and suddenly Aragorn was upon you checking you to see if you were ingured.

"are you hurt?" He flustered about you.

"I am unharmed Aragorn," you assured him and pushed him back.

"I told you so," said Gimli as he hobbled up to you a humungus grin on his face.

"what bet did you win?" You asked him cheerily.

"Forty three!" Cried Gimli before he turned to see if Gandalf had arrived.

You turned to legolas for an explanation.

He merely looked at his feet and mumbled "one, it was one point," before sneeking his hand into yours looking for simpathy.

You gave it, squeezing his hand tight and rubbing your thumb across his nuckles.

Aragorn watched this exchange closly.

"so you two are really close then?" He asked.

"oh god yeah," you smiled back. "We're like siblings."

"Ah Y/n you are alright?" You nodded in response to Gandalfs question, "good, then we must make hast too Isengard."

"wait what about me? Legolas said I shan't be going to Isengard?" You pointed out.

"oh did he?" Said Aragorn. "Legolas failed to mention that."

All three looked to legolas sternly.

"in my defense," legolas trailed off unable to think of an excuse.

"well I suppose you could stay with the woman if Rohan," suggested Gandalf.

"Then I must stay aswell, harm befalls her whenever I leave," legolas objected.

"yeah, or legolas who is needed could go and I can fight with you guys?"

"No way," they all responded in unison.

"Tch," you tutted and walked too the entrance whilst the others discussed what to do with you.

Hopping down over rocks you walked further away. Following a small burn trickling down next to you.

That's when you heard it a rasping choking sound. The throbbing in your head returned.

"Gots you," gurgled the thing at your feet.

"Legol-" you tried to call out but you fell to your knees the pain in your head intensifying.

As the thing slowly crawled towards you, you kicked out landing a solid kick to its eye making it squeal in pain as it rithed around.

"Help," you cried a lot quieter but the thing at your feet heard.

"No helps for you," it said before lurching forward knocking your head against a rock. Blood poured into your eyes and you fumbled around for a weapon.

Finding a loose rock your turned to the creature bringing the rock down around its head. In the back of your mind you heard the twang of an arrow. But the creature seemed unbothered as it sunk its teeth into your calf.

You screamed an ear piercing scream and attempted to kick off the thing. Holding your rock more tightly you brought it down a second time this time hitting its jaw.

With a sickening crunch the creatures eyes flicked up to yours.

"Fiesty it is," a mix of saliva and blood pooled on your leg. You squeeked and tried to shuffle backwards but the pain in your leg was unimaginable. "Oh it's not leaving, it's not leaving," it laughed.

"Yes she is," cried Aragorn bringing his sword down splitting the creature's head in two. You let out a weak gasp.

Catching your breath you let your head fall back against soft moss.

"Thank you, I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing," he said pulling you into a tight imbrace.

"Where's legolas?"

"You know he heard you scream and ran out with naught but a single arrow and his bow."

"Then why is he not here?"

"Isn't it obvious, he missed,' Aragorn gestured to a singular arrow in the wood of a tree a few feet away.

"Oh," you said momentarily forgetting the pain in your leg but it was remembered harshly when you attempted to move.

Cursing Aragorn lifted you up holding you tight against him.

Tears soaked your cheeks as you cried in agony.

Aragorn started to run back up the mountain. Calling out as he did.

The blood loss would have knocked you unconscious but the pain kept you awake.

The cold stone of the cave floor did nothing to cool the hot pain searing through your body.

"Y/N!" Legolas knelt next to you but didn't touch you.

"Legolas," you reached your hand up to his face and he held it there.

You could hear gandalf ordering the other two around but your pain deluded mind didn't register it, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"Y/n I so sorry, I should have brought more arrows I should have helped more," his tears streaked his fave and landed on yours.

"It's ok, it's not your fault," you could feel someone wrapping bandages round your leg and you squeezed your eyes tight shut so you didn't scream. "Can I go with you know?"

"I am never leaving your side again."

"Thank you."

The road was rough everyone was tired as you trekked through marsh and forest alike.

You were camping out in a small gorge fire crackling and spitting.

***skipable smut from here till the next cut***

Everyone lay a few meters away from were you and legolas were sitting, all fast asleep.

You were proped up against a tree whilst he was leaning on your shoulder.

You were quite a bit away from the others so it came as no surprise to either of you that they hadn't heard you yet.

Legolas's hand was buried beneath your skirt, 'checking your bandages'.

His face was nestled in your hair his fingers working a silent apology on your clit.

You struggled to stay quiet his long fingers spreading your wetness around your folds.

you squirmed slightly and he picked up the pace rubbing circles around your sensitive bud making you whimper.

His fingers moved faster as you ground your hips against them desperate for more.

His other hand moved from your thigh up to your breast slowly massaging it and pinching at your nipple.

Wet squelching sounds erupted as he slipped his finger inside your soaked entrance quickly adding a second as you clenched around him.

His fingers pumped in and out of you in time with his hand on your breast making you moan and grip his thighs your legs spreading outwards.

He slowly let go of your breast his hand joing his other between your things only this one drew slow circles around your clit.

Your breathing quickened as his hands worked you faster.

suddenly you came letting out a silent moan.

He kept going through your orgasm until you had finished and her slowly pulled his fingers out of you and popped them in his mouth sucking them clean.

****end smut****

silence rung loud through the clearing broken only by gimlis uneven ear splitting snore.

The moon was high in the sky casting long shadows, and the cold air hung like a weighted blanket.

you fell asleep leaning against Legolas his breathing luling you to sleep.

Even with the ground poking you uncomfortably his arms were like a weighted blanket on your thoughts.

[zahri-melitor]

Newish Comics

Batman: The Brave and the Bold #17: oh, we are recanonising Officer Down immediately before going into All Along the Watchtower? That's...a choice. Not necessarily a bad one, but hmmm it very much positions Harvey Bullock (though while recanonising it we've now made the hit go awry, so hmmmmm).

The Leap Day story was fine, it felt like a Batman fill. I don't care for the Constantine team up with Streaky but that's normal for me. Billy seemed sort of young in the diner story, but it was a cute team up (though Basil Karlo, you know there's a perfectly fine team name for Clayfaces, it's the Mud Pack, why were you reaching for 'The Clay Team').

The Man-Bat story made me emotional, especially in that Kirk says he's still very separated from Francine.

Action Comics #1069: These were...fine. I did have to laugh that Rowell's conclusion to 'is it unethical to report on yourself' was 'we're both somewhat unethical and are going to do it anyway'.

The Flash #13: This remains a very good Wally West comic. I did squint at Linda saying she went through labour three times, but I think this is meant in terms of the nonsense surrounding the twins' pregnancy involved her to first miscarry and then give birth to the twins. That or she's counting active labour/delivery for the twins separately.

I'm excited for Skartaris. I presume we're also time travelling somewhat given Travis appeared alive in the dream scene, but also I'm fully aware that nobody actually remembers Travis did actually die and Joshua's now the Warlord. Unless there's further developments beyond that that I haven't sussed out yet.

