#and i’d rather not have a breakdown in front of all of them

[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.

[puffcap-factory]

Feelings, Love, and... Misunderstandings? (Heartsteel Yone x Reader)

Heartsteel!Yone x gn!reader; fluff, crack, bits of hurt/comfort plotwise.

When an overthinking reader (co-manager) meets the overthinking producer of the Heartsteel group.

Warnings: 

Alcohol drinking, self-doubt, emotional breakdown. I assume that all Heartsteel members are big enough and legal to drink.

**The story was written in more of a light-hearted tone, but I put the warnings here just in case. 

Words: 4k

Notes: 

Working on (non-angst) Yone’s fic is harder than I thought. But I really like the dynamic of the heartsteel boys, and their presence really helped oomph up the stoic producer of the group. So… here’s another heartsteel fic for you! Again, I did not think too much of the title...

I hope you enjoy! :D

((Update: There's a bonus at the end of the story))

•~•~•~•

"Not joining in, hmm?" 

You jolted up from your seeming trance, the owner of the voice shifting casually closer to your seat. Turning your head, you met Alune's twinkling eyes, mischief dancing within them as she flashed a teasing smile.

“O-oh,” you smiled sheepishly as she gave you a knowing look at you, understanding well where your attention had been. “I’ll join in soon, later.” 

The week had been packed with schedules, and now the group found themselves in an arcade bar at night. You and Alune lounged on a sofa, sipping drinks and soaking in the lively atmosphere. The boys were off in their fun games, laughing and competing at darts and billiards while the latest music filled the air.

To your front, Yone and K'sante were engrossed in a game of billiards. You had to admit you have been marveling at the tall, lean, and handsome sight of the man who was gracefully playing the billiard. And, Alune had always been aware of your not-so-secret crush towards the group’s talented producer.

She leaned in closer as she whispered, rather enthusiastically, “Play a game with him, have some fun, try to get under his skin!”

Get under his skin. Right. I’d win a nobel prize for discovering his feelings.

Yone, for all his cool exterior, was just as cool as he looked. Unfortunately, he was particularly hard to read, at least for you. You couldn't tell if his kindness towards you was simply that — kindness — or if there was something more behind it. He was generally polite to everyone, though a bit stricter with Kayn and Ezreal – to no one's surprise. Yone was easygoing and pleasant to talk to, which only added to your curiosity as you tried to decipher his true feelings. 

There were occasions when you found yourselves spending time together, but it was never labeled as a date. It was either due to work duties, given your role as a co-manager, or simply a friendly hangout that happened naturally. Each time, you tried to read between the lines, wondering if there was something more beneath the surface, to no avail. 

"You know what, Alune, you're probably right. First, let's try billia-" You began, standing up with determination, but before you could make your move towards the billiard table, Ezreal appeared, blocking your view.

"Y/n! You owe us a round of darts, remember?" Ezreal exclaimed, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you away from the table, despite your silent protests. 

Great. What a timing, Ezreal.

"Sorry, Alune, I'll be borrowing her for a while," he added with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Don't tell me you forgot about the deal, hmm?" Kayn chimed in, raising an eyebrow as he waited in the dart booth.

You had mustered up the courage to take a shot at a round of billiards with Yone, but Ezreal and Kayn were quick to rope you into the dart booth before you could voice any further protests. Alune simply watched with an amused grin, clearly entertained by the turn of events.

You ended up playing a few rounds of darts with Ezreal and Kayn, snacking and sipping on some of their peculiar concoctions of 'potions' they had whipped up on a whim. It was a fun challenge you had agreed to, having lost a dare to them before. When it wasn’t your turn, you couldn't help but throw quick glances towards the billiard table, particularly at Yone, admiring his oh-so-smooth movements. 

You were feeling a bit lighter in the head, the effects of the peculiar potions finally catching up to you. Though clear-minded, you were certainly getting full from the incoming food. As you prepared to take your next throw in the dart game, a brand-new top-chart song began to play in the background, its music video displayed on the monitor above the room.

Ezreal, caught up in the music, started to nod off, vibing with the beat. Meanwhile, Kayn shifted his attention towards the music video, his eyes widening in recognition.

"Ooh, wait, I saw that lady with Yone before!" Kayn exclaimed, pointing at the screen. "Hah, Yone, so that's your type, huh?"

Wait… what?

You quickly glanced at the screen, only to see an incredibly sexy and charming actress starring in the music video.

That’s HIS type?

"Ooh! Right, I saw her talking to you at the bar before," Sett added, joining in on the conversation as Yone sighed dismissively, a small defeated smile appearing on his face.

…AND he’s not even declining? 

You held onto your dart a bit tighter, trying to contain the emotions swirling inside you. There was no way you could compare to her. Despite the mix of sadness and frustration stirring up inside, you maintained a smile onto your face, determined to keep up your appearances.

I might be just overthinking this. Get it together, y/n.

You tried to reassure yourself. But the sound of the atmosphere began to blur and others' conversations turned into a mumbled background noise as your thoughts took over. The insecurities crept in, overshadowing the fun of the night. Was this the effect of the alcohol or was it just me?

"Y/n, y/n!" Ezreal's voice cut through your thoughts as he patted you on the shoulder. "You okay?"

You blinked, snapping back to reality, realizing you had drifted off into your own world. With a forced smile, you nodded at Ezreal, trying to brush off the uneasiness that had settled in your chest. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got lost in thought for a moment," you grinned at him.

Ezreal studied your face for a second. "Hmm, if you say so..." he trailed off, before leaning in to whisper with a wink, a playful glint in his eyes, "Let's just leave the drinks for Kayn, shall we?"

You couldn't help but let out an amused smile at Ezreal's comment, feeling grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. Determined to shake off your thoughts, you focused on the dart game, teaming up with Ezreal against Kayn. Together, you managed to make Kayn taste his own creations, and the laughter that followed was pleasant.

After a while, feeling a bit light-headed from the stir of emotions, and Ezreal and Kayn's concoctions, you decided to step away from the dart game for a bit to head to the bar to fetch a water. Taking a seat at the counter, you ordered the much-needed refreshment from the bartender. Leaning on the counter, you rested your chin on your hand, letting your thoughts drift as you waited for your drink.

As you gazed into space, lost in your own thoughts, you suddenly realized that someone had taken a seat next to you on the counter. And to your surprise, it was none other than the handsome producer himself, Yone.

Out of all people-! Him? Now?!

Your eyes widened in surprise as Yone caught you off guard, scrambling to sit up straighter. The bartender had just placed the glass of water in front of you, but you couldn’t just leave now.

"Mind if I join you?" Yone's voice broke the silence, his tone polite and soft.

“No—of course not.” You forced a smile at him, hoping it appeared natural as he smiled back in response.

Oh god, I hope my smile looked all normal.

Yone proceeded to order some Japanese sake from the bartender. When it arrived, you couldn't help but look at the elegant bottle and the sake cup with curiosity.

Just as you were about to ask about the sake, to break the awkwardness that had settled between you, Yone beat you to it. “Everything alright?” he inquired, his gaze gentle as he looked at you. You realized you had been silent for a moment, mentally cursing yourself for the lapse in conversation.

“Uh, yeah, of course, everything’s going well!” you replied, plastering a smile on your face.

Yone gazed at you for a moment, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed to sense that something was off, but thankfully, he didn't press further. “If it’s anything about work, you can always talk to me-"

“No, it’s not.” 

Oops. You realized that you had blurted it out too quickly. 

“Oh?” Yone turned to face you, his expression now more attentive. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked carefully, his tone low mixed with a bit of concern.

You sighed defeatedly. This man always seemed to be able to read between the lines, and you couldn’t hide it anymore. “So… There’s a guy that I like…” you admitted, taking a sip of your icy water.

Yone’s eyes twinkled in curiosity, his body shifted a bit to face you.

“But he doesn’t seem to feel the same way about me, I don’t know,” you grumbled, frustration beginning to pool inside you, as you held your forehead. 

“Does… he not give you any signs or anything?” Yone asked carefully, his expression filled with genuine care.

“No! You know, he’s insanely hard to read!” You started to rant, your emotions rushing out from beneath you. “And recently, I learned that I might very well just not be his type.”

Yone fell into silence for a moment, sensing your frustration, as he also felt something stir inside him. He wanted to help, to offer some words of comfort, but nothing perfect came to mind.

“…Does he–“ He started to ask, wanting to gather more information before commenting further, but you interrupted him.

“I don’t know anymore, Yone, maybe I should just give up! I don’t know what to do—!” The frustration and sadness bubbled over, and before you knew it, tears were pooling in your eyes.

No, no, no, brain, work more! Am I going to cry now, in front of him?!

Despite your mind still functioning clearly, your emotions won the battle, and you couldn't hold back the tears. You felt a mixture of shame, sadness, and frustration wash over you as you tried to compose yourself in front of Yone.

“Gimme that!” You snatched his sake cup and chugged down its contents, still full. Yone was taken aback by your sudden action, at a loss for words as he watched you. Your tears were now streaming down on your face, you didn’t care anymore if it had smudged your makeup.

“Y/n…” he began, lifting his arms as if to reach out to you, but you quickly reached for his sake bottle to refill the cup you were holding, determined to drown your sorrows in another shot.

“How can I compare to that woman, Yone, tell me!” You didn’t know where and how that came from, but you blurted it out.

“H-huh? Which woman?” Yone's confusion was evident as he tried to follow your train of thought.

“Which woman?? You had lots?!”

You swore your head was in some eco-friendly energy-saving-mode as you couldn’t seem to process the information, making the situation seemed even more hilariously stupid.

“…Y/n, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to reason with you, his voice soft and concerned. 

But you were just going to leave him there at the counter, tears still streaming down your face, and leave him you did. Without another word, you hurriedly made your way to the bathroom, leaving the poor man on the bar counter all alone. As you stood in front of the mirror, you realized how much of a mess you were. You looked like a metalhead who had just gone through a breakdown, with black streaks trailing down your cheeks.

“Oh no,” you whispered to yourself, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you as tears started to well up again. How had it all gone so wrong?

You looked at yourself in the bathroom, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regain your already lost composure. Moments later, Alune entered the bathroom, her expression filled with concern as she looked at you.

“Let’s rest for today, hm? I’ll drive you back,” she offered softly, her tone soothing. You nodded at her. “Don’t worry, I told everyone asking that you were not feeling well,” Alune reassured you, offering a comforting hug.

You found yourself crying again, this time for her considerate gesture. Alune chuckled softly as she patted your back, offering you comfort.

You then fell deep asleep in the car on the way back.

•~•~•~•

The next morning, you woke up feeling the slight hangover from yesterday. You sat up on your bed, trying to piece and remember the memories of whatever chaos had happened last night. Your mind then went through the memory of your interaction between you and Yone, realizing your actions, each one making you cringe with regret and shame. 

I- I’m an idiot!!

You groaned, massaging your temples as if trying to erase the memories. The more you remembered, the more ashamed you felt. You wanted to curl into a ball under your blanket and hide from the world.

You admitted to yourself that you hadn’t consumed that much alcohol at one time before, and last night, the mix of emotions and frustrations had likely been heightened by the booze.

“Yone must hate me now…” you mumbled to yourself, still rubbing your temples in a feeble attempt to alleviate the headache. Now, the problem was clear in your mind: How were you going to face him today? 

The fact that the members had their apartment room just right in front of yours and Alune made the situation even more daunting. You couldn’t simply avoid him forever, especially since you were part of the same team.

You went out of your room to find Alune making pancakes for brunch at the kitchen.

“Morning!” she greeted you cheerfully, despite the late hour.

“…Morning, Alune. Thanks for yesterday, though…” you mumbled, scrubbing your eyes as you yawned, meeting her grinning face, clearly waiting for your recount of the previous night. You realized her expression and groaned inwardly, knowing you'd have to relive the embarrassing story by telling her.

You sighed, grabbing a glass of milk before sitting down. “Okay, so…” you began, recounting the chaotic events of the night before. You explained how you had let your emotions get the best of you, the tears, the rambling, the chugging of sake... It all came tumbling out as you told her about your breakdown in front of Yone.

Alune listened intently, offering considerate and understanding comments throughout your story. When you finally finished, you felt a mix of relief and embarrassment wash over you.

Alune reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, we all have our moments. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. But then her expression shifted to a mischievous grin, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

“And…” she paused, her grin widening. You looked up at her, wondering what she was about to say.

“You should definitely confront Yone as soon as possible, tell him how you feel” she said plainly, her grin now almost playful.

“What?! That’s the last thing I would do!!” you protested, feeling a wave of panic at the thought of facing Yone after your embarrassing display.

But Alune held your shoulders firmly, her eyes serious. “Believe me, y/n. Trust me on this one.”

•~•~•~•

Throughout the day, you had been clearly avoiding Yone, much to his concern. There were three chances where you two crossed paths, but each time you quickly averted your gaze, trying your best not to interact with him due to your lingering embarrassment. But Yone appeared to have a different thought to himself.

…Did I say something wrong?

His mind was busy replaying the events from yesterday morning, wondering if he had made a misstep towards you. He was trying to connect the dots, trying to understand why you seemed upset with him yesterday.

To be honest, when you admitted to him that you had a crush on another guy, he felt a pang of hurt inside his heart, though he was adept at masking it, maintaining his calm demeanor. But he was genuinely concerned for your well-being. Learning that the guy you liked might be interested in someone else made him feel a sense of disappointment, though he didn’t let it show. He wanted the best for you, and seeing you upset about it only added to his concern.

When you left him alone at the counter, he knew he had to tell Alune about you. Alune was quick into action, helping you up at the bathroom. Later that night, Alune and Yone found a moment to talk in private, much to Yone’s request.

Alune listened intently as Yone recounted the events of the past day and his feelings of confusion and concern about your behavior. He explained how he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had somehow upset you, and how he wished he could make things right. Alune listened with patience, nodding in understanding as Yone spoke. However, he still kept his feelings about you tightly guarded. 

Throughout the day, Yone appeared somewhat… off, lost in his thoughts. Everyone noticed his change of demeanor and seemed to check on him frequently.

“Gee, Yone, are you alright? You look like you stayed up all night,” Ezreal asked him in the afternoon, noting how drained Yone seemed.

“I’m fine,” he answered flatly, his mind elsewhere.

Another time, he found himself behind the wheel of the car with K’sante beside him. “You good, Yone?” K’sante asked, noticing Yone's distant gaze.

“I’m fine,” Yone repeated mechanically. By now, it felt like he was a broken record, constantly reassuring others that he was okay when he really wasn't.

He knew this would get him nowhere, as he felt he desperately needed a clear space. So, as dusk began to settle, Yone decided to retreat to one place where he often found solace: the rooftop. 

•~•~•~•

After contemplating for what felt like an eternity, you decided to practice how you would confront Yone at a place where no one would usually go. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the rooftop as you ascended the stairs. You were rehearsing what you would say to him in your head, repeating it a few times as you walked to the spot you had in mind. 

However, when you reached the spot, you were taken aback to find Yone already standing there, overlooking the cityscape.

Crap!! Why is he here!? 

You knew you weren’t good in last-minute study and the exam was just right in front of you now. He seemed to notice your presence, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Reluctantly, you stepped closer to him, maintaining a reasonable distance, and faced the city view in the sunset. The air between you two was heavy with unspoken words, both of you itching to talk but unsure of where to start.

As the silence stretched on, you both seemed to come to the decision to speak at the same time.

“About yesterday…” you both began simultaneously, only to pause when you realized you had spoken at the same time.

“Go ahead,” Yone offered, his voice quiet and careful.

“Uh... you go first…” you replied, feeling the awkwardness settle in like a heavy fog.

Once again, silence enveloped you both, the tension palpable. You felt like screaming as loud as you could, but you knew you couldn’t back down now. You exhaled deeply as you began.

“Yone, I– I’m sorry about yesterday, I was all messed up. The alcohol–, I mean, I was…” you stumbled as the words you had prepared all got jumbled up in your throat. You paused before regaining yourself, and you continued. “But I feel like you need to know something,” you gazed up at him as he turned at you, finally meeting his gaze.

“The guy that I told you about… it was… you…,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you focused on the ground beneath your feet, feeling a mix of nervousness and vulnerability.

