#substitute sweep

[minecraftcherrywoodrobot]

as promiised, here aare the "i voted" substituute stickerrs!! this is foor anyyone and everyone who voted for the substitute in the watcherween brackets!!! if you want yourrs today, vote HHERE!!!!

[moth-yknowtheartist]

WATCHERWEEN BRACKET PROPAGANDA: PT 2!

hi guys I'm sosososo tired but it's my ultimate duty to create this propaganda for our dearest bastard candidate because the polls are dire woowowo let's go

REASONS TO VOTE HLLOGRAM PROFESSOR!!!!:

1. LITERALLY JUST DEFEATED GOD. due to the reasons in my last post (very good reasons) and other such reasons the people were swayed to push this guy to the end of the race. imagine that, besting god, one of the most beloved and powerful characters in puppet history history!!!!! truly powerful

2. NOT GAY ON SCREEN YET- BUT HE COULD BE. guys if we put our brains and our hearts together we can do it what if professor substitute yaoi the world will never be the same

3. NOT DEAD YET. those gay oars are unfortunately trapped in puppet purgatory they got the castiel treatment :( but the substitute is still at large. survived a defenestration and came back, a truly reliable candidate. he can still win you can't still win if you are dead permanent

4. I WANT SUBSTITUTE SWEEP SO BAD. I have never asked for anything in my life. I have saved my one wish, my one hope, my one "god, please" for this poll and the stakes have never been greater. if the substitute wins me and leucas release that substitute November prompt list it'll be so awesome please god

5. LISTEN TO HIS SONG AGAIN AND TELL ME HE SHOULDNT WIN. THREE MINUTES 32 OF GOODNESS YOU KNOW IM RIGHT

please vote my boy at @watcherwiki so that I can know true rest if you vote my boy I'll have the best sleep of my life this is a true science fact (it's not)

VOTE HERE FOR HOLOGRAM PROFESSOR yayyy

[moth-yknowtheartist]

WE DID IT CHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ONTO THE NEXT POLL

Tournament of Puppet History Guests

God from 1x04 or Hologram Professor from 5x05

Choose your favorite!

Remember: You can choose which performance or guest you prefer, even if the episode itself isn't your top choice. This is round two (part one) of the tournament. All other polls in this round can be found here.

This is all for fun and every puppet is incredible! There are no losers here. Please keep comments positive when campaigning for your faves.

Reblog to help your favorite get more votes!

[laplacesdevil]

a little sequel to a couple of doodles i did on twt w sopping wet vance! ft updated gs/d'angelo design

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

((Make no mistake; I feel like Kariom utilizes leg sweeps like that too but the character is clearly female so....))

[orteil42]

I'm a substitute teacher and I want you to know that the youths are playing Cookie Clicker during my classes. I've caught at least four in the past month. It is sweeping the district

i've been receiving messages like this for the past 10 years about various schools/workplaces getting nothing done thanks to my game i'm very glad i get to be a staple but also more importantly a pest and a nuisance

[kudossi]

only god can write this script

“I’m, uh,” Lionblaze mutters, his tail sweeping behind him, “sorry for your loss.”

You would be, wouldn’t you, Dovewing doesn’t say, because she’s ex-ThunderClan, because she’s ex-prophesied, because his sister died for hers and because he’d wanted to kill her son, because she’s the leader’s mate, because her feelings about the cat who practically kidnapped her from her family to raise as a substitute for another are complicated and thorny at best. “Thank you,” she says at last, like she’s expected to. The diplomacy Tawnypelt has spent so long teaching her tastes rotten on her tongue.

Lionblaze wipes his mouth with one paw. Dovewing’s sister is ThunderClan’s deputy now, not him. She wonders how he feels about it. She wonders whether he thinks Hollyleaf should be there instead. She wonders if, just as she had been, Ivypool is just another substitute for a black cat with too-sharp eyes, too much potential. All wasted, of course, because StarClan was nothing if not good at wasting.

She wishes she knew why the she-cats suffered most. She wishes she didn’t know that they did.

She wishes Rowankit had been born a tom, sometimes, in her darkest moments. If he had, he wouldn’t be dead. “Simple as that,” she’d said to Ivypool last Gathering.

“Simple as that,” Ivypool had echoed, hollow. Bristlefrost had died for — what, exactly? So that more toms could live? So that the she-cat didn’t get the happy ending?

“There are never any happy endings for us,” Hollyleaf had murmured to her the morning of her death. The implication had been clear. Dovewing had stared at the only cat who ever understood her with wide, dry eyes until Hollyleaf had set her chin on Dovewing’s head, and then she’d been helpless not to lean in, a sob rattling her chest as she did.

“I approve,” Sorreltail had grinned at her as Briarlight had hissed defiance at the idea of being evacuated.

“Do I need it?” Dovewing had wondered.

“No,” Sorreltail had answered, simple as anything. “If it’s Briarlight, wonderful. But if there lies something for you outside of these borders — take it. Take it and never look back.”

It was the last time she had spoken to Sorreltail until she was cleaning her blood off of Lilykit and Seedkit as another panic swept over the camp. And even then, she was only speaking to a corpse, reassuring a cat who wasn’t there anymore that her kits would be okay.

(And Seedpaw had drowned to keep a stick — the closest memory of her mother she had — in ThunderClan’s possession. Dovewing had wept that night, inconsolable. Another daughter lost to the memory of her mother, a mother who had died because she had been expected to be a mother before a warrior, a mother despite the worst of wounds. A beaver’s dam bursts and is built again, over and over, until Dovewing’s coat drips with invisible blood.)

“Nursery work isn’t simple,” Ferncloud had smiled once, taking her through each task. Her demeanor was gentle, but the undercurrent was hard. Bumblepaw hadn’t taken this lesson. She knew that Lionblaze hadn’t, either.

“Why us?” Dovepaw had asked, looking up at her.

Ferncloud’s gaze, fixed on a point deep in the den, snapped to hers as if pulled there. “Because it’s only us,” she had said after a moment.

Less than a year later, Dovewing would step through Ferncloud’s blood to block a Dark Forest shade, all murk and mire and claws made of filth, from taking a bite out of her corpse.

“Don’t have another litter,” Lionblaze says now, callous in his way. “It never ends well for us.”

She knows — oh, does she ever know — that. No one star-touched could get away with a second litter, not if the stars had touched you young, even if they took the blessings they’d given away. Lionblaze’s first litter had led unremarkable lives — Hollytuft, despite her namesake, was quiet and unobtrusive; Fernsong had stepped a little farther than his bounds with Ivypool (and had paid for it, perhaps, with their daughter drowning in a lake made of rot); and Sorrelstripe’s history seemed to begin and end with her own litter (another dam, rising high; Dovewing looks away, now, because the alternative hollows her chest with rhythmic scraping of dulled teeth — pain comforted by pain). But the second? Two of them kittypets, the third an active rebel who had lost her mate to her own leader’s claws? A gentle fate, all told. They were all still alive, but what did that matter to him? Did the shame of having two living kittypet children outweigh the idea that both were alive, that both were happy, that he could visit them if he cared to?

“He shouldn’t have allowed it,” Jayfeather had said, his blind eyes staring into Dovewing’s soul.

“I shouldn’t have allowed it,” Lionblaze had said, anger toying at the end of every word.

But Dovewing had wanted, and now her tiny, perfect son is dead. “I won’t,” she says, hoarse. After all, she hadn’t ever been allowed to want. What had she expected? That StarClan would grant mercy to one who had only ever done their bidding?

“Guess some of us have to learn our lessons,” Lionblaze mutters. He scratches at an ear and averts his gaze from the direction of ShadowClan’s medicine den when someone stirs within.

Dovewing wonders if she can muster up the energy to be truly angry. She wants to be so badly, like one might want to escape sharpened claws dipped into soft flesh, but it’s hard to muster in this cruel, gray world without her son, with only callous gods to stare down at her. “Guess so,” she says, and wonders which god wrote this script she’s living. Her losses burn hot in her throat, the injustices as cold as ice, but Lionblaze could never fathom a story more unhappy than his own. “I guess so.”

[emilys-bangs]

first hello's | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, mom!emily, pregnant emily (just gave birth), no use of yn, this is just sugary sweet tbh

Summary: Eloise has just arrived and you and Emily can't stop fawning over her. Requested here.

Word count: 0.9k (baby blurb for baby Ellie <3)

A/n: I heard that some people don't like pregnant Emily? If that's the case with you please just scroll then, I don't need to know about it! Don't like, don't read <3 ALSO I'm officially done with my midterms.... for that one anon who called me out </3

Everything is quiet. The nurses have finally left and taken their flurry of activity with them; now it’s just you and your wife and your baby—your girls. Your family. Two has finally expanded to become three, and Eloise is perfect. 

You swear Emily is glowing. She’s smiling down at Eloise—who’s tucked into the crook of her elbow, wrapped in a soft pink blanket—as she traces your daughter’s features with the gentlest fingertips. Even disheveled she’s still ephemeral; her hospital gown slips off of one shoulder, her hair still in the braid you’ve put it in—unraveling at the ends, messy and loose from hours of labor. The way her lips are parted, her eyes still shiny as she takes in slow breaths, tells you she’s still trying to absorb the enormity of this quiet, tranquil moment. Her knuckle traces over the baby’s cheek, drawing a light stroke down to her chin. Eloise is asleep, but she doesn’t stir at Emily’s soft touches.