Green Arrow #16: I love your confidence in Connor, Ollie, but's he's still like...top 10 living fighters, not the 'greatest fighter the world has ever seen'. (I did enjoy the little smirk on Connor's face from his very first panels that was very 'you are underestimating me').

Also still so very bored with this extremely obvious triple cross. I presume we will finally get around to the payoff in Absolute Power #4. (Let Cissie and Sienna go home)

Outsiders #11: This has been an interesting comic. I'm still not sure how much of a difference it would have made to label this 'Planetary'. What I enjoyed was Kate and Luke getting some page time. I'm unconvinced that what we need is an Authority reboot centred around the Bats (I cringed at the "Lucius Fox to be the Doctor! Luke Fox to be the Engineer!" stuff) but I don't hate the idea of an Authority reboot, especially if they give it teeth. If you're doing the Authority can I have Jack Hawksmoor mentoring Cameron Kim instead thanks.

Zatanna: Bring Down the House #4: the art on this title remains super pretty. It's really an interesting rewrite of Zee's history

The Warlord #69: This week in the lost land of Skartaris, everyone is finally heading back to the present from Wizard World.

Of course, it goes wrong.

...

...

bahahahhahahahahaha oh Dan Jurgens you clearly didn't have any decent reference images

The best bit, beyond the incredibly tall buildings in the middle of the water of Circular Quay, or the surprise mountains coming out of the water around Kirribilli, or the fact that Blues Point Tower is apparently 3x taller than it actually is (while still being an eyesore) is that Travis and Shakira have ended up in a future where, to my eye, Fort Denison was never constructed on Pinchgut Island.

This means nothing to anyone not heavily steeped in history of the settlement of Sydney but just trust me that it is very VERY funny in terms of what it means that Travis is just lying there on the rocks.

That's because even in this weird badly photoreferenced Sydney, Shakira, you are currently on what's essentially one of the most desolate rock islands in the centre of the harbour and from that sun it looks like if the fort was actually still there it would be closed for the day.

You might get to see Benny the seal though.

They then proceed to walk on water to get to the city, because even if this WAS on the north shore of the harbour they clearly aren't walking to Chatswood.

Travis finds the city to be incredibly empty and wonders if the Cold War suddenly got hot in his absence. But then! Travis gets jumped by some of Abe Saffron's boys and girls in a deeply amusing conglomeration of 80s fashion and space age dressing. So glad to see recognition of Sydney's underworld in an American comic. (They don't specify they're working for old Abe but you know. I can read into these things)

So they proceed to walk south in Australia heading for Melbourne so they can fly or sail to Antarctica and the hole to enter the centre of the earth. It's racist in places and has a farm that's raising wombats and I cannot take any of it seriously, but I am so amused.

[spiderprincess-suffet]

Creepypasta au and oc facts:

Angel has color coded outfits usually determined by her lipstick color(s)

To differentiate Jane doe and Jane the killer Jane TK is more commonly called Blackwolf (yes this is a reference to her creator-)

Karma doesn’t actually see Ine as her child nor did she willingly take her in, Ine just refused to leave her alone cuz she needed a place to stay.

Angel is extremely socially awkward and not good at talking to people…so if she’s actively flirting with you that’s not Angel it’s Angie.

Liliana actually has glasses but prefers contacts, she actually used to have good eyesight but ever since her eyes gained the ability to glow in the dark it all went downhill from there.

Lazari Nicole Nina Ani and Kasei are all in a lovely group called the “I found out EJ is gay and I got rejected because of it club” they get together and eat ice cream, cry and watch sappy vampire romance movies together every month UwU

Despite being blind Lulu is actually a really good climber and scares the crap out of a lot of proxies by ending up on steep ledges and other dangerous places a blind kid probably shouldn’t be.

Despite not actually being a fox or fox hybrid ever since the experiments Ava has found herself taking on more fox and generally more animalistic tendencies and personality traits.

Bloody painter can’t stand Nina cuz he knows she has a crush on Dina and he knows Dina is starting to like her back as well (Dina and Bloody painter are daiting lol)

Nurse Ann is actually nice and motherly twords the kiddie pastas, normally she’s super mean but she feels bad that they’re basically being robbed of a childhood so she tries her best to at least be a bit nicer to them.

Slenderman would be considered a pack animal 🤷‍♀️

[pureamericanism]

Compared to ecologically and topographically similar regions of Europe or east Asia, the northeastern United States is unusually heavily forested. One might think "well, yeah, the U.S. hasn't been settled by agriculturalists for as long and is less densely populated, obviously there's going to be less percent land cleared for farms," but this is not so! Everywhere in the northeast, our forests rise from what were once old fields. In 1860, for instance, Maine was only 60% forested by land area. Today, that proportion is closer to 90%.

We owe our current landscape to two great waves (and several smaller ones) of farm abandonment. The first happened in the decades after the Civil War, when for various reasons* northeasterners (mostly from New England) packed up their pitchforks and decamped to the midwest. This had been going on before the war too, of course, but up until then it had not been in numbers enough that the northeastern farms stopped being worked. There was always a son or two left to till up more stones from the Vermont field. But that changed after the war, and the fields started to revert to oak and maple and pine. Indeed, much of the early formal scientific study of American forestry and ecology happened in these old Yankee fields and young Yankee forests, by outdoorsy young men from Harvard with names like a Lovecraft protagonist.

The second great wave was in the Great Depression and World War 2, when for various reasons** people from all the rougher sorts of terrain the east has to offer - from West Virginia to Indiana's Brown County to the Ozarks and back to the Catskills - left their farms to come down and seek work in the then-thriving industrial cities. Much of the hilly landscape of the east that had previously been dotted with small subsistence farms, full of exactly the barefoot gap-toothed hillbillies who captured the imagination of urban popular culture with their exotic poverty and folkways when they suddenly appeared in Cleveland, or wherever, in 1933.

These pulses of farm abandonment have left very specific patterns written in the ecologies of the northeast. For instance, the fact that the poor ridgetop farms that were once extremely common in Southern Ohio and Indiana were nearly all abandoned in the 1930s and '40s means that the forests that now grow there are uniformly approaching their first century (excepting, of course, where there's been logging in the meantime.) This is almost exactly long enough for the process of ecological succession to complete itself, and the forests to move into their mature phase.

And so you read books written in the '50s, '60s, or '70s about these areas, and you notice how common early successional species are, everywhere chokecherry and black birch. Whereas today the only evidence you may see of the forest's relative youthfulness is a few very large bigtooth aspens nearing the end of their lives, surrounded by tulip poplars and chestnut oaks that will endure for many years after all the aspens are dead.

*Young men returning from war with a restlessness and a desire to leave home again; those same young men posted far from home during the war and realizing just how awful the New England soil is, lmao; Republican government policy writtrn explicitly to favor small homesteaders heading west; the late 19thc. crash in agricultural prices (as, in a few short decades, the Great Plains, the Australian wheat belt, parts of the Kazakh and Siberian steppes, the plains of South Africa, and the Argentine pampas were all put under the plow for the first time, and during an era of global free trade) making many small farms entirely unsustainable.

