#I actually do have memory problems irl

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

I have three thoughts that pop up every time I see a dusthide. Not all of them each time, but at least one

Most common thought: he have no ears 😭

Second most common: armadillo (armadillos have ears though, so I guess more pangolin? But the way they are segmented… the pangolin thing reminds me of their claws more though. Hmm, overthinks what species of real animals one can compare them to)

And the final one: so, remember those toys from the 2000s that you put on a magnet and they went from a ball to a little guy?

Update, I have gotten sleep and am now confused about why I was so sad every time I saw that they had no ears

[hexados-on-a-string]

the only reason hydron didnt live is bc if he was part of the brawler's interdimensional found family, that'd involve him getting a character arc on account of actually having a support system and also the fact that zenoheld is dead and they didn't wanna write that so they just killed off hydron. this lives in my brain though.

[thethingything]

also like, we'd given up on figuring out why we were so ill because we'd had other appointments and never got anywhere so we weren't planning on booking any more appointments for it.

the series of events that led to me booking an appointment last month was basically a butterfly effect kinda thing that started with me very intensely fixating on an AU version of my source and unrepressing a bunch of stuff as a result so like, remember kids: being unhinged about the guy that lives rent free in your head is a really good idea sometimes

[woodlandscab1n]

mmmmmmm want tooooo work on the dbd au's doc but also no. explode. implode even... i am too lazy and exhausted and if i have to think about dbd leon 1 more second more i might explode because we are ptsd twinses and ptsd twinsies have ptsd swag moments at the same time (i will have an episode thinking a little too much about how he feels because emotional flashbacks are a thing. fuck you brain)

[strawberryxginger]

tfw you can't laugh at any "i hate maths" joke cause you're good at it

[incidentallysunny]

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

-

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

[growling]

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

[illmoraineakoi]

Friendly Reminder that the Vessel Eggs are Freaking Huge.

Also Obligatory Birthplace Egg is the only Egg Asset with Void Vines attached to it remark.

It was always strange to me how large Vessel eggs really are, especially because there really seems to be little need for it. Vessel hatchlings/nymphs are Tiny. Why are the eggs so big in comparison?

There seems to be waaaay too much unnecessary/excess space in each egg if there's only one Vessel per egg. Usually with eggs, by the end of the gestation period, the spawn is cramped in there with very little excess room. Extra unused space is wasteful, and biology hates being wasteful.

This is why I've personally always subscribed to the headcanon of Vessels eggs actually being more like Egg Sacs/Egg Cases than typical eggs. Both are when, for irl bugs, multiple larva/nymphs hatch from the same "egg"-like gestational container. Egg sacs are common for spiders (they make the actual sac itself with silk; here's a great video showing how one is made.) while cockroaches are know for egg cases (Here's a video of some hatching.)

Ghost's egg clearly isn't that much bigger than the other egg assets, it's just less destroyed, so it's size is a good reference for how big all of them would have been. And it's big enough for at least a handful of Vessel nymphs to have fit inside at once.

^ Case in point.

(You could probably squeeze a few more in there if you treat it more like a the sphere it's supposed to be and also depending on the horns. The main limiter are the heads/shells, since those are the hard parts* of a Vessel; Vessel nymph bodies seem to be quite squishy and flexible.)

(*= This is assuming that Vessel shells were hard during their gestation period. There is a chance they might not have been, since newly hatched nymph insects tend to have flimsy bodies for a while. The Birthplace memory shows that Vessels had hard shells at that point, and that seems really close to the point of hatching, so it seems likely that they hatched with hard shells rather than needing to wait a bit for them to harden up. Also, Vessel biology is weirdly wonky, so irl stuff doesn't really matter.)

Also, curiously, it seems Vessel eggs have two layers:

There's the outer shell, but there's very clearly a second, inner thing that has been broken out of. The different in the breaking look from the outer shell suggests this inner layer is made of a different material. The Pale King's egg lacks this, to it's at the very least unlikely to be a Wyrm thing, or at least not a Wyrm thing on it's own. It might be something unique to the union of Wyrm and Root and thus unique to the Vessels.

It could be a Root Thing, but we know jack shit about the White Lady and exactly how much she contributed to the Vessels.

I mean, we know literally nothing about how the Vessels were made besides Pale Babies Get Thrown Into The Liquid Shadow Pit To Get Stuffed With Black Goop, but that's besides the point.

There's also two alternative theories for why the eggs are so big that I'd like to touch upon: Void Swelling, and Stunted Development.

Let's go with Void Swelling first.

In snake eggs, the eggs tend to get a bit bigger by the time they hatch. Normally, it's not too much. Sometimes, however, the eggs really seem to swell up. Most people I've heard/seen talking about this think that the eggs are absorbing and retaining water from the humid incubation environment. Sometimes it's indicative of a problem; sometimes those swollen eggs start to rot, making it clear that that gestation has failed. Other times, the snake just hatches with a lot of egg goop.

