#i have conflicting feelings for the bald fuck

[fortheb0ys]

https://www.tumblr.com/miguel-owhora/735739725877542912/

Bro😳

GOD FUCKING HELL THAT'S HOT🙏

The only way Köing can show his bald head fucking ass is if he's on his knees sucking my dick. He needs to know his place.

He actually pisses me off so much and I want to fuck him till he cries. But on the other hand I don't want him even in my sight! I want to cum on his mask and make him wear unwashed. Show how's he's a useless slut.

I literally hate him but also wanna see him a mess😤

[kuntprodukt]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty food, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[cauliflowercounty]

Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes.  Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses.  When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns 

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

--

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover. 

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it.  As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns.  As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light. 

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas.  The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue.  He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage.  As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out. 

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries.  Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor. 

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself.  Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground.  When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title.  To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you. 

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him.  What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings.  In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve. 

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet. 

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature. 

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him.  You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.  

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand  His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor.  He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet.  When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch. 

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent. 

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.  

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.” 

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing.  That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

 “Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you.  In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day.  When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive.  It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory.  If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you. 

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

 A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there.  The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains. 

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon. 

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you.  He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.  

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.”  He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.  

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters.  Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors.  “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron?  I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”  

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress.  He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp.  You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue. 

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals.  The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid.  Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water.  Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them. 

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain.  “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

 “It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow.  My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills. 

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra.  Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest.  With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes. 

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident.  Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so.  “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding.  The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways.  They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche. 

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts.  “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you.  “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp.  The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water.  You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down.  Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side. 

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them.  Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose.  Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets.  He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move.  Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor.  “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.”  With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade.  From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon.  Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear.  It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.  

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you.  He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes.  Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.   

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another.  Your breaths are thick and heaving.  You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body.  He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day.  “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead. 

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours.  What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better.  He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

--

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers

[dr-spectre]

I think that it's now more important than ever to keep making art.

Whether it's some scribbles on a piece of a paper, paint on a canvas, typing out erotic fanfiction about two cephalopod women, i need you to keep going. OKAY?!

Keep going at your own pace. Don't feel like you have to "grind" to achieve success, you're probably young as hell, you don't need to become a masculine obsessed fucking nutjob that is so obsessed with "discipline" and all this bullshit. Sure "discipline" is cool but... That shit takes a LONG TIME to develop and it only comes with experimentation and see what you believe in and what you enjoy. Don't get.... heh...... heh heh..... BRAINWASHED!!! by women hating bald bastards online who wanna turn you into a fun hating robot that's all about "work work work." Fuck them.

You are a human with flesh, blood, bones, a heart and a brain. You are not a machine. Got it?

Anyways, in talks of art, i wanna give my own sort of help for my writer friends out there! I thought it would be fun and plus, there's too many damn writing tips out there that boil down to "you HAVE to do this thing, you HAVE to follow this structure" and i think that is bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit that gives you more stress than needed. You know how many boring mid action movies come out that follow the hero's journey? The three act structure? The story circle? It is better to just make shit and learn what you could do for next time.

There are no rules, all of the "rules of storytelling" are just optional suggestions that you can either take or leave. Plus it seems like every fucking YouTuber has a different set of rules that conflict with each other anyways. However, I wanna share my own sort of "basic ass fundamentals of stories" that can fit into any story structure you want! I got these guidelines from the YouTube channel The Closer Look. I like their content, it's very insightful.

Here's Dr. Spectre's basic ass fundamentals for stories.

Characters. Simple, a story must have characters otherwise you are making something else that is not a story.

Progression. Is there a sense of progression? Does it feel like for every second of story it isn't stagnating or getting dull and boring? Does it feel like shit is happening and growing? If it feels boring to read for you, then it's gonna be boring for another person reading it. Progression could be plot based or character based and them growing as the story goes on. Doesn't matter which one, can be both or one. Good stories never feel like they are staying the same or spinning their wheels.

Delivery (Aka. Setup and payoff). Do you deliver on the promises in the story? And do you deliver them in a way where the audience after they finishing reading or watching, they felt like it was all worthwhile and they didn't waste time consuming your story.

Everything else? IT'S OPTIONAL!!! COMPLETLY OPTIONAL! YOU KNOW HOW MANY STORIES BREAK THE "RULES"?! Do not become reliant and dependent on these "rules" because it'll slow your development and discourage experimentation. Not every story is gonna fucking follow the Save The Cat format.

There is also the talk of theme and i will say this.

Theme is not "this story is about sex, drugs, greed." No. Theme is a message or argument, it is not a word, it is something you are trying to say via a story. People don't have to agree with the theme, but it must make people think about it. If your story is about sex, what is it trying to say about sex? That sex is a scary thing and that it's okay to feel scared and worried about your first time? What are you trying to say about greed? Etc. Etc.

I read through a Sonic comic recently that everyone loves called Scrapnik Island and guess what? I fucking love that comic too.

Scrapnik Island isn't truly about Sonic and Tails getting stuck on an island and Mecha Sonic is there and he becomes evil and does all this stuff. No, what it's ACTUALLY about is that your worth as a person isn't determined by successes and failures, Mecha Sonic feels like he is worthless and is a failure because he not only failed to kill Sonic, but also failed to help his friends on Scrapnik Island. However, Sonic snaps him out of that bullshit mindset and it's truly, truly wonderful stuff.

Splatoon 2: Octo Expansion isn't truly about Agent 8 being trapped in a facility and defeating an evil ai. It talks about racism and what does it talk about specifically? That it doesn't matter what someone looks like, as long as they are a good person that's all that matters. That life is varied and beautiful and it's worth protecting from those who wish to destroy it.

There's a reason why Agent 8 takes the time to soak in the fresh air and sunlight near the end of Octo Expansion, why Eight has memcakes to collect and we see their thoughts and wishes. it's there to explore that theme, that idea of what the story is truly about.

Splatoon as a franchise is about how wonderful creativity itself is, that art and life are connected and grow together and are important and deserved to be protected. Commander Tartar, Mr. Grizz and Overlorder are all opposed to that idea and that's why they are the antagonists. DJ Octavio less so because he is trying to save his own culture and art, even as to go far as manipulating a mentally ill Callie who was already growing distain and tiredness from her own culture, so it just so happens that these two chaotic forces share the same ideology.

Now, I wanna say, do you NEED a theme to make a story? No. BUT! If you don't have something to say and that connective tissue, then it's gonna weaken everything else and the action, plot and characters have to be fucking top notch. The "Rule of Cool" only works when... you know.... it's cool? And well done?

Anyways, I've rambled long enough. Please keep making art, please? Especially now considering what has happened. I need you to hold onto hope, hold onto creativity and fun. You must. You have to...

Be good people.

[rants-about-opm]

I would have preferred if Garou had kept his memory after the whole time travel adventure, and managed to do something Saitama and Genos hadn't: realize that Saitama is a problem.