**Years of erosion on fields carelessly laid out on steep terrain; the Great Depression making running a small farm, ah, difficult; economic modernisation making staying as a subsistence farmer a damn foolish thing to do; new roads and automobiles making fleeing to the city easier than ever; and the TVA and other federal land grabs displacing hundreds of thousands of people.

[professorfinley]

Archeops (Archeornis deinos) - Species Overview

Summary

Known for their strength and speed, Archeops (Archeornis deinos) are an ancient species of Pokémon and possibly the most primitive species of the order Aves. Thanks to the invention of fossil revival, species of the Archeornis genus have become part of Unova’s diverse ecosystem. The Archeornis genus has two members, Archen (A. micros) and Archeops (A. deinos). Archeops’ scientific name roughly translates to “fearsome ancient bird.” 

Biology

Archeops are bipedal avian Pokemon. Its head, tail, and legs are covered in thick scales, while the rest of its body is covered in feathers. Its wings have large, blue primary, secondary and tertiary feathers, while the alula, coverts and scapulas share the same dull yellow colouration as its body. Instead of the fused phalanges of modern Aves Pokémon, members of the Archeornis genus have a three-fingered hand that protrudes from the wing. It also has dark teal and blue feathers around its ankles. Its tail is primarily featherless except for a fan of blue feathers located at its tip. 

It has extremely strong leg and arm muscles built for running and climbing. The claws on its fingers and feet are serrated on the bottom, allowing for better grip on the terrain, as well as clinging to escaping prey. They have been known to reach speeds of over 25mph/40.23kmh when running.

Archeops have a keen sense of sight and smell, adaptations that have carried over to some carnivorous modern Aves Pokemon.

Compared to other avian Pokemon, Archeops is somewhat clumsy in flight–its wings appear to be better suited for gliding over long distances, as Archeops lack the reinforced shoulder in their skeletal structure that all modern Aves Pokémon have. This would mean that it takes a considerable amount of energy for Archeops to take flight—they require a running start to generate enough lift to fly, or a ledge to leap from. Scientists theorize that their ancient habitat may have been in mountainous regions with many steep ledges and cliffs, and Archeops developed its gliding abilities to escape predators. Modern Archeops live primarily in mountainous temperate forests, where they spend most of their time in the treetops, though there is a population of Archeops residing on the volcanic crags of Voluca Island in the Lental Region.

Behaviour

Diet/Eating Habits 

Even though Archeops is capable of flight, it is an extremely skilled ground hunter. Archeops typically hunt in groups and can outpace most Pokémon, even managing to take down Pokémon that nearly triple their size thanks to teamwork. When the pack sights their prey, they ambush from the ground and the skies, leaving little room to escape. There have been sightings of groups of Archeops preying on Aurorus (Glacisaurus titanus), which is not only much larger than a single Archeops, but also holds a significant type advantage. Archeops may have preyed on Amaura (Glacisaurus pygmaeus) or members of both the Shieldon (Pachyrhinus sp.) and Cranidos (Petracephalos sp.) evolution lines before their initial extinction. 

Though their diet primarily consists of meat, Archeops can eat a variety of different fruits. Non-digestible materials like bones, fur, and seeds are vomited by the Archeops in the form of pellets—this behaviour has also been observed among other carnivorous avian Pokémon like Noctowl and Talonflame. 

Unovan populations primarily prey on smaller mammalian Pokémon such as Patrat (Anichmys vigilans), Minccino (Abrauris mollis) and their evolutions, but will also take down larger Pokémon.

Social Behaviour and Reproduction 

Archeops are monogamous and mate for life. Male Archeops perform courtship dances to attract females, and throughout their lifespan, Archeops pairs will have 1-3 chicks per year. Young Archen often have a good chance of living until maturation, as raising young Archen becomes a flock effort. All mature offspring are accepted in the flock. Archeops reproduce in the spring and raise their young through the summer.

Archeops live in large flocks—the largest recorded flock consists of roughly 50 individuals. Young Archen are raised in the flock by their parents and are tolerated in the community upon evolving into Archeops, which is when they reach full maturity. The flock is usually led by the largest group member, which is often an older female. Sometimes, a younger Archeops may challenge the flock leader for their position. The leader and the challenger will partake in a ritual in which they show a display of intimidation by puffing their feathers out to appear bigger, coupled with hisses and shrill growls. Should the challenger persist, the Archeops will fight until one party submits or, in some cases, dies. The loser of the fight is exiled from the flock.

Archeops territory can span for several kilometres, where the male Archeops of the pack will regularly patrol and chase off intruders, which includes potential predators. Thanks to their sharp eyesight and sense of smell, they are capable of detecting predators hiding in the underbrush. Should a predator enter the flock’s territory, the patrolling Archeops will call out to the rest of the flock with a bark-like cry. All male Archeops in the flock will rush to the predator’s location, where they will rush down the predator, either by swooping and clawing them or by ambushing them.

Relations With Humans & Care

Wild Archeops can be particularly territorial during nesting season, which typically spans from late March to early June. Since the few wild populations of Archeops are located in remote areas that are typically only accessible to researchers, there is little concern about them attacking people.

Trainers looking to have an Archeops as a companion can consult fossil revival services at their region's history museum. Plume fossils can be revived into Archen, and then evolved into Archeops.

Unsurprisingly, Archeops are very social Pokémon and need a lot of attention and enrichment. They require a lot of open space and are happiest when living with other Pokémon, though some Archeops can fare well on their own. A primarily meat-based diet is mandatory for Archeops, along with a wide variety of food choices. Using food puzzles is highly encouraged. 

Archeops are known to be very friendly, active and outgoing, and are excellent in battle due to their speed, strength and intelligence. However, they lack stamina, as they're built for short bursts of energy. Archeops who partake in Pokémon battles should be allowed at least 3-4 hours of rest between battles, though it is recommended that they are allowed 5-6 hours of rest. If subjected to repetitive exercise without rest, the Archeops runs the risk of serious injury, overheating, or permanent damage to their muscles, bones and joints. Archeops who actively participate in battles should be given protein and calcium supplements with at least one meal per day.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter Seven: Swipe Right - En Route to Genba, Mai and Okatsu discover a connection; and everyone wants to be connected to the Princess.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Attacking a prepared enemy position in mountain terrain generally requires a greater ratio of attacking soldiers to defending soldiers than a war conducted on level ground. Mountains present natural hazards such as lightning, strong gusts of wind, rock falls, avalanche, snowpack, ice, and extreme cold. The general uneven terrain and the slow pace of troop and material movement are all additional threats to combatants. Movement, reinforcements, and medical evacuation up and down steep slopes and areas where even pack animals cannot reach involves an enormous exertion of energy.

Due to its mountainous location, and the addition of heavily forested terrain, Genba castle appears to be well defended from attack.

Personal comments: Lady Okatsu is beautiful when she practices archery (she’s always pretty, but something about the look on her face when she aims takes that prettiness to something beyond ordinary). She is also a very good archer, nearly as good as Ieyasu, although when I mentioned that to him all he said was that it was good that at least one of us was not defenseless.