It's possible that the Vessel eggs are so large because they've just been swollen up from the Void infusing into them.

Two problems with this theory: Vessels eggs are clearly hard-shelled, and hard-shelled eggs don't swell. At least, I've never heard of them doing that, but I'll admit I'm not a bird person. Perhaps some eggs got stuffed with way too much void and popped open before it was ready to hatch.

The second issue is that the Abyss is not what I would call a humid place (or, at least, it doesn't LOOK humid), and we don't see any liquid Void anywhere near where the eggs are in the Abyss. All the liquid Void we see is to the left of Vessel Corpses, and we see no egg assets anywhere on the way to and around the Lighthouse.. This makes it rather ambiguous how the Void even infused into the eggs at all, let alone if liquid Void was involved. Given how deep the Birthplace goes, it's impossible to tell what was at the bottom of that shaft before all of the corpses stuffed it up.

Unless ambient smoky environmental Void could have stuffed into the eggs enough to engorge them, which is also a possibility. Void is weird and we know little about how it works/behaves. Still unlikely due to the hard shells, but it's a theory.

The second theory is less about too much Void in the eggs and more about not enough Vessel.

It's possible that, at the time of Void infusion (and thus, death for the gestating Pale Children nymphs) the influence/corruption of the Void caused the Vessels to just stop developing. Dead things don't grow or develop after all.

Perhaps the eggs are so large because the original offspring that was supposed to hatch from those eggs were really supposed to be that large. They were supposed to be the spawn of a Wyrm and a Root combined. Even if the White Lady hadn't of been so big at the time of the Vessel Plan, she's shown she was always capable of eventually growing large. And if the offspring took aspects from PK's original Wyrm form over his dinky bugsona, which I would assume to be possible bc DNA and Genetics, then a larger size would also potentially be expected.

Or maybe some Pale Children would have gotten the Wyrm gene while others got the Bugsona gene, which is what Hornet got, and is absolutely hilarious to think about. Imagine getting riffed on by a twelve foot high sibling bc you got dad's Short Gene.

There's one issue with this theory, and that is of course, Broken Fucking Vessel. Broken Vessel always throws wrenches into Vessel theories, it's like their favorite past time.

Broken Vessel has aged. And, Hollow, more obviously, but BV is the main confusing one. Broken Vessel proves that Vessel can age on their own, without the potential influence/assistance of the King. BV proves that Vessel development isn't permanently stunted.

The most logical solution to this issue I've seen is exposure to the Void. Vessels, on a fundamental level, are made up of Void. It is intrinsically entwined with their very physiology. They're not just walking corpses stuffed full of Void and a Shade, their very flesh IS Void and that Shade.

Case in point:

BV, out of any other Vessel outside of Hollow, is the one who could have potentially come into contact with Void after leaving the Abyss. They're found in the Ancient Basin, which at the time of the game is heavily Void tainted (likely due to the Lighthouse being off and PK fucking off to Buzzsaw Land. That light had likely been the only thing keeping the Void suppressed underneath the Basin.)

PK could have used Void to supplement Hollow's growth into adulthood because Vessels probably literally cannot grow or age without it. Hence why Ghost and all the other escapee Vessels are stuck as nymphs while BV grew a tiny bit.

Of course, the solution to the BV issue also ruins the stunted embryonic development theory too. It's a rather poor and weak theory that I've included only because I though it was a bit interesting. Thinking about what the original Pale Spawn would have been like is always interesting to me.

With that, I have just one more thing to point out.

Ma'am, how the FU--

[finnbbl]

Hyunjin x M! Reader - Dancer AU | SMAU | Chapter 7

Ch. 7 - Friend? | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

| Story Masterlist |

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I just wanted to mention that I’m aware this may not be how it actually is to be a backup dancer, or that this stuff wouldn’t actually happen IRL. However, it is just a story and an AU so it really isn’t that serious. I ask to just enjoy the story and not criticize plz !! tysm for your support :)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes lol

That conversation was one you particularly weren’t fond of. It did you no good and only flooded back negative memories. Sounds silly, but you had your own reasons. All you could have hoped was that they were just bluffing and wouldn’t actually try to go through with the idea. What really shocked you was Lia. She was on board with it and was encouraging it, despite what you had told her years prior. Maybe she just forgot? Or did you imagine you told her and to never really did. Both was a possibility and now you were second guessing yourself. If the second option was true then you were upset for no reason, which only caused you to feel guilty. All these thoughts ran through your head and it felt like one big jumbled mess. You sighed as you saw the studio come into sight. You had arrived, thank god. Maybe you could push everything out of your head now.

As you guys stepped off the bus one by one, you were led by staff members were you were given instructions. You had