I wish garou would have run off into the jungles like he did in the webcomic and just gone absolutely bonkers with forbidden knowledge, finally seeing that every big conflict comes to a head with this bald man, and how that isn't a good thing because that means the only thing standing between humanity and the kind of havoc people like himself try to wreak every day is a man who never gets there in time, never learns, and never changes despite having fended off such world shattering enemies several times before.

Can you imagine Garou being chased out of the town square because he's there with a megaphone telling an absolutely insane story about him being radioactive and getting knocked the fuck out by a god egg?

It's funny, but also could have so many interesting story repercussions; the Hero Association, who laughed Genos off, now have to rethink their entire approach to everything because the guy who was kicking the shit out of their heroes two weeks ago now wants nothing to do with them and is instead running around freaking out about the same story Genos told them, with the caveat that he doesn't think Saitama's supposed strength is anything but a ticking time bomb.

Genos would definitely end up hearing about what Garou is up to, and have to wrestle with his jealousy, his suspicion of Garou, and his attachment to Saitama if he is going to eventually team up with the only other person who knows the full extent of the truth about Saitama's power in order to prevent the doom Garou predicts will come about should other forces as powerful as the hero hunter was continue to challenge Saitama.

And of course, running around town doomsdaying is sure to catch the attention of Bang, who has no idea what to do with Garou anymore, the attention of the general population, who are going to flip their shit when the "ultimate evil" suddenly changes his mind about killing them and is trying to warn them of an even more ultimate evil, and also the attention of the exact kind of challengers Garou is trying to warn everyone about, who no doubt will be drawn to Saitama the way people who learn of his power often are.

I just think it could have been a real domino effect type deal. That being said, I'm not wanting ONE and Murata to change what they have in mind for the story. Somehow I get the feeling that the experienced writers and artists who have brought us countless other great stories have a better idea of how OPM should proceed than a guy with a Tumblr account and a dream.

[hellostarposts]

Episode 23 Schwartzwald

I had a professor in university called Albrecht, he was nice so I’m already conflicted about the suffering to come. (Hint it was only a jumpscare)

1816??? This statement is an antique.

Black Forest sounds like it was named to keep children out

Broken angel statue, please be weeping angels PLEASE

Also, walking around in creepy German woods is just asking for trouble, Albrecht.

Yohan Van_____???? That just sounds important

Okay, so I might have cheated just a little. Was trying to figure out how to spell that name above. And people are talking about Jonah Magnus. I feel so dumb for missing that but that's what I get for listening while at the laundromat with shitty earbuds.

Don’t fear the dead is propaganda. There’s worms in the dead!

Not Martin having no pants time. 

Engravings, more fucking eyes

DONT TAKE THE COIN OR THE BOOK!

Dude why are you trying to read the book.

Aaaaaand he took it, dumb bitch. Correction, he took both, extra dumb bitch.

JW 1279, seems important. Do not understand what was on the back of the coin.

The mother traumatizing her child is so fucking funny. But she obviously got grabbed by something.

OH NO he's bald!

Winded and afraid is an appropriate reaction.

At least half of the cursed relics are no longer with him.

Rudolph Zeigler?? “Beyond the capacity for human violence” Well i would like to argue that.

Micheal key. Mary/Marie Key. Why are we concerned?? Is it how white those names sound?

I’m still a little upset that it wasn’t weeping angels, I agree with bald entity(?) it's funny to watch the guy who did everything he could to get haunted, get terrified.

I agree with Jonathan, indulging in your own curiosity is good. It's called self care. (I say as I am procrastinating studying).

While this did feel like it held so much important stuff, I’m pleasantly surprised, can't wait to see how all of this gets expended on. I also thoroughly enjoyed yelling at a character for acting like an idiotic horror movie character.

[broodwoof]

btwww bc it's good to just periodically say this:

i love solas

but he is fucked up. like... he is! both in terms of his feelings/his experiences and in how he treats others

i think there is sometimes a sense that solas fans see him as uwu pure puppy cinnamon roll uwu and i'm sure some do! i am just saying, i am not one of them

i like his flaws. i like them because they fit into my standard judgement metric of cohesion. his flaws - and his other characteristics - seem to flow out of his experiences in an organic way

and then ofc i just like him c: thoughtful, kind, reserved... bitter, angry, snapping... cold, calculating, relentless... remorseful, regretting, despairing... hopeful, idealist, thoughtful... an artist, a historian, a rebel, a leader, a follower, a soldier, a poet, a god, a definitely-not-a-god...

i love his layers. his complexity. the enormity of his character. the way he presents himself in both dai and veilguard, and how different they are. i like his masks and how much sense they make for him

i like that he turns into a scruffy, scrappy wolf. i like that he's bald. not for any big reason, i just like it, i like him being a bald romance option and it not being weird. i like that his wolf form seems to have lost most of its fur too

i like that he's silly, that he pranks sera back, that he's playful, that he sincerely compliments varric for telling stories and helping people that way, knowing the value of literature and escapism

i like that he plays games with blackwall and teases the companions and pushes dorian towards being an abolitionist (not that dorian's subsequent choices and actions are because of solas, he was one factor among many, but still, i like their dynamic), how he supports bull, how he tells bull that he has the inquisitor and he has him, their chess game

i love the push-and-pull of his romance. his obvious esteem for mythal, even though it's stained by complexity and the impossibility of their positions. i like that he's a spirit and that he was just a little wormy guy and i like that he seeks wisdom for its own sake (i relate to that! i want to learn all the time and forever! i keep myself open to being proven wrong, or to learning that things have more layers and more interpretations than i originally thought!)

i love his conversations with varric

and "love" is maybe the wrong word, but i like the cohesion of how shitty he is to varric at times (especially his comments about the dwarven empire becoming a disconnected arm...), to a dalish inquisitor, to an adaar, to a cadash or trevelyan. i like how his bigotries come to the surface, and how they seem to follow what happened to him; waking a year before inquisition and catching up on the world

learning about the qunari for the first time, probably mostly through the dreams and fears of humans, given what he says about how traveling the fade has a geographic component to it. learning little about the dwarves, as they don't dream and thus the views he has are largely from the humans and elves in the area. and how he projects his own grief and anger at himself onto the dalish, which is a very human - so to speak - thing to do. they became what he sees now, so different from what he knew, because of his actions

i don't want perfect characters, and i don't hate characters for not being perfect; i want characters who feel real, who feel grounded, who feel sensible and cohesive

and i like the messiness of defining him. is he a villain? an anti-hero? a martyr? a leader? a hero?

yes

and he's also just a person

one of the core themes of inquisition was how the person is buried underneath the title and how they are subsequently perceived. this prepped our understanding of solas and his arc, and how he really is just a person, conflicted and reactive and trying so hard and failing so much and fucking up and desperate and driven and stubborn and with his sunk cost fallacies

i love how he's a dreamer despite everything. both in the in-world sense and in the general sense, how he is an idealist, always looking forward. he wants utopia. there's a naivete there, a seeking of an almost academic perfection rather than living with the messiness of reality and slowly shaping it into something that is hopefully better but also sustainable, but that is such a real urge and such a real drive that it is compelling to see in a character

[basedkikuenjoyer]

When the Clock Strikes

Hey hey, 1125 gave us a lot of fun stuff to ponder. Starting with this. Here, we don't need to overdo it...