The morning of our departure for Genba, I made my way to the castle gates, followed by a page hauling a wicker trunk containing my newly expanded wardrobe. The perks of princesshood – someone to carry your luggage. And pack it. In fact, having luggage at all was a perk. This was not a gig where I could stuff my belongings in a satchel slung over my back.

Unfortunately, the other perk, a maid to do my hair, was staying in Azuchi, which meant that today was the last day that I had any hope of carrying off a style that would, in Hideyoshi’s words, “reflect positively on the Oda.” I had tried to tell him that with my hair, “complicated” and “neat” were never going to overlap in a venn diagram (without, of course, actually using the words “venn diagram”). I could do ‘neat’ with a simple ponytail or braid. Or I could attempt ‘complicated’ and end up with a hairdon’t that would reach critical mass in under an hour.

There was a tickle on the back of my neck, and I hesitantly patted my head… yep. My hair was already making a break for it. The twisted knot hadn’t even lasted the short distance to the castle gates. I braced myself for Hideyoshi’s opinion, but it seemed like today, the object of his frustration was… Nobunaga? Yes, he was frowning and walking directly toward Nobunaga, the stiffness in his shoulders and his gait reflecting whatever was going on in that micromanaging brain of his.

I edged as close as I dared. Normally, Hideyoshi worshiped the ground Nobunaga walked on to the point where if Nobunaga wished to walk on a ground strewn with rose petals, Hideyoshi would make it happen (and grow the roses himself). If something had happened to set Hideyoshi into full floof, I wanted to know what it was. “My lord.” He got down on one knee to emphasize his point. “I recommend against traveling with less than one hundred men.”

Oh. This again. Because Mozumi was an ally, and Nobunaga’s visit was intended to seal the alliance, our entourage was rather small. To be honest, I agreed with Hideyoshi on this one. Nobunaga had made plenty of enemies and some might find such a small force to be overwhelmingly tempting.

Nobunaga bade him to stand up. “Hideyoshi, are you suggesting that neither you nor I are able to defend ourselves?”

With a very unhappy look, Hideyoshi went radio silent on further objections. There wasn’t exactly smoke coming out of his ears, but his hand was clenching and unclenching rhythmically. Joy. Travelling with grumpy Hideyoshi was going to make this trip seem infinitely longer than the day and a half it would take to get to Genba.

While I waited for a groom to bring around my horse, Mitsuhide, who was staying behind with Ieyasu and Masamune, pulled me aside for final warn- er, instructions. “The Daimyo will expect Mitsunari’s fiancée to be a quiet type, so when you’re in public, stay close to him.”

“I understand.” I did understand. Play the loving bride-to-be both in front of witnesses and in places where there could be hidden watchers. I would only have privacy in my own room. “Do you agree with Hideyoshi that Nobunaga is taking an unnecessary risk? Do you trust Mozumi?”

“I don’t trust anyone. However, travelling with an army on what is intended to be a peaceful meeting of allies sends the wrong message. I’ve taken as many precautions as I dare. Some of my spies are stationed on the road ahead – they’ll let Nobunaga know if they’ve seen any suspicious activity. While you’re in Genba, Kyubei will be with you, disguised as one of the grooms.” He nodded at the group of men hauling our luggage onto a wagon – indeed, I could see the back of Kyubei’s head, his long hair, loosely contained in a leather string (I allowed myself a moment of envy for his hair freedom). “And, of course, you’ll be there as well.”

I was one of Mitsuhide’s contingencies? “I didn’t think you had that much faith in me.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. If I had to spend more than an hour in your company, I’d be tempted to murder you. But you’re competent and if something went wrong, you’d be an asset.” He gave a bow that was an inch short of mocking and drifted off to confer with Hideyoshi.

Aw. Gee thanks. I think.

Despite my inner apprehension, my overall mood was pretty good as we set off for Genba. It was a gorgeous Autumn day, there were cute puffs of clouds in the sky and the breeze carried the smell of harvested fruits. I instantly started craving fresh pears and had to forcibly prevent Moonlight from going off piste in search of some for herself. (Moonlight was still annoyed that I hadn’t exercised her since arriving in Azuchi). It wasn’t until we were well and truly on the road (and out of smell range of her favorite treats) that she settled down.

Even Hideyoshi cheered up – it had helped that one of Mitsuhide’s spies had connected with him and assured him that thus far, there were no nasty surprises awaiting us down the road. I could see him up ahead, as he and Nobunaga seemed to be chatting amiably – though he seemed alert to his surroundings, and prepared for anything, he’d lost that grim set to his shoulders.

As an “Oda Princess,” (yes, the air quotes were living rent free in my head) I rode in a place of honor, between Mitsunari and Mai.  Mai wasn’t much of a horsewoman, and after a couple hours, she was muttering about her backside feeling numb. “I should have taken Nobunaga up on his offer to let me sit with him.”

The logic of that escaped me. “Your rear would still hurt.”

“True, but Nobunaga has ways of distracting me from all that.” She winked at me, then sighed and shifted position.

On the other side of me, Mitsunari was quiet. I imagined he was rereading one of the books in his head. Eventually Mai stopped complaining enough that I was able to tune out her occasional huffs of annoyance at her horse. It was too nice of a day to do anything more than turn my face to the sun and enjoy being out in the fresh air. Basically, it felt like a perfect d--

“Okatsu!” Mai let out a shocked gasp. “You’re humming!” The look her face – she seemed stunned.

Er, well, that was mildly embarrassing, but didn’t explain her over the top reaction. Shit, was this another thing to go on my ‘don’t list’? Real Princesses don’t hum? “Was I? I’m sorry if it bothered you.”

Proving he hadn’t completely checked out, Mitsunari said, “What is wrong? Okatsu has a pretty voice.” He turned that sweet smile in my direction. “I was enjoying listening to you.”

“Thank-you, Mitsunari.” Pretty voice was possibly an overstatement. I mean, I can carry a tune well enough to not humiliate myself at karaoke (not that I let myself be dragged into that activity very often as I don’t enjoy serenading a crowd of drunken strangers) but no one was going to line up to offer me a recording contract.

“You were humming your song.” Mai’s face had turned even redder, but she’d whispered it as if it were a secret.

“Of course, she was humming her song. Whose else would she hum?” Mitsunari looked as confused as I felt.

What had I been humming? The tune came into my head just as Mai began singing, ‘Your Song,’ in English (!). “It’s a little bit funny, that feeling inside…”

#WTF!

As the realization dawned, I picked up the verse and sang along with her. “I’m not one of those who can easily hide.” The utter relief and joy of finding someone who knew, who would understand, had me finishing out the song together with Mai. How wonderful life is now you’re in this world.

Mai and I stared at each other.

“What language is that?” Mitsunari asked.

“English.” I was too surprised to say anything but the truth. I didn’t speak that language myself, aside from, well, the occasional song lyrics (the one thing I can thank my mother for is that because of her VH1 obsession, I’m fluent in Beatles and random songs from the 1980s). In this era, though, I hadn’t expected to come across anyone who knew of it, let alone spoke it.

Still, with Nobunaga’s interest in trade with the west, having some knowledge of English wouldn’t be completely out of the question. Knowing the lyrics to an Elton John song, on the other hand... Of course, if one storm could dump Toshiie and I here, then another one could dump Mai… and…

Dammit!