You were about to speak again, but the wind suddenly picked up, blowing your hair into your face and blocking your view of the man in front of you. Before you could move to brush it away, you felt Yone's hand on your cheek, gently tucking the strands behind your ear. His touch was tender and caring, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

As you faced him directly, meeting his gentle gaze, he smiled softly at you. The city lights twinkled around you, casting a romantic glow over the moment.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity, “You don’t know how happy I feel when you told me that I was the guy in your story.” He chuckled softly as the dots finally clicked, “And I also owe you an apology, I believe.”

“H-Huh… so you don’t hate me…right?” you asked, still in disbelief at the turn of events.

Yone chuckled again at your incredulous expression. “I don’t think I would ever… I like you, y/n,” he admitted, the heat rising to his cheeks as he also casted his gaze to the side for a second. “I mean– not just as friends, but...”

Before he could finish his sentence, you moved forwards to press your forehead on his chest, feeling in total relief and joy as he confessed to you.

“I like you too, Yone,” you whispered, your voice filled with happiness and relief. “More than I can put into words.”

Yone held you close, his arms enveloping you in warmth and security. The world seemed to fade away as you both stood there, lost in the moment. It was a moment of pure bliss, in contrast to the chaotic night you had spent the night before. 

As you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, you could see the tender affection reflected in his gaze. You also noticed the faint pink shades starting to show up on his cheeks, which only made you giggle softly.

He’s also shy, how cute.

“I was getting really concerned about whatever I did yesterday that made you upset,” Yone confessed with a soft laugh. “I’m sorry, I should have been more expressive to show my feelings.”

“O- Oh, don’t apologize. I was definitely overthinking things,” you replied, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I thought you were into that… super famous sexy lady…who’s on the…” Your voice trailed off as you recalled the memories from yesterday, embarassment creeping over you.

“I met her once at the premiere party, her producer introduced me to her, and we just had a plain talk, nothing more,” Yone explained with an amused smile. 

You grinned back at him, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Okay, so I was actually making a fool of myself.”

The tension between you both seemed to dissolve into laughter and shared understanding. It was a moment of pure relief and happiness, knowing that the misunderstandings had been cleared up.

“So, what now?” you asked, still grinning.

Yone took a moment to ponder before replying with a smile, “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could go on a real date this time? Just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, and you couldn't help but nod eagerly. “I would love that,” you replied, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him. 

As the sun set behind the city skyline, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you both stood on the rooftop, arms in arms, looking towards the horizon. The city lights twinkled as the sky darkened, and the night breeze began to tingle against your skin. You released from the hug, taking in the beautiful sight.

Just as you were about to turn back, Yone stepped in front of you, offering his hand with a warm smile.

“How about dinner, tonight?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus illustration right here

[skybiie]

VIPERINE! 1/2 of my cybertronian ocs :3 I love her so much my limousine babe

(Backstory below)

•👠

Viperine is the twin sister of Knockout (being only seconds older probably lol). Her, Knockout and Breakdown were an inseparable group back on Velocitron. The three of them were part of a cosmetics shop, where Viperine would design decals, new models/frames, and other “kibble” things, knockout would handle the procedures in applying these cosmetics, and Breakdown was the “maestro behind a rotary buffer”. They all three were out of the loop of the war on Cybertron, not exactly picking sides and remaining neutral. None of them really cared about what was going on, until the war spread and they were forced to evacuate.

Knockout and Viperine were seperated from Breakdown in their own pod, and when the twins were airborne, the pod was destroyed. The two of them had been launched to other sides of earth, neither of them knowing where the other was, let alone if they were ALIVE.

Knockout was founded by the Decepticons sooner than Viperine was found by the Autobots. She had landed in the outskirts of Las Vegas, quickly taking on the earth vehicle mode of a Chrysler 300 Stretch Limo.

Her main goal now was to look for Knockout.

Team Prime had discovered a strong energon pulse within the heart of Vegas, which none of the bots truly realized how daunting this task of finding it was going to be.

Optimus, Bumblebee, Arcee and Bulkhead were all dispatched into the city in search of the pulse. They had to remain in their alt modes, keeping a lower profile than usual as it was a busy, late night for the city with tons of people. It proved to be quite the struggle for the three, even with having them disperse. It was like a maze where they couldn’t cut corners or climb buildings to get to the location easier.

Arcee was rested at a red light, when a black and red limo pulled up beside her at the stop. She heard a “sweet ride” from the limo, and that piqued her interest. Not due to the flirt, but the voice was so loud. There was no way this wasn’t a human driver speaking with the windows rolled up and music blaring. The limo turned a different direction, and Arcee drove off since she couldn’t discreetly follow the limo. She alerted the other bots on her comlink, and Ratchet was dispatched in case this was a cybertronian in need potential help.

Optimus was lucky, and found the location of the energon pulse… just as Starscream had located it all the same. He had dug it up (the item being unknown atm) and was unaware of Optimus’s presence. Optimus wasn’t second to the scene, however, and was the third to spot it. The same limousine that Arcee described seeing earlier had slowly drove over, transforming into her normal form. She began fighting Starscream for the special item, foolish on who he was. Optimus had called the others to his location, being left no choice but to intervene.

Optimus had gotten ahold of the item rather easily, not until the limo cybertronian began running at him, clearly not backing down like Starscream had.

It wasn’t bravery, it was stupidity.

He didn’t fire; the other bots jumped in front, drawing their guns and weapons. She stood back, knowing she did not want to get shot.

“Who are you?”

“Viperine. I’d advise you drop the jewelry.”

Jewelry? The bots were dumbfounded. This Viperine really thought it was some sort of cosmetic. Optimus explained to her what it actually was, and she seemed regretful and showed distain for still wanting it.

“Ah… never mind then.”

Viperine wasn’t exactly a threat. She was just… incredibly naive and unknowing about the war. It took a lot of talking and one Starscream battle later for Viperine to eventually agree to heading back to base with them for an evaluation. Her worry for her brother only amplified…

[mixelation]

(a)synchronicity - probably the very beginning

Tori was currently tied by the wrist to two other people, part of a chain of five civilians and one shinobi. They stood out in the rain, in a muddy field outside of Ame. Hanzo stalked back and forth in front of them. 

Needless to say, Tori’s day wasn’t going the way she had planned. 

“You are the absolute scum of the earth,” Hanzo wheezed out through the filter over his mouth. “You are traitors and usurpers. Did you really think we would let you get away?”

The Ame Tori knew– the one twenty or so years in the future– would have let civilians move out, if they could prove they needed to. She could have written herself a very compelling letter about having no familial or professional ties and no job prospects, laid out a plan for how she'd be so good at a job somewhere else in the country, and she would have gotten exit papers. 

Apparently in mid-Civil War Ame, even civilians were under suspicion of joining the rebels. Despite being homeless for the last month, despite not having a single thing to her name because she was not even from this time, despite not doing a single thing for Ame or its wars, Tori was meant to stay in Ame even if she starved. That was giving your life to a village, according to Hanzo’s ongoing mental breakdown. 

“I’d rather die here than live another day serving you,” the shinobi that was supposed to be guiding them out snarled. Then she spat into the mud. 

Why, Tori thought. There was no talking her way out of this, not with that attitude. 

“As you wish,” Hanzo answered. His hands rose towards his face. There was a shuffling around them as the Ame-nin holding their sad little group at sword-point pulled gas masks over their mouths and noses. 

Why would sewing a piece of salamander into yourself do that? Tori wondered as she watched purple fumes pour from Hanzo’s mouth. 

She didn’t have it in her to feel fear. She’d done nothing but squat in abandoned, cold buildings and beg for food for the past month. She probably hadn’t gotten properly dry the entire time. She didn’t even have the energy to feel angry. She was just annoyed and tired. 

The poison made all her neurons misfire. Pain shot through random parts of her body, and her legs convulsed and knocked her over. She dragged down both the people she was tied to– or maybe they dragged her down? It was hard to tell. They were one twitching mass of limbs and shrieks of pain at Hanzo’s feet. 

“Tell your filth friends when you see them,” Hanzo said, voice no longer distorted by the mask, “that I will not stop even when Hell is full.”

Tori knew she was properly dead by then, because the gnawing hunger of the Shinigami spread inside her, becoming a part of her, driving out her own feelings. If Hanzo was going to fill her stomach, why wasn’t he? Why was he wasting her time with this measly meal?

It almost felt good to be one with the Shinigami, who did not feel cold or tired, just hungry, always hungry. Except, today she also felt… 

What are you? The Shinigami wondered. But gods did not have to experience time strictly linearly like humans, and it puzzled it together quickly. Disgusting, Tori thought of her own soul, and then suddenly had the very human instinct to vomit. 

She could feel the souls of the five other people in her stomach. She could also feel arms cutting her hands free and then dragging her through the thick mud of the field. Her nerves twitched. This was probably just what corpses killed by Hanzo did, because the person dragging her didn’t react. 

This is a vile feeling, the Shinigami thought. Or perhaps it was what Tori thought. How dare a human touch me?

Tori had to fight to stay limp as repulsion filled her. Then she was being dumped down a hill along with the other bodies. 

Ah, the Shinigami-in-her-head thought. The carcasses after a meal. And yet I’m still hungry…

Tori had been dumped into a mass grave, on top of a pit of rotting human bodies half-submerged in mud. Bile rose in her mouth, but she fought it back down, flailing for the edge of the pit. She refused to look down or think too hard as the Shinigami faded from her brain. 

It took a long time and many failed attempts to crawl her way up the muddy slope. 

Tori allowed herself to splay out in the mud for a few minutes. The Ame-nin were long gone. She hated dying, but it was a convenient little trick. 

The poison still had lingering effects, and she stumbled over her own feet several times as she headed to the forest at the edge of the field. Her vision was spotted. But she was alive, and she was getting the hell out of Rain Country. 

xXx

Tori was still in Rain Country. Travel was… challenging. Rain Country was at war with itself and its neighboring countries. Ninja occupied towns and roads and would randomly show up and kill you for no reason, or perhaps confiscate your supplies if you were lucky. The ninja came from every country, having made Ame the stage for their stupid Third War. 

She had money now, though, at least. Ninja here weren’t any better at not getting tricked than they were in her timeline. 

“What do you mean, kill them?” the farmer’s wife said. “They’re ninja!”

“They’re not even conscious,” Tori countered. She pressed the knife at the woman again. “They’ll die like anyone.”

The farmer’s wife seemed doubtful, her eyes nervously flickering over to her dining room where three young men sat slumped over their seats. 

“Fine, I’ll show you,” Tori said, turning on her heel and marching back into the room. 

It was nice of the farmer’s wife to let her stay with them, curled up in the dry hay of her barn. The ninja had been here since Tori had, because she’d stalked them here. 

The farmer’s wife had old medications prescribed to her husband, from before the supply shortages and before her husband had died resisting a ninja raid. It had taken very little convincing from Tori to get the woman to crush up pills into the food she served the ninja. And then it had worked, because ninja had a hard time believing non-ninja weren’t idiots. They hadn’t expected a young civilian like Tori asking a bunch of stupid questions to be a distraction for another civilian doing something dangerous. 

Of course, there was a period between being drugged and passing out where the ninja had realized something was wrong. There were several kunai in the walls and a huge scorch across the wooden dining table from them freaking out. This was probably why the farmer’s wife had refused to enter the room, despite being gungho about the plan just an hour ago. 

The drugs worked just as well as the warning label had promised, though. There were all out like alight, breath and limbs heavy

Tori hovered over the biggest of the three ninja with the knife. A Konoha headband glinted back up at her. It was funny. She’d always just assumed Konoha-nin would be kinder than everyone else, but they weren’t. They would barge into some lady’s house, scare the shit out of her kids, and demand free room and board, just like any other ninja. The farmer’s wife had no idea what village had killed her husband, and it didn’t matter. All ninja were ninja to someone like her. 

Tori fiddled with the knife. She wasn’t… she didn’t… well. She didn’t mind the idea of killing someone with a knife, but she had no idea how to do it cleanly. 

She ended up turning the knife on herself and making a little incision into the fatty part of her forearm for blood. It would take some extra time and finagling, but fuuinjutsu was almost always what she was most comfortable with. She patted the ninja down for a spare fuuinjutsu brush– a lot of them had them, even if all they knew how to do was re-ink storage scrolls– and set about making a seal that would disrupt the ninja’s chakra just long enough to kill them. 

It took long enough that the farmer’s wife regained the courage to creep into the kitchen.

“You’re one of them,” she gasped at the seal Tori had drawn in blood across the table. 

“Um,” Tori said, settling the third ninja’s hand into place on the seal. “No I’m not?”

She smeared the last character into place with her finger, to activate the seal. She’d drawn the seal imperfectly, as it was on a random table in blood rather than traditional methods, and a lot of very dramatic smoke escaped. 

The farmer’s wife made a lot of dramatic, outraged spitting noises. She didn’t even seem relieved when Tori confirmed all three men were dead now. 

She kicked Tori out, although she did nothing but stand around and accuse Tori of being a lying bitch while Tori patted down the corpses for useful things. Like more pocket change. Or travel supplies. Or– gasp!– sealing ink and a bunch of blank tags!

“Which village sent you?” the farmer’s wife demanded, waving around another knife she’d picked up at some point. “Don’t you dare send any more of your freak friends out here!”

“I suggest burning the bodies,” Tori told her and she packed up her new goodies to leave and wiped the table clean of evidence. She didn’t need any shinobi getting wind of her fuuinjutsu. “Or anything else to hide their identities.”

Of all the villages, Konoha was most likely to send people to investigate random disappearances. They liked tracking where their bloodline limits ended up. Or, at least, that’s what the Iwa-nin that Tori had failed to convince to go engage a Konoha team had said as his excuse.  

The temperature was dropping as she hiked away from the farm. Maybe there was a way to use fuuinjutsu to temperature-regulate her tent… no, that seemed like it needed a lot of testing to make sure she didn’t set it on fire in the night…

Tori’s hands balled into fists as she walked. Why was even finding a warm bed impossible? Or someone to just be nice to her, without suspicion and threats?

****

TORI KILL COUNT: 3

[enalovesharry]

Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

[tenebriskukris]

Oshi No Ko Chapter 165 - My Thoughts/Analysis

Last chapter before the end. Let’s get this over with.

The first panel immediately undercuts Aqua’s sacrifice by having Nino squeal. Incredible. 

One could say that this entire sequence of events was caused by Hikaru’s death but that feels too much like giving the manga credit for presenting this slideshow of events without giving everything time to breathe. Even if Hikaru wasn’t suspected of being a part of this murder scheme it wouldn’t be difficult for Aqua and company to hire a bodyguard to protect her from any murder attempts since Hikaru mainly kills through proxies. Perhaps hire a private investigator to catch him in the act. Or, you know. Just kill Hikaru through indirect means. Break into his apartment and poison his food and water. 

And now we see Hikaru’s chain of murders. Can we finally bang that in people’s heads that this fucker is a murderer? Because people of all stripes seem to think otherwise despite the narrative spelling it out for them more times than I can count. As much as I dislike how the narrative has handled Hikaru’s character, trying to deny the facts presented front and center is worse than this slop being churned out. One can critique the way Hikaru was handled before these past few chapters in any number of ways—but to deny that Hikaru isn’t a murderer at this point is just laughable.

It’s now time for our weekly slideshow presentation with Akane as a narrator! You know, she’s already eclipsed Crow Girl in terms of infodumping. Why not? Why the fuck not just lay it all out to the audience instead of telling these important plot events organically. Surely this is a good decision to make after a series of already bad decisions. 

Aqua didn’t even write a fucking letter to everyone he left behind. Incredible. It would be simple enough to give them to a proxy to deliver them to the people he cared about but of course he didn’t think of that. I don’t even think the authors even thought about it. 

It’s the funeral. I can’t help but feel for Miyako here, having to bury both Aqua and Ai. And then we fucking see Aqua’s body. Ho boy. Dashes any hopes that he’s actually alive, huh. I’d say that this entire scene is sad but that's a lie. Aqua’s death didn’t have the narrative strength, the thematic connection, the sheer setup for this to be a sad scene. It did not earn the right to claim that sort of emotion when everything here and in the last few chapters felt like someone reading off a script of an infomine rather than a series of events happening in a manga.