The love in your chest is almost unbearable. You try to expel it by letting out a quiet breath, your hand joining Emily’s on your daughter’s cheek. She’s petal soft, her eyes firmly shut, lashes not even fluttering when you brush your finger down the skin between her brows. Her mouth and nose are yours, but her closed eyes are all Emily.

“God, look at her.” Emily whispers. Her voice is choked, shaky; she clears her throat, waves away the water you try to hand her. “She’s perfect.”

“Of course she is.” You set the bottle back on her bedside table. “She’s half you.”

Emily finally looks up at you. She wrinkles her nose, poorly feigning disgust, but you can tell she’s trying to hide a laugh. “Don’t give me that sappy shit.”

“Uh, one: language—”

“She’s only a few hours old,” your wife interrupts quietly, but she looks down at Eloise with a docile smile. “But I’m sorry, bug.” She coos, her voice instantly turning cloud-like in its softness. “Mommy’s gonna have to get used to censoring her words around you—”

“And two,” you speak over her, grabbing her unoccupied hand, “you literally just spent three hours pushing her out. I’m going to give you that sappy”—she raises a pointed brow—“…stuff,” you substitute lamely, “and so much more.”

Emily smiles and laces your fingers together. “Maybe we can start with a shower, yeah?” Her voice is teasing but the sweep of her lashes is tired, her hair curling from dried sweat.

“Whenever you want it, sweetheart,” you say immediately. Emily’s smile widens, turns smug, but you don’t even care. “I’ll stay with Ellie, you go clean up.” 

It’s so breathtakingly natural for you to call her that. You’ve never even tested out the nickname before today but your mouth is ready, the sweet, miniature version of your daughter’s name rolling off your tongue with ease.

Emily tugs her hand out of yours and turns her attention back to Eloise. “I just want one more minute with her,” she murmurs, tucking the blanket down so she can get a closer look at her sleeping face. The whole length of her is shorter than Emily’s forearm, all bundled in soft pink; the tag reading Eloise Prentiss is hidden beneath the downy depths of the blanket.

You lean against the handle separating you and Emily, your forehead gently pressing against hers as you both look down at your daughter. She breathes evenly, her little chest rising and falling in equal intervals. It almost hurts your heart how small she is against Emily’s chest. You smile at the soft pout of her mouth, unable to stop yourself from gently cupping her head.

“We did a pretty damn good job, didn’t we?”

“We did.” Emily says, the smile audible in her voice. 

Suddenly desperate, you lean further out of your chair, curling your hands around Eloise’s small body. Emily gets the hint. She eases her into your arms and your heart thumps, almost painfully, against your ribcage.

Emily leans over the handle of her bed, seemingly magnetized to the newborn. You kiss the warm edge of her jaw—a poor apology as you hold Eloise to your chest.

“I’m gross,” she protests softly, trying to shy away from your lips.

“You’re magnificent,” you murmur. For extra measure, you give her jaw another kiss.

Emily blushes. She chews on her lip and wraps her hands around the handle of your chair, trying to tug even though it’s flush against her bed. You shift in your seat, offer out your shoulder, and she lays her head on it. The silence settles over you again as Emily’s hand rests on top of yours. It stretches, undisturbed but for the sound of your collective breaths as a family of three. 

The two of you watch, soft-eyed, as Eloise shifts in her cocoon with a low coo, her mouth parting for a second before it falls closed again.

Your heart turns to mush.

The soft gasp next to your ear tells you your wife is equally affected. “Is it bad that I want her to wake up?” Emily whispers.

“No,” you laugh softly. You turn your head, kiss her disheveled hair. “I wanna meet her too. But we’ll be getting more than our fill of that, baby. Soon we’ll be wishing she’s asleep.”

She sighs, content but with a hint of her usual impatience. 

“Can’t wait for soon, then.”

“Me either.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights

[simply-ivanka]

Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy: The DOGE Plan to Reform Government

Following the Supreme Court’s guidance, we’ll reverse a decades long executive power grab.

By Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy

Wall Street Journal

November 20, 2024

Our nation was founded on the basic idea that the people we elect run the government. That isn’t how America functions today. Most legal edicts aren’t laws enacted by Congress but “rules and regulations” promulgated by unelected bureaucrats—tens of thousands of them each year. Most government enforcement decisions and discretionary expenditures aren’t made by the democratically elected president or even his political appointees but by millions of unelected, unappointed civil servants within government agencies who view themselves as immune from firing thanks to civil-service protections.

This is antidemocratic and antithetical to the Founders’ vision. It imposes massive direct and indirect costs on taxpayers. Thankfully, we have a historic opportunity to solve the problem. On Nov. 5, voters decisively elected Donald Trump with a mandate for sweeping change, and they deserve to get it.

President Trump has asked the two of us to lead a newly formed Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE, to cut the federal government down to size. The entrenched and ever-growing bureaucracy represents an existential threat to our republic, and politicians have abetted it for too long. That’s why we’re doing things differently. We are entrepreneurs, not politicians. We will serve as outside volunteers, not federal officials or employees. Unlike government commissions or advisory committees, we won’t just write reports or cut ribbons. We’ll cut costs.

We are assisting the Trump transition team to identify and hire a lean team of small-government crusaders, including some of the sharpest technical and legal minds in America. This team will work in the new administration closely with the White House Office of Management and Budget. The two of us will advise DOGE at every step to pursue three major kinds of reform: regulatory rescissions, administrative reductions and cost savings. We will focus particularly on driving change through executive action based on existing legislation rather than by passing new laws. Our North Star for reform will be the U.S. Constitution, with a focus on two critical Supreme Court rulings issued during President Biden’s tenure.

In West Virginia v. Environmental Protection Agency (2022), the justices held that agencies can’t impose regulations dealing with major economic or policy questions unless Congress specifically authorizes them to do so. In Loper Bright v. Raimondo (2024), the court overturned the Chevron doctrine and held that federal courts should no longer defer to federal agencies’ interpretations of the law or their own rulemaking authority. Together, these cases suggest that a plethora of current federal regulations exceed the authority Congress has granted under the law.

DOGE will work with legal experts embedded in government agencies, aided by advanced technology, to apply these rulings to federal regulations enacted by such agencies. DOGE will present this list of regulations to President Trump, who can, by executive action, immediately pause the enforcement of those regulations and initiate the process for review and rescission. This would liberate individuals and businesses from illicit regulations never passed by Congress and stimulate the U.S. economy.

When the president nullifies thousands of such regulations, critics will allege executive overreach. In fact, it will be correcting the executive overreach of thousands of regulations promulgated by administrative fiat that were never authorized by Congress. The president owes lawmaking deference to Congress, not to bureaucrats deep within federal agencies. The use of executive orders to substitute for lawmaking by adding burdensome new rules is a constitutional affront, but the use of executive orders to roll back regulations that wrongly bypassed Congress is legitimate and necessary to comply with the Supreme Court’s recent mandates. And after those regulations are fully rescinded, a future president couldn’t simply flip the switch and revive them but would instead have to ask Congress to do so.

A drastic reduction in federal regulations provides sound industrial logic for mass head-count reductions across the federal bureaucracy. DOGE intends to work with embedded appointees in agencies to identify the minimum number of employees required at an agency for it to perform its constitutionally permissible and statutorily mandated functions. The number of federal employees to cut should be at least proportionate to the number of federal regulations that are nullified: Not only are fewer employees required to enforce fewer regulations, but the agency would produce fewer regulations once its scope of authority is properly limited. Employees whose positions are eliminated deserve to be treated with respect, and DOGE’s goal is to help support their transition into the private sector. The president can use existing laws to give them incentives for early retirement and to make voluntary severance payments to facilitate a graceful exit.

Conventional wisdom holds that statutory civil-service protections stop the president or even his political appointees from firing federal workers. The purpose of these protections is to protect employees from political retaliation. But the statute allows for “reductions in force” that don’t target specific employees. The statute further empowers the president to “prescribe rules governing the competitive service.” That power is broad. Previous presidents have used it to amend the civil service rules by executive order, and the Supreme Court has held—in Franklin v. Massachusetts (1992) and Collins v. Yellen (2021) that they weren’t constrained by the Administrative Procedures Act when they did so. With this authority, Mr. Trump can implement any number of “rules governing the competitive service” that would curtail administrative overgrowth, from large-scale firings to relocation of federal agencies out of the Washington area. Requiring federal employees to come to the office five days a week would result in a wave of voluntary terminations that we welcome: If federal employees don’t want to show up, American taxpayers shouldn’t pay them for the Covid-era privilege of staying home.