Sasuke had said they were from the same place… and that he was going back home. If only I had realized this before he left. I can’t believe I missed my chance to find out more about how I got here. Maybe even discover a way to find my brother. “English,” I repeated. I could sense Mitsunari’s benign interest on the other side of me and chose my words to Mai carefully to avoid revealing too much. “Was it a storm?”

“Yes. At Honno-ji.” She looked ahead at Nobunaga, and apparently, he had eyes in the back of his head, for he turned around and smiled at her with such naked adoration that I was nearly flattened by the accompanying shockwave.

Honno-ji… The storm… the fire…

… it was all confusion. Nobunaga was dead. No, he wasn’t dead, he’d escaped at the last moment. No, someone had been seen leaving the temple as it burned, but it wasn’t Nobunaga. I followed some soldiers into the woods, then climbed a tree to see if I could learn anything from them, or any of the other troops who were swarming the area.

The tree was already occupied. “Katsu?”

Wait, was that…? “Sasuke? Are you stuck again?”

“No. What are you doing here?” he asked, as he moved up a branch to give me room.

“I was heading home from Osaka when I saw the fire. Stopped to help put it --” I broke off when below us, the soldiers I was following met up with one of their commanders.

“Is Nobunaga safe?” one of them asked.

“Hideyoshi got him back to camp. But the concubine who rescued him ran off into the woods – Masamune is searching for her now. Oda wants her back.”

They continued out of earshot. I considered following them but was nearly knocked out of the tree by Sasuke, who urgently climbed down. “My apologies, Katsu, it’s an emergency.”

The soldiers in the woods discussing how Nobunaga had been saved by a mysterious woman who disappeared soon after. And my encounter with Sasuke, who’d seemed far too interested in the woman as well. “You saved his life.” That explained why the timelines didn’t match my schoolgirl memories. Because another time traveler had saved Nobunaga’s life.

“Yes.” Her fingers twitched in what might have been a memory of her actions of that night. “Were you there too?”

“Not in the way you are suggesting. I happened to be travelling from Osaka that day and saw the fire, but… I’ve been here-” I made a vague gesture, intending to indicate the world around us, “for nearly seven years. Toshiie and I were walking through the Togakushi shrine when we got caught in the same kind of storm. Until today, I didn’t know there were any others.” I paused, then just to confirm my suspicion, added in quiet tones, “Sasuke too, yes?”

Mai and I both casually side eyed Mitsunari, but his attention seemed to have already wandered. Still, we kept our voices low. “He’s actually an astrophysicist.”

Of course, he was.

“Did he cause it?” I slowed Moonlight down, allowing Mitsunari to get a bit ahead of Mai and I so we could speak freely.

“No. He just sort of … observes these things? Wormholes.” She shrugged. “I don’t know the science part of it. In my old life, I was a fashion designer.”

Ah. So, I wasn’t going to get much information out of her. I’d have to wait for Sasuke to return. At least, I hope he… “He’s coming back, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know when exactly.” Again, she shrugged that off. I guess given her relationship with Nobunaga, she didn’t have any plans to leave. “What were you? I mean… back… home?”

“Oh. I was at University, trying to figure out what to do with my life.” Or ignoring the fact that I didn’t really want to do all that much. “Toshiie was in nursing school. Someday med school--”

I broke off as Hideyoshi rode up to scold us (me). “Okatsu! It’s not safe to get this far behind the main group.” Before I could once again point out that I could take care of myself, he continued, “Mai would be a tempting target for Nobunaga’s enemies.”

My protest drowned in my throat as a wave of shame washed over me. He was correct. Mai had only been here, here in this when, a couple of months. While I had seven years of ‘survival-when-you-time-travel-450-years-into-a-feudal-warzone’ training, she was practically helpless. No wonder Sasuke had been worried for her. “You’re right. I apologize.”

Obviously expecting more of an argument from me, Hideyoshi subsided with a grudging, “don’t forget from now on.” He turned his attention to Mai, but rather than get a scolding, he simply said, “Nobunaga has repeated his offer for you to ride with him.”

“This time the answer is yes.” She turned to me and asked quietly, “Is it ok if I tell him?”

“Go ahead.” If Mai trusted Nobunaga, then I would too. The time travel Gods had been kind to her, sending her to a place - to a person that she could confide in. What would have happened if I had ever told Aki where I came from. Would he have believed me?

Unfortunately, the beauty of our first travel day gave way to overcast skies, cloying humidity, intermittent rain, and heavy mud that our horses’ hooves turned into smelly projectiles. As the air thickened, so did the cover of trees, and the path narrowed as we climed into the foothills. Even the squirrels that had chattered at us in a friendly fashion yesterday, seemed instead to peer balefully from hiding places in the trees and fling acorns and twigs at us.

Generally, I am not a fanciful person, but I felt like I was a character in a horror movie on an approach to a gothic castle full of vampires or psychopaths. The constricting path, the tree overhang, and mountains looming in the distance only served to increase my paranoia. Had Mai not chosen to ride with Nobunaga, I might have had someone to tease me out of my apprehension. Even awkward small talk with Mitsunari would have helped. Instead, we were forced to ride single file as we wound around the hill, circling the thick stone wall of the outer castle.

Up ahead, I could see Hideyoshi with his thousand-mile stare, alert, constantly checking the forest for a sudden attack… one that never came. And perhaps this alertness, this paranoia was simply his job, for his entire existence seemed to rest on Nobunaga achieving his goals. I could have told him, if I were a person who was willing to brave a temporal paradox, that in the Japan of my childhood, he had been the one to finish the job that Nobunaga had begun, he was the one who unified the country. But in the Japan of my childhood, Nobunaga had been assassinated at Honno-ji; there had been no Mai to save him. This was a new normal, and if the timeline wanted to put things back the way they had been, this claustrophobic journey would be an excellent opportunity.

Just in case, I slipped my knife out of my sleeve and held onto it like a security blanket, as the walls of Genba forced us into a labyrinth that spiraled upward… Until suddenly we were facing a smallish keep bordered by guardhouses on the front corners, as the gates opened into a courtyard that looked refreshingly ordinary.

There was nothing overtly wrong about Genba. Though it was about a third the size of Azuchi, the fact that it seemed to melt into the side of the mountain made it at least seem impressive. On the inside, the rooms were freshly refurbished – the tapestries on the wall looked new, as did the tatami mats, furniture and cushions. Apparently, the silver trade had been very very good to Kanamori Mozumi, and he enjoyed spending the profits on every luxury imaginable.

Dressed in a lush kimono, Mozumi greeted us in his receiving room. He was a large, thickset man, not fat, exactly, but beefy and muscular, as if he had spent the majority of his years in a gym lifting weights. Mozumi was accompanied by a beautiful woman – clearly not the young Princess, as this woman appeared to be in her 30s, though she was young enough to have met the definition of “trophy wife” had such a term existed in this time, as Mozumi was probably nearing 60. Trophy Wife was wearing a multilayered kimono better suited for the Emperor’s court than a visit from a daimyo, even one as infamous and powerful as Nobunaga. She smoothed her fingers over the rich silk, then flicked a quick look at my mud-spattered clothing. Though she covered it quickly, there was a satisfied twist to her lips.