I'll let that speak for itself, certainly leaves us with a lot of nice intrigue around Stussy going forward which I am in favor of. There's one key thing about this chapter I have to get to and she surprisingly ain't it. Though I still love you Stussy, enjoy your ambiguous fate after an arc of a divided heart. Let's get to the main attraction:

Well well old friend, we meet again. For a good time, and a great taste...slap Garling into the open Gorosei slot. This presents a great opportunity to learn about both him and the elders. We still don't really have a clear picture of how much the average citizen really knows about these upper echelons of the government. Like...do you know who Christine Lagarde is? It's public knowledge, she's a powerful global figure. Head of the International Monetary Fund. Just because there is a fair amount of info about her available doesn't mean most people really think about her much. You probably didn't even know or consider the possibility when reading the previous sentences that...not who's in charge anymore. Her successor took over five years ago.

Point being, Garling represents an interesting shakeup. Most importantly that I will get to pester y'all with Mac Tonight jokes for many chapters to come. Emplemon has a great video on YouTube about the former MacDonald's mascot, he's a treasure that we can hopefully pull out of his brief corruption by internet racist dweebs...or make a lot funnier if Garling predictably ends up a genocidal maniac. Which, in conjunction with Dragon puts forward a really good note on Vegapunk's broadcast. This has a high likelihood of kicking off a lot of conflicts over higher ground. Speaking of Vegapunk...

It was a choice between badass Edison and the hall of Vegaparts. A very tough choice. Gets us to the title, a callback to a motif for our humble genius. What does death mean for him? Turns out not a whole lot. They don't mention Lilith having a connection like York still would, so I do wonder if hers has been fully cut. Either way, very cool final flourish for Punk Records. It floats away to go dormant until it's needed. Honestly...not unlike Toki's plan with the time fruit. And that gets me to the other big connection to those core aspects of Wano.

This fascinates me. The spoilers obscured how active Saturn was in this decision. But that's what makes it interesting. A last note of how our decisions ripple. Even ones that made perfect sense at the time.

Ultimately, hard to tell what this chapter represents. We cut away from the main cast, but that's normal to see one or two between arcs. We're still unpacking Egghead though so I can't fully say it feels finished here. If nothing else, we could bring it home by ending with SWORD finally getting to Drake. Who knows? But I'll see you next week, thankfully we won't have to wait long.

[riddle-me-ri]

prompt: arkham knight penguin and a f!reader's relationship is already on thin ice when things finally come to an explosive end. Can Oswald mend the relationship or was it always doomed to end this way?

a/n: phew!! finally after a weird anxious busy hectic couple of weeks I finally finished my other commission! It was interesting to get a commission for one of the pengys this time around! As always thanks so much again to the anonymous user that commissioned me and to anyone that commissions me. I'm still wrapping my head around the idea of people genuinely paying me to write about my favorite characters, it's so mind-boggling to me lol

Content Warning: angst, relationship conflict (arguing, fighting, break up/makeup), and strong language. 

Word Count: 4k

Arkham Knight Penguin x F!Reader - Come Back to Me

Oswald had his hands caged around his head as he leaned his elbows against his desk. 

A corded phone was rendered cordless along with its receiver after being beaten and thrown across the room. 

The fire burning on the end of his cigar was nothing compared to the fiery rage consuming his entire body. 

Before the phone was put out of commission. The last bit he heard was his men getting their asses beat and the undeniable sound of an explosion. 

There goes another fucking weapons cache. All thanks to the bloody Dark Knight and his lackey Nightwing–

Oswald’s grip tightened on his bald scalp. His teeth almost biting the nicotine stick in two in agitation. 

Sooner or later the old Dynamic Duo will be coming straight for him. 

Oswald began mapping out a game plan. Secure the last of the caches, finalize the two ongoing deals and begin making tracks to different locations for the remaining caches…

~

All the while, you were making your way to his office. 

As you walked down the long hallway, you tried to stay the course and not turn around. 

You’ve been working up the courage to go see Oswald, constantly conflicting with yourself to just leave him be or make something…anything happen. 

To say you have felt neglected lately was an understatement. 

Many date nights were canceled, phone calls gone ignored, dinners you made went cold…

You knew he was a busy man…and you knew what he did for a living is dangerous.

You stopped just a few feet before his office door. 

Maybe you were just being selfish and dramatic. You have heard rumors of Oswald’s weapons business being under attack by Batman. 

Batman, Batman, Batman…you groaned in frustration. Batman was always an issue. 

Sometimes it seemed Oswald paid more attention to him than you. 

Granted, Batman was a threat to your partner’s business and Oswald was more than likely just as annoyed with Batman as you are. Still if you could just get a fraction of that attention from Oswald. 

You sighed. No, you deserved better than this. 

You shouldn’t be waiting for weeks, almost months for someone you loved but they haven’t shown a fraction of that love in return. To put in all this effort and be ignored. 

You weren’t asking for much, just for him to be there! Call you back, come see you, or at least tell you that he loved you.

You shuddered when you realized you could not remember the last time he told you that he loved you. 

You instantly shook your head. Adamant to get the depressing thought out of your head. You were not going to cry when you confronted him. 

You were going to make one more effort. Ask him to come back to the penthouse for dinner, another dinner you made, and hope it can be the start back in the right direction. 

After taking in another determined sigh. You quickly walked across the remaining tiled floor to the front of his office door. 

You knocked on the door–

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Piss off will ya! I’m tryin’ to work!”

You could feel your eye ducts get heavy and your lips quivered.

No, you weren’t going to cry. He likely just thought you were just one of his incompetent henchmen. 

“Oz…it’s me.” You said softly but clearly enough to be heard as you opened the door. 

Oswald lifted his head out of his hands in an instant. Even hopped off his chair and made his way around his desk to greet you. 

“Oh-uh..sorry, love. Look–now is really not a good time.”

“Oswald, I just wanted to ask–”

Oswald shook his head and waved his hand dismissively at you. “Fucks’ sake, can’t we discuss this later-”

“No! Ozzie, please! Let me speak!” 

His eyes widened slightly as his brows raised, before he furrowed them again in agitation. 

“All right then! What the hell is so bloody important? I just lost another cache to that gobshite Dark Knight–but no, no, fuck me–”

You were distraught on your way to talk to him, but now that you are there. Oz spewed his venomous disregard for what you have to say–

You were furious now. You came to discuss the possibility of mending your relationship over dinner…but with your blood boiling from the way he yelled at you.

It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t deserve this, you have done all you could. 