Oh my god Kana you fucking idiot. And thank you Miyako! Good on you to not fucking allow her bad behavior to stand. And Kana’s mental breakdown at Aqua is—again, I don’t really care. It’s supposed to be sad and all but she didn’t even understand Aqua to the end. She never saw Aqua for who he truly was or his revenge plot. She didn’t even know that he killed Hikaru and then himself. Even if she loved Aqua, she loved the mask that he wore rather than the person underneath it.

People screaming about character assassination and how the author ruined Kana’s character in this chapter really don’t grasp one of the biggest flaws with Kana as a person—that is, she lacks the self awareness that her actions can cause other people to react—and react badly.

We see this in her sharp tongue and scathing remarks. We see this in her harsh words to Ruby during the movie arc. Hell, we see this best illustrated in the Scandal arc where she tried to pursue ShimaD and caused everyone involved a great deal of heartache. While she may have had good and even understandable feelings, that doesn’t make her any less of a piece of shit when she does them. I’d be glad that the narrative is finally giving her some goddamn consequences but at this point even the idea of Kana reaping said consequences doesn’t stir up any emotion in me. If you’ve left even the people who heavily dislike a character going “can we just get this over with” when said character gets their just deserts and suffers because of her own actions then you’ve REALLY done something wrong.

And everyone else is just a slideshow. We don’t get to see how they react or their feelings in exchange for a Kana temper tantrum. Thanks for that. I’m sure that Taiki’s feelings about his half-brother dying aren’t relevant. Or Mem’s. Or Miyako’s. God, what a fucking travesty.

Looks like we don’t be seeing Ruby this chapter if one of those panels is to go by. I would not be surprised if she followed Aqua to death at this point. There’s been nothing to indicate that she wouldn’t, after all. The girl who recklessly ran to kill Hikaru has had her most important person die on her AGAIN. What has she to live for now?

Oh, it’s Gotanda and Kaburagi. In all the bullshit I’d forgotten about the movie. It feels so much like an afterthought that it’s laughable. All that buildup and we don’t even get to see it. 

The movie was a large hit. I heard it was the sixth most viewed movie this year. That’s so funny. Even after everything it couldn’t even reach the top of the charts. I’d say that it’s thematic but giving this series credit is like giving credit to a toddler for managing to open a jar. Sure, you could do it once, but I doubt you’d be able to do it again without making a mess of everything.

Akane narrating that Ruby hasn’t even left the house. And then her with dual black stars…and then undercut again by the white star. Are you fucking kidding me. Are you fucking kidding me. The narrative is giving us NOTHING to signify this change in her behavior. After she lost Goro the first time Ruby fucking collapsed into her own revenge plot and it was only Aqua that saved her from it. And now you’re telling us that she managed to hold herself up here after his death without any outside interference? I’ve met flat earthers that could parrot off more persuasive arguments.

If Ruby was given any time in the spotlight to flesh out her character more this MAY have been more palpable but as it stands it’s just…I don’t even want to rip it apart because it really is just deplorable. It doesn’t even feel satisfying to do so anymore. Often when I critique a series for its flaws it makes me appreciate all its other GOOD aspects but for these recent batch of chapters I’m even struggling to find things that are decent about it. 

There’s no use analyzing a pile of shit in an attempt to make it look worse or better than it actually is. It’s a pile of shit. And so is this manga.

Next chapter is the last one. There is absolutely no way that we’re going to get a palpable ending to this clusterfuck and I’m very much reminded why I don’t usually get into media that are still ongoing. What an utter travesty.

[mellowwillowy]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐚

Soft Yan! Gods x GN! Reader

ANGST (Reader died but there's a bit comfort by the ending) Remember, everyone is humanized and depicted in my own view so obviously, they are very OOC. You don't have to understand everyone's origin (like me) to be able to read this.

"𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕?"

“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺.”

-Hastur

--

"Hastur, please, bring me along to Carcosa."

You tugged on his yellow cloak, eyes shimmered in numerous stars of hope that could even outshine the cosmic. The man only pinched his temple, eyebrows furrowed with the same answer repeated.

"No."

“Why? It’s not like I’m there to destroy the whole city! I’m only there to gaze upon its intricate beauty!”

“You are quite the persistent one for someone who knows how to word it out innocently.”

Hastur paid no mind to you and continued his stride to his chamber. You followed behind him like a sheep herded by the shepherd. Still unwilling to give up, you jumped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

“But Hastur! Why am I not allowed to? The others could so why couldn’t I?”

His patience grew thinner, his eyebrows evident. His hands went to hold you still in place, “Who exactly is anyone?” His hold tightened a bit, but he was careful enough with it to not hurt you, “The sacrificial lambs? Do you want to be one of them too?” His eyes darkened a bit as though the gold had been covered in dust. You whimpered from his tightening grip, you could feel your eyes watering.

“But you can just bring me there without having to turn me into one no?”

“You can’t even maintain your sanity and form around us in this world, let alone in our world, my city! I can even ask you to jump down and die now!”

He wasn’t wrong, an anomaly had happened to you. You were no longer capable of using your immortal form for you were only a mortal out of a sudden. You who were able to live freely without the fear of dying were no longer immune to threats. Purifying yourself to maintain your sanity around the other cosmic creatures was also tough for you, it wasn’t rare for you to suffer from a breakdown when you failed to purify yourself against them.

“… But I want to see where Hastur spends most of his time, I want to see the place you live!”

“And you can’t even stand next to me for a moment without having to purify your internals!” His grip tightened as his voice grew louder. It seemed like he had reached his limit of patience.

“I can! If Cassilda can then why can’t I? Are you scared that I might get all green on her again?”

You tried your best to remain calm and act like how usually do, slipping jokes every now and then. But you could feel your internal organs started to fail to function as you failed to collect your mind to purify yourself against him.

“Cassilda? Is she even still alive? No, is Leviathan still alive inside of you? Are the seven sins even still inside you?!”

“Why does that matter? I just want to visit Carcosa! All you have to do is bring me there!”

“Why,” His grip started to hurt you,” are you,” you whimpered at his strength, “always so persistent of what you want?!”

“I’d… rather.. not die.. in vain.,… hurts..” Your pleas did not reach his ear as he was too clouded by rage.

“Why are you always so insistent?! Always showing your neck to be taken for granted to hell? You are no longer immortal, you are stuck in the body of a mortal, can’t you understand that?! Why are you always so-“

“Hastur, you are hurting me!”

Hastur immediately jolted out from his daze, his hands raised away from your arms, his eyes wide from shock at what he had done. You tried your best to not let any tears slip out of your eyes but the grip hurt you more than you expected.

“Hastur, you idiot!” You ran away from him with both of your legs. Had it been the usual you, you would have levitated and dispersed into the air with the scent of flowers filling everyone’s nostrils. Hastur clenched his fist, his long bottled conscience battling of whether he should chase you and clear everything or not.

It chose to not.

--

“Woah, baby! Wait, wait, wait, no! You are bawling like a baby!” Yeb caught you before you bumped into him, running blindly as you tried to purify everything inside of you before your whole organs failed to function. Nug’s eyes did not leave you, you could feel it despite your eyes being unable to see anything.

“… crying, what happened?” It was evident that he wasn’t one who was good at managing and understanding emotions, let alone handling someone who was having a breakdown. Your hand went to reach one of the twins, you were not sure who you had your hold on.

“Can you two walk me to my chamber? I feel like half of my head is going to split open..” Your other hand clutched them tightly, while the other clutched your head, you felt like you were about to burst it open to make it feel better. The twins nodded to each other, the whole walk was filled with Yeb's endless chattering, trying to relieve some of your pain with Nug trying to find a shortcut to reach your chamber. The Capital of Life was a cruel place for one who could only walk and not levitate.

Upon reaching your room, you were put to bed immediately, just before they were about to leave, your voice stopped them in their track.

“Please, sing for me…” You tried your best to talk, but you could feel your voice getting hoarser. You didn't want to die without any comfort given to you. You knew your time was up, and you really wished you could finally visit Carcosa.

Nug looked at Yeb, his head shaking a No so hard that Yeb cackled.

“Looks like Nug can’t sing, How about I sing for you instead?”

You did not care who’d sing, you just wanted to hear, to feel accompanied.

“Please, sing me to sleep” Nug sat next to you, his hands holding yours while Yeb sat on the other side of the bed, clearing his throat while wiping the sweats on your forehead, “Of course, dove.”

--

Your body felt heavy. You couldn’t lift your eyelids no matter how hard you tried to. Limbs? You couldn’t even feel them. Did you perhaps suffer from a false purification? No, it felt too… familiar. You tried to channel your whole mind into your eyes, to lift your eyelids but you could only lift one, your right eye.

“… ceiling..”

You continued to channel it onto your arms and yet only your right arm was connected, with only limited movements. All of these felt too familiar. It almost felt like this was no longer the body you had moments ago, but rather, the body you had aeons ago.

“… Nu..g … Yeb…. Nug… Yeb…” You called out to them, you tried your best to scream but all you could was nothing close to a whisper. You pursed your lip before opening it again, still hopeful for someone to hear and save you….

“Yog… Aza…   Nyarl…. Cthulhu… someone…”

You suddenly felt half of your body burning but you couldn’t do anything to ease it down, your head felt like it was bursting open.

“he…lp…”

It didn’t take too long until it was no longer able to feel anything. It felt dead as though it was rotting.

“… Has… tur…”

Your eye did not leave the ceiling above you, “… Chen..”

--

“Hastur, hand them over”

Your fragment was placed in a glass box, Everyone had tried their best to re-live you but none succeeded. Your body was first found by Nug who sneaked away, worried about your well-being. You were found with your eyes staring into the distance that was limited by the ceiling above you. Unable to see you in that state, he shut your eyelid down.

Times had passed and everyone reached the conclusion that you could no longer be brought back, leaving only a piece of a fragment of you. The fragment was not brimming with light unlike the usual fragments they saw, it was dead and dim.

“… No. I will be bringing them to Carcosa with me”

“No, we will be throwing it into the pit of the Capital, can you not just listen to us?” Cthulhu stepped front, his hand pushed Hastur by his shoulder.

“… No, their last wish was to be in Carcosa, can’t you all respect their wish?”

“Carcosa? Don’t even think about making it their final resting place, you are clearly outnumbered vote-wise.” Yeb spat through his gritted teeth, his fists clenched.

Hastur had enough time to think. Even if he had to make himself an enemy out of the others, he wouldn’t mind that. Nug did not join the others, still in shock with what happened to you. He did not vote for any of the two places as well, all he wished was that you could somehow return by miracle and certainty.

‘Nug, what does Carcosa look like?’

Your voice rang in his head. That was your last question to him. This determined everything, he chose to have you rest in Carcosa. Nug stood and walked toward Hastur.

“Go, now.”

“What?!” Yeb yelled toward his brother. Just before he could do anything, he helped Hastur run away through his own portal.

“Their last wish,” ‘I wonder how the black stars shone like too,’ “was to see Carcosa with their eyes!”

Everything was decided too fast, leaving almost everyone stunned in shock before they could do anything to prevent it.

--

Hastur walked toward the lake, his hands carrying your fragment as he showed you around.

“And we have arrived at our last destination, the Lake of Hali. Worry not, I won’t let you join the others down there.”

Hastur raised his arms, clasping his hands before letting the fragment fly into the sky.

“You’ll be surrounded by the stars so that you will never feel lonely.”

Hastur eyes were dim until he saw something lighting the dim city.

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆,

‘Ahahaha! Hastur! Look at the stars! They are so beautiful!’

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔,

‘Ohh! Twin Moons! It’s been a while since I saw a place that has twin moons!’

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔

‘Hastur,’

𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂.

‘Good night.’

Your illuminated figure hugged him before you finally dispersed. For the first time, a white star appeared in the sky.

“I’ll show you my dream.”

--- 𝙻𝚘𝚐 𝙴𝚗𝚍

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

The last lines are cut of the lyrics from 'Cassilda's Song'.

A Guide to Reoccurring Characters, Hastur was the one under the spotlight here, Nug and Yeb were the supporting characters with Nug showing up more than Yeb (this time), and other Gods were only mentioned briefly.

The 'Good Night' line is inspired by Baby in Yellow's game where Hastur said that in one of the endings, Hastur also said 'I'll show you my dream' in the game and I can't help but write it down!

What is the Capital of Life? Since I only gathered some of the deities, it was kind of awkward for me to make the setting somewhere in the cosmic. I decided to turn them into some sort of 'Guests' and that was also the reason why everyone was getting along because they were not in their respective universes, worlds, and places.

[averagewriter777]

Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

(Chapter Seventeen) @calicokitkattkat… this is for you 🙂

Everyone was slightly confused as to why you were all going to America. Alejandro thought for a second he was going back to Mexico until you announced that if you wanted to see your daughter, Price said you needed to bring everyone along. Except for him, as he was breaking down very little intel that was given on the Hawk.

“So… wanna give us the breakdown?”

You nodded at Soap’s suggestion and closed the book you were reading, sighing heavily. “I’m divorced and have a child with someone. Said person, his name is Shawn, has custody of the child, her name is Kennedy, and I see her when I can. When we got back from Cancún, I’d gotten several- about a hundred messages saying that Kennedy had a seizure and is in a coma.” There were three intakes of breath, and you knew who they came from. “Shawn’s dumbass girlfriend, Kiara, left out a glass of vodka that was easily accessible for Kennedy. Children are curious creatures. Shawn and Kiara said they looked away for a second, and all of the vodka was gone and Kennedy was fine for… five minutes before she seized. My child is now in the hospital, in a coma.” “As for why y’all had to come along… Price said if I go home, y’all come with me just so we’re ready if any information about the Hawk comes up.”

Damn. Soap reached across the plane and clapped your shoulder reassuringly. “It’ll be alright, Doc. We’ll make sure to be on our best behavior when we get there.” There was something in his voice that told you ‘best behavior’ didn’t really mean that, but you didn’t care. You were going for legal reasons and for your daughter.

-

The plane landed on the small airbase in Fort Bragg. It was nice to ‘home’ in a sense, even if you’d only been gone less than a month… new record considering being in the military. You only wish it had been like this before… when you were in third group, maybe you would have seen your daughter grow up more.

“Before we step foot out of this plane… we can wear our uniforms to the hospital- because that’s just how it works… but the gear has to go.” The men blinked at you. “You can’t bring weapons into a hospital unless you’re a cop or you have a license to carry. Y’all aren’t even citizens of this country… so we’ll stop by my house first to drop stuff off so you don’t get into trouble when entering the hospital, okay?”

They all grumbled, but acknowledged that they understood. You breathed a sigh of relief then motioned for them to follow you. Your truck was still in the last place you had it. Since it’s legal in the state of North Carolina for people to ride in the bed of trucks, Gaz, Soap and Alejandro sat in bed with all the ‘luggage’ and gear while you and Ghost were in the front. (He’d called shotgun)

“Don’t worry, boys, my house is only like- fifteen minutes from here. Just- don’t show weapons please. I’d rather not get pulled over and have to explain to the military police what’s going on.” They mock saluted you and got in the bed of the truck, ready to hold onto their dear lives. “My driving isn’t that bad… sheesh.” You started the engine.

It scared your neighbors when you arrived, because they were out sitting on their porch with the baby and your truck’s engine wasn’t exactly quiet. There was also the added three men in full gear in the bed of the truck. Once you turned off your truck, you went straight over to assure the family that everything was okay. “It’s my new team, we’re stopping here before making a trip to the hospital.”

“Is everything alright?” Mary, the spouse of your neighbor who was also holding their baby asked. Worry crept across her face at the remark. “Don’t tell me it has to do with poor Kennedy…”

You nodded. “‘Fraid so. Shawn and his dumbass girlfriend left liquor out that was reachable to her. She drank it all and is in a coma.” Mary set a hand on her chest in surprise. “Yeah. I’m only back because of that, and the team had to come with. I was wondering, if it at all becomes an issue, if Kennedy could stay with you two?”

“Doc! The door is locked and this stuff’s heavy!” Gaz called from your side of the lawn. Ghost smacked his arm and mumbled that you were talking, and to give you a minute.