Finally, we are focused on delivering cost savings for taxpayers. Skeptics question how much federal spending DOGE can tame through executive action alone. They point to the 1974 Impoundment Control Act, which stops the president from ceasing expenditures authorized by Congress. Mr. Trump has previously suggested this statute is unconstitutional, and we believe the current Supreme Court would likely side with him on this question. But even without relying on that view, DOGE will help end federal overspending by taking aim at the $500 billion plus in annual federal expenditures that are unauthorized by Congress or being used in ways that Congress never intended, from $535 million a year to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and $1.5 billion for grants to international organizations to nearly $300 million to progressive groups like Planned Parenthood.

The federal government’s procurement process is also badly broken. Many federal contracts have gone unexamined for years. Large-scale audits conducted during a temporary suspension of payments would yield significant savings. The Pentagon recently failed its seventh consecutive audit, suggesting that the agency’s leadership has little idea how its annual budget of more than $800 billion is spent. Critics claim that we can’t meaningfully close the federal deficit without taking aim at entitlement programs like Medicare and Medicaid, which require Congress to shrink. But this deflects attention from the sheer magnitude of waste, fraud and abuse that nearly all taxpayers wish to end—and that DOGE aims to address by identifying pinpoint executive actions that would result in immediate savings for taxpayers.

With a decisive electoral mandate and a 6-3 conservative majority on the Supreme Court, DOGE has a historic opportunity for structural reductions in the federal government. We are prepared for the onslaught from entrenched interests in Washington. We expect to prevail. Now is the moment for decisive action. Our top goal for DOGE is to eliminate the need for its existence by July 4, 2026—the expiration date we have set for our project. There is no better birthday gift to our nation on its 250th anniversary than to deliver a federal government that would make our Founders proud.

[moth-yknowtheartist]

hey guys that puppet history guest poll was a lot of fun!! really exciting to see substitute sweep haha. you know what other neat poll is going on soon if you're an eligible US citizen?

and speaking of, have you made a plan to vote?

voting can be safe and easy when you plan ahead!!!

(disclaimer that this is a personal fanwork and I am not affiliated with puppet history/watcher or anyone and all sentiments expressed are my own in case that wasn't clear. ok bye)

[arcanesea]

colors

PAIRING: hwang hyunjin x reader GENRE: fluff, established relationship WC: 558 WARNINGS: none

"There are only 3 primary colors, right?" you ask mindlessly as you watch Hyunjin's brush glide across the canvas. You heard a low hum from him before asking, "Who named the colors?"

he rolls his eyes, and a thin smile creeps on his face.

"What's on your mind pretty?" he asks softly, still focusing on the canvas in front of him. You had agreed to be his muse today. Though a very basic muse, you must say. He doesn't even let you hold any props, so you just sit there with a flower slipped in your ear.

"Well, orange comes from mixing red and yellow, so why not call it yed?" you propose.

Hyunjin stops to look at you with his confused face. "Yed?"

"Yes? well, you mix yellow and red? Yed? Or should it be redow?"

"You're absurd," he laughs, continuing his sweep of brush. You're cute, was what he was actually thinking. Since you sat on that chair, you hadn't stopped talking about everything, from the workplace stress you're currently experiencing, to stories of stray cats in your apartment complex. Your voice was a better substitute for the music he put on every time he started painting.

"Green should be called yellue," you push forward. Laughing when the words repeated itself in your head. "Isn't that cute, Hyune, yellue?" you ask.

"Sure, my love," he answered. "Tell me everything on that pretty head of yours."

"I think, you don't need me to sit here," you said softly. Hyunjin laughs again. If he's being honest, it's his first time drawing the muse directly. He could have snapped a picture of you and used it as a reference, that's what he always does. But who he is to say no when you're the one offering to be his muse for a day?

"Weren't you the one offering yourself?" He asks, not paying much attention to you who had started to stand. You stopped in your tracks, thinking to yourself.

"Right..." you shyly said. You walked behind him, leaning down to rest your chin on his left shoulder. You are the muse, but you're certain that the scene doesn't look anything like his painting. Not in a bad way, just in a very hyperbole way that the background colors seem to be muted while he gives you the spotlight with all the vibrant colors.

Hyunjin turned his head, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "What do you think?"

"I don't think there's any word that can describe the elegance of that painting, Hyune," you answered. "I think you're a great artist, I'm pretty sure I'm not as beautiful as the person in the canvas."

Hyunjin puts down his palette on the little table next to the canvas before standing up. He grabs your shoulder, just looking at you. No matter how many times he memorized your features, he can't stop admiring your angelic nature.

It's true that an artist's eyes see colors in a spectrum that's never existed before, but you're different. Hyunjin had always thought that he already saw all the colors of life, but your existence in his life gives him a taste of a new kind of rainbow. And he wished for nothing more than you to see yourself from his point of view.

"Believe me, my love, no colors can do justice to paint you."

a/n. Ramadhan Kareem everyone! We're well fed this month by the amount of skz record the kids released and some said we're getting cb announcement at fanmeeting😃 can't wait!!!!!!

[theprettynosferatu]

CONTENT WARNING. NO, FOR REAL, READ THIS FIRST.

This story contains strong themes and graphic non-consensual sex. If you feel they might affect you adversely, skip this one.

Andrea is being tormented in college by a bigoted popular girl. Her daddy has always helped her... maybe he can help her get some justice...

CW: Incest, non-con, SA, orientation play (F-straight to bi)

I - No Expiration Date

She felt ridiculous. She probably looked ridiculous too, sitting against the wall, grabbing her knees, almost shaking, all in the middle of the hallway. Most made a point to not look at her, rushing to their classes, their dorms or wherever the hell they needed to be with such haste. Well, Andrea knew they only rushed because of her, to give themselves a plausible excuse to avoid doing the right thing and checking up on the poor, weird girl hyperventilating on the ground.

The worst part was that Andrea knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If anything, it was Kate that should be ashamed of herself, not Andrea- fuck, to say such things in these days was almost quaint in its ignorance, and if Andrea chose to make a stink, grounds for expulsion. Would it be considered a hate crime? Maybe. But going up to the dean or whoever like a poor little victim felt so… humiliating. Perhaps more so than Kate’s constant, whispered words and stories. And some idiots actually listened to her! 

Andrea supposed that was the big perk of having a rich, connected daddy. Even the most moronic and bigoted statements found an audience eager to please, if only for the unspoken promise of future gifts, recommendations, networking opportunities. Shit, even the dean might sweep the whole thing under the rug just to please her family. Andrea could feel the rage building up inside her chest, making her almost sick. Part of it was the stench of injustice that surrounded the whole deal. But most of her anger was directed at herself. It wasn’t as if any of this was new to her: she had come out in highschool. Every insult and every joke and every slur had been thrown at her a thousand times over already. 

But… college was supposed to be different. Even the teachers that saw the abuse in her younger years had told her so. It will get better. You’ll get out of here, and in college all this will be a distant memory. That hope had kept her going even as everyone forgot her name and simply called her “The Dyke” her entire senior year. But those were kids. Kate was a fucking adult. And yet, bigotry seemed to have no expiration date.

Fuck. The bullying wasn’t even fucking accurate! Andrea had been openly bi for years, but apparently the nuances of sexual orientation were irrelevant when it came to making one person the butt of every facile joke, a stepping stone to get some sweet, addicting attention. And Kate loved nothing more than attention. Good, bad, who cared? As long as the spotlight was on her, whatever hole she had in what she called a soul was temporarily filled. Fucking go to therapy, you cunt! Did daddy not hug you enough? Used dollars as a substitute for affection? Boo-hoo. It didn’t justify a goddamn thing.  

Andrea took a deep breath and managed to get up. Her Social Psych lecture was about to start, and Andrea knew she would skip it, even if she tried to fool herself for a moment, to force her legs to walk towards the classroom. Step by step, she headed for her dorm room. Fuck. Another absence. Kate was even fucking up her academic life. But what could Andrea do? Go to the professor and explain that, sorry, I couldn’t make it because the rich girl made fun of me?

She threw herself on the bed with punishing force. A miniature form of self-harm, she figured. Sometimes she hated majoring in psychology: that little voice that analyzed her actions almost made her feel like she was performing her suffering, rather than feeling it fully. And that distancing might also be a defense mechanism. Well, shit. How does one turn their brain off?

Andrea felt a pang in her chest, a familiar longing for home. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect place and money was always tight. Sure, her mother had vanished when she was barely one year old. Sure, the old place was in dire need of repairs and an update. But it was home. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself by omission. She was trying not to think of the one person that made it a home, and inevitably, in trying to suppress the idea, it came to her twice as strong. Daddy. Her father was her home, and it made her feel childish, helpless, as if she was ten and running to him whenever things went poorly. That her mind still went to him filled her with shame.

Oh, bullshit. You know damn well why you don’t want to think about him.

She couldn’t tell when it had happened, exactly. It had been something slow, growing inside her, indirectly pushing her subconscious. If she looked back at her dating history, a pattern emerged, one hidden at the time but blindingly obvious in retrospect: similar to dad, similar to dad… and then, when an errant comment by a friend (“All I’m saying is, like, for an old guy… you’re dad is kinda hot”) opened her eyes, she swerved in an attempt to escape her feelings. Different from dad, different from dad… The problem with “different from dad” was, of course, that those guys were, well, different from her dad. 

The summer before college had been the worst. She did her best to be home as little as possible.