If he was just going to dismiss or berate you at your last attempt to salvage your relationship. 

Maybe it wasn’t worth saving anyway. 

“I’m done, Oswald.” You tried to turn around and leave it at that, but your feet seemed to be cemented to the floorboards. 

“Bloody hell is that s’pose to mean?” Oz barked as he walked closer to you. 

You gulped down the nervous lump that was building up in your throat. “I’m leaving. I’m packing my things and leaving.”

Maybe if you say enough times you can convince yourself of actually committing to it later. 

Oswald huffed and puffed as he paced in front of you. “Well, well, that’s just fuckin’ swell. Put salt in my fuckin’ wounds why don’tcha!” 

“I’ve tried to reach out! Make plans! Come see you!” You defended. “But you keep ignoring me! Brushing me off like you were doing just now!” 

Oswald rubbed his bandaged hand against his face. Frustrated, exhausted, and at his wits’ end. 

He thought you understood, that you would understand the stakes involved and how certain things have to take priority. 

After several years together, he thought you got it. That you were the one for him. 

Clearly, he was mistaken.

“Love, I told you from day one what it’ll be like, why is it causing issues, now?” 

You spread your arms out in exasperation. “Because you made an effort until now!” 

You continued. “You at least answered my calls! You may not be there when I go to bed, but at least you kissed me goodbye! And I haven’t heard you say I love you in a very, very long time.”

You hung your head and began rubbing the side of your arm with your hand. “I could at least count on that…I could rely on that to know you still cared…still loved me. But lately now, I-I don’t know.” 

Oswald sighed. His head was pounding, his blood pressure, no doubt, skyrocketed. 

Today was really not his day. 

“I don’t know what to tell ya, love. Business has been going down the shitter! Cause of that Bat-fuck! The very business payin’ for your home you want to just up and abandon, mind you. I’m so sorry that I’m too preoccupied with work, trying to make money to keep us a-fucking-float!” 

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful Oswald–”

“Sure sounds bloody like it!” 

You grit your teeth. Your grip on your arm tightening. “It’s not that! I just miss you! I want to be with you more! Isn’t that what you’d expect from someone that loves you?” 

Somehow your feet got lose from the floor and you began taking steps backwards toward the door. 

Whatever confidence and hope you had to mend this relationship was slowly dwindling. 

“I just came here to talk, to see you, I missed you…but now I’m wondering why I even bothered.” 

“I’m starting’ to think the same.” Oswald grumbled, completely checking out of the argument. 

“Fine. Then I won’t be a bother to you anymore.” You swallowed. 

“Fine! The sooner you leave, the sooner I can GET BACK TO FUCKING WORK!” Oswald growled as he raised his arms up in defeat, before turning around to go back to his desk. 

When he had his back turned, you took the chance to also dart out the door.

Before the tears finally poured over your eye ducts and you began hiccuping on your own breathing. 

It wasn’t until the elevator door finally shut that you collapsed. 

Your knees buckled before they hit the hard tile floor. Your hands going up to your face trying to dry up your fountain of tears. 

Even though a weight of uncertainty had been lifted. It felt like a ton of stone pillars just filled your heart causing it to crack in two under the pressure. 

The only thing to pull you from your sobbing is the ding signaling that you arrived at the first floor. 

You quickly stood up and began wiping the tears off your cheek. You didn’t want any of Oswald’s lackeys to see you in this upset state. 

Thankfully, when the metal doors slid open no one was there. 

You continued to try and mask the fact you had been crying as you called a cab to head to the luxurious penthouse apartment you shared with oswald. 

At least…you used to share with Oswald. 

Your body seemed to be running on autopilot as you went through the motions of packing your belongings. 

Meanwhile your mind was still reeling over the outcome of the argument. 

You kept replaying it in your head. Looking for any sign that it could have ended better…yet deep down a part of you knew that this was the only way it could end. 

As some last caring gesture or just a habit instilled in you to never waste food…you opted to stick the food you cooked in the fridge. Whatever appetite you had was long gone. 

You called up a friend that lived on the outskirts of the city. 

The constant bright lights made your head ache and you don’t know if you could stand to see Oswald again if he tried to come to the apartment. 

Five years down the drain and not an inkling of a clue of what the future has in store.

~

Oswald crushed another cigar into the small hill of burnt out cigar butts. The hill grew so tall that it was overflowing past the rim of the ash tray. 

It had been two weeks since Batman’s last assault on his weapons cache. The Penguin had been making fast strides to close current deals and get the remaining inventory moving. 

A part of him hoped that the business would keep him occupied…distracted from the falling out you two had. 

It did work for a moment. He even fooled himself to think that it’s what he needed. 

The Penguin didn’t need a girlfriend. Someone to wear him down, get in the way of his business endeavors. 

He laughed himself silly over several glasses of wine. What the fuck was he actually thinking? 

He supposed it was fun while it lasted. 

The Penguin was on to greener pastures now, especially while he was ahead of The Bat. 

At least that’s what he told himself some time last week.

In the second week, Oswald Cobblepot would nearly jump out of his seat when the phone would ring. 

Silently, he hoped it was you on the other line. He hoped you would reach out to consider getting back together. 

Yet, it was never you, usually just another henchman with an update. 

Which is fine…he figured. Everything was right as rain. 

Oswald leaned back in his plush office chair as he sighed out the last of his smoke. 

Now would have been a good evening to pick you up and treat you for a night on the town. 

There was a restaurant in between one of his main warehouses and the penthouse that you two frequently patroned. 

He always ordered for you, because no matter where the two of you went he always remembered what you wanted. 

Oz liked to show off that quality, that he could read your mind–that he knew you enough to be able to get you anything without the uttering of a word from you. 

All he ever wanted in return was to see your bright enchanting smile. To see your eyes crinkle when you smile wide. Your eyes would twinkle with love and amusement. 

For the first time in a long time, Oswald found a small semblance of a lop-sided smirk form on his face. 

Oswald reached across his desk for another cigar but cursed when he found the pack empty. 

He rocked back and forth on his chair. For once unsure of what to do. It was like he couldn’t think clearly. 

Oswald should be celebrating, taking it easy. He’s managed to get his empire under control.

However, he was in no mood to celebrate. Oswald was more aggravated than anything. 

Aggravated that he couldn't seem to move on. You left him and you weren’t there. He was frustrated that no matter how hard he tried to deny it…he missed and needed you. 

Oswald sighed exhausted over the mental gymnastics going on in his head. Now that he finally came to terms with his emotions…just what was he going to do about them?

The Penguin was nothing if not tenacious, especially when it was something, or in this case, someone he wanted. 

~

You were picking at some take-out you grabbed on your way home from work. 

You got a job through your friend, and thankfully you had some money saved for an extended-stay hotel room until you can afford a proper apartment. 

Not that you didn’t mind bunking with your friend, but you just really needed your own space. 

You couldn’t believe it had already been two weeks since you left Oswald. 