Mary nodded. “Of course! Kennedy is always welcome over here. You know our contact information, and I’ll let James know.” She grabbed your hand before you could leave, giving it a tight squeeze. “We’ll put Kennedy in our prayers for now, okay?”

It wasn’t that you couldn’t jog to the other side, but it was more of the distance being so short that you just walked. “Can’t I say hello to my neighbors, Gaz?” Said man looked down sheepishly at that, kicking at your wood porch. “And I was asking if her and her husband could take care of Kennedy… you know.” Everyone was silent, so they probably didn’t know. So you stuck your key into the hole and twisted it, opening the door wide. “Welcome to my humble abode, gentlemen.”

Everyone set their things down by the couch in the living room, observing the place you called home. One of the last things you thought was ever bringing a full team here… guess there were extenuating circumstances for this one.

“Bathroom’s down the hall to your right, guys. Umm… we’ll figure out sleeping arrangements when we get back from the hospital.” You ran a hand through your hair. “I’m gonna go change into something else, feel free to raid the kitchen or whatever. And please take off your gear.”

(Part Eighteen)

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (25)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]    

[warnings: swearing, physical violence]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"Get out." Aemond tried his best to stay calm and not pull Y/N out of the car by force. He was standing in front of the open door on the side of her seat, they were under his apartment building. "I'll give you the keys to my apartment, you wait there and I'll be back in an hour."

"I don't want you to go to a place like this alone. I'll worry, I'd rather be with you." She said in a tone that brooked no argument. Aemond squeezed his eye shut. He wanted to grab her and just pull her arm by force, but she quickly unbuckled her seat belt and jumped over to the driver's seat. Aemond stared at her, not knowing whether to laugh or scream. “I will not stay here. You can't make me!" She said, moving as far away from him as possible so he couldn't reach her.

Aemond wondered why everyone was doing this to him, and for once, someone just couldn't listen to him. Talking to Alys, his mother, and now her, had completely exhausted his patience. However, just as he felt with Alys that he could really do something to her, watching her curled up fiercely in his seat, despite all his anger, he also felt undue gratitude. But he didn't want her to see it, or worse, that any harm would come to her there. He resented his irresponsibility in the park and did not want to repeat the same mistake.

“What if they take a picture of you and send it to your father? How am I supposed to explain to him why I took his daughter to a brothel?" He smoked through pursed lips. Y/N looked at him intensely.

"You will tell him the truth. That we went at your mother's request to get your hungover brother out." She said, shrugging her shoulders without changing her position an inch. Aemond sighed heavily and shook his head.

"I have no strength for you." He said as he closed the car door on her side and walked over to the driver's side, so she jumped back into the passenger seat, moving as far away from him as possible. He sat in his seat and started the engine, shooting her a murderous look. Y/N pursed her lips but said nothing.

They drove to the suburbs. Aemond stopped in front of the same building he'd picked up Aegon from last time. He sighed at the thought of having to go through the same thing again. He turned off the engine and looked at her.

"Stay in the car, I'll be right back." He said as he unbuckled his seatbelts and opened the door. Y/N wasn't going to do that though and left with him. Aemond looked at her like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"I'm going to hurt you today." He said in a low, dangerous voice. Y/N only laughed at his words.

"No, you are not."

He had no idea where she got so much confidence around him. He was angry with himself that her laughter made him laugh inside out. For some reason, her approach made their trip seem like a silly adventure. He just shook his head. He wanted it over with.

"Come. Stay close to me." He said in a tone that brooked no argument. This time Y/N obeyed him, rushing over to him right away, keeping close to him. They entered the building, the staircase illuminated only by tiny red lights. By the descent to the cellar, naked women were smoking cigarettes, looking at them curiously. Y/N blushed at the sight of them, pressing herself tighter against his arm.

They went down the stairs, soft music played in the background, they could hear people talking, sighs, laughs and moans. There was a lot of smoke in the room they entered, mostly from cigarettes. Y/N had never seen a place like this before in her life. Plenty of naked and half-naked women sat with men and other women on couches, floors, tables, some in plain view, some hidden by translucent curtains.

She didn't know where her eyes should go. Her gaze wandered from one group of people to another. Women knelt in front of men with their pants down, others rode them, others injected them with a small syringe. Some people just had sex, in two, three or more people, others sat and talked, completely drunk. Y/N felt Aemond grab and squeeze her hand. He must have seen the shock and uncertainty on her face.

"Do you want to leave?" He asked quietly.

"No. I can handle this." She responded, feeling her heart pounding hard, and squeezed his hand tighter. She felt a whole range of emotions. Fear, excitement, curiosity and disgust at the same time. It seemed to her as if all these people were in some kind of trance.

Suddenly, among all these people, Y/N spotted Aegon sleeping between two naked women. She looked away, seeing that he was also naked. "He’s over there, on the bed against the wall." She said to Aemond without looking that way. Aemond turned his gaze there and Y/N felt his whole body tense. She knew he was furious.

"Wait for me here." He spoke softly through clenched teeth and walked towards his brother. Y/N obeyed him. She saw that they had already caught the attention of some of the people in the room. The men who were playing with other women were looking at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. She felt as if she herself was naked. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at what Aegon was doing.

She saw that somehow Aemond had put pants on him. Aegon, however, seemed so drunk that he didn't even know what was happening to him. She saw him mumbling something to his younger brother, staggering and falling as Aemond tried to pick him up. It was a pitiful sight, and she wasn't surprised that Aemond hated doing it.

Aemond swung his arm around his neck, grabbing his waist with his other hand, and lifted him up. Y/N moved towards them, seeing that Aegon's legs were like rubber and he couldn't even take a step. Aemond gave her a stern look, but like him, she threw his arm over her neck and hugged him. He smelled terrible of alcohol and sweat, but she tried not to think about it.

Aemond ordered them to head for the stairs. She could see that he was furious and ashamed. But she didn't want to leave him alone. She didn't pay much attention to the couples sticking to each other's sides now, but she found this place to freeze her blood in some way. Aegon's babble snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Ah, who is it? Your girlfriend?" Aegon asked, his expression amused, his remark clearly arousing him. "You took her to a brothel and didn't fuck her?" He snorted, leaning his face closer to hers. She felt his drunken breath against her cheek. “My brother likes to pretend to be tough, but he really doesn't know how to make a woman happy. If you ever want to know…”

"Shut your mouth or I'll leave you here, you fucking bastard." Aemond shot suddenly, his eye dark with rage. Y/N swallowed hard, his brother's remark sending a shiver of embarrassment down her spine.

"See? He can only scare. But deep down, he’s a soft cunt." He laughed, and Aemond suddenly released him and shoved Aegon down the stairs in front of them. Y/N jumped, mouth opening in surprise and horror.

"Then crawl up those stairs yourself, fucking punk." He fired and kicked him in the stomach. Y/N grabbed him quickly, pulling him away. Aegon just cringed and coughed.

"Stop! It's no use, he's completely drunk." She said quickly, terrified of where this was all headed.

"When he's sober, he's the same. Fucking peace of shit. I should spit in your face." He said furiously, but Y/N squeezed his arm pleadingly. He looked at her, fury in his eyes. "You wanted to accompany me, now you have what you wanted. Enjoy it." He said, his voice dark and low, Y/N shivered and swallowed. She thought that he was on the verge and that she must be a sanctuary for him to keep him from going mad.

“Let's pick him up and carry him to the car. Not for him, but for your mother." She said softly, looking pleadingly at him. His jaw was clenched. He stared at her without a word, and his brother only moaned softly under their feet.

"No. I don’t care. Let him handle himself." He said stepping over him and heading up the stairs. "Let's go." He said in a voice that brooked no argument, but Y/N stood still. As if she hadn't heard him at all, she leaned over his brother and slung his arm around her neck again. Aemond had never looked at her with such fury before.

"Wake up, Aegon. Try to get up." She spoke to him gently. Aegon groaned, but made an attempt to get up. He managed to kneel down and slowly got up, resting his other hand against the wall. "A step up." She said calmly, and he tried to lift his foot and nearly fell over again. When he regained his balance, he slowly began to climb the stairs with her help, without any unnecessary comments. A large limo slowly formed on his cheek from the collision of his face with the stairs.

Aemond stared down at the scene with his lips pressed together. He finally came down when they were halfway up and helped them to the top. After a few minutes, they managed to get him into the back of his car. Aemond slammed the door shut, Y/N stepped closer to him, but he walked past her.

"Don't be angry with me." She spoke quickly to him, but he got into the car from the driver's side and slammed the door behind him. Y/N felt a pang in her heart, but she climbed into the car and silently buckled her seatbelt. Aemond started the engine and they drove through the city wordlessly. Once in a while, Aegon groaned from behind, tossing from side to side, falling into short dozes every time.

Y/N glanced at Aemond from time to time, but he was staring through himself. His face was stone. She knew what she had done made him furious beyond measure. But she knew that if they left Aegon there, the situation would be even more hopeless. She didn't want him to take it as a rejection, but she knew he resented her for not taking his side at the time.

"You're like my mother." He fired suddenly through clenched teeth, disapproval and revulsion in his voice. Her lips trembled and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"I’m sorry." It was all she could choke out. She stared at him for a moment, then turned her face to the window, clasping her hands in her lap. Fifteen minutes later they reached the outskirts of the other, much more prosperous part of the city.

It was already night, so Y/N couldn't see much. She was aware that they had entered a wealthy neighborhood full of huge houses. Aemond stopped in front of one, turned off the engine, and wordlessly unbuckled his seatbelt as he got out of the car. Y/N got off too.

"Get out." Aemond said impatiently to his brother, but he was on the edge of sleep and waking again, babbling to himself. Aemond pulled his arm in one swift motion, Y/N had to catch him to keep him from falling to the ground like a log. Aemond glared at her, but Y/N didn't care anymore. 

They led Aegon to the door, and Aemond rang the bell. After a while, they heard the sound of a lock opening, and his mother appeared in the doorway, already in a nightgown and bathrobe. When she saw Y/N, her eyes widened with surprise and embarrassment at the situation.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Come in." She said, moving away. Aemond and Y/N went to put Aegon on his bed in his room, but he vomited on the floor as soon as he stepped through the door.

"Fantastic." Aemond said coldly, Y/N only swallowed silently. Their mother just waved her hand, trying to smile, though her eyes expressed desperation.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it later."

They took Aegon to his room and laid him on the bed. His mother wiped his face, which was stained all over with his vomit. Aemond looked away, he couldn't look at it.

"Will you stay overnight at our house? It's already so late. We could have breakfast and lunch together tomorrow." Their mother said, rising, a note of hope in her tone. It disappeared as soon as Aemond laughed.

"I take your eldest son out of the brothel at least once a week, and you want me to have a nice dinner with him tomorrow?" He asked amused, but his face was tense, his gaze cold. Y/N had never seen him like this before, she looked at him with pain and horror. His mother flinched at his words and looked down in embarrassment.

"We haven't eaten together in years." She said softly. Aemond looked away, enraged. He shook his head, stared at the point beneath his feet.

"I will never go for him again. Never. It was the last time. Understand?" He asked, looking at her with eyes full of regret. "I know you often forget this, but I am your son too."

_____

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[asmutwriter]

You Saved Me (Part 4)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 2) Your car breaks down on the side of the road. Thankfully a familiar face shows up, giving you a hand

WORD COUNT: 2535

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, light flirting (if you squint), single mum

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

A YEAR LATER

You stand drying cups behind the bar. Watching as customers come in and out of the building. The clock ticking softly in the background as you count down the minutes before your shift ends. Needing to pick up your kids from the babysitter at 3, you finish at 2:30. It’s only a 15 minute drive but you’d rather have enough time to be able to beat the traffic. So when it gets to the end of your shift you finish up the cup you had, putting it on the shelf. Waving goodbye to your colleagues 

“Rose are you working tomorrow?” your friend Betty asks in her thick Southern accent

“Yep. I’m in all this week apart from Thursday”

“We should do something on Thursday then, on your day off. Go for drinks or something”

“Oh I’m sorry, I already promised my kids that I’d take them to the fair” you grab your coat as she nods slightly “You could come round one day after work though? Friday or something” she nods and smiles

“I’ll write it on the calendar” you smile, waving goodbye as you head out. Getting to your car you chuck your phone and coat onto the back seat. Starting the car as you start your drive. You turn up your radio, tapping the steering wheel as you start softly humming to the songs. You’re driving for no more than 5 minutes when your car starts emitting smoke. 

“No. No please don’t do this” you sigh as you gently drift the car to the side of the road. Putting on your hazard lights as you take out your keys, getting out the car. Going up and lifting the hood up. Coughing as you wave the torrents of smoke out of your face. You frown slightly as you squint to see what the problem is. You go to wiggle something, flinching away as you touch the hot surface “fuck” you mutter. Placing the burnt digit into your mouth in a vague attempt to sooth the burning sensation. You go and open the back seat of your car. Grabbing your phone from the back you go to call your breakdown cover, or a friend to come pick you up. Even your sitter would work, just to let her know you would be late.

You get up your contacts. Going to your friend Betty’s number, just about to click onto ‘call’ your phone dies. “Oh you’ve got to be fucking with me” you chuck the cell angrily into the back seat. Hitting the roof of your car. You see a truck coming up, waving it down “Hey please help!” you call out, just as it drives past. The driver not even giving you a second glance. “Are you serious right now?” you place your hand over your eyes. Breathing deeply as you try to regain calm. 

“Come on. Just walk back to the bar. Or to the gas station. There’s one down this road...” you bite your nail, looking down the long road ahead of you “I think anyway” you mutter. Before you can make a decision you hear another car. Turning you see an impala driving up past you. You wave at it trying to flag it down as it pulls up in front of your car in the lay by. A tall man stepping out as he walks over, hearing a soft chuckle before he speaks

“I don’t believe it. Rose?”

“Dean!” you smile as you meet his familiar emerald eyes. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you” he laughs again, looking at the car behind you

“Any way I can help?”

“A phone or a lift would be appreciated” he chuckles slightly. Passing you his phone “You are a life saver” he smiles and leans against your car as you dial in your sitters number. She picks up on the 3rd ring

“Hello, this is Justine”

“Hey it’s Rose”

“Everything ok?”

“Yes. Well, kind of” you bring your free hand up to the back of your neck, gently rubbing it as you lean against your car next to Dean “I’ve broken down plus my phone has died. I’ll try and be with you as soon as I can but I’ll likely be late”

“Of course sweetie. Do you need me to come pick you up?”

“No I’ll be ok thank you. I’ve bumped into one of my friends who I’m hoping might give me a lift” you look at Dean as he smiles softly at you, going over and looking in the hood of your car. 

“So long as you’re alright”

“I’ll be fine. I always am” a slight laughter coming from the line as you hear a young voice.

“Hang on I’m just talking to mummy” she says

“Hi mummy!” you hear your eldest child yelling on the other end of the phone. You smile

“Hey baby girl. I’ll see you real soon” a giggle as Justine takes the phone fully again

“See you in a bit”

“Bye” you hang up. Going over to Dean and handing him his phone “Rung my sitter to let her know I’ll be late. Any chance you could give me a lift to hers? I know she won’t mind dropping me off back at my place once I’m there”

“I can do you one better. It will likely take a few minutes but I can help fix your car”

“Really?” he nods, going over to his and opening the boot. Grabbing out a tool kit and coming back over.

“What brings you out here anyway?” he places the kit onto the floor, taking off his jacket and flannel before starting to work on your car “I thought you lived somewhere else?”

“I did. The place I was staying in barely had enough room for me and one kid. Let alone me and two. So I decided to move to a new area. One that means we can each have our own rooms, even if Anna thinks she should sleep in my room still” he laughs slightly. You watch him working, folding your arms as you speak “You live nearby?”

“I don’t-” he stands up straight, looking at you before shaking his head “No. Currently between jobs. I recently got Baby fixed” motioning at his car as he gets another tool “and decided to take her for a spin before me and Sammy went on our next job”

“Do you have a job in mind?”

“No but I need something to distract me so I’m looking for anything” he leans forward. Doing something with something to your car. Car mechanics have never been your strong point. But you still watch in hopes you might remember for the future. 