On the other side of Mozumi was a boy about ten years old, who watched our party with solemn dignity. I couldn’t tell whether that was his natural personality, or if the grown-ups in his family had firmly extracted a promise to behave. I suspected it was the former, for the boy seemed perfectly content to wait until spoken to and stood quietly at attention.

Mozumi and Nobunaga exchanged greetings, then the Daimyo presented Trophy Wife as his wife, the Lady Yone, then introduced his son, Hikosane. They all bowed deeply, and we returned the tribute.

Then the doors slid open, allowing us to get our first look at the Princess Shohime: objectively, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life. Truly, she was perfect: shiny, wavy, shampoo commercial hair that looked like it would never dare frizz in humidity; heavily lashed green eyes; perfect complexion; and a way of moving that would have every member of the Kirov ballet retiring on the spot.

There was a collective “ah” from Nobunaga’s guards, and they all shifted uncomfortably as if their clothing was suddenly too tight. Mai turned to me. “Did everyone just…?”

“Swipe right? Yes. Yes they did.” If I had been dressed as Katsu, I might have been tempted to do so myself. I side eyed Nobunaga to see how he reacted to such a vision; to his credit, he was solely focused on the daimyo. But Mitsunari…

Mitsunari was gazing at Shohime as if she held the sun and moon in her hands.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

[candycandy00]

do you have any scary stories, experiences, etc from living in Appalachia 👀👀

I have a few! (This was such a fun ask, thank you, anon!)

First of all, let me get a couple of things out of the way: 1.) I don’t believe in ghosts/the supernatural, so keep that in mind. 2.) Movies like Wrong Turn make “mountain folk” or “hillbillies” seem frightening but they’re actually some of the nicest, most welcoming and helpful people I’ve ever met. If you get lost in the mountains they’d be absolutely delighted to help you. They’d invite you to dinner too. It’d probably be squirrel gravy but still.

That being said, I can talk about a few things. The first is a local legend. There’s a tiny little place very close to where I live called Graveyard Hollar (if you know anything about Appalachia, you’ve heard of “hollars”, which are little roads going into the mountains, many not even paved, where small neighborhoods are - I myself live in a hollar). It’s literally within walking distance from my house. Graveyard Hollar itself goes up a pretty steep mountain, and at the top is a very old cemetery (hence the name). Leading down from the cemetery, and going all the way down to the main hollar before you begin going up to Graveyard Hollar, is a small waterfall that stays dry unless it rains. 

All my life, I’ve heard wild stories about Graveyard Hollar and that waterfall in particular (because driving along the main hollar takes you right by the waterfall). I’ve heard there’s a werewolf that lives there (yes really). Apparently a guy with a convertible said it jumped into his car as he drove by the waterfall and tried to kill him. Who was the guy? Well a friend of a cousin of a boyfriend, of course!  

The most prevalent story about the waterfall, however, is that if you stop your car right in front of it and cut the engine (which will leave you in total darkness - there’s no streetlights in hollars!), you’ll see two glowing green orbs dancing around. If you let your window down, they’ll fly into your car and go home with you. Legend has it that two young lovers killed themselves there by jumping from the top of the waterfall to their deaths, and the green orbs are their spirits. 

As a kid, this was a popular “test of courage”. Every time I had a sleepover, I’d get my older brother to drive me and my friends to the waterfall and stop there, cutting the engine to look for the green orbs. I never saw them, but one time a friend in the car with us suddenly started screaming as if she’d seen something horrifying and wouldn’t stop screaming until we got home. She swore she saw the lights. 

Supposedly it gets wild on Halloween night. A guy who lives near there would never leave the hollar on Halloween. He said no one could pay him enough to drive by that waterfall on Halloween. He was a bit odd though. 

There’s a place nearby called Red Cedar, which is at the top of a mountain. It’s stunning, with a pack of friendly wild horses running around up there. Most of it is only accessible via atv type vehicles. My brother and his wife go up there all the time to have picnics and feed the horses and pick raspberries. If you want to see some gorgeous scenery photos of the mountains and horses, hit me up! 

Anyway, like I said he goes up there all the time and they’ve pretty much explored every trail. But one day he and his wife found a trail they’d never seen before. They decided to follow it, and after traversing some very rough and dangerous terrain (at one point nearly riding off a cliff), they found a very strange place. It was marked off by rope, and once they went inside, they found these very odd lanterns sitting around everywhere. I’m including pictures because these things are eerie. There was also a strange metal table right in the center of the area (my mom said “that’s where they do the sacrifices” lol). You have to understand this is an extremely remote area that was almost impossible to reach and took them a long time to get there.

Okay, this story is about a scary human encounter, which to me is much more frightening because humans are real. And I actually witnessed this and was involved. 

My mom and I live in a house. Behind us is a mountain. In front of us is a creek, then more land, then another mountain. Directly across the creek from our house is a piece of property we own. My brother and his wife and son lived there for a while. At this point their son was around six or seven, and he stayed at our house a lot. My brother worked the night shift in a coal mine. 

So let me set the scene: it was a warm summer night, around 9pm. My nephew was spending the night with me and my mom. My brother was at work and his wife, my sister in law, was home alone. Me, my mom, and my nephew were sitting on the porch in rocking chairs (this is something country folk absolutely love). From our porch, we could see my sister in law across the creek step out on her porch to smoke. Now, we’re close enough that if we yelled, she could hear us, but we couldn’t have a conversation. So her son yells at her, she waves, and then he says he wants to call her. So he does. 

After talking to his mom for a few minutes, he hands the phone to mom, so they start talking. Now, next door to where my brother lived, there’s a small car wash. It’s really out of place because there are no other businesses nearby but oh well. It has an old pop machine (soda machine to you city folk) that’s always well stocked, and my sister in law often walked over to get a pop. On this night, we watched her walk over to the car wash, her cordless phone at her ear as she kept talking to mom. But before she could get her pop, she noticed something strange and decided to check it out. Someone was in the car wash owner’s truck, and it wasn’t him. She’d stumbled upon someone breaking into the truck and trying to Hotwire it. 

Against all logic, she yelled out “Hey! What are you doing?” And the guy climbed out of the truck. We could see him from our porch. This guy was freakishly tall, very thin and gangly, had long dark hair, and wore a dirty trench coat. He was creepy as fuck! 

My sister in law ran, back toward her house, and the guy ran after her! From our porch we watched him chase her. My mom was still on the phone with her, screaming “hurry! Run! He’s right behind you!” Also keep in mind her son was watching all this and losing his mind. The poor kid was screaming bloody murder. 

Somehow, she made back to her house and locked the door just in time. We watched him bang on her door, try to pry it open, etc. Her son was still screaming. Then all at once, the guy apparently noticed us. His head turned sharply toward where we were on the porch, and then he started running toward us! He ran straight down into the creek! 