Before she knew it, twin emotions were boiling over inside her. The first made her feel sick to her stomach, made her muscles tense up, made her breathing shallow and quick, as if she was about to leap and bite some animal’s neck. It was rage, pure and shining, clad with the garment of a righteous need for justice. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. That fucking bitch. She needs to suffer. She needs to be punished. She needs to fucking learn some humility. And at the same time, the second feeling snuck up on her, traveling in the shadow of the first, mingling with it until they became one, like snakes mating. Dad. She needs to suffer, dad. Make her suffer for me. Please. Please, daddy. Do this for me and I’ll… 

Andrea snapped back to reality, horrified. She moved her hand from between her legs, not even knowing when she had started playing with herself. Fuck, she was soaked. Shame almost brought her to tears, until Kate’s sneering face popped back in her mind. She had endured enough for one day. She had earned a little bit of fantasy. Just that. It wasn’t as if she’d ever do anything about… well, anything. But she could imagine, couldn’t she? She wasn’t that much of a coward- she could dare to imagine Kate, and dad, and… 

Fuck it. Who cared if it was wrong. She needed release.

Andrea let her hand go back between her legs.

II - The Call

Mike found himself staring at his phone. His morning coffee had gotten cold, but he took a sip anyway, almost as an automatic action. He couldn’t stop playing the conversation back in his head over and over.

“Dad, I’m on my way. I need your help. I… I’ll explain…”

“Andrea, are you okay? What happened?”

“I… I’ll be there in about an hour. I kinda… I don’t want to talk over the phone. Dad, I… nevermind. We’ll talk when I get there.”

And that had been it. No clues, no hint, nothing to guide him except the tone in his daughter’s voice. She was scared, and she was suffering, and that was all that he needed to know. Whatever it was that was harming her girl, he’d move Heaven and Earth to make it better. That much he knew, deep in his heart. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing the worst possible scenarios.

He tried to remain calm. Sexual assault on college campuses is… 

Mike pushed the thought away.  

Restrictions on reproductive rights have…

Snippets of news stories slapped him. The world could be a terrifying place for a young woman. But that was why they had chosen a college close to home. So Andrea could always come to him if she needed help. And she clearly needed help. Stay focused, old man. She needs you to be strong. Don’t let her see you panic. 

He needed to be strong for her. That was all he always wanted to be, more than anything: a rock, a place of stability, a North Star for the one thing that mattered in his life. They had faced the world together. They had survived poverty together. They had endured the pain of an absent mother and wife together. They had managed a retrograde high school that tormented Andrea together. She had saved his life as much as he had fostered hers. Without his girl, Mike wasn’t sure where he would be- perhaps underground. She had been the reason to dig deep, to find strength, to endure, always. 

Don’t let her see you panic.

Don’t let her see you looking at her.

He shook the intrusive thought off. Andrea needed him, not his fucked up neuroses, not the secret shame the last months of living together had awakened in him.

One hour stretched into a year, and Mike practically leaped out the door as soon as he heard the car pulling over. The first thing he noticed was his daughter’s panicked face, and that alone was enough to make his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. The second thing he noticed was the other girl, passed out in the passenger’s seat. Andrea rushed into his arms, and he held her tight, trying to will some degree of peace into her mind. First things first.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”, Andrea sobbed.

Good. Now to do what he did best: fix things.

“Ok, so, your friend…”

“She’s not my friend.”

“What did she take? Did you take anything? Look, I’m not… I won’t get mad, I just need to know what she may have taken… is it just booze? No, couldn’t be… Benzos? Or… Christ, I don’t know what you guys take these days in college…”

“Dad! She didn’t take anything!”

“Are you sure? Maybe she went into some bathroom and did something… okay. First things. We need to call an ambulance…”

“Dad, please! Listen to me! I’ll explain everything. But we need to get her inside before anyone sees-”

“Andrea, this girl is passed out! She needs medical attention! Who knows what-”

“I know what she took because I gave it to her, okay? She’s just asleep! And she should be asleep for… maybe another couple of hours. Daddy, please… I swear I’ll explain. Just help me get her into the house, okay?”

Mike felt dumbfounded. The idea that his Andrea had roofied some other girl was so distant from his image of her, from the girl he had raised, that the contradiction felt impossible to resolve. It was a paralyzing feeling, one he couldn’t entirely put into words. All he knew was he didnt like it one bit. He was a man of action. He needed to do things, more than ponder feelings. And the thing to do, if only to escape that horrid sensation, was to get the poor girl out of the car.

They dragged Kate into the house, and laid her down on Andrea’s bed- a task that, Mike noticed, his daughter undertook with less care than he would have liked. Back in the living room, he looked at his daughter and put on his best stern face. Stern was good. It hid other ideas that came into his mind when he looked directly at Andrea.

“Explain.”

Andrea broke down in tears.

“Daddy, that girl… Kate.. she’s… she’s making my life Hell! She tortures me every day, makes fun of me, spreads rumors about me… people think… I don’t even know what they think about me anymore. So I can’t make any friends. Just like high school. It’s the same damn thing! And they all said… you said college would be different! But it’s not! Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m just… I don’t know. Broken. Maybe people can smell I’m weird, or weak, or… and they know they can abuse me and mock me and… It’s not fair! And I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t thinking straight… I just put a couple of pills in her tea, and… I freaked out. I needed to feel safe, and I feel safe here… with you.”

Mike took it all in. He had to admit the sight of his precious daughter in such despair was enough to pierce any ideas of being tough he might have. And yes, it wasn’t fair. The world wasn’t fair at all. Andrea was beautiful, smart, creative… but there would always be those people who couldn’t understand someone being different, loving who they loved, being their authentic self. He got the anger. He got the frustration. He hated that Andrea had been driven to this point. But there was a big thing to address.

“Honey… I know… but you can’t just… just… kidnap someone!”

Andrea couldn’t help herself. She ran into her father’s arms, and hugged him tight.

“Daddy… I didn’t know what to do. I…”

She went silent. Mike couldn’t find the words to console her, to lecture her, to say anything at all. All he could do was feel the warmth of her body pressed against him, intuit her soft curves, take in the smell of her shampoo, her skin. It was intoxicating, and for once he let himself feel… whatever it was he was feeling. He let himself enjoy the moment, and even the sleeping girl in the bedroom seemed to fade away from his consciousness. They simply lingered, holding each other, taking it all in.

Such a moment couldn’t last. It shouldn’t last. Mike forced himself to speak, to say… whatever he could muster.

“What… I don’t know what you expect me to do…”

He felt Andrea’s hands on his back holding him tighter. He felt her warm breath on his ear, sending shivers down his spine as she whispered before the words even registered in his brain.

“Daddy… please… fuck her for me. Fucking rape the cunt… show her her place. Daddy… break her with your cock. For me.”

III - Persuasion 

Andrea couldn’t tell exactly what happened to her, what shifted within herself in that embrace, what damn had finally broken in her mind. Even as her father pushed her away with a horrified look on his face, she could see him- almost as if for the first time. A veil that had been dulling her sight for so, so long had finally vanished. Yes, she saw everything so clearly now, with such simple purity, devoid of fear or shame or silly excuses. It was a bizarre sensation, to finally be able to accept without doubt or hesitation the truth, so long buried.

She wanted to fuck him.

He wanted to fuck her.

So obvious. So simple. So powerful. Andrea wasn’t going to run away from it anymore. And she could see, under the mask of horror worn by her father, beneath the shock in his eyes, something else. Stirring. 

Suddenly, Andrea felt powerful. Immense. Sexy. In control. The fact that she had become one with her secret desires and he hadn’t brought a predatory joy to her chest… and something else, both an anger and a need. In her heart she could see not just what her father was but what he could be, what he could become, what he needed to be. She could almost smell it- the strong, conquering Man suffocated by the dull veneer of morality and social norms. Yes, she felt powerful- but she didn’t need to be strong. She needed to be taken by him. She needed to bring the beast forth, somehow. To make him see himself as she saw him. To make him see her as she wanted to be seen.

She smiled inside, even as her father almost recoiled from her. It was all a game, now. One she intended to win.

In the blink of an eye her entire demeanor, her posture, the way she looked at her father shifted. For a second she was the perfect picture of innocence, of a young woman in need of rescue.

“Daddy… please… I need your help. Won’t you help your little girl? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be so… so good to you, Daddy. I’ll be your good little girl. Your obedient… slutty… little daughter”, she smiled as she took one step towards her father, her body now swaying like a cat slowly approaching its prey. She took a moment to delight in the confusion in her father’s eyes, the tension increasing almost to a breaking point.

“I… what are you…”, managed to mumble Mike. Oh, it was so pathetic it became cute.

“Daddy… you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me recently? It must be so, so hard for you… to see your little girl all grown up, and you all alone… that’s not fair, is it?”, said Andrea as she closed the distance with her now paralyzed father. Oh, this was too much fun. “You have been a bad daddy in your mind, haven’t you? That sounds so painful! Knowing it’s soooo wrong to think about your little girl like that… having to pretend you don’t want to… Fuck. Your. Daughter. Oh daddy, don’t blush! Surprised to hear such naughty words coming from my cute mouth? Or… do you like me having such a potty mouth?”