“I did hear something at work that might interest you”

“Oh yeah?” he struggles with something. A stern face as he uses a lot of force to turn some sort of bolt. “What’s that?”

“My friend’s sister owns a farm not too far from here. Apparently a few of her cows have been killed recently. She’s not too sure on what’s killed them”

“Might be something” 

“Plus a couple of the townsfolk have turned up dead” he nods, standing up straight and looking at the engine. “They’d been decapitated” he looks at you. Tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment

“Yeah that does sound like a case for me” he looks at you “I think she’s fixed” you nod, getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Grinning as you hear the soft purr of the engine. He comes over, watching you as you turn the engine off. Standing up you hug him

“Thank you” he hugs you back. A soft smile on his face as you move away.

“I hope you won’t be too late from picking up your kids”

“Shouldn’t be too bad. Probably only five minutes late”

“You have two now right?” you nod and smile slightly

“Two girls. I may be biased but I’d say they are absolute sweethearts” he chuckles and nods

“If they are anything like their mum then I bet they’re lovely girls” you smile “There called Anna and...?”

“Lydia. I watched Beetlejuice recently and liked the name” he chuckles “Don’t judge me”

“I didn’t say anything”

“You didn’t have to. Your laughing makes it very clear how you feel about the names origin”

“No it’s a nice name. Honestly. I was just expecting a more serious answer then being named after the goth girl from a horror film” he chuckles again “how did you come up with the name Anna then? Is she named after a film character too?” you shake your head

“No. No she’s named after my mum”

“Bet your mum is glad that you named her after her” you chuckle and shake your head slightly

“I wouldn’t know. My mum died when I was 10″

“Rose I-”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise. You didn’t know. I wanted to honour her memory” he nods as you lean against your car

“I’m sure she was a wonderful woman” you nod and smile

“Oh she was amazing. She had the type of laugh that could light up a room” he smiles softly at you as you reminisce “I think you would’ve liked her” he nods and looks away from you. 

“I’m sure I would have” he looks at you again as he smiles. An ever so slight sadness in his eyes before he speaks again

“Your car is all fixed now so I should probably get back to my brother” you nod. Moving your hand to the side of his face. Kissing his other cheek

“Thank you again” you smile as your eyes meet his. Your hand still on his cheek as he nods. You move away slightly, putting your hands in your back pockets

“Where did you say the beheadings were?”

“Montana. Only a few hours drive from here. I think it was in a place called Red Lodge but I might be wrong with that”

“I’ll look into it when I get back” he smiles 

“It might be nothing. Just a massive coincidence. But if you’re wanting something to distract yourself with then I figure it can’t hurt to check it out” you meet his smile as he nods

“Don’t worry, we’ll find out whatever is killings your friends sisters cows” you chuckle slightly

“Diary companies are forever grateful of your service” he chuckles as you smile

“I’m glad I can help them out” you smile as you look at him “I should be getting back for my brother” you nod, moving from the car you hug him. Him reciprocating “It was good seeing you again Rose” you smile as you move away, looking at him

“It was nice seeing you too”

“I’ll wait for you to drive off. Don’t want to leave you stranded on the side of the road in case the engine doesn’t start” you nod. Sitting in the driver’s seat and turning on the engine, smiling as it starts. Shutting the door and rolling down the window “Be safe, ok?” he says as you look at him

“You too. Good luck with your case. Hope it goes well for you” he nods, moving away as you drive off. Watching in your rear view mirror as you see him go back to his car. 

You pull up to your sitter’s house. Going up to the front door and knocking. Justine opening it and smiling. You smile at her, giving her a hug. You then smile more as Anna runs over to you. You bend down. Picking her up “Oh hey gorgeous girl” you kiss the top of her head as you go inside. Justine shutting the door behind you. 

“Lydia is in the living room” you nod. Going inside you see her in a play crib. Putting down Anna as you bend down, kissing your youngest daughter on the top of her head. She smiles as she looks at you, reaching a hand up towards you. Grizzling slightly you bend down fully, picking her up. Anna hugs your leg

“Mummy up” you chuckle slightly, bending down and picking her up in your other arm. Holding them both close to you as you hear Justine chuckle behind you. Turning you see her standing in the doorway, chuckling lowly as she watches you

“I don’t get how you do it. Working and looking after two kids all on your own”

“Great will power” she chuckles again, nodding in agreement as you hug them close to you. 

“Have you heard from the social worker?” you nod and smile

“Yes I have”

“Oh? That smile seems like it was positive news” you nod enthusiastically. Putting down your two kids and sitting on the sofa. Lydia back in the play crib and Anna on the floor. Watching as she goes over to the toy box

“I have court next week. They are going to review my case one more time. If everything is positive then it means I have full custody of my children. I don’t need any supervision or anything else like that”

“That’s excellent news!” you smile as she lightly touches your hand “oh I’m so happy for you Rose” she moves her hand again, placing it back into her lap as Anna comes back over with a toy dinosaur. Sitting between you and Justine.

“Just got to hope that the court hearing goes well”

“It will” she smiles “So” she grins at you as she drags out the vowel. A sly look on her face “what friend helped you fix your car? Do I know them?”

“No you don’t know him” she nods

“Mm. Sure. How well do you know him?”

“Oh shut it” you gently hit her arm as she smiles. “I met him a few years back. We got on very well. Then he helped me out with a couple of problems I had at the time” she chuckles. 

“Oh yeah. Problems” you roll your eyes

“Not those kind of problems” she smiles at you as you chuckle slightly

“Do you like him?”

“Yes I do. He’s kind and sweet” she nods, smiling as she watches you. A soft smile on your face as you unconsciously think about him. Turning your head you see her grinning at you, making you drop the smile. A soft tinge of pink on your cheeks as you shake your head slightly “Not like him in that kind of way. He’s a good friend of mine. That’s all” You defend yourself “Besides, nothing is going to come out of our friendship. I don’t even have his number”

“Why not?”

“It’s never been an appropriate time” you shrug, looking away from her “he doesn’t strike me as the dating kind anyway” you stroke Anna’s hair “anyway. I should get back”

“Am I still babysitting for you tomorrow?” you nod and smile

“Yes please. I’ll text you the dates for the month if that’s ok?”

“Of course. Because you were smart and actually gave me your number” you roll your eyes, standing up. You grab Anna and Lydia's things. Toys, bags, and coat. Saying goodbye to Justine as you get them both into your car and drive home..

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@sojuxxi

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Come What May, Ch. 5

Summary: While completely improvised, Gabriel’s plan to transfer his memories in the container fly before erasure was rather solid. It came very close to working, too. But ‘close’ was not enough. [SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2] Characters: Gabriel, Beelzebub, Crowley, Aziraphale, Muriel, Michael, Uriel, Saraquael Rating: T   All chapters will be tagged as ‘come what may’ on my blog.

[Back to Prologue]

A/N: Officer Muriel is on the case, Gabriel is on a date, and Crowley is on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

***

All right, Muriel thought, so maybe things had changed more than a little since the handbook had been published in 1923. There were significantly more cars, for one. And the clothing looked different. Specifically, the clothing of police officers looked very, very different. 

But that was all right. They could miracle a few adjustments here and there, and then they were ready to go out in the world. Which was, specifically, in London. Even more specifically, in Soho. Muriel had no clue why the elevator led there of all places, but according to the handbook, it wasn’t the worst place on Earth: it wasn’t Florence and and even better, it wasn’t Ohio. 

They were not entirely sure where either of those places was or why the handbook so specifically mentioned them as places to avoid at all costs, but that would be an investigation for another time. Now, they had to find Jibreel. They had drawn a very accurate sketch of his face - excellent work, if they said so themself - and surely, someone had to have seen him if he’d been on Earth before, right?

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, never seen him.”

“Believe me, I’d remember that face.”

“No, officer. I haven’t seen him.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen him, no.”

“If you find him, feel free to give him my phone number.”

… All right, this was a bit more complicated than expected. None of the mortals they showed the portrait to had seen Jibreel at all. Or maybe they had and wouldn’t tell them - humans lied sometimes, it said so in the handbook - but what reason would they have to lie to a police officer? Maybe Jibreel had been someplace on Earth that was not London, they reasoned. Hopefully someplace nice. Muriel really didn’t want to find out what was so bad about Ohio, or deal with these ‘insane poets’ Florence was supposedly choke-full of. 

“Did he kill someone?” the woman they’d stopped last asked, looking at Jibreel’s face above black-rimmed glasses. “He looks like the kind of bloke who’d kill someone.”

“Wha-- no, no! Absolutely not!” Muriel exclaimed, just a little distressed at the thought anyone could think anything so mean of an angel. “He’s a really nice ang-- person. A very nice person.”

A quizzical look. “If he’s nice, why are the police looking for him?”

Ah, right. The police usually were after criminals. Well, at least on paper. More often than not they were after people of skin tones or socioeconomic status they did not approve of, the handbook said, but they were supposed to go after criminals, too. “He’s… he’s missing, you see. His friends are very concerned.” Well, Muriel was concerned for sure, so it was not a lie. “And I’m trying to find him.”

“Oh. Well then, good luck, hun. Have you checked with the coffee shop?”

“... The coffee shop?”

“That one,” the woman turned, pointing at a building whose front read Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Muriel had a vague idea of what death was, and had no clue what ‘coffee’ may be. What was the purpose of making people choose between… whatever that was, and the end of their mortal lives?

Unaware of their thoughts, the mortal was still talking. “Big windows, regulars sitting there day in day out. If the missing man walked through here, someone in the coffee shop might have seen something.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s very very helpful, thank you!” Muriel smiled, and crossed the street toward the coffee shop - entirely failing to notice the being standing near the front window of a bookshop right by, feather duster in hand, waving frantically at them.

***

“Muriel! Hey! I’m here! Guys, it’s Mu--”

“No no no no no-- Jim! Jim, stay here!”

“I’ve got to say hello, they must be looking for me, I told you they’d worry--”

“Crowley! A little help here!”

Had he still not been more than slightly miffed over the entire situation, and more specifically about Gabriel’s presence in the same quadrant of the universe as Aziraphale, Crowley might have found the scene before his eyes funny. Aziraphale’s attempt at physically stopping Gabriel consisted of clinging to his midsection, pretty much, while the aforementioned amnesiac Archangel simply kept walking to the door and dragging him along like he weighed nothing. Crowley chuckled, and leaned on the upstairs railing. 

“I mean, this might be a good way to test out Beelzebub’s hiding miracle, no?”

“I don’t want to test things out!” Aziraphale called out, now increasingly distressed as Gabriel reached for the doorknob. The desperation in his voice made Crowley decide to bite back another comment and help out the quickest way he could think of. He was always going to do that, anyway. There was no way in Hell or Heaven that he’d let any celestial or infernal being find out Aziraphale was involved in… whatever was even going on.

Won’t give them an excuse to get their hands on him again.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

The first hardbound volume of the 1768 edition of Encyclopædia Britannica sailed through the air in an elegant arc, and landed squarely on Gabriel’s head before falling on the ground, quickly followed by Gabriel himself. Whatever noise he may have made was covered by Aziraphale’s distressed groan.

“Did you just hit-- did you just throw-- we’re supposed to help-- that was a first edition …!” He fretted over the book as well as over the quite literally fallen angel, not quite knowing which needed the most care at the moment. In Crowley’s opinion, the book should take precedence; within seconds, a burst of flame and distinct smell of sulfur told him in no uncertain terms that Beelzebub was inclined to disagree with his scale of priorities.

Ah, right. The fly on the wall.

“I had to!” he yelled, turning with his hands up as though surrendering to an enemy army. To be fair, Beelzebub’s face - lips pulled to bare blackened teeth, boils and all in full display as they’d clearly rushed there without making any effort to blend in with humanity - promised more pain than had been collectively dealt through the entirety of both World Wars. “An angel passed by and he was going to go out and greet them!”

“What!” Beelzebub turned away from him, and was down the stairs the next moment. The contrast between the snarl directed at Aziraphale and the gentle cradling of Gabriel’s head in their arms was… something. “What angel? Is it Michael? Uriel?”

“No, no. Apparently it was his, er, newest superior? Muriel.”

“... A scrivener?”

“Of the 37th class,” Aziraphale specified, causing the Lord of the Flies to wrinkle their nose.

“Heaven surely has fallen into hard times if that’s who they send to investigate.”

“If Heaven sent them,” Crowley said, coming down the stairs. He shrugged at the resulting looks. “They walked right past the bookshop, didn’t even look back, and… well, I’d also really expect one of the Archangels to show up, if they were looking for him.”

“So you think the scrivener noticed he was missing, and instead of warning Heaven they came to Earth to look for him themself?”

“Seems possible, no? Maybe they didn’t want to admit that their charge was gone.”

“Is it what you really believe, or what you desperately want to be true?” Beelzebub asked, gaining themself a scowl.

“Both, if you don’t mind,” Crowley snapped. “And besides, this is the kind of information I’d expect to make its way to you - a missing Archangel. We can assume Heaven has no idea he’s gone from their grasp until you hear something through the usual back channels, or--”

“There are no back channels, Michael.”

The mumble was faint, but it caused everyone’s eyes to immediately turn to Gabriel. He was stirring, and blinked up at Beelzebub with those green eyes that looked so very, very wrong on him. Then, he smiled. “Hey,” he said, and Beelzebub smiled back. 

“Hey. Is your head all right?” they asked, a hand running through his hair. “Are you… remembering anything?”

He frowned a moment, still on the floor, then shrugged. “Yes, but no. I mean, my head is all right. Don’t think I remembered anything, though,” he added, and tilted his head. “I like what you’ve done with the teeth.”

“The-- ah. Thank you,” Beelzebub said, but they did pass a hand over their face, miracling the boils away and willing their teeth to… well, un-rot. “But this works best to blend in on Earth.”

“I like that, too.”

“Flatterer,” they muttered, and helped him stand. “Are you all right?”

“I think a book fell on me,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing his head. He glanced at the window, but didn’t try to go outside again, nor did he bring up his Muriel. It seemed that even without the powers of Heaven, Encyclopædia Britannica was an effective short term memory wiping instrument. The more you know.

“... Yes. Let’s say it fell on you,” Beelzebub muttered, while Aziraphale made sure the book in question was still in one piece. “It may be best to get away for a while,” they added. They didn’t add ‘while these two figure out why that angel is here’, but the message was still loud and clear.

“Oh.” Gabriel hesitated, looking at the feather duster he’d dropped on the floor. “But I’m dusting.”

“Oh, no matter,” Aziraphale spoke quickly, book under his arm. “You did such an excellent job, I think you should take the rest of the day off.”

“Ah, great!” Gabriel smiled, and looked back at Beelzebub. “Where are we going?”

“... I know a place,” they said, and took his hand. Crowley couldn’t recall a single other time watching someone quite literally disappear before his eyes had been that much of a relief. He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Can’t take much more of this,” he muttered. “Sure hope they stay in whatever place they went to, and-- angel? What are you doing?”

Aziraphale shrugged, putting on his jacket. “I saw this Muriel getting in Nina’s coffee shop - I suppose we should try to find out what they’re here for, no? Maybe it’s not about Gabriel and this is all a huge coincidence.”

“You’re being much too optimistic, angel.”

“One of us has to be,” Aziraphale replied, all bright as though they were not risking the wrath of Heaven and Hell both to help out their fucking former bosses, both of whom had consistently been several shades of awful throughout the eons. “So, are you coming?”

“Uuugh. Do I have a choice?”

“Well, yes. You can stay in the shop and watch me go on my own, all alone, to face the danger.”

“A scrivener of the 37th class is no danger,” Crowley pointed out, but of course he was already halfway down the stairs, pretending not to have noticed how awfully pleased with himself Aziraphale looked.

***

“... And they said that Beelzebub is dragging their feet for no reason?”

“Yes. To which I replied--”

“Beelzebub does nothing without reason.”

“Bingo. And speaking of reasons, do you know what reason they’re giving for the fact they no longer have a Supreme Archangel?”

“Surprise me.”

“No comment.”

“... Is that you not wanting to comment, or was it them who won’t--”

“It’s Heaven not wanting to comment. Well, at least Archangel Ariel--”

“I believe that’s Uriel.”