I ushered my screaming mom and nephew inside and locked the door. The last thing I saw before closing it was the guy climbing up out of the creek on our side. After locking up and getting my gun, I looked out the windows on all sides and saw nothing. I called the police and after much begging they agreed to send a car out to check things out. That was over 15 years ago and we’re still waiting. 😑

That’s all I can think of at the moment. Aside from alarming animal encounters (like seeing bears, bobcats, packs of coyotes, snakes, etc.).

[calxia]

Air ghouls live in the most specialised areas of any type of ghoul. They are found exclusively at the peaks of mountains, and thus there is not much variability in their climate. It is often frigid and snowy at the peaks of these mountains and as such, these ghouls are covered in a thick layer of insulating feathers. If they do end up spending time in warmer temperatures, they will eventually shed these feathers, but this is rare. A few rare packs of air ghouls have adapted to living on the shorter mountains that surround the vast lava lakes. These packs do not grow the same feathery coat as the high-altitude members of their kind but still will sometimes have a smattering of small feathers on their arms, legs and neck. These feathers hold little purpose for insulation and instead are grown for aesthetics and to attract a mate. Air ghouls also tend to be smaller in size than other ghoul types. This helps them traverse the narrow, steep mountainsides with ease.

Air ghouls are normally lighter coloured than most other ghoul types. This is to help with camouflaging on snowcapped mountains. They are often shades of white, grey and blue, although they do grow some patches of brighter-coloured feathers to attract mates. Air ghouls who are located lower down still tend to be grey or blue in colour, however, they are normally darker shades as there is no need to camouflage with snow. They are the most vicious type of ghoul and very rarely have any missed kills when hunting. Prey is short in the extreme areas they live in so packs will hunt in complex groups to ensure as many hunts are as successful as possible.

They are very family-oriented too. Packs will care for all young as a unit no matter who sired them and adolescent ghouls are not forced out onto their own like what is seen in other types of ghouls. Most air ghouls will spend their whole lifetime in the same pack and will only leave during the breeding season to seek out a suitable mate.

Air-type ghouls tend to have the least issues adapting to the surface. They are already air-breathing and they live surface-side in the pit, so they do not tend to run into the sensory issues that other ghoul types do. Their feather insulation also means that when they are summoned, they do not feel the temperature difference between the pit and the surface as much. Most Air ghouls will often shed off these feathers while on the surface because it is warmer than the mountain tops they call home. When Cirrus and Cumulus were summoned, they had adapted enough to the surface that they could comfortably exist within a day. They were both from mountain peak packs and actually had the opposite issue with the temperature that most ghouls have. They were way too warm on the surface. Until they began moulting their feathers after a week, it was fairly typical to find the two ghoulettes curled up together in whatever cold spots they could find. They would sleep on the tiled floors in corridors, in the drafty corners of the ritual room, and even on one occasion inside the walk-in freezer that the ministry kitchen has. Once they shed their down this reduces, however, it is still a common sight to find them curled up in drafty corners in the height of summer.

[rabbitcruiser]

Willow Creek Picnic Area and Beach, CA (No. 1)

The California state legislature passed a law in 1915 that allowed the state to use convict labor under the control of the State Board of Prison Directors and prison guards. In 1918, state highway engineer Lester Gibson led a mule pack train along the Big Sur coast to complete an initial survey to locate the future Coast Highway.  When the convict labor law was revised in 1921, it gave control of the convicts and camps to the Division of Highways, although control and discipline remained with the State Board of Prison Directors and guards. The law helped the contractors who had a difficult time attracting labor to work in remote regions of the state.

The first contract was awarded in 1921. The contractor Blake and Heaney built a prison labor camp for 120 prisoners and 20 paid laborers at Piedras Blancas Light Station. They began work on 12 miles (19 km) of road between Piedras Blancas Light Station near San Simeon and Salmon Creek. Most of the road lay within San Luis Obispo County. As they progressed, the work camp was moved 9 miles (14 km) north to Willow Creek and then another 10 miles (16 km) north to Kirk Creek. When the section to Salmon Creek was completed, the crew began work on the road north toward Big Creek.Looking north toward Big Creek Bridge with Landels-Hill Big Creek Reserve above the highway

Contractor George Pollock Company of Sacramento started construction next on one of the most remote segments, a 13 miles (21 km) stretch between Anderson Canyon and Big Sur in September, 1922. The region was so remote and access so poor that the company brought most of its supplies and equipment in by barge at a sheltered cove near the middle of the project. Machines were hoisted to the road level using steam-powered donkey engines.

Construction required extensive excavation utilizing steam shovels and explosives on the extremely steep slopes. The work was dangerous, and accidents and earth slides were common. One or more accidents were reported nearly every week. Equipment was frequently damaged and lost. In one incident, a steam shovel fell more than 500 feet (150 m) into the ocean and was destroyed.

Overcoming all the difficulties, the crews completed two portions of the highway in October, 1924, the southern section from San Simeon to Salmon Creek and a second segment from the Big Sur Village south to Anderson Creek. When these sections were completed, the contractor had used up all of the available funds and work was halted.

California Governor Friend William Richardson felt the state could not afford to complete the 30 miles (48 km) remaining, including the most difficult section remaining between Salmon Creek and Anderson Canyon.

Source: Wikipedia

[writeforfandoms]

I don't know if anyone else already had this idea but I've been thinking of snow leopard shifter reader! In her leopard form she's just bouncing off the walls(parkour style!) holding her long ass tail in her mouth(gotta make sure she doesn't loose it, or even worse, no one steps on it cuz it's so long🤭) being extremely good with steep terrains and tanking huge falls like a champ. On a mission with really cold weather? Don't fret, we got a fluffy cat on our hands to keep the pack warm! And did you see the video of those snow leopards in a sanctuary cuddling and spooning each other?! Cute! But they also are fierce hunter, doing anything they can to secure that they get food, such as yeeting themselves off of huge cliffs. They also have a really strong bite force compared to their size, being able to crush bones when they eat. A great asset, I would say.

Oh snow leopards are amazing cats. They really are. I've seen them bounce around, they're made of freaking springs

Okay but just imagine the leaping competitions - none of the guys can match her. She has been known to use Price as a springboard, and Ghost in human form. Because she can. She can scale almost anything.

Her speciality would definitely be snowy terrains. She'd be excellent at that - she'd be able to sneak in and out of almost anywhere as long as there's snow. And she'd be quite happy to cuddle the pack to keep them warm. Her tail would probably be fought over, because soft and fluffy and big.

As far as fighting goes, she would be vicious. She would definitely specialize in sneak attacks, dropping down from above or lunging from a hidden spot.

She would definitely be a great asset. But she would have to be extra careful in desert conditions. She'd overheat more easily, even as a human.