A heavy weight still hung on your heart but you couldn’t deny the solace of having your mind clear of your anxieties, that had been brewing the last few months you were with Oswald. 

No longer were you drained from effort that went unappreciated. You didn’t have to sit there twiddling your thumbs wondering if the man you loved even loved you back. 

As you got up to throw away your trash, you couldn’t help but wonder what Oz was up to now. 

The phone rang on your dresser. You perked your eyebrow, confused to what the hotel could want. 

You picked up the phone. “Hello?” 

A man asked for your name. 

“Y-Yeah, this is her…what do you need?”

You could hear an audible gulp from the man on the other end. 

“Y-You have a visitor…a-uh-Mr. Cobblepot…he would like to see you-”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you sighed. 

A part of you really didn’t want to bother with him…he never heard you out so why should you?

Another part of you couldn’t deny your curiosity though…plus you felt bad for the guy at the front desk that was one more demand away from pissing his pants. 

“Tell him I’ll be right down. And don’t worry nothing is going to happen to you.” 

“T-Thank you, miss.”

The phone clicked back onto its base and you went to get ready to meet your ex.

~

The car ride to wherever you two were going was stifling. 

Oswald kept fidgeting in the seat next to you and you kept waiting for him to say something.

“Thanks, love…for coming along.” He finally spoke, in a soft voice you haven’t heard in a long time. 

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re lucky you scared the shit out of the concierge, I felt bad. The only reason I’m going through with it.” 

“Is it really the only reason?”

You stayed silent. 

Oswald sighed. “Look, love…I-shit-I don’t know what the fuck to say…I know sorry is no good.”

“You’re right there.” You scoffed. 

“But, just, I-I wanted–needed to see you…all I’m asking is to be with you for tonight.”

“Why did you need to see me? Got bored with the ladies from the Iceberg? Things were going fine for me until you showed up!” 

That wasn’t necessarily true, but you were trying to prove a point…to be as mad as he got at you when you two fought.

To ward off the small ball of excitement at the bottom of your chest that was happy to be in the same space as him.  

Oswald sighed heavily. He mulled over his words in his head before deciding the truth will likely be the best option. 

"I'm sorry for disturbing your night, love. Let me make it up to ya…just for tonight. And if not, I'll turn this car around and leave you be…"

Oswald's knuckles almost matched the white of his gloves as he held his umbrella with a vice grip. He wasn't exactly ready to give quite an ultimatum just yet, but he wanted this to be fair for you and if you truly were doing fine without him. 

It would be a tough pill to swallow, but he will swallow it. 

You sighed. You were already here…and while you tell yourself you just want to be the bigger person and hear him out–Deep down, once again, you knew that you really did miss him. 

However, you weren't going to admit that right away.

"Well, I'm already here aren't I?" You sat up straight in your seat. 

Oswald nodded. "That you are, love. And you won't regret it." 

After a few minutes of thick heavy silence the car finally pulled to a stop. 

Before you could even ask where you were, Oz had already gotten out of the car and limped over to your side to open the door. 

"Where did you take me?" You asked as you stepped out of the car and stood beside him. 

"Just an old trip down memory lane." Oz smiled as he looked up at you. 

He offered you a gloved hand before you two crossed the street. 

Your hand already reached out and took it before you could even try to put up a front. You blame it on your body just doing what came naturally and out of instinct. 

As you two approached the restaurant you couldn't help but warmly chuckle at the establishment sign. 

"I'm surprised this place is still open." You murmured. 

Oz chuckled. "You and I both."

The moment between sitting down and ordering drinks became a blur as the haze-like shift between reality and memory merged. 

All the date nights to this exact restaurant and the exact seat, in fact this was the location of your first date with him. 

Funny, back then you were kind of humoring him as you are now. No way back then you could have known that one night would lead to countless others with him. 

You propped your head up by cupping your chin into the palms of your hands. You tried to look anywhere but the pair of eyes staring at you.

“Oz…”

“Hmm…?” 

“You’re staring…” You pointed out. 

“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“You rarely saw me anyway.” You crossed your arms. 

“Look love, I-I want to talk….Properly this time…like I should have let you done before.” 

That made you perk up your head. At least it was a step in the right direction. 

You sighed as you collected your thoughts. 

Before you could talk, Oswald spoke up. “I know it won’t do much now, love, but I do apologize. I-I just didn’t want ya to see me failing, and it was looking grim. I just–I didn’t want ya to worry about anything…then, poor thing, you walked straight into the bloody thick of it.”

You nodded with a tight smile looking back at that tense moment in his office. 

“I brushed you off, I tried to get you to leave because I didn’t have an excuse ready to give you…because that’s all I’ve ever done, and it was foolish of me to think they’d keep workin’ as is.”

“It was the same old excuse. ‘You were busy’, ‘I don’t need to worry’, ‘I shouldn’t worry’…but Oz me not knowing made me worry even more. Had you just been honest and told me what was going on–I would understand…” You interjected. 

“I know, the one thing I adore most about you and I somehow, over time, completely underestimated it. Your level of compassion even to a sorry piece of shite like me. Somewhere somehow over time I made the terrible mistake of muddling you with the others. Others that wanted something outta me…weapons, money, notoriety…”

“I only ever wanted you, Oswald.” 

“And I want you, love.” 

Oswald put out his calloused hand palm out towards you on top of the table. 

“I’m by no means a perfect man, never claimed to be. But I swear, to you and for you, I’ll do better by you. No more excuses, delayed or canceled plans, if I do it’s cause I’m on my deathbed.”

You scoffed at that, but stared intently at his open palm, as you deliberated what you already knew he was going to say. 

“Come back to me love…it doesn’t have to be tonight or tomorrow, just…to know we’re not over…not just yet.” His fingers curled slightly as if to coax your own hand to hold his. 

Meanwhile you were wringing your hands in your lap under the table. Your throat was parched and you kept blinking rapidly, as if hot wiring your brain to come up with an answer. 

You didn’t want to say yes right away, while he identified the problems and spoke about doing better…it didn’t exactly mean it was going to happen just like that. In fact, you knew it wasn’t going to. 

Then another part of you, the part that loved him and missed him wanted to give in and just worry about what would happen later. 

Perhaps there was a way to meet him in the middle of the road. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts you didn’t even notice Oswald talking to the waiter and ordering your food for the both of you. 

“Why do you do that?” You asked, suddenly very curious. 

“What’s that, love?” 

“You always order for me.” 

Oz chuckled as he decided to turn his palm towards the table, but still open to your touch. “I enjoy spoilin’ ya, love…and although I don’t always seem like it but I pay attention…especially if it means things that you enjoy.” 

Then he began listing off your favorite, granted trivial, but sentimental things. Your favorite songs, foods, time of day, weather, all sorts. Things that you imagine have probably changed from time to time but he somehow remembered. 

“And yet, through all that, I somehow sabotaged the easiest thing that brought you more joy than anything.” He continued. 