Andrea, in a swift motion ran her hand over her father’s crotch. Yes. She could feel it. So hard. So warm. She was right. He was breaking.

“Feels like your daddy cock likes me talking like a dirty slut! Don’t be ashamed! I love to imagine your cock getting so hard for me… I love to know I can make it so, so happy… And only using my words! Just talking like the hopeless little fucking whore I am… for you… just knowing you can use my tight holes whenever you want… however you want… and I’ll take it like a good girl! I am your good girl, daddy. You made me, after all… you own me… you can own every inch of my slutty, smooth body…”

Suddenly, she took a step back, her eyes almost in tears. She was the very picture of anguish, of despair, of vulnerability. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words came to him. He just watched, fighting his need to hug her, to protect her, to tell her he would make everything right again.

“Daddy… I’m so sorry… I don’t know what got into me. I just feel so confused, so disoriented, and… I don’t know. It’s like I have all these feelings inside me and they get all mixed up and I can’t really tell what I feel anymore, and it hurts so much. It hurts, Daddy. And that girl… Kate… I can’t tell you how much she’s hurt me, how she has been messing with my mind and making me so miserable… and… and I guess, I’m not sure, just… I thought you could help me, Daddy. You always could help me. You always could make me feel like everything would be okay, that I wasn’t a freak, or…”

“Honey, you are not a freak! You know this. You’ve been so brave, so strong, so true to yourself, even when everyone gave you grief over it!” He couldn’t help himself anymore. He held his sweet girl in his arms.

“But I… I did a bad thing, Daddy. I brought Kate here… I couldn’t think of anything else to do to make her stop, to make her leave me alone…”

“I know. And yes, you did a… wrong thing. But that doesn’t make you a monster, or evil or anything like that, okay? We’ll… I’ll find a way… I’ll help you. I’ll… fix it, somehow.”

“Will you rape her for me? Will you punish her with your cock for hurting your little girl? I’ll be so, so good for you if you do it, daddy… I’ll be the bestest daughter ever for you!”

Mike tried to pull away before he was interrupted by the sensation of warm, soft lips on his own. Time stopped. He felt dizzy, trapped in the feeling, the scent of skin, the rush of adrenaline in his chest. He panicked as he realized he didn’t stop it in time. He didn’t stop it as time stretched. He wasn’t stopping it even as the thoughts flooded his mind. It took Mike every ounce of willpower to push his daughter away.

Oh, it was so fun to see her Daddy so confused, so aroused, so disoriented. But Kate would wake up soon. Andrea needed to land the killing blow on whatever resistance her dear dad had left.

“I’m sorry Daddy… it’s just that I love you so, so much…” One slow, seductive step towards him. “I was bad, Daddy. I shouldn’t have done that, right? Does that make me a bad girl? A bad daughter?” Another step. So close now. “I’m so, so sorry for being bad, Daddy. I’m sorry I made your cock all hard for me and teased you and used all those dirty, dirty words. Will you punish me, Daddy? Will you make me good again, show me my place? I think you should. I think you should take your cock, and-”

One final step, and Mike snapped. For the first time in his life, he slapped his daughter. Horror set on his face, and it became a mixture of bewilderment and fire when he noticed Andrea’s reaction. She was smiling.

“Mmmmh… so strong, Daddy. Do it again. Punish me. Show me you own me. Make me your bitch!”

It was over for Mike. Something primal, something awful had taken hold of him. 

His hand on her neck. Hers rubbing his cock over his pants. Her soft moans. Kisses that turned into bites. His own mumbled, jumbled words. Little cunt. Evil fucking bitch. Her words, playing off his. Your little cunt. Your good little girl. Her face against the wall. Her movements, grinding her ass against him. Her hands on his chest, pushing him back. 

So many lines crossed. Mike knew, deep down, he had broken something inside himself. Or maybe she had broken it in him. It didn’t matter. He looked down at the beautiful, perfect woman kneeling and smiling. He saw his daughter, yes, but his eyes were now different. The barrier that kept the idea of “daughter” and “sex” apart simply didn’t exist anymore. He felt adrift, caught by a whirlwind he couldn’t stop- one he didn’t want to stop. 

Victory. It looked like victory. Victory over herself, over her old fears. Victory over his attempts at doing the “right thing”. Further victory to come, as well. And it didn’t hurt that the cock that made her was a rather large one, veiny and beautiful. He tried to keep herself in check. She knew exactly what to do, which went against everything her body was screaming for her to do. No matter how much she needed to feel that cock deep inside her pussy, no matter how much she longed to taste his cum on her tongue, she would have to wait. She couldn’t risk some post nut clarity throwing further objections to her plan. She kept her mind on Kate as she licked, kissed, loved his member. She was alert, ready to stop before he went over the edge. She did let one hand slide between her legs- just a treat, and a bit of a show for Daddy. She took him deep in her throat, deeper than anyone she’d ever blown. He deserved it. He was her one true love. 

She did manage to stop herself when she felt him getting close, heard his moans getting stronger.

She stood up and simply, gently, gave his Daddy her soaked hand for him to smell. It was a promise of the pleasures to come… if he did as she asked, as she needed him to. She could see it in his eyes. He had been unleashed. Andrea smiled, and with a moan sucked her fingers clean, keeping her green eyes fixed on her Daddy’s gaze.

Punishment would finally come to the one that had wronged her.

IV - Melody of Madness

Slowly, Kate started to regain her consciousness. It was a gradual thing, messy, disoriented. The first thing she noticed was a scent- the kind of smell that tells one they’re no longer home, but in a place inhabited for years by some unknown Other. Her body felt heavy, sluggish, weighed down. She wasn’t afraid, not at that point. She was too out of it to register such an emotion.

Only when her vision cleared a bit and her body started to feel more like her own did the true horror begin. She tried to remain calm. Okay, Kate. Just… try to figure things out. You’re in a bedroom. A girl’s room, judging by the decor. Shit, did you get wasted again? Wait, no… a room, yes, but not a dorm room. Bigger than the dorms. Oh, fuck. Did I party in town? Did I black out and some random girl decided to help me?

A part of her screamed. Assuming that this was just another regrettable morning after too much liquor was only a pleasant delusion, and she knew it. As painful as it might be, she would have to face another possibility. What was the last thing she remembered? She was getting up, ready for class… then she was picking up her morning coffee… a bitter taste, more than usual, and then… nothing. 

Kate needed to get out. Wherever she was, it was not where she wanted to be, that much she knew. She’d have time to figure things out later. First, get out of bed, and then…

She couldn’t. She was bound to the bed by improvised ropes made of sheets. Her legs were open, held in place. She noticed the way the air felt on her skin. She was in her underwear. This final fact froze her for half a minute- thirty seconds that felt like an eternity. 

Finally, she screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, or things will get very, very messy for you. And I don’t want to ruin my sheets, thank you very much.”

The voice was calm. Cold, yet expressing a hint of anticipation. And it was a voice Kate would never have expected to hear in that place, not in a million years.

“Andrea?”

“Oh, I’m ‘Andrea’ today? Are you sure you don’t mean to call me one of your usual nicknames? No ‘dyke’? No ‘carpet muncher’? No ‘cunt licker’? Isn’t it interesting, how something as simple as a little bit of metal and a few sheets are enough to teach you manners?”

Metal? Kate lifted her head as much as she could. There was Andrea, holding a knife. Shit. Shit. Shit. That little, insignificant bitch! And what was it with the outfit? Black lingerie, full face of make-up, devilishly sharp stiletto heels… Kate had never seen the stupid dyke looking anything like a real woman. Huh. So she had curves hidden under her usual baggy hoodies. Good for her. But she was still a fucking loser, and Kate knew how to handle losers.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch? Let me go, now! What the hell are you thinking? People will hear…”

“Oh, don’t make a sound. I don’t want my father to…”

“Really? You brought me to your own home? You really are that stupid, huh? Let’s see what your dad thinks of his dyke daughter when she sees what you’ve done! Help! Sir, please! In your daughter’s room!”

Steps stomping outside. A man entered the room. Finally. Victory! Now the crazy dyke would get what was coming to her, and Kate would have a brand new story to bury the little cunt’s reputation even further. Maybe even hold the possibility of jail over her head.

“Andrea! What the hell is this? What are you doing?”, the man said, suitably shocked.

“Daddy! I’m so sorry! I… I just…”

“Didn’t I tell you to let me know as soon as she woke up?”

“You did. Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been a naughty little girl… will you punish me later?”

“Later, yes. Now we have work to do, don’t we, baby girl?”

“Yes we do, Daddy!” she chirped before giving in to a long, deep kiss with the man.

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”, laughed Andrea. “Did you think he would help you? Kate, Kate… Ignorant as always. For one, I’m not a dyke, I’m bi- not that you care, but I figured a little education can’t hurt. And another thing about me: I have the bestest Daddy in the whole world! And my Daddy would do anything for me, because I’m his perfect, slutty good girl… and he’s very, very good at training good girls! Well, maybe ‘training’ isn’t the right word. How about… ‘breaking’? You know, like a horse! And we’ll make you such a good, good girl!”

Panic set in.

“Crazy! You’re both fucking crazy!”

Kate squirmed, a scream dying in her throat as Andrea crawled on the bed, swaying like a terrible feline, giving her dad a marvelous show. She lightly touched the inside of Kate’s thighs as she made her way up… before flashing the knife in front of the poor captive’s eyes.

“If I were you”, cooed Andrea, “I’d be very, very still for this part.”

Kated hated that her body seemed to instinctively do as the fucking dyke told. She froze, every muscle locked tight. She closed her eyes, and prayed to no deity in particular. Please. Please. Make it stop.

Kate shuddered as she felt something cold barely grazing her, almost between her legs. Terrible images flashed inside her mind. I might die here. A second later, she felt air caressing her private areas. She opened her eyes, only to see Andrea’s mad smile as she held the remains of Kate’s panties in her hand, skillfully cut off her body. 

“Not the sexiest of panties, I must say. I’m a bit disappointed! But…” Andrea brought the panties to her nose and took a deep, gratifying sniff. “There’s something alluring there. Oh! You’ve never had the pleasure of smelling a nice cunt, have you? No, you’re so very, very straight… you’d never do that, right? Well, you’ve been missing out. Time to fix that.”

Andrea carefully, almost lovingly, tied the panties around Kate’s face. Every breath now was an assault, a reminder of how powerless she was. A humiliation.

“Better get used to it, you stuck-up slut. You’ll be tasting the real thing soon enough. But…” Andrea leaped off the bound body of her foe. “What am I thinking? You’re straight! So, I take it you’d enjoy a big, hard cock more than my… dyke attentions, won’t you? Well, how about some Daddy cock? Won’t you love that? I know you will.”

Andrea skipped, child-like to her father. He was watching the scene before him, almost panting. A beast ready to be unleashed.

“Look!” chirped Andrea. “He’s so, so hard for you already! You should be flattered! Well, no point delaying the inevitable, I say. Ready to feel this big cock ramming into that tight pussy, you bitch?”

“No… no, please, don’t… I’ll… I’m sorry for… for everything! Please, please, please…”

“A little late for that, you evil cunt! Now get ready to be used like the fucking cumrag you are!”

Kate tensed up and shut her eyes hard enough to make them hurt. She braced herself for pain, for agony. She tried to somehow make her mind escape somewhere, anywhere else. Wasn’t that something that happened in these situations? Some sort of protective dissociation? And yet her mind was nailed in place, as stuck to the bed as her body. She waited, shaking… and nothing happened.

“How rude of me!”, mocked Andrea. “I almost made my daddy take that pussy dry! That would hurt a lot! I could help with that situation, you know… but you’re not a filthy pervert like me, that likes cock and pussy alike… so… I have to say, I’m a bit conflicted! Wouldn’t want to make you a dyke against your will! But you can choose. Dry or dyke? Huh? Too shy to speak now, you cunt? Answer me! Dyke. Or. Dry.”

Kate couldn’t believe her ears. An image of the knife flashed in her mind. Fear took hold. Feel of pain, primal, deep. The promise of less pain seemed like an imperative, and her mouth spoke before she could stop it.

“Dyke…” she mumbled.

“Sorry? I couldn’t quite hear that”, saud Andrea.

“Dyke! Dyke! Dyke, goddamn you!”

“She’s out! She’s loud! She’s proud! Welcome to the club, sister! Now relax and let me introduce you to a brand new world…”

It felt gross. It felt odd. Kate tried to reframe it. It’s just lubrication. It’s just making it easier for later. It means nothing. It’s just a tongue. It’s just…

Andrea was good. Extremely so. She took pride in her oral skills and was using all her talents, all her tricks on Kate. Not because she wanted the little bitch to feel good: simply because she knew that pleasure would make her suffer as much as the pain to come. Every involuntary thrust of Kate’s hips, every muffled moan that escaped her lips was a step towards conquest… and Andrea felt like a warlord, like a terrible goddess exacting just revenge…

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she giggled. “But we can’t have you cumming like that… not when dear Daddy has been so, so patient!”

Fear crept from beneath the disgust Kate felt with herself. A part of her had enjoyed it, and she hated herself for it. Her body was starting to betray her, and that, more than anything, was terrifying. But now the pain would come. She knew that for a fact.

“Daddy, my sweet, sweet Daddy… break the cunt”, said Andrea.

“Please… don’t…” managed to mutter Kate.

It was in vain.

It did hurt. The man was a beast, savage, thrusting into Kate without the slightest care for her pleasure or comfort, using her body like an object to take out all his messed up frustrations, his fantasies, whatever was mixed up in the storm inside his brain. Kate whimpered and yelped and tried not to scream. And in her ear, a warm breath, whispering to her constantly.

“Good girl… won’t you cry for me? Like you made me cry so many times? You fucking slut… don’t fight it… you know what you are, deep down… don’t you miss my sweet tongue on your cunt? Relax… let it happen… you deserve this… and I’ve earned it… your pain… and what you will be for me later… when the pain is gone…”

Part of her mind was aware enough to realize Andrea was rubbing herself right beside her. But most of her mind was focused on the sensation between her legs, the burning, the feeling she was being torn apart… and something worse, slowly creeping its way into the strange mixture assaulting her consciousness. Andrea saw it immediately.

“It’s better now, isn’t it? You can feel it… it’s okay. You don’t have to lie. Not to me. We are sisters now, after all. I, made by the cock that is remaking you! It’s so… poetic, isn’t it? You are a slut. You’ve always been a slut, deep down… all you needed was someone to prove to you that a slut is all you need to be. All you deserve to be. No more queen bee at college for you! And I know you will be such a good little girl for Daddy…”

“Fuck… fuck you…”

“Oh, you’ll get to do that too! Want a taste?”

Andrea started slowly, kissing Kate’s neck, nibbling it, giving her victim goosebumps. Then she delicately removed her bra, and lips met sensitive skin. Kate’s nipples, hard against her will, were assaulted by kisses, suction, skillful licks. Andrea toyed with Kate, varying the pressure, the speed of her tongue, inserting playful little bites into the game. Measuring. Learning. Deciphering every preference, every weak point. To Kate’s horror, the pain was starting to feel duller, as if coming from far away. The pleasure, on the other hand, was sharper, demanding, a hungry thing coming from her own traitorous body. It was hard to think. Hard to keep any single idea in frame inside her mind. Too many stimuli, coming from too many places, attacking different parts of her idea of self. She felt as if she was drowning in sensation.

Andrea made her way down, slowly, as her father’s thrusts became a bit slower. Stamina wasn’t infinite, but she was quite confident that together they could get the job done. Together, they could do anything. It took a bit of careful positioning, but soon the tip of her tongue was able to tease the little cunt’s clit and even give her dear Daddy a little extra lick when he pulled his beautiful cock out, only to ram it into Kate again. Oh, if only this moment could last forever. Father and daughter locked eyes for a moment, in something that felt like a twisted perversion of love. It was time to move on to the next step.

Kate couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop her fucking body from reacting to the big cock inside her, the tongue playing her pussy like a violin, her own shame turned into a corruption of pleasure, disgust with herself that swirled and shifted and somehow enhanced the feelings that were eroding her sanity. And then, it snuck up on her.

Kate came, harder than ever in her life. Any pretense was undone at that moment. Her body was too honest. But the fucked up father and daughter team didn’t stop. No, they paused for only a second or two before resuming their work. It was too much. Kate shook as she came again. And again. And again.

She was exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Too confused to protest anything Andrea said. Her words just permeated, unfiltered, into Kate’s mind.

“...tell you? You can be such a good little whore… and we can be Daddy’s sluts together! Don’t you think he deserves it? His cock made you cum so much… your pain gave it so much pleasure… it owns you now. And you’ll love it, I know you will. We’ll make you love it so, so much, until you forget what a fucking bitch you were before…”

Kate didn’t even notice when the restraints were removed. There were stronger ones in place now, and she could feel them. Inside her head. She had been defeated. She had been conquered. She had surrendered.

“On all fours”, Daddy said. He didn’t have to say it twice. Kate complied. 

“Word on campus is that your little ass is the one hole you’ve been saving up for someone special! Well, I say you’ve met someone very special! So now Daddy will take the last bit of you and you’ll finally be entirely his! Isn’t that exciting? But… what about your poor fellow slut? I mean, I gave you pleasure too! I say I deserve a treat. So… you get pain for Daddy and he gets to watch you eat a pussy for the first time! What a show it will be! And we’ll make it a show, won’t we, sis?”

Yes. Whatever Andrea said. It was easier to comply. Easier to obey. Easier to just accept. It would hurt. Good. If her pain was what they wanted, they would have it. She would have sex with another girl. Good. If they wanted her to dyke out, she would. 

Kate’s screams sent vibrations through Andrea’s pussy, only making Kate’s inexperienced attempts at eating her out so much more delicious. Andrea felt like a queen, being serviced as she deserved. Mike was a beast, finally letting out something that had been suppressed in shame for far too long. Kate let her body take over, turning even pain into something else, something like purpose, or atonement. In a single day, all three had changed. Forever.