“Whatever she’s called. She’s giving no explanation, and the rest of Heaven isn’t either.”

“This is unprecedented. I’m not surprised Beelzebub is unwilling to proceed, with Heaven obviously hiding something.”

“Well. If that is the case, I believe there might be a promotion in the air for the demon, or demons, who can solve this mystery and give our Grand Duke some answers.”

“I assume you’re talking about us.”

“You know, I’m trying to keep an aura of mystery here, but you’re making it really difficult.”

Shax, who at the moment had no time to worry about any kind of aura, mysterious or otherwise, chose to entirely ignore Furfur’s complaint. “Who else in Hell is aware of this?”

“No one that I know of. Beelzebub aside, I mean. Obviously they know.”

“Then we have an advantage. I’ll try to find out more. Call me if you have more news.”

“Yes, yes. Hey, how about a thank you ?”

“Oh, no need to thank me.”

“No, I mean, I gave you the tip--”

“Save your it for when we’re dukes of Hell,” Shax cut him off, and ended the call. Yes, saying thank you would have probably been nice, but you don’t become Hell’s representative in London by being nice. Or at least she hadn’t. How Crowley had made it despite a very obvious soft spot for Earth as well as an angel was a whole other can of worms she had never much cared to open.

Shax had been much too focused on the chance to take his place to wonder about it. Furfur, on the other hand, had been so vindicated when he’d turned out to be a traitor - and working with the same angel he’d caught him with before, no less! - that he hadn’t shut up about it for  a year, until the Dark Council had finally recognized his attempt at warning them about Crowley and given him a promotion. That was when Shax had truly realized she and Furfur were after two different things, after all. She wanted power; he was looking to get a pat on the back and a ‘good job’ every once in a while. 

… Maybe she would thank him. Later. Once she’d made some progress on an investigation she had absolutely no idea how to get started with. 

Called to a new task, was Heaven’s line regarding their missing Supreme Archangel, but it didn’t take a lot of guesswork to tell it was corporate speech for forcibly terminated employment. What else would they be so keen to hide? And yet, in all other cases where a forcible termination had happened - ten million cases at once, really - the forcibly terminated had found himself in Hell with blackened wings. If that had occurred to the Archangel Gabriel it would be the talk of the century in Hell, so Shax felt safe enough to discount that possibility. 

That left only two possibilities, as far as she could tell: demotion, or desertion. Both unheard of, really. Unprecedented, as Furfur had said… but after a demon and an angel somehow stopped Armageddon and proceeded to survive holy water and hellfire respectively, Shax supposed they were indeed living through unprecedented times.

***

“Um… hi! I’m sorry to ask, but--”

“One skinny latte, coming up.”

“No-- I mean, yes. Yes to the skinny latte, but that’s not… I was sitting in my shop, and I er, just happened to look this way. Through your window. Once or twice. And I noticed… er… I was wondering…” Maggie hesitated, mentally cursing herself for all the stammering. Nina looked back at her from behind the counter, one eyebrow raised and a carton of milk in hand.

“... Are you all right?”

“Yes!” Maggie exclaimed, smiling. “How did you guess that’s what I wanted to ask?”

“I… didn’t. I was asking you. You’re acting odd.”

“Oh.” With the possibility the ground would open up to swallow her sadly very, very remote, Maggie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be weird. I just noticed you were kind of looking like you were not having your best day ever, and wanted to ask if all’s good.”

This time, Nina looked genuinely surprised. “Ah. Yes, I… well. No, not my best day ever, but not the worst either. It’s just--” a jingle interrupted her, and she glanced over to her phone. A long sigh, and it didn’t escape Maggie how her shoulders dropped. “Lindsay is… having a moment. I’ll get your skinny latte in a sec--”

“Hello hello hello!”

Both Nina and Maggie turned to the entrance to see what looked like a police officer who had dipped their uniform either in white paint, or in the most potent bleach known to man. The smile that greeted them was about as blindingly white.

“Bet you twenty quids this one is going to ask for a glass of milk,” Nina muttered, and Maggie bit her lip not to burst laughing. Not having heard the comment - or having elected to ignore it - the officer spoke again. 

“I am carrying out an investigation! Do you mind me asking a few questions to the… patrons of this… fine… establishment?” they asked, looking around at the grand total of three people sitting inside. Nina shrugged.

“Knock yourself out,” she said, only to gain herself a confused look. 

“Knock myself…?”

“It means you may go right ahead,” Maggie clarified, and the smile was back. 

“Thank you! Jolly good! Do you mind if I start with you?”

“Uh. Sure?” Maggie muttered, and Nina made a noise that was almost a chuckle.

“I’ll get your skinny latte done while you’re getting grilled by the police,” she muttered. 

“Heh. If I don’t get arrested.”

“Don’t worry, you’re a bit too pale to be arrested for a minor crime like bad taste in coffee.”

Ah. “You think I have bad ta--” Maggie began, but Nina had already turned to the coffee machine and the officer was putting something on the counter. It was… a drawing?

“I am looking for this person,” the officer said. “Not in a bad way. I mean, he’s not a criminal. And he certainly didn’t kill anyone!”

“Oh. That’s-- reassuring?”

“Yes, he’s a very nice bloke! He’s not in trouble or anything. I mean, I’m trying to find him so he doesn’t get in trouble. You understand.”

Maggie understood exactly nothing, particularly with half her brain still fixated on the idea Nina did not approve of her taste in coffee, but she nodded along and looked at the drawing on the counter. It was really well made and, while men never exactly held her attention, she had to admit this one was very good looking. “I’m sorry, I haven’t--” she began, only to suddenly trail off. She squinted, looking at the features more closely. “Wait, I… might have seen him?”

“Oh!” The officer perked up, if it was even possible to get any perkier, and seemed a moment away from jumping up and down on the spot in sheer excitement. “That’s a clue!”

“Well… yes, it could be a lead, just…” Maggie stared, squinting at the portrait once again, then slowly shook her head. “I can’t shake off the feeling I have seen him, but… I can’t recall where. Or when. Maybe just… walking by? Probably around here, my shop is right across the street and I live nearby…”

“So he was here!”

“I said that I might have seen him, and if so it was probably around here. I can’t be sure--”

“It’s still a clue!” the officer exclaimed, and scribbled something on the back of a piece of paper. On the other side, there was… another drawing. Maggie tilted her head. 

“Is that the Resurrectionist?”

“Huh?” The officer looked up, blinking. “You… oh! You know what this building is? He drew it before he disappeared.”

The drawing was slapped on the counter, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Not a portrait, but very obviously the front of a pub that Nina was pretty sure she’d recognized. Hard to forget a place that keeps sending you one record after the other, all identical, claiming that they had ‘changed into the jukebox’. 

“I believe so. It’s a pub in Edinburgh, quite famous.”

“Edinburgh! Brilliant! I’ll find Edinburgh, and the pub, and-- maybe that’s where he is!” a delighted laugh, and the officer gathered up both drawings before running out of the coffee shop, not even bothering to question anyone else present. 

“What was that?” Maggie muttered, taken aback. The response she got was a noncommittal hum, and the sound of a mug being put down on the counter. 

“Probably some weirdo playing copper.”

“Yes, I guess-- oh. They're talking with Mr. Fell and his… friend?”

“Who, Eight Shots?”

“Is that what you call him?”

“Well, how else do you call someone who orders eight shots of espresso?”

“I always called him Dark and Broody,” Maggie admitted, and took her latte. “Um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I added some cinnamon,” Nina added, tilting her head towards the mug. “You look like someone who likes cinnamon.”

Maggie, who indeed loved cinnamon, flushed a little. Oh no, she didn’t approve of cinnamon either, did she? She’d probably make fun of her order the second she stepped out, wouldn’t she? “I… yes, I like it very much. So, you don’t approve of latte?”

“I always approve of latte. I don’t agree with the skinny part. Low-fat milk just never gets creamy enough.”

“That’s not true, you make it perfectly creamy!” Maggie blurted out. That caused Nina to raise an eyebrow, and Maggie had just a moment to wish once more that the ground would swallow her before she… smiled. A real smile. It was really nice.

“Thanks. It’s my greatest talent,” Nina laughed, and seemed about to add something else - but her phone jingled again and just like that, the smile was gone. She looked back at it, and looked so very tired. “... Sorry, I really have to deal with this now. You can sit wherever,” she added, and Maggie did, rather saddened by the abrupt end of the conversation and by the frown back on Nina’s face.

But it wasn’t all too bad. They had a nice chat, and there was cinnamon in her latte, and she got to see Nina really smile for the first time. Maybe she could find a way to make that happen again, even if it meant doing something drastic like… like… ordering a latte with full-fat milk. Yes, she’d bite the bullet and do just that, next time. 

Her brave resolution made, Maggie took a sip of her latte and glanced out of the window. The officer was still talking to Mr. Fell, while Dark and Broody - or Eight Shots - stood by with the expression of someone who’d rather be having a root canal without anesthesia. 

What an odd officer and what an odd couple, she thought, and took another sip.

***

Sometimes - not very often, but sometimes - fate decided to make things easy for Aziraphale. With how the previous twenty-four hours had gone, he had no expectation to get that lucky as he stepped out of his shop, trying to think of a way to find out what this Muriel what doing in Soho without asking directly or arousing suspicion.

Therefore, it was quite a pleasant surprise when the angel in question stepped out of the coffee shop, looked at him in the face, and smiled brightly. “Oh! It’s you!” they exclaimed. It took Aziraphale a moment to remember where he’d already seen them, and most of all when. 

“I… we met at the elevator, didn’t we?” he asked, and Muriel nodded, still smiling. They held something in both hands, and he recognized it immediately. “That is…”

“The handbook! Oh, I am going to bring it to the archive, I promise!” Muriel added, as though expecting a scolding. “I just needed to do… some things on Earth, and this was really useful.”

“Oh. I mean-- of course, I don’t mind at all you using it,” Aziraphale said quickly, and smiled. “Although I must say, it is not the most up to date edition. Perhaps you could use a little help with… whatever you’re doing? We’d be happy to help,” he added, gesturing to himself and Crowley. Judging from the way Muriel smiled at him, too, they had no idea who they were talking to. Useful, that. 

“Ah, yes. Helpful, that’s my middle name,” Crowley muttered.

“That’s really kind of you! I do need help, as a matter of fact - do you happen to know what part of London Edinburgh is?”

Ah. Well. It seemed help should come in the form of a geography lesson; having clearly come to the same conclusion, Crowley found it appropriate to reply in a heavy Scottish accent. “Edinburgh’s not in London, I’m afraid. Way up north.”

“Oh. So it’s somewhere else in…” a quick look at the handbook, flipping the pages to a very old and not precisely detailed map. “England?”

“Scotland. Further north.”

“Further north… oh! I see it!” They tapped their finger on the spot marking Edinburgh. “It’s this one! Right? It says Edinburgh right here.”

“Aye, that’s it.”

“Brilliant! And, uh… how do I get there?”

“Well, you could go by train or coach…” Aziraphale began, and Muriel’s eyes widened. 

“Oh! With horses? I’d like to see one. There seem to be no horses around here.”

“Afraid he means a bus,” Crowley intervened. “They don’t really have horses pulling things anymore. But, they still have trains!”

The disappointed expression vanished from Muriel’s face as quickly as it had come. “Sounds great! Where do I find a train?”

“Well, we could give you a lift to the station,” Aziraphale suggested, still smiling. “Any more ways we can assist you in… what are you here for, by the way? Official Heavenly business?”

Aaand the smile was gone, replaced by an anxious grimace. “Well-- sort of. I am… investigating. On behalf of Heaven,” they added, in the hurried tone that can only suggest nothing at all is being done on behalf of Heaven. To add to Aziraphale’s unusual luck, it seemed that Muriel had a very hard time lying indeed. “I mean… Heaven would approve.”

“Oh?” Crowley tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. “I assume the complete sentence is, ‘Heaven would approve, if they knew’?”

A nervous look around, as though there may be angels listening in, and Muriel gave a quick jerk of their head that Aziraphale supposed they could take as a nod. “You see, I don’t want a… colleague to get in too much trouble,” they said, holding out a portrait. It was Gabriel’s face, of course, but they didn’t even ask them if they’d seen him. They just seemed immensely relieved to see Aziraphale nodding, the very picture of patient understanding.

“That’s really nice of you, looking out for a colleague,” he said, and felt… just a touch guilty at the relief that flooded Muriel’s face. 

“Thank you. It didn’t feel nice. I mean, I’m not… It feels an awful lot like I’m sneaking around, but he went missing, and I’m afraid he’s in trouble and that he’ll be in more trouble if Heaven finds out,” they blurted out, causing Aziraphale to wonder if they had any clue how correct they were about that. “So I’m trying to find him before they even notice he’s gone.”

“That’s an excellent idea - no need to cause more trouble than needed, is there?” Crowley spoke up, suddenly all smiles, giving Muriel a light punch on the shoulder. “I like how you’re going about it. So, you think he’s in Edinburgh? You should go there right away. I’ll get you on the first train there.”

A relieved sigh. “Oh, thank you. You don’t know how helpful this is.”

“Told you, helpful is my middle name,” Crowley grinned, and tilted his head towards the Bentley. “Hop in my car, and we’ll go to the train station right away. Not a moment to waste!”

“Of course! Thank you!”

As Muriel ran to the Bentley, Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley. “You never did tell me what the J stands for. What is your middle name?”

“Well, I can tell you it’s not Jim,” Crowley quipped, and looked back at the car. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but we lucked out. Haven has no idea he’s even gone yet, and the only angel looking for him thinks he’s in Edinburgh for some reason. Sending them there will buy us some time.”

“I wonder what gave them the idea he’s there, of all places.”

“Don’t know, don’t care. It’s convenient, angel. Don’t look into the gifted horse’s mouth,” was the reply, and Aziraphale supposed he could agree with it. As Crowley had said, it was all awfully convenient.

What could this Muriel possibly find out in Edinburgh?

***

“So, uh, Jim. Do you recognize anything about this place? Anything at all?”

Beelzebub did not need to breathe, but it was something they tended to do on Earth, to better pass off as human; now, however, they were holding off on the breathing part as they watched Gabriel look around the street. Truth be told they had thought about taking him to the cemetery, before the statue of himself he’d so loved, his name conveniently written on the stone pedestal. 

But it may be too much, too soon; for all the tortures Lord Beelzebub had devised since taking charge of Hell, all the cries they heard on a daily basis, that cry was not something they wanted to hear ever again. Not coming from Gabriel's mouth, and most of all not because of them.

Stop! Please! It hurts!

Unaware of their thoughts, Gabriel frowned, eyes still scanning the road. “No, sorry. I don’t think I remember anything about-- hey! I know that place!”

The pub, of course. Of course. Something in Beelzebub’s chest seemed to loosen just a fraction. However hard Heaven tried, they simply couldn’t wipe all his memories; he was supposed to be a clean slate, and yet he’d clearly managed to hold onto something . Maybe he could reclaim the rest too, after all.

Of course he can. He’s the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.

“Yes, you know that place,” Beelzebub said in the end. They were still holding onto his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t turn his eyes away from the Resurrectionist, but he squeezed back almost on reflex. “You’ve been here before. Let’s go in. Might jog your memory.”

“Jog…?”

“Yes. It’s this stupid things human do, when--”

“I like jogging,” Gabriel went on, eyes narrowed as though focusing really hard. “Yes, I think… I do like jogging. I did it before. Probably.”

“Oh. Well, then it’s a great thing to do,” Beelzebub said quickly. “So, er… jog you to the pub?”

The jog to the pub was made a little more awkward than it needed to be by the fact Gabriel was not letting go of their hand, but Beelzebub had precisely no intention to let go either. They only did so when it was time to get two pints of beer - Gabriel had found the word funny, for some reason - and sit. To Beelzebub’s surprise, Gabriel took a sip from the glass. 

“... You know, last time we were here, you were pretty adamant about consuming nothing,” they pointed out, and almost laughed at the expression that crossed Gabriel’s face the next moment. He wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue.

"Blech! Seems like I was right,” he muttered, putting the pint back on the table and looking at it somewhat accusingly. “This doesn’t taste like hot chocolate with cream on top.”