You nodded. “Just to be with you…” 

Oswald nodded too in agreement. 

A small smile grew on your face as an answer that would suit the both of you for the time being came to the forefront of your mind. 

You reached out your hand and placed it gently on top of his. 

“I’ll come back, but not in a hurry. I want us to do this right. I don’t want it to ever get to where it did again.” 

Oswald sat up in his seat and put his hand over yours. “I agree, love. Whatever it takes to get you to come back, I’ll do it.” 

“Even if it means starting over? Little by little?” 

Oz guffawed. “The chance to fall in love with you all over again? I wouldn’t miss that for anything.” 

Your smile widened. “That’s one way to look at it. I guess I can’t argue with that.”

You two pulled your hands apart when your dishes arrived. For once you genuinely felt content in the moment. 

Pleased in the decision to slowly work back up to what you had before and hopefully make it even stronger than it was. 

You felt that familiar feeling of hopefulness for the future. You weren’t walking around half-hazardly in the dark trying to collect pieces of what once was or what can be with what remained. 

You had a new clean slate, even with pre-used material, you were still determined to produce something new and everlasting. 

Oz chuckled warmly at you. “I missed that.” 

“What?” 

“Your smile.” 

You lowered your head at a poor attempt to hide your flushing face. This only caused Oswald to chuckle some more. 

Oswald grabbed his glass and raised it up towards you. “To us, anew, starting with tonight.” 

“To us, tonight.” You smiled as you clinked your glass to Oswald’s.

[thegeminisage]

whoops, i almost forgot about the star trek update. tuesday we watched tng's "firstborn" and "bloodlines" and last night we watched ds9's "the wire" (honorific)

firstborn (tng):

i was actually bracing for this one to suck ass bc everyone says worf is a bad dad. and i dont think he is!!! like, it doesn't come as easily to him as it does to sisko, and he sometimes forgets to be gentle or kind with alexander because he's so laser focused on how things SHOULD be he forgets to the importance of taking others' feelings into account, but that's how he is ALL THE TIME with EVERYONE not just his kid. considering the circumstances i'd say he's doing well

before we get started, GREAT cameo from the duras sisters. i was initially really annoyed with their tit windows but im becoming rather fond

i really liked "the family protector guy "k'mter" at first because he said all the right things to alexander...like, it's scary not being able to defend yourself, etc. then he also was a dick to alexander and i was really exasperated...but then he IS alexander so that totally fixes it. he's angry with himself and conflicted and just wants a HUG FROM HIS DAD and that FIXED it!!! like when he said "nobody will look at you and see a human you are alone on this ship" initially it felt like racism but it being like, not quite self-loathing but just bitter experience...that's actually so clever

this is the only episode where they brought up alexander's mom kind of hating ""klingon stuff"" and how that could possibly have negatively impacted him and it only got two lines of dialogue but still. i think it's really damning that she hated her own heritage and also brought her kid up to hate it and now he's sort of out here...pretending to be human, almost, to the point where he doesn't want to participate in hsi own culture or even bond with his own father (a klingon). like it sucks so bad for him

i was afraid that the plot twist would be "k'mter talks alexander into wanting to be a warrior after all just when worf realizes he doesn't have to be" which would have been sad but a real "oh shit" of an ending. mixed feelings about them not doing that but i understand why they wanted to properly wrap things up for s7

i almost forgot but rare w for picard for bending the rules a little bit to give worf time to go to the klingon festival with his kid. credit where it is due

bloodlines (tng):

i have never been so BITTERLY DISAPPOINTED.......................

they gave. picard. an affair baby.

THEY GAVE HIM AN AFFAIR BABY!

what have i been saying since farpoint! he has an affair baby! AND THEY GAVE HIM ONE

AND THEN TOOK IT AWAY

what was the POINT OF THE EPISODE

if that's not his fucking affair child

pussy ass little FUCKS couldnt commit to changes...

i can't even remember what else happened in this episode i was so disappointed about this plot twist

oh yeah actually i do remember picard made a bald joke which i THINK was the only time he's done that in seven seasons? i think the only time ANYONE'S done it? please correct me if i am wrong but i was so shocked it got a big laugh out of me. also a rare w for picard. if he made bald jokes more often i'd hate him less maybe

oh yeah i'm coming back to add this later but it was really hilarious that picard was so torn up over his not-son being a little criminal. his horrific unforgivable spelunking crimes. so true.

the wire (ds9)

ooohhhhhhhhhhhh my god. oh my GOD. let's fucking...get into it

i rly thot garak was just a guy but not only is he a former assassin he's a current junkie. A JUNKIE! he's just like me fr

also, he can act? like that scene where he was withdrawing and saying horrible shit to julian......i was on the edge of my seat.

i love that he gave us 3 different stories about how he got kicked out. i'm gonna be honest, i looked it up, and apparently we never find out the truth? that is a bold fucking move. a daring choice. we, like julian, will never have any certainty. like, sure, i WANT to believe he released some kids from being tortured, but it's also equally as likely that he killed civilians or did a number of other horrible things

like, the fact that he can lie about it even while under significant distress.........king. like you could say oh that's the true one because that's the one where he was physically unwell but he also referred to "elim" in that one which gives it the ring of a potential falsehood

julian forgiving him anyway, even after all the horrible stuff he said, even after being physically ATTACKED (WHICH WAS SCARY!!! i was scared of him!!!!!) for "whatever he did," just because garak said "i need to know someone forgives me"..........AUGHGHGH JESUS CHRIST

THE FACT THAT HE WON'T TALK ABOUT IT. he won't tell even US what he did. eliot spencer core actually. i am beside myself about it all

maybe he's right and it is all true. maybe he destroyed a ship and framed a friend AND let some kids go. it's literally none of business though like he's not gonna tell us

anyway, i heard the term "brain implant" and nearly died on the spot, so 10/10 episode

honestly, they should have just upgraded this guy to a regular. he is so good

NEXT TIME: tng's "emergence" and ds9's "crossover" AND YES I KNOW THAT'S MIRRORVERSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[pretty-little-martyr]

folks I have a moral dilemma I'd like help with.