[bwhitex]

The Forgotten Tribe: The Wolf

The concept of the "Wolf" within LGBT culture is a vibrant illustration of the nuanced identities that exist within the community. This archetype is a compelling blend of attributes that defies the simplicity of categorization often found in mainstream portrayals of LGBT men. With a persona that bridges the raw physicality of the Bear and the lithe agility of the Twink, the Wolf represents a middle ground that is both alluring and enigmatic. The person’s appeal is multifaceted—rooted in a combination of appearance, behavior, and aura. As a Wolf, they navigates the social dynamics of the LGBT community with a distinctive blend of independence and allure. This archetype is not just about the physical; it is a holistic identity that encompasses attitude, presence, and a particular magnetism. However, like any archetype, the Wolf comes with a spectrum of traits that can be viewed positively, negatively, or neutrally. Understanding the Wolf within LGBT culture requires peeling back layers of stereotype to reveal the individuality at the heart of this term.

Who is the Wolf?

The Wolf in LGBT culture is a person who exudes a raw energy and magnetism that is both captivating and slightly intimidating. The person is typically characterized by a lean, muscular body, a limited but natural amount of body hair, and a demeanor that is assertive, honest and direct. According to Chauncey (1994), this archetype has historical roots in the LGBT subculture, where terms derived from the animal kingdom often denote a complex mix of physical traits and social behaviors. The Wolf, as described in various community reflections and anecdotal literature, is neither overly dominant like the leather-clad "Leatherman" nor submissive as some might assume of younger members of the community (Bergling, 2001). Instead, the person occupies a unique position of being respected for his strength and yet approachable due to his balanced demeanor. The Wolf is not an official category, but rather a colloquial term that resonates within the community, as noted in Murray’s (1996) exploration of LGBT subcultures. The role of the Wolf is nuanced; the person can be nurturing and protective like a pack leader, but also solitary and independent.

Wolf as Archetype

The archetype of the Wolf in LGBT culture is steeped in the symbolism of independence and untamed spirit. The Wolf's persona challenges the norms and stereotypes often associated with LGBT people, aligning more closely with the maverick or the outsider. Academic discourse on this topic, like that found in Suresha's (2013) examination of subcultures, points out that the Wolf defies the traditional binaries of the LGBT categorization, which tend to focus on extremes of masculinity and femininity. This person’s presence within the community serves as a reminder that identity is often a spectrum, with it both positive and . The Wolf archetype is a testament to the diversity and complexity of LGBT identity, as noted in studies like those by Anderson (2002), who argues that understanding these subcultural identities is crucial to acknowledging the full range of human sexuality. The Wolf's allure lies in his ability to be both part of the community and apart from it, a duality that is echoed in the person’s social interactions and sexual preferences.

Sentient Profile of Wolf

The sentient profile of the Wolf archetype encompasses a range of traits that can be viewed from various perspectives. On the positive side, the Wolf is often seen as confident and self-assured, displaying a sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards those he cares about. These traits are appreciated within the LGBT community, as they contribute to a sense of safety and belonging (Ramakers, 1996). However, on the negative side, the Wolf can be perceived as aloof or emotionally distant, potentially leading to misunderstandings or feelings of exclusion among peers. Neutrally, the Wolf's independence can be seen simply as a personal preference for autonomy rather than a statement about his ability to connect with others. The complexity of the Wolf's personality means that that person can be both admired for their strength and critiqued for their perceived detachment. Ultimately, the Wolf embodies a spectrum of human characteristics that challenge simplistic categorization.

Who Partners Well with Wolf?

In terms of partnerships, the sexual and romantic compatibility of the Wolf can vary widely. While feminine and masculine energy, it’s often talked about as separate, and the wolf is known for their masculine appeal, all LGBT characters, and people, like all other humans, have both. Instead of confining the wolf, to solely, something, even if it’s predominantly something, it’s emphasize that the Wolf, has a natural appeal, by being rogue, loner and stereotypically always with females. Theres, a little “mystique”, and yet social ability(warmth)to to this person , this is where the yang to the ying is.

In a way, it’s a feminine attribute that enhances the Wolf’s masculine allure. Warmth, with power. Obviously, the Wolf can embody different sexual preferences. When expressing the feminine side to this archetype, the Wolf brings an unexpected vulnerability to the bedroom, allowing this person’s partner to take a nurturing and protective role, which can deepen intimacy (Hoppe, 2011). Conversely, the masculine side, the Wolf may express their assertiveness and strength, and offering a sense of security and dominance that is sought after by some partners. The duality of the Wolf as both bottom and top highlights, masculine, and feminine attributes of the wolf’s characteristics, in general. (Weinberg & Williams, 1974). Whether a top or bottom, the Wolf brings a distinct integrated energy of confidence, vulnerability and authenticity, to the partnership which is both exhilarating and comforting.

Why the Wolf is a Rare Archetype?

The Wolf is considered a rare archetype in gay culture due to the unique combination of traits he embodies. This rarity is not so much a matter of numbers as it is about the distinct niche the Wolf occupies. As Chauncey (1994) points out, certain archetypes gain prominence in different eras, reflecting the evolving attitudes and norms of the community. The Wolf, with his blend of ruggedness and sociability, may seem like a throwback to an earlier time, yet this person remains highly desirable for their scarcity and the balance they maintain between strength and approachability. The shifting dynamics of LGBT culture often celebrate more polarized identities, which can overshadow the nuanced middle ground where the Wolf resides (Bergling, 2001). This scarcity, however, only adds to the Wolf's allure, making him a sought-after figure within the community. As LGBT culture continues to evolve, the Wolf's archetype is both a reminder of the community's history and a beacon of its diversity (Murray, 1996).

Conclusion

The Wolf embodies a compelling blend of traits that contribute to their enigmatic status within LGBT culture. They navigates the social landscape with a confidence that is both alluring and at times intimidating. Their psychology in sexual and romantic partnerships speaks to a deeper truth about the fluidity and complexity of human relationships. Despite being a less common archetype, or perhaps because of it, the Wolf holds a special place in the LGBT community, representing a balance between the wild and the tame, the group and the individual. As everyone considers the various archetypes that exist within LGBT culture, people may want to remember that each one, including the Wolf, offers a unique lens through which we can understand the diverse experiences of LGBT people. It’s the rarity of the Wolf make them an even more captivating figure. It’s ironic because this archetype was common before the LGBT community gained acceptance. It appears the archetype, emblematic of self-reliance, originality, and the courage to dissent, is underrepresented in this new era within the LGBT community, one which favors group identity, collective experiences, prioritize group identity, over individuality and critical thought. How has the self-reliant, norm-challenging archetype, once central to the LGBT movement's push for liberation, become forgotten in today's landscape of social media, in dating apps, and mainstream culture?

References

Bergling, T. (2001). Sissyphobia: Gay men and effeminate behavior. Harrington Park Press.

Chauncey, G. (1994). Gay New York: Gender, urban culture, and the making of the gay male world, 1890-1940. Basic Books.

Hoppe, T. (2011). Circuits of power, circuits of pleasure: Sexual scripting in gay men's bottom narratives. Sexualities, 14(2), 193-217.

Murray, S. O. (1996). American gay. University of Chicago Press.

Ramakers, M. (1996). Dirty pictures: Tom of Finland, masculinity, and homosexuality. St. Martin's Press.

Suresha, R. (2013). Fur: The love of hair. Bear Bones Books.

Weinberg, M. S., & Williams, C. J. (1974). Male homosexuals: Their problems and adaptations. Oxford University Press.