The tight, virgin ass, paired with the spectacle of this girl pleasuring his sweet little girl sent Mike over the edge. He barely managed to pull out before cumming with an intensity that shocked even himself. Kate’s back was soaked, and some drops had even landed on his own daughter’s breasts. 

Andrea licked her lips.

“Kate… sis… why don’t we clean each other up for Daddy?”

V - Epilogue

Mike woke up to the sensation of tongues on his cock, as was the norm. He let himself relax and sink into pleasure. To think that half a year ago, the idea of even looking at his daughter had felt revolting! How silly he had been. They loved each other. They made each other their best versions of themselves. Their most perverted versions. 

And Kate… how lovely it had all been. Sure, it had taken a little while for her to fully enter the family, but now she and her adoptive sister were inseparable. They went shopping for slutty outfits, they did their camshows together to make Daddy money… they had even made out in front of the Dean when they announced they were dropping out of college to be full-time whores. It was tender, in a way. Kate’s addiction to pain and humiliation had come as a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one- especially by Andrea, who had started to explore her sadistic side more and more.

Of course, they both adored Daddy. They were always ready, always willing to please him. After far too many years of gray, dull effort and solitude, Mike felt happy. He let himself enjoy that fact.

After he came, the girls licked each other clean, moaning as they savored their Daddy’s cum. With bright smiles, they leaped on the bed with Mike.

“Good morning, Daddy!” they said in unison.

Did you enjoy this story? You can get access to the full library and support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

Every bit helps!

[classicslesbianopinions]

#i agree antigone is more tragic but#i voted lloyd for the lols #antigone wouldve preferred it. she would smile sadly#hold lloyds hand #and say some dramatic shit like #go where i can not child #and think of me like a sister #for i am a sister to no brother any longer #but being yours would bring my joy #justice for lloyd (via @new-career-in-business)

you know what i don't know if i agree that antigone would say this but you've got a point

PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT: [SPOILERS AND POSSIBLE TRIGGERS AHEAD]

ANTIGONE:

LLOYD GARMADON:

[birder-of-remnant]

A Story Done Right

Kill Bill, The Princess Bride, Blue-Eyed Samurai, Wrath of Khan. Our media is saturated with revenge stories. Even children's tales often have revenge as a sweeping premise (e.g., the countless Star Wars villains as a modern example, but older tales such as Cinderella were even more rife with vindictive messages). And to be honest, I have never cared for this plot type.

Revenge stories are usually violent, merciless, myopic, and pretty disregarding of 'collateral' losses. Not all, but most lack any type of interesting moral symbology and substitute dynamic storylines and complex character development in lieu of exciting action scenes and a prosaic fixation on bloodshed. There are certainly exceptions to this, many of the titles I listed above actually have a lot of great things going for them. But I would say that these qualities are in spite of their focus on revenge and not because of it.

And there are an endless number of animes, movies, books, and other stories based on revenge that simply do not appeal to me (not judging other people if they like violent action media, just not my personal taste). Most of the time, I am just left feeling empty at the end, like Neo after volume 9.

But there is one exception to this theme. One revenge story that leaves me feeling whole, not empty. From the banner image, I think it is pretty obvious which story it is. This is my own highly subjective opinion, but I truly believe that the fight with Adam represents the perfect revenge story. And here is my reasoning.

Revenge is Not The Hero's Purpose

In too many stories, the premise begins with douchebag 'X' killing damsel 'Y', leading to hero 'Z' killing a lot of henchmen and blowing up a lot of buildings all for the singular purpose of making Mr. X pay. Once they achieve this purpose, they look around aimlessly before wandering off to have a milkshake or play golf or something. Yeah well, this story does not do this. Killing Adam was never the objective for Blake and Yang, because they have actual goals that involve saving people and not just executing some vendetta.

Don't get me wrong. I love redemption stories, I find them so much more satisfying, especially when the character in question has to struggle to overcome the gravity of what they have done (note: a redemption arc does not mean instant forgiveness, it might never end with actual for absolution for what they have done). I love Emerald's story and think it has a lot of interesting twists that it can take. But there are some characters who are just too far gone to save. And Adam fits that perfectly.

He has a tragic backstory and I truly pity him. But he is also an abusive, murdering shitlord who manipulated and groomed Blake (I wouldn't be surprised if he physically or sexually abused her, which is somewhat implied by her frequently defensive body posture, but is not definite). He kills out of spite and represents Yang's demon, who she could have become. It was cathartic to watch him fall, but I am ever so grateful that his demise was not the purpose of Blake and Yang. Because killing him out of spite for what he did to them would not be much different than the way he lashed out at others for the traumas that he has endured. Some might call it justice, but justice and revenge are two sides of the same coin and the edges between them can be blurry.

The point is, Yang and Blake are so much more than Adam. They killed him out of necessity, not out of hate.

They Are Set on the Future

As I mentioned, I often feel empty at the end of a revenge story. When the villain lies dead within a pool of their own blood and the hero has achieved everything they sought to accomplish, what more is there really? Often, I feel like the story has reached its ending without really achieving anything of note. Often, without really making the world a better place. A plot about revenge is not the same as one about taking someone down to save other people. The former is what Adam wanted and it would have made the world a worse place. But Yang and Blake are protectors. The fight was exhilarating and satisfying, but it ultimately humanized these characters whereas most revenge stories do the opposite, treating human life as cheap entertainment to be killed in the most 'epic' way possible.

But more important, the fight left me feeling excited about the future, rather than feeling burn out from seeing the villain die. Adam was fixated on the past. He was a character of the past. He represented Blake and Yang's trauma, their old demons and fears. He had no further place in their character arcs, because they had evolved into something so much more. Killing Adam was not the end of their story as it is in so many revenge plots. It was simply a new beginning. It felt whole and wholesome. Past, present, and future.

Because it is the People Who Matter

Ultimately, the fight was never about killing Adam. It was about bringing Yang and Blake together. About having them overcome the demons of their past. About the importance of mental health. About their individual traumas (abandonment issues & PTSD for Yang and Blake's fear of hurting others). About the challenges that LGBTQ+ people face in finding security in a hostile world. It was about these two, fucking amazing characters and the ineffably wondrous relationship that forms between them. One based on actual fucking support, equality, and love.

That is all I have on this right now. Hopefully, I did not offend too many people by criticizing typical revenge stories. But I have been wanting to talk about my love and appreciation of this scene for years. I know there have been so many more people who have discussed these same themes and points before, probably more adroitly than my rambling mess, but this is my rambling mess. Thanks for reading!

Random side trivia 1: Mandy Patinkin, the actor who played Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, is famous for his iconic line, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Mandy felt that the scene was symbolic of feelings towards the illness that took his father. But regarding revenge against people, he actually dislikes his iconic line and how it idolizes revenge.

Random side trivia 2: I love Jeff & Casey William songs and I just love BMBLY (except or that creepy line about the birds and butterflies knowing, wtf). But as an ecologist, I should note that bumblebees do not make honey. Jeff was thinking of European honey bees. Bumblees are cute, fuzzy, chunky super pollinators that live in the ground, in hollow plant stems, or other obscure spots and are either solitary or have very small hives. They virtually never bother people and are super pollinators, actually much better pollinators than honeybees (which are super awesome cool in their own right, but also highly invasive in the western hemisphere and hurt our native pollinators D: And yes, I cherry-picked the ugliest picture of one that I could find). Many bumblebees are endangered, just like our beloved Bumblebees. Save the bees! AND THE BEES!

[razorblade180]

Sunny Side

Whitley:Ruby. Wake up. *shakes her*

Ruby:Mmm, where’s the fire? It’s like five in the morning.

Whitley:It’s strawberry season in Patch.

Ruby:I am aware….

Whitley:Let’s gets some fresh fruit in breakfast. You can sleep on the airship.

Ruby:Okay- wha?

[The airship]

Ruby, half awake:….*looks to the right*

Winter: *listening to music*

Sparrow:I bet I can fly this.

Penny:Sir, please sit down. I already have a co-pilot.

Oscar:That is- he is a literal retired soldier.

Jaune and Weiss:*reading*

Nick and Summer:Zzzz

Ruby:Uncle Qrow?

Qrow:*playing cards* Yeah?

Ruby:We married rich.

Qrow:Is that sinking in now?

Ruby:Little bit.

Nora:And we’re reaping the benefits.

Ren:Whitley just didn’t want to feel your anger about a breakfast trip.

Valerie:*writing* I’m not complaining. My book report wasn’t finished.

Ruby:…Baaaaabe?

Whitley:What’s up sleepyhead.

Ruby:Can we make a detour?

xxxxxxx

Bzzz bzzz b-

Yang:*grabs scroll* Uuuuggh. Where’s the fire?

Ruby:Look outside bitch.

Yang rolls out of bed and practically crawls to her window where Blake is staring to see a fancy airship hovering near her house.

Ruby:Grab your pants, wife, and child. We’re gonna make mom’s pancakes.

Yang:….Sure.

xxxxxx

Whitley:Welcome to the breakfast express.

Yang:You need less money.

Blake:I bought some honey, syrup, and spices my mom made.

Whitley:This is why you’re my favorite member.

Ruby and Weiss:Wow that’s craaazy.

Veronica casually walks on board in her pjs and heads straight towards the twins without a second thought. She picks up a sleepy Summer that leans on her brother and moves her one seat down, then sits down. She tugs Summer so she falls back in place, offering her own right arm as a substitute while resting her head on Nick before promptly going back to sleep.

Yang:…At least she was nice about it.

xxxxxx

Knock Knock Knock

Tai:*opens door* ….Strawberry picking?

Yang and Ruby:Hehe, yeah.

Tai:I’ll go grab your old baskets.

xxxxxxx

Nick was used to the rich life, but even had to admit it was pretty surreal to be at home in the cold one moment, then woken up a few hours later to put on a sunhat and pick some berries. Everyone this morning was just…cool with it. This was life right now. Singing early birds and strawberry baskets.

Nick:Wasn’t there school today?

Summer:Don’t be lame and keep picking. Gods it smells nice out here. I’m a little jealous we don’t come here more often.

Valerie:The sun has barely risen and yet it’s so warm.

Veronica:Country air smells different from the sea or city life. I visit Gramps occasionally and even I’m not used to it. It’s pretty jarring.

Summer:Kinda like waking up in a different plane seat.

Veronica:If that’s what you want to compare it too.

Summer:Don’t sweep that under the rug!!!

xxxxx

Ruby:Pancakes 🎶

Yang:Whoop whoop🎶

Weiss:Pancakes 🎶

Winter.Whoop Whoop🎶

Nora:Pancakes pancakes pancakes pancakes🎶

Ren:Buttermilk, Strawberry, shortcake, or tall!🎶

Jaune:You already know I’m eating them all!🎶

Qrow :Crack a few eggs and hash a few browns!🎶

Tai:Put em on my plate and I’m gonna chow down!🎶

Penny:Grab a plate and some friends to tag along…🎶

Everyone:Took making cooking fun with the breakfast song!🎶

All the kids slowly set the table as they watched the grown ups cut up fruit, flip pancakes, pour drinks, and butter pans.

Veronica:You’re not gonna sing?

Blake:There are enough people in that kitchen.

Oscar:Yeah satisfied fixing chairs.

Whitley:*sitting* Zzzz

Sparrow:This guy planned everything and now decides to sleep!? *pokes face*

Ruby:Leave him alone!

Sparrow:Did she even turn around?

Oscar:Did she really need to with you?

xxxxxx

It took about half an hour before the smell of breakfast was rich enough to wake Whitley just in time. Now it was his who was wide awake as she happily carried trays in hand alongside Yang, Weiss, and Penny; they happily danced side to side in messy aprons as they put food on the table for everyone. Nora would’ve joined if she could be trusted, and Winter was happily on Nora restraint duty.

Stacks of strawberry pancakes in the shape of roses and buttermilk pancakes in the form of the sun were presented with hash browns, eggs, sausage, biscuits, ham, the whole spread and additional goodies for everyone to eat. They took their seat and looked at Whitley as if he wanted to make some grand speech.

Whitley:*smiles* You waiting for an invitation? *raises glass* To a good day.

Everyone:To a good day!

Not a moment was wasted passing around plates. Whitley went to grab a fork when his empty plate was suddenly replaced with a full breakfast by Ruby. The lady quickly cut a piece of the pancake drizzled in cinnamon syrup and raised to his face to make him blush.

Ruby:Thank you for the trip. Now say aaah~

Whitley:I-In front of everyone?

Ruby:Don’t be shy now. It’s just for the first bite. It’s tradition here. Then you give me a bite.

Qrow:If your sister can do it, you can too.

Winter:*chews shamefully*

They look at Weiss to see her eat off of Jaune’s fork without hesitation. She even opens her mouth again to receive another bite before giggling. Meanwhile the likes of Penny, Nora, and Blake, treated this like an everyday occurrence. With a display like that, Whitley had no choice but to summon the courage to say “aah” and get fed a bite.

Ruby:How is it!?

Whitley:…I can go for another.

[dissapointu]

“Loving curves” Viktor x reader (nsfw)

An: pretend he still had his dick ok? Or it was before he lost it-

In the dimly lit underbelly of Zaun, the air thick with the scent of oil and the hum of machinery, you sit alone in your small apartment, the clanking of your own contraptions a poor substitute for the sound of another person. You look down at your body, tracing the curves and rolls with a sigh. You've always been critical of your figure, seeing the extra pounds as a barrier to being truly desired.

Suddenly, a soft knock at your door stirs you from your self- deprecation. The door creaks open before you can even rise from your chair, revealing Viktor, his slender frame leaning heavily on his cane. His tired eyes meet yours, and there's a spark there, something you haven't seen before.

"Viktor," you stammer, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He steps inside, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in every inch of your body. "I heard you," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city.

"I heard you talking about yourself. You shouldn't speak that way."

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, embarrassed that he overheard your moment of weakness. "Viktor, I—"

He silences you with a gentle finger on your lips. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. "Every part of you. Let me show you."

Before you can protest, his lips are on yours, soft and gentle, yet insistent. His cane clatters to the floor as he leans into you, his hands cupping your face. You melt into his touch, your body responding to his with a fervor you didn't know you had.

He guides you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. You feel a pang of self-consciousness as you lie back, your body on full display. But Viktor's eyes are hungry, his gaze roving over you like a man starved. He joins you on the bed, his pale hands contrasting with your flushed skin as he begins to explore your body.

His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine. He starts at your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, the line of your throat. He moves lower, his hands skimming over your collarbone, your shoulders, your arms. He takes his time, his touch reverent, as if he's worshiping at the altar of your body.

You gasp as his hands find your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples, coaxing them to hardness. He leans down, his tongue replacing his thumb, swirling and sucking until you're arching off the bed, your hands fisting in his messy auburn hair. He lavishes attention on each breast, his eyes never leaving yours, gauging your reactions, adjusting his touch to your needs.

His hands move lower, tracing the curve of your stomach, the flare of your hips. You tense, your old insecurities rising to the surface. But Viktor merely smiles, his hands caressing your soft flesh, his eyes filled with desire. "You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with want. "Every inch of you."

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down and discarding them on the floor. He settles between your thighs, his breath hot on your most intimate place. You squirm, your body aching with need, your mind still whispering doubts. But Viktor silences them all with a single, long lick, his tongue parting your folds, his eyes locked on yours.

You cry out, your hips bucking, but Viktor holds you firm, his hands gripping your thighs as he begins to feast. He licks and sucks, his tongue exploring every crevice, every fold. He finds your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive nub, his fingers slipping inside you, curling, stroking, driving you higher and higher.

You're panting now, your body slick with sweat, your muscles taut as a bowstring. Viktor redoubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, his eyes never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his gaze, the raw, unadulterated want. He's enjoying this, enjoying you, enjoying every gasp and cry and shiver.

And then, you're there, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashes over you. You scream Viktor's name, your hands fisting in his hair, your body arching off the bed. He rides out your orgasm, his tongue and fingers drawing out every last wave of pleasure.

As you come down, your body limp and sated, Viktor moves up your body, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. He reaches your mouth, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

You reach for him, your hands fumbling with his belt, your fingers wrapping around his length. He's hard and hot in your hand, his breath hitching as you begin to stroke. He lets you explore, his body trembling under your touch. But when you guide him to your entrance, he takes control, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly, gently slides inside.

You both moan at the sensation, your bodies joined in the most intimate way. Viktor begins to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. He's gentle, his movements careful, as if he's afraid of breaking you. But you want more, you need more. You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his back, urging him on.

He gets the message, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. He's like a man possessed, his body driving into yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You can feel another orgasm building, your body coiling tight, ready to snap.

Viktor's mouth finds yours, his teeth biting at your lips, his tongue tangling with yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your breasts, your hips, your thighs, as if he can't get enough of you. You can feel his desperation, his need, and it sends you spiraling over the edge.

You come again, your body clamping down on his, your screams swallowed by his kiss. He follows you over, his body convulsing, his cock pulsing inside you as he finds his release.

In the aftermath, you lie there, your bodies entwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal. Viktor's head is pillowed on your chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. You feel boneless, sated, your body humming with pleasure.

You look down at Viktor, his tired eyes closed, a small smile playing on his lips. You realize that he meant what he said. He loves every part of you, every curve, every roll, every imperfection. And in that moment, you love them too. You love yourself, just as you are.

And as you drift off to sleep, Viktor's body warm and solid beside you, you know that you'll never speak badly of yourself again. Because you are beautiful, every inch of you. And Viktor has shown you that, has made you feel that, in the most primal, most intimate way possible. And you'll never forget it.

As you sleep, Viktor's arms wrapped around you, the hum of Zaun fades away, replaced by the sound of your shared breaths, the beat of your hearts. And you know, as you drift off into dreams, that this is just the beginning. This is the start of something beautiful, something real. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

But for now, you sleep, your body sated, your mind at peace. And Viktor sleeps beside you, his body wrapped around yours, a silent promise, a silent vow. You are his, and he is yours. And together, you'll face whatever comes your way.