I am someone who makes DIY clothing, usually just for friends and loved ones, but recently I've been working on figuring out how to sell them as several friends have told me I should (and im unemployed right now anyway). this is not the moral dilemma, just context

what is the moral dilemma, is that I made a hoodie for my ex-boyfriend (they/it) back when we were together that is honestly sick as hell. this hoodie is the work I'm most proud of. I put a lot of love into it and promised it to them as a late Christmas gift since it took me way longer to do than I had planned for.

however. before I could mail it out this ex broke up with me in a pretty horrible way, confessing:

It actually struggled to view me as a real person and not an object or diety of some kind*

they'd been lying to me about being okay with not having sex in a relationship (despite me checking in very frequently about whether or not it could really handle that and offering multiple times for some manner of polyamory), because

it was hoping I would stop being asexual so I would fuck them eventually (or that it would become asexual to resolve the issue that way)

so obviously we are no longer on speaking terms because that was terrible to go through and on top of all of that, during our final conversation(s) they kept passively referring to me like I was an object or a toy for them which did not play well with my cPTSD. I still have a lot of conflicting feelings, which brings me to:

I promised this hoodie to them. it's theirs. and I don't want it in my apartment anymore because it just hurts to look at. i consider myself someone who keeps promises and I find them very important. I also absolutely have moral OCD about this + cPTSD about having to "make up for" the ways I feel like I'm a bad friend or partner by giving gifts like this. my ex gave me a lot of little gifts while we were together and I feel like I never gave enough back.

however

this hoodie is easily worth at least $50 if not $60. 3 weeks of careful work and the base itself cost $25 because it's an XXL and clothes manufacturers are dicks

my ex lives in Eastern Europe while im in the USA and with the tariffs and all that shit—mailing things to them was super expensive even before all of this nonsense and I dread thinking of how pricey it will be now

my friends all insist my ex doesn't deserve this gift since we broke up and because of how/why we broke up

so tl;dr my dilemma is...

options all based on my friends' responses

*[I worry as someone who deals with unreality myself I could have been more charitable in handling this but as someone who has trauma related to being treated as inhuman which is why I have unreality issues, no I could not. but I still feel a lot of guilt over the breakup as this honestly was a driving force even moreso than wanting to change my sexuality]

as a treat for making it through this post, here's the hoodie in question, handpainted bleach on cotton:

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

I hated that in any media we have to feel bad for the bad guy by what i mean is that the character is not seen as the horrible person and the punishment they receive we should feel bad when no they deserve that. Not saying we can't make them sympathetic but to remember not uwufied or infantilizing or make them having redemption just because they have sad backstory. The craft 1996 Laura one of girl who bullied Rochelle for being black of course she took revenge by casting spell making her hair fall out. Stolas this is man i hate him so much, every single episode is about making us feel bad for him instead of actually acknowledged his a horrible person.

I can give advice for how making us feel sympathetic while still hate him. The backstory of his simple he was the 66th stolas. His father is the 49th paimon. So the same while stolas is being neglected by paimon he and Stella getting along, but even if paimon is present usually he was mentally or psyhically abusive. Stolas often obey his father and try to always following the rules. Both stolas and Stella are miserable but they can't do anything but to endure it. Stolas is still a rapist, he infantilizing and sexualized blitzo. Blitzo suffer from Stockholm syndrome since he and stolas both have abusive father. So that's why blitzo feel conflicted when he realizing how fucked that is. He had enough, he call out stolas yes he feel sympathy for him but that doesn't mean he can't take responsibility for yourself. The framing is stolas wrong simple. Stella who find out about what happen decided to divorced him and took Octavia with her. Now stolas is all alone reflecting what he done

Next to Laura Lizzie from the craft

I really liked this movie but damn this movie done the girls dirty so much. I make some changes. Rochelle doesn't regret casting that spell on Laura infact she is happy. Beside her falling out a lot student infact mocked her for that. They started cruel prank on Laura taking her wig printing all over the school about her being bald. Rochelle still didn't care Laura parents try to bring any doctor or any medicine but no result. Her friend still stick beside her not for long unfortunately they left her too. She become School new outcast. Rochelle often just ignored her, one day she saw in girls bathroom. Other girls are making fun of her Rochelle still didn't care. In other day a teacher humililated Laura by mocking her believing her to have suffer from cancer. Despite Rochelle resentment she know it was wrong for a teacher to do that. Rochelle admitted to Laura she cast that spell however she willing to undo as long as laura apologize and promising her not to bully other black girl and woman. Laura refused of course but desperation force her to choose. Rochelle put some kind of spell if she ever being racist a curse is gonna come at her. Laura agreed so by different day her hair stop falling out and it return normal. The 4 witch come at Laura, nancy who knew Laura is rich asking for money for the service. Laura protest however Rochelle Sarah Bonnie agreed to that idea. Laura pay them a lot money, nancy reminded her about the promise. Sarah tell her what she doing by pulling one of her hair is to cursed her, Laura is angry. Nancy interrupt Laura reminding her again about the promise

This. I would actually feel sorry for stolas if they didn't shove the uwu baby to make us forget his rap sheet

[warvariations]

hi adam, wondering if you have any tips for hair growth / strengthening (?)? my hair has to be washed every other day or it gets really oily and i took very bad care of it during the pandemic, like washing it once a week (which in my case is unfortunately not enough) and pretty much only using shampoo, brushing it super harshly etc. i feel like i lost so much hair then and now even though i'm sure it looks normal i feel like, balding. i get overwhelmed with the amt of products and conflicting info when researching online so thought i would ask you. also have u heard of brazilian artist maria beraldo? they just put out a new album and i think it sounds rlly good. u put me onto yves tumor a while ago and i never got back to u w/ recs of my own. wishing u the best xx

Hii! If your hair is damaged from mechanical stress (having been brushed too harshly) and having been underconditioned for a long time, the only way forward is to cut it, but other things you can do are braiding it before sleep, satin pillowcases, satin bonnet (I can't sleep with a bonnet personally but it definitely helps), and eating enough!!! Eating well is everything. Here's a list of products that work for me

Thanks a lot for the music rec, I'll check it out!

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Aston Villa 0-0 Manchester United

Conflicted feelings.

On the one hand, it's Villa. We should be putting these gobby Brummies away and thanks for the three points. That being said, we're United. Our expectations are to put everybody away and win everything and be the best thing since the discovery of fire. It doesn't quite work like that.

The reality is that Emery's Villa are a bloody good side and in the Champions League, and just beat Bayern 1-0 in the week thanks to another Jhon Duran beamer.

I said to friends before the game I'd take a draw, and 0-0 is boring as fuck but it's a clean sheet away and a point against a top 6 rival. Defensively we were disciplined (mostly) and it paid dividends. Maguire and Evans as a central pairing was particularly inspired. They were excellent.

Maguire's injury was unfortunate and hopefully isn't too long term, and I'm also curious/concerned about Mazraoui going off for Lindelof. He has been our best signing in the past three years. We need him fit.

Villa were for the taking though. They'll probably say the same about United, but they really did look flat and average. The problem is, so do we. Hojlund and Zirkzee did not a lot. Bruno was better than Porto but did not a lot. Rashford looked sharp but also in danger of getting sent off after his yellow. Garnacho is still too, too greedy.

I can only presume it was as frustrating for the players as it was the fans seeing Villa get away with all manner of shenanigans at home. Eriksen, Maguire, Rashford... all fair yellows. Mainoo? A great tackle and he's booked for what? Similarly, who the fuck from Villa got booked? They just got free tackle after free tackle and it was shit.

I'm not saying it changed the entire game, but a few yellows in the mix and they would have stepped off a little. All it can take sometimes is that half a second or half a yard and a goal can happen. Small margins.