A chuckle, and Beelzebub snapped their fingers to perform a small, small miracle. The beer and foam made way for hot chocolate and whipped cream. “Well, it does now. Try it.”

“Does it? Oh! It does!” A bright smile. “Thank you! I like sweet things. Like flies, no? That thing honey and vinegar? There was something about it in a book at Mr. Fell’s shop.”

Beelzebub, who didn’t get to hear ‘thank you’ very often and who realized just now how desperately they’d missed that smile in the days Gabriel had seemingly disappeared, smiled back. “Depends on the fly. Fruit flies prefer vinegar to honey. But I do like sweet things. I’m expected to, as a demon of gluttony.”

“Gluttony? Oooh, I see! You’re tempting me with the chocolate, right?” He smiled widely, cream and chocolate around his mouth and even on the tip of his nose. He really didn't seem to mind at all that hellish royalty would be tempting him.

“Heh. Sort of. Seems to be working. I’ll get you a napkin.” Their hand was halfway to said napkin when a very familiar song suddenly started playing, getting a groan and a ‘not again’ from the man behind the counter. 

Everyday, it's a gettin' closer Goin' faster than a roller coaster…

Gabriel looked up suddenly. “Oh! This song!” he exclaimed. “I love it!”

The something in Beelzebub's chest warming up and clenching painfully at the same time, they worked their jaws for a moment. “I love it too,” they murmured. 

Love like yours will surely come my way…

If Gabriel noticed the way their voice had caught a moment, he said nothing of it. “I know the whole song, you know! It popped into my mind while I was in Heaven. I can sing it. Do you want me to sing it?”

Ah. Beelzebub smiled, and reached across the table to rest a hand on his again. “... I’d love to hear it,” they said, and they did. They really did.

***

After dropping Muriel off to the train station - and helping them get a ticket - Crowley had a grand total of five minutes, the time it took to walk back to his car, to think that maybe all would be well after all.

Then, of course, came Shax’s call. He groaned and took it, leaning against the Bentley. “Listen, if this is about the bills again--”

“There’s something going down in the up,” Shax’s voice informed him, coming both from the phone in his right ear and from… well, her own mouth, on his left. Crowley bit back another groan, and ended the call to look back at her. The lesson on how she should either appear from thin air or phone him could wait.

“... In the up, up?” he asked, utterly resigned to the answer. 

“Yes. I’m trying to gather some intel. Supreme Archangel Gabriel seems to be the Supreme Archangel no more. The position is vacant and it seems Heaven is hiding something. Do you or your angel know anything about what's going on?”

Oh do we, Crowley thought, and it took him all his willpower not to burst into hysterical laughter right there and then.

***

[Back to Chapter 4]

[notstilinski]

The Twisted Ones Starters !

Taken from the 2019 novel by T. Kingfisher, The Twisted Ones! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“She was born unkind and graduated to cruel early.”

“Not much point, is there? The only reason anyone would show up was to make sure they’re dead.”

“If I get in an accident, you’re gonna go right through the windshield, you know?”

“As you can see, he’s a terror.”

“Ohhh, is that all? Man, I thought you wanted me to hide a body.”

“I bet it’s aliens. It’s always aliens.”

“I could have gotten out of here. This place sucks.”

“Buddy, if this tunnel gets any lower, I’m sure as hell not crawling after you!”

“You being murdered? Were you at, honey? I’ll get ‘em!”

“Aw, mint juleps are so classy. Just straight bourbon over ice makes it sound like I’m lush.”

“I’d stay away from them. You leave stuff like that alone, it leaves you alone. Mostly.”

“I could un-ask, you know.”

“Oh my. That’s…. That’s a thing right there, ain’t it?”

“I swear, I don’t usually have breakdowns like that in the parking lot.”

“Well, I’m under a lot of stress. Monsters are stressful. And I should probably stop drinking coffee.”

“I don’t think the holler people are doing yoga.”

“Lord. Talk about being caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea.”

“Is it a good idea to be drunk if there are…uh…things out there?”

“Bit late for that, I’d say, since everybody’s dead.”

“I am so far from okay that I cannot see okay from here. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“You’re nodding off right here at the table.”

“I don’t care if it’s Elvis and the Blessed Virgin. Don’t go opening that door!”

Shit, what am I, the monster whisperer?”

“Shit, (Name), you say it like that and I sound like a real asshole.”

“That was… A thing you just said. Yes.”

“I sure as hell ain’t opening that door! I’ve seen horror movies!”

“I just want my dog back.”

“The prodigal son has priorities, I guess.”

“I know. But I have to. Somebody sent me a note asking for help.”

“Hey, maybe you got cute bones.”

“Look, if it’s gonna come to life and take a chunk out of me, I’d rather it do it now than when my back is turned.”

“Shit, (Name), i shoulda known better than to let either of us get into this.”

“Do you think this is what happens to people who get abducted by aliens?”

“Look, being terrified makes me hungry.”

“(Name), for all I know they’re gonna eat us and are trying to find a recipe book.”

“I doubt y’all are gonna let me reload, but the first six could be interesting.”

“Interesting woman, your grandmother.”

“How are you not having a complete breakdown?”

“Well, I figured one of us needed to be sober in case we needed to drive.”

“We live through this, hon, I’ll even fart in front of you.”

“But that’s why it keeps trying to get in. It doesn’t want us. It wants to come home.”

[imsorryimlate]

Maybe Jack's real character arc was accepting hetero marriage wasn't for him and becoming Van Helsing's malewife all along /lh

you jest, but honestly…. who’s to say that’s not what happened?

jack seems to be very concerned with appearances. two examples that come to mind are

1. when van helsing is having a breakdown after lucy’s funeral, jack is concerned that someone will see and takes the time to draw the blinds of their carriage – like no offence to jack but if my friend did that when i was losing it rather than, idk, comforting me? i’d be a bit pissed ngl

2. when renfield is begging to be released, jack tells him to “try to behave more discreetly”

the second one is interesting, because when renfield was previously begging him for a cat in a similar manner (jack makes this connection as well), we are not told that jack has any concerns about renfield’s lacking discretion. but the thing is, at that time, they are alone. it is only in front of the others that jack is concerned with it.

so jack is not concerned with propriety in itself, but rather the appearance of it. and i have made the point before that his proposal to lucy (or any heterosexual marriage) could be another attempt at keeping up appearances, rather than an actual wish for a wife.

but this makes me wonder when and what made him realise that happiness comes from bottoming submitting to his true desire to be van helsing’s malewife 😏 there are quite a few instances in the book where conventions are challenged, so perhaps it’s all of them combined. or perhaps after their little adventure and the intense final battle, he was like “you know what? fuck appearances” because honestly, how do you come back from that and still worry about what the neighbours will think?

[thefaiao]

    About two months ago my laptop’s HDD died. I couldn’t really recover anything in the moment, and just left it unplugged inside the case until I could take it somewhere to check if it the files were truly unsalvageable. I wasn’t that annoyed by it. I had backed up most important files relating to game work, and I didn’t care too much about drawings that I already posted. I wouldn’t mind backing them up, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it since they are posted somewhere already.     This HDD actually had been on a long journey with me. It, together with the laptop, carried me through a whole year of living alone and isolated for everyone I knew. It had been having problems since forever but it soldiered through most of it. It’s actually impressive how long it lasted, to be fair. But any times it would show hints of death then, I’d have a nervous breakdown. My anxiety and isolation were at a critical level. Drinking some Monster sent me to the hospital for pure anxiety. So all the bad stuff blended together at the time, and I couldn’t bother to fix all of it. When you are living day by day and hanging on by a thread on all sides, every loss can feel very major.     It only died after I moved back home. The worst part about losing the HDD was having to reinstall all the programs, and relearn my routine. When working on long-term projects, routine is really the only thing that can carry you further. Games are composed of so many different pieces. The amount of programs you have to use really incentivise terrible habits, like leaving the computer on eternally, or having multiple programs open at all times.     When I got my first drawing tablet, my thought process was: “If I put this in front of me, eventually I’ll draw on it, even if out of boredom.” This actually worked. I think that by leaving all the different programs open, I am hoping to finish the game out of boredom. But it doesn’t work as well when you are on your mid-twenties and the weight of life starts creeping up your back. It just feels like you are stuck in some sort of hell, and if you aren’t using those programs or drawing, you aren’t really doing anything. I wasn’t a teen trying to teach myself how to draw like those cool internet artists; rather, I was an adult, with a faulty income source, alone, in the middle of nowhere.     I think moving out of my Mom’s apartment was a form of attempted suicide. I think I just wanted to leave the world, make the game or die. Games take longer than it’d take me to die. Maybe I didn’t know this consciously, but deep down I think I understood. It’s hard not to feel like a failure.     My parents always let me follow my whims. My Dad supports me, but I feel he sees me as more of a symbol. I don’t think he could describe my interests in detail, or the person I am. I am similarly distant to him, but I know he likes Blade Runner, and records, and running, and pretending to smoke big cigars. I like Blade Runner too. I wish he saw that I’m happy he likes Blade Runner, because I got to like Blade Runner because of that.     My Mom does understand me, and is able to describe who I am. But I don’t ever feel she is happy with my choices. She doesn’t mention it actively, perhaps out of tiredness, but she wishes I had a normal job, or had chosen another subject that not games. I don’t think the drawings or the commissions I’ve done mean anything to her. I don’t think they mean anything to anyone outside of my circles... I managed to support myself with them, but I wouldn’t say it was a completely successeful endeavour. I think she sees the game as a waste of time and energy, especially if it doesn’t make any money. It might not make any money.    It’s understandable. She won’t be here forever. I need a stable source of money, not just enough to pay some bills, sometimes. I feel I almost got tricked by the world into following my dream. I felt everything was telling me I should be honest with myself, and that I should chase after the things that mattered to me. So that’s what I did, and what I’ve been doing still. I’m not sure where I’m going in life. I think I just heard what I wanted to hear, and I always wanted to chase after a dream.    Two days ago, my new SSD died. I had used it to boot the laptop back up after the HDD died. I had already gotten into the routine again. It was brand new, and gifted by my friend to me. I didn’t ask for it, she just did it because she knew I needed it. I often complain about life, but thinking back now, this is truly something not everyone gets. It was brand new.    It died suddenly. I lost a good chunk of work on the game. We are getting closer to finishing the demo, so each part is major. I may have lost a model of the boss. This time I did have a nervous breakdown because of the loss of the laptop. The truth is that this past year has been setbacks after setbacks, and I feel my time ticking down.    Money worries from both my parents. Dog getting a tracheostomy, and all the medical care surrounding it. Having to live apart from my girlfriend, which I am dedicated to being with as long as I can. Having to constantly move to other places, without any certainty for the future, for reasons internal and external. And death, death everywhere.     I’ve gotten the habit of looking at my dog knowing he is living on borrowed time, getting sad, and petting him just a bit. I think that through all of this, I do a similar thing to the game. I look at it. Wonder how much time I have left to keep working and polishing it before moving on. Be happy about how far its come. Notice how much needs work on closer inspection. Get back to work.     When I spend a few weeks away from the game I noticed how much I care for it, and how much I like what it is. I don’t think everyone will notice why this matters to me, but maybe that is fine. And similarly, I feel like this about my dog. He may pass away soon, but he came so far, lived fifteen years and had many adventures. And I got to take care of him. So it’s not so bad. And he still barks everyday, and he still takes sunbaths. He still thinks, and decides.     The people who’ve been with me despite all of this puzzle me. My girlfriend has stuck with me through these decisions, and always says I am destined to make great things. The programmer, whom co-develops the game with me, has stuck with me and this game, and is willing to keep going as far as we need to make it complete. Things like this make me wonder if my dream is actually possible and real. And that I can brave through all these setbacks.    Is the game really that good? Is my work that good? Does it even matter if it is? I often show it to people and they don’t understand what’s good about it. All I know for now is that despite everything, I want to work on it still. I want to make this weird dream come true. I won’t get to play a game like the one I’m making, but maybe someone else out there will get to play it the way I wish I could.

[stillness-in-green]

Chapter Thoughts: 375, Chaotic Confusion

Sorry for the delay on this and other writings, all. The holidays got very hectic very fast. I really only pushed this one out before another week or two went by because I took a day off to finish it and run some errands. I won't say this is the last thing I'll post this year—I should have at least some downtime during an upcoming trip to visit family!—but fingers crossed for catching up more in the new year, anyway.

That said, to make a start, RIP to Moonfish having any relevance post-Tartarus, apparently. Man, I'm so tired of previously consequential villains getting pulled out of mothballs because that's easier than coming up with a bunch of new ones only for them to be unceremoniously disposed of when the crowd scene they're in is over.

Like, did Toga even notice an OG League member was there?

(See below the cut for much, much more. I had a lot to say this week, though a regrettable amount of it is Stillness-brand finicky overlong breakdowns of easy-to-overlook plot holes or quibbles about grammatical omissions that change the tone of the material.)

O  The descriptors of Toga’s evasion ability continue to be all over the place, to the point that I’m wondering if it’s intentional.  I want over that in some detail in this post, so I won’t repeat myself here(1) save to note that the varied descriptions of lacking intent (Chapter 105), loving intent (Chapter 247), basically misdirection (this chapter), complex and nuanced (also this chapter), cannot fool heightened senses (Chapter 266), and limited in how many people can be fooled at once (this chapter again) do not add up to anything remotely cohesive to me.

Ochaco is, of course, just theorizing, so there’s no guarantee that she’s right, but I don’t really even follow her own internal logic.  If Toga’s move is “basically misdirection,” what makes it so nuanced?  Why would it being complicated mean it only works on a limited number of people?

If the contradictions aren’t intentional, then I wonder if it’s, rather, another case of Horikoshi running into trouble when he tries to overexplain things.  Obviously some explanation is important, but even in this very chapter, there’ll be another, even worse, example of the kinds of problems that arise from trying to anticipate every question and answer it in advance.

O  As @codenamesazanka mentioned here, it’s real good to see members of the League putting their faith in Spinner!  His feelings get the job done, regardless of his quirk loadout.  It especially suits Toga, who of course has an affinity for maidens in love strong feelings of admiration towards others.

O  The chemical to attract Noumu feels like one of those things that raises more questions than it’s really worth.  Like, wow, that sure is a thing that we’re going to see once and then literally never have come up again.  I’d love to be surprised on that front, but like, it doesn’t even bring the Noumu stomping over in this chapter, just makes it throw one (1) volley at attacks at Tsuyu.  Feels like it would have been simpler to just let Toga get the sip in.  Or have the vial contain something acidic from Ujiko’s lab, or something with a foul taste, or anything that would buy Toga two seconds of breathing room and be less of a curveball than a one-off Noumu attractor that’s apparently highly water soluble, given that it seems to lose its effectiveness literal seconds after coming into contact with Tsuyu’s saliva.

That small gripe aside, I do like the idea of Toga having a decoy, for two reasons.  Firstly, and more recently, she had front-row seats for the value of having backup doses courtesy of Kirishima using Mina’s helping of drugs on Gigantomachia.

Secondly, and further back, she was present for Mister’s big fancy marble misdirection at the training camp.(2)  Certainly, this panel of her—

—looks more like someone who’s making a biiiig, obvious show of what she’s about to do than someone interested in successfully doing it.  No need to dangle that vial several inches away from her own mouth if the plan was to ingest it!  Sako would be so proud.

O  I love that the word “miracle” is used to describe the Dead Man’s Parade.  Yes, Dabi’s foresight, Spinner’s will, and Toga’s love did all combine to produce this result, and yes, it is a miracle, because if the fights ended here and now, all that would happen is that the villains would get dropped in jail, forgotten about, and likely eventually executed.  The kids are all still too aligned with the status quo for me to believe it would go any different.  So three cheers for the shake-up.

O  I flagrantly adore Himijin’s wide-eyed expression when Ochaco calls out to her to try and lure her back with rabu rabu talk, and the way her eyes go narrow and she responds with resignation.  She recognizes (or thinks she does) that Ochaco doesn’t actually want to have girls’ talk with her; it’s just a delaying tactic, the same thing Shouto tried on Dabi last chapter with the same lack of results.

(I note additionally that neither Dabi nor Toga fell for it, whereas All For One, despite reflecting on needing to meet back up with his vessel, was more than happy to dally about taking questions from Hawks.  This is because AFO is a comic book evil overlord who can no more stop gloating than he can stop breathing.)

O  Hawks’ internal monologue is the other place I had in mind when I talked about Horikoshi over-explaining things.  Buckle up for a lot of quibbling, then consider:

1: There isn’t really a need for Hawks to be able to jump to this conclusion.  Indeed, I should think it would be more effective if he had that heart-in-his-throat confusion about whether he missed a double somewhere, if this is a ghost, some kind of Noumu resurrection, or if Jin himself actually managed to survive somehow, only for a terrible understanding to dawn when the knives come out.

2: Toga was never noted as being particularly close with Hawks, so there’s no immediate reason to assume that he’d have found out about her quirk evolution during his infiltration.  This might sound like selling him short—why wouldn’t word have gotten around where he could hear about it, after all?—save that we already have an example of the heroes lacking crucial information about what happened in Deika.

When Shigaraki unleashed Decay at the hospital basement, Gran Torino is surprised that it’s spreading to things Shigaraki hasn’t touched.  His subsequent line—“This is the one thing we didn’t know about—his enhancements!”—implies an assumption that this is a result of Shigaraki’s surgery, not a change to his quirk itself.  Ergo, proliferating Decay was not part of Hawks’ information communicated to the HPSC to help shape battle tactics.

Hawks did know about Twice getting past his mental block, but Twice’s capabilities were already a matter of record from his pre-trauma days, Hawks was around Twice constantly, and Twice was an inveterate chatterbox.  Those things were not true of Shigaraki, nor were they true of Toga, which means it’d make more sense for Toga’s change, like Shigaraki’s, to have gone undiscovered until Ochaco told an adult about it after Toga informed her directly at Jakku.

Does it make more sense that Hawks would have found out about all of this during his infiltration, presumably because the MLA and Twice both would have been all abuzz about what happened in Deika?  Well, yes, honestly.  But there’s a lot about Hawks’ infiltration that starts to break down when you look at it critically, so it would perhaps behoove Horikoshi to stop drawing attention to it.

3: How and when exactly did Hawks destroy all of Toga’s stored blood samples?  Doesn’t she usually keep those on her person or safe in a marble in Mr. Compress’s keeping?

Toga, of all the members of the League, is by far the most perceptive of her surroundings, see e.g. her being the first to note Slidin’ Go’s approach in Chapter 224.  When she thinks, in her battle with Curious, that people are just a little bit kinder to high school girls, it’s suggestive of her having become exceptionally attuned—one might even say hair-triggered—to anything around her that might present a danger.  Color me skeptical that she wouldn’t notice any errant red feathers flicking about, especially in the immediate wake of the sound of breaking glass, or that neither she nor anyone else would ask questions if she found her stores ruined.

4: Hawks’s line implies that he was so mindful of the possibility of Toga being able to use Twice’s blood that he specifically and personally went back to the ruins of the villa to clean up the scene of Twice’s death.  This strikes me as a pretty big stretch, given that he was hospitalized for his egregious burns and then was running around with Best Jeanist checking on other people, like his mother and Endeavor, and exactly how long would Twice’s body/the bloodstains have been left alone after heroes secured the villa?

Did Hawks first regain consciousness in the medical tent in the woods around the villa and have to shake off a bunch of doctors plus Tokoyami to return to the scene of his crime before the day was even over?  Or was it days later, Twice’s body long since recovered and dealt with in whatever fashion it was dealt with,(3) and all Hawks was doing was scrubbing and/or burning the patch of floor Jin bled out on?

Either way, it seems much simpler for this to get delegated to a specialized clean-up crew, except that, whoops, the HPSC was in disarray, so there wouldn’t have been one of those available.  So if Hawks had to attend to it himself, be it hours or days later, then he should have known the body was left unattended for a period of time.  And if that’s the case, then…

5: Why didn’t he foresee this possibility?  He knows good and well that Dabi was still up and on his feet after Tokoyami got him out of there.  Sure, Dabi was unlikely to have stray vials on his person, but the villa was a huge resort—it’s not so strange to imagine he could have rustled up a plastic cup(4) from somewhere.

Frankly, though, Dabi isn’t even the most likely culprit for a blood stash.  Like, if he’d had that blood all along, why on earth wouldn’t he have given it to Toga on Gigantomachia?(5)  Just spread Twices all the way from Wakayama to Kyoto!

The fact that that didn’t happen must have led to Hawks thinking he was in the clear once he cleaned up the body.  But then, who could have gotten access to a stash of blood?  Dabi was there, yes, but the much more obvious answer is Ujiko.

Ujiko had clearly been doing some work with Twice given the existence of Mocha, whose use of Double Mirko personally witnessed and survived to debrief about later.  Ujiko’s lab was disintegrated before the heroes had a chance to recover shit from it, but the heroes do know that Shigaraki managed to spare a bunch of Noumu and deleter rounds from his initial Decay wave.  Why not assume he managed to spare some blood vials, too?

Alternatively, consider that Ujiko left gifts behind for AFO in a backup location, including some kind of substance that triggered the latter’s Rewind—a Rewind he name-dropped out loud, in Hawks’ immediate presence.

Ujiko couldn’t have gotten access to Rewind until he got Overhaul’s sample from Shigaraki, well after AFO was imprisoned.  AFO in turn couldn’t have gotten access to it until after he escaped from Tartarus, after Ujiko was taken into custody and the hospital destroyed.  Ergo, Ujiko had to have left something in a secondary location AFO knew to seek out.  Given that, why would it be such a stretch to assume he left some samples for Toga’s use, too?  All to further the dream of the Lord of Evil.

That, in any case, is a more logical explanation(6) than Dabi having time to jet himself back up to Twice’s body, find some kind of way to get a useable blood sample from it, then travel all the way back down to wherever Skeptic had holed up to retrieve him before Gigantomachia managed to snatch him up, and then not give Toga the blood right then and there.

The fact that Hawks jumps to Dabi as an explanation and then ends his train of thought there kind of feels like Horikoshi wants to present Hawks as smart enough to the correct but farfetched conclusion rather than thinking about what conclusions Hawks might naturally come to given everything he knows.(7)

6:  You know what else would have been super easy and avoided this whole thing?  Toga wonders to herself if the heroes knew about Jin’s blood, and that’s why they put her on an island—just let her be right.  Say that Hawks did have her put on an island just in case.  It’s an incredible longshot, and he did everything he could to circumvent it, and probably they would have seen Toga’s Parade by now if it was going to be a problem, but—just in case.

Instead of being about Jin's presence or Toga's possession of his blood, have Hawks' shock and panicky, frantic jumble of thoughts be about the warp gate and what its appearance implies about what happened at Central Hospital.

Hell, that would even be a nice nod to the fact that, despite being a heteromorph himself, Hawks was not immune to badly underestimating the anger of the heteromorph protestors because he, with his isolated government upbringing, sick red angel wings, incredibly useful quirk, and conventionally handsome face, was never subjected to hate crimes over his quirk status.

To restate, then, aaaaall of these issues could have been avoided by not drawing our attention to them and then half-assing the explanation—exactly the same situation as Hawks and Jeanist’s awful expository conversation about how Hawks personally went and revived Jeanist in time for the raid during a time in which his wings were absolutely dripping with micro cameras.

There are so many ways Hawks could have reacted here that wouldn’t be trying to have it both ways: that the allegedly hypercompetent and incredibly meticulous Hawks completely planned for how to neutralize Toga’s powers but then is somehow shocked, just shocked, that the villains might have had a stock he didn’t account for.

The only thing I can think of is that it’s something in Hawks’ bias about the League.  Perhaps he didn’t conceive of them as having the patience or strategic acumen to not use Jin’s blood at the first opportunity, or he thought of Dabi as too much a lone wolf to care about going back to Jin’s body.  It would not be the first time he badly misjudged the League because of a blind spot in his own mindset.

However, even if either of those is meant to be the case—that he misjudged the League’s patience or Dabi’s camaraderie—neither clicks with him being so meticulous as to go back and clean up the blood traces Just In Case.  If he really were that meticulous, then this shouldn’t have blindsided him to begin with.

As ever, I wonder if Horikoshi is overcompensating because he Has A Trauma from all those letters about Deku’s 1,000,000% Smash against Muscular.

…Okay, wow, where was I?

O  It kind of feels like the last two pages should be reorganized a bit?  I assume they’re in the correct order because the panels of Tsuyu throwing Ochaco have the faintest overlay of Flashback Filter, and Ochaco’s in that last array of panels, but it’s a bit silly to have that big dramatic panel of Ochaco and Tsuyu coming through the portal only to immediately cut to a flashback of how it happened.

It feels like the chapter could have used one more page.  Cut from Kinoko’s dismay back to the beach to show the portal closing, have Tsuyu throw Ochaco through it, then back to the villa ruins for Ochaco coming through and pulling Tsuyu after her, ending with the row of character panels and the reporter image.

That aside, my congratulations and appreciation to Ochaco for her time and consideration in making sure Tsuyu stays relevant to this plot, rather than just using her for the yeet and leaving her in the dust which is what Deku would have done.

I wish them all the best in their pursuit of dialogue, but in the meantime, GET THAT FLYBOY, TOGA.  GET HIS ASS.

I know I complained a lot above, but I really did enjoy this chapter on the whole, largely for what a great showcase it is for Toga being sharp as a tack while still being emotionally resonant. Here's to more of Hawks making all the wrong decisions next time!

...But also, I do have some more complaining to do first. None of the stuff below is on Horikoshi—indeed, there's one bit of potential plot I'm very excited about that I didn't talk about above because the potential foreshadowing was lost in translation. Further, plenty of the points below may not really be the fault of Caleb Cook. I don't know the style guide he's working under, nor what sort of editing passes for tone or voice get made on his work after he turns it in.

Whoever's at fault, however, I have an unusually high number of issues this week, so I just moved them all to the end in place of the usual Stray Notes section. I may keep that up going forward so as to better distinguish between criticism of a chapter's actual content and criticism of issues unique to the English release.

Translation and Rendition Quibbles

O  ANAL-RETENTIVE GRAMMAR NITPICK ALERT.

“Coming to terms” feels like an unnecessarily clunky translation for the sentiment teinen is expressing—a feeling of resignation, reaching a state of understanding or acceptance.  Even setting aside the Japanese, the English usage feels very strange, because “coming to terms” would typically be a verb phrase, a phrase that states the action the subject of a sentence is taking upon the direct object of a sentence.  One “comes to terms” or “came to terms” or even “is coming to terms” with something or someone—subject, verb, object.

The usage here, however, is a gerund phrase.  A gerund is a verb that is acting as a noun.  Here, “coming to terms” is (along with “her rancor”) the subject of the sentence, with “completed” being the verb describing the action that subject takes upon the sentence’s object, “her transformation.”

While I suppose it’s not necessarily wrong, in that I understand the meaning, it doesn’t feel right, either—at the very least, it feels incomplete.  Because the phrase in question so specifically begs for an object to be acting upon, using it as a subject in and of itself while omitting the object—the thing/person being come to terms with—leaves the sentence feeling vague, lacking crucial information.  The reader can fill in that information based on the accompanying flashback panel, but it is, again, so much clunkier than just using a single word like “resignation” or “acceptance.”  Heck, “resignation” would even give a nice little alliteration with “rancor.”

O  It is very sigh-inducing that the decision not to do anything to retain the meaning of the -tachi in Spinner’s plea to save Shigaraki-tachi two weeks ago has now resulted in Kurogiri turning up echoing that he has to save Shigaraki and his allies without those words actually tying correctly to Spinner’s earlier words.

O  Another case this week of punctuation woes.  Togawice is supposed to have an ellipsis before she responds to Kurogiri’s question—she doesn’t have that answer on the tip of her tongue.  For all that the narration claims that she’s completely become a villain at this point, she still hesitates before she gives an answer involving violence.  The official release loses this nuance by having her seem to respond immediately.

O Another thing I think is interesting that gets obscured somewhat in translation is the verb Toga uses—kakusan, which means things like spread, diffuse, disseminate, scatter.  This seems like a request that is not going to be met by Kurogiri dropping Togawice in a single location, so I will be extremely unsurprised if, within the next few chapters, we see a bunch more portals with a BUNCH more Parades pouring through them.  She did say she wanted to start with Hawks, of course, but why stop there?  There’s literally no reason not to dump self-replicating doubles through as many portals as Kurogiri has coordinates for.(8)

Aside from being strategically sound, it would also be a nice echo of Sad Man’s Parade coming to Shigaraki and Spinner’s rescue in Deika, though it remains to be seen whether it’ll be as loud and raucous as Jin’s Parade, or whether, being composed entirely of Togas-masquerading-as-Jin, it will be eerily silent.

O  I mentioned this a few days ago, but Jesus fucking Christ, what is up with every translator in the usual pipeline who looked at this chapter apparently completely missing the very prominent and obvious “death” kanji in Toga’s version of the Sad Man’s Parade?  It’s even in the furigana, which reads: saddo manzu desu paredo.  I realize everyone and their mother is in a huge hurry to get this stuff out as quickly as possible for the clicks, but come on.

---------------- FOOTNOTES ----------------

1: I have in fact been over it twice, somewhat embarrassingly, but let it be said that I don’t have the best memory for what rants I have or haven’t been on, hence my occasional broken record harping.

2:  She bailed before the big reveal, but she’d already seen the first part, where Shouji thought he got the real marbles back and Compress was flagrantly unconcerned, even stopping Dabi from going on the attack again to recover them. That doubtlessly was not the only time she ever saw Mr. C perform sleight of hand, either.

3:  Which, incidentally, just begs for fanfic.  What did happen to Twice’s body after it was recovered by the heroes?

4:  Or a bloodstained handkerchief.

5:  Looking for a Watsonian answer to that highly pertinent question, I’d venture to say Dabi knew the time for his broadcast was coming up and he didn’t want anyone or anything to distract from it.

6:  It would lose some thematic resonance to have the blood come from Ujiko’s stores rather than being secured by a League member directly from Twice’s body, but it makes a lot more sense than Dabi running around back and forth through the chaos of battle like a video game character trying to secure all a level’s key items before he gets defeated by a hero, runs out of stamina, or the Machia Timer hits zero.

7:  Terry Pratchett once wrote a mini-rant about detectives who use tiny clues to make huge, sweeping assumptions, Sherlock Holmes-style, when there are a thousand other possible explanations the detective conveniently ignores because the author knows those ones are wrong.  Regardless of whether that's fair to Doyle and his imitators, it’s still the case that Hawks definitely did NOT eliminate every other possible factor to leave only the improbable truth.

8:  Yes, I will consider this to be another example of the villains’ capabilities getting nerfed if it doesn’t happen, just like that massive underground organization full of heroes, politicians, and god only knows what other sorts of public figures they allegedly had that had zero personal impact on a single heroic character.

[dudadragneel]

three varying levels of sea sickness in three different and unsure caretakers??? U are so speaking my language Duda.

although it would be funny if you did have four sick four not. A perfect split in the band. I’d say chan is more of a caretaker. And Lee know would try to help the other sick, only to make himself feel worst. The others, well depends how u write them 😝💜

🎻

Hello, dear 🎻!

Oh! This is exactly what I had in mind!

I wouldn't write this scenario as being worrisome but rather just chaotic.

I mean, hear me out (my and 🍋's thoughts to answer this)

Four of them are feeling seasick, one is over the railing already throwing up, one is laying down inside the cabin with a bucket, the other one is sitting down outside close to the railing and just felling miserable and one (Lee Know) is putting up a front by denying he's feeling seasick and helping Chan and the others to take care of those who are sick

Stubborn Lee Know after walking around all the time helping with the situation finally crumbles as the waves get harder and just bends over the railing throwing up.

Cut to Chan helping one of them, rubbing their back and such and just seeing Lee Know run past him to puke his guts out.

Imagine his face just rubbing one of the kid's back and taking a look at the disaster in front of him, like "Oh my god"

Just like a dad taking care of a bunch of sick kids and this 🤏 close to having a mental breakdown

😆

This expression I guess 😆😆😆

💜