The big question for me after the game is why no Amad? I get there's rotation but he's SO creative for us. We need that. Everyone else does better when he plays. Hell, there's talk that Antony might prefer the CAM spot than RW. Cool, try him there late on for Bruno and get Amad back on the right. Mix it up, but don't deprive a team lacking goals of someone who's a great creator and instigator of attacking football. RW Garnacho isn't bad but it's also not good.

The talk was that Erik Ten Hag had the Porto and Villa games to save his tenure at United. Today's line-up featured so few of his new signings and older personnel like Evans and Eriksen that you wondered if there was issues with attitudes or confidence.

Many of the club's senior staff were in attendance at Villa Park, though it's believed there was a board meeting scheduled routinely for today too, so it could be something, it could be nothing.

The problem is that it's like what we said about Bruno's sendings off. Don't give them the excuse. Ten Hag's results - see below - are giving these execs the excuse to bin him off. And while I like the big bald bastard... I'm not happy with our football. We have no LB and Dalot inverting and fucking it all up. Martinez and De Ligt look lost at sea re-learning their defensive duties in this system when Dalot abandons LB and goes to left CDM and then jogs back to help defend.

Apparently Malacia and Shaw are both back after the international break now. Days away. So maybe we'll see them back and suddenly everything clicks and we go OH SHIT. It's entirely believable and would be true United banter. But I just don't know. I have so little confidence in things these days, which is the same way I felt every time the previous managers went. I wasn't certain they should stay or go, I was just indifferent. Ominous times.

We conclude with the most important point:

Anyway, enjoy the highlights of this dull, dull game. The upside is there's not much to watch.

[chilope]

re: dogwhistles everywhere: ok, but also there is a wave of statements to the tune of "oh, you say [real aspect of the ongoing ethnic cleansing]? what bullshit lie, you are obviously only saying that bc you believe in [antisemitic dogwhistle]".

i dont. care? like. okay. im going to get on a box real quick and then not talk about this at all anymore.

israel is doing an ethnic cleansing. thats bad. israeli nationism is bad. us support for israel is bad. as us citizens, we have an obligation to oppose our governments support for israel. we have an obligation to call our representatives, to protest, to vote for politicians who will fight back. nothing that anyone says on tumblr about anything that is happening matters at all even a little bit. real time updates about the war crimes dont stop the war crimes from happening. long posts about israels right to exist dont stop the war crimes from happening either.

im frustrated both by the antisemitic dogwhistles and by the jews on this site who insist on making really long posts about how people are being mean to jews as a result of the war crimes. like, antisemitic tumblr posts arent in the same hemisphere as an ethnic cleansing, it feels gross and unnecessary to focus on it. but also, we live here!!

like. this isnt important. im gonna start with that. in the grand scheme of things its just not important. but the little circle of people who exist 1 or 2 degrees from me on tumblr is so chock fucking full of bald antisemitism its mind boggling to me. and it just sits there, all the time, completely unchallenged and unchecked. its normal, its fine, its good even. and then the conflict gets out of hand again and i sit here and watch a bunch of people that i like and respect hold hands with antisemites and talk about how bad israel is. and theyre right!! israel is bad!!

so on the one hand you have a bunch of people saying that the ethnic cleansing isnt happening, or is fine actually, or talking about it is antisemitic. and theyre wrong, and i want them to stop, and also nothing they say matters. but most importantly, i dont actually know them. i dont interact with anyone who says that stuff. i know theyre out there, ive seen screenshots of their posts. but they arent holding hands with anyone i care about.

on the other hand, you have a bunch of people who hate jews, who openly hate jews, who have hated jews for years, who have openly stated they dont want jews to exist, who keep sneaking antisemitic dogwhistles into anti-israeli posts. and theyre getting reblogged by people i like. and again, nothing they say matters. none of these posts impacts actual policy or public sentiment in literally any way. it just doesnt matter!

the only thing that gets impacted by any of this is the the willingness of the people i associate with to tolerate ethnic cleansing apologism (a thing that i have not seen happen) or antisemitism (a thing i have watched happen in real time over the last few years).

so one post slipped through. one. i reblogged *one* post about antisemitism.

like. i *get* that it doesnt fucking matter. some guy on tumblr making a post about how jews should be exterminated isnt on the same level of anything as an actual, literal genocide. it isnt even on the same level as anti-black hiring discrimination, or police violence, or homophobia. but man it sucks that a bunch of my friends are friends with that guy! wish that wasnt true! wish i didnt have to see his posts because people still think hes so cool and insightful!

but it doesnt matter, it really doesnt, and neither do the "actually you only oppose israel because youre antisemitic!" posts. its all just a bunch of powerless angry people yelling at each other to feel better. it doesnt accomplish anything. call your senator, donate to palestinian relief, start a fight with your uncle over thanksgiving.

and leave me alone. that too.

[fictionalreads]

Love Is Blind Season 5 Premeire

Women

“Have you ever been to therapy?” Not quite the questions I was hoping to see, but it’s a start. I’ll take it.

LMAO Lydia being misunderstood constantly

Johnie, if they feel some type of way about you having been married already, they not the one. Also I know this show makes y’all go fast but damn saying I love you on the first date? Even the golden couples (Lauren&Cameron, Brett&Tiffany) didn’t move THAT fast.

Miriam why is it like pulling teeth to get basic answers? And every answer you give is conflicting with a previous one.

I don’t think Izzy is super into you Lydia.

See? I called it Lydia. The reason is that he’s not as into you as you are into him. Don’t try to beg or question why. It’s nothing you did. He just didn’t click with you.

Aaliyah is great. I love her. Supporting other women. We love to see it. She didn’t tear him down either, she just said if he’s not feeling it, he’s not the one but you still deserve to be loved.

But Stacy and Johnie over there happy as hell to know he dumped her. I don’t like that.

Damn Aaliyah. Maybe you need closure on other things first.

Men

Izzy, the bald head doesn’t look bad on you, not everyone can pull that off.

So far I like Izzy. Let’s hope I keep liking him.

Chris looks familiar. As in I’ve seen him on reality tv before.

Milton, you are a complete nerd. Sounds like you want a shcience partner not a wife.

Damn. Izzy getting all the girls.

Fuck Izzy, why’d you have to ask what she was wearing?

Oh Chris. That’s terrible I’m sorry that happened to you.

Damn Uche is out here for Aaliyah’s neck. He ain’t letting up. Oh she gone bro.

Possible couples

Milton and Lydia- I don’t know how I feel about this.

Izzy and Lydia-A better fit I think. But not the best.

JP and Taylor- boring. Sorry but I didn’t pay attention to their hconvo at all.

Izzy and Stacy- feel like fun but not long term.

Izzy and Johnie- okay I could see them together.

JP and Taylor - still boring.

Uche and Aaliyah- to be determined.

Miscellaneous

Um. I didn’t see any black couples in that preview.

I agree with Aaliyah. Everybody needs their own space.

Lydia and Aaliyah friendship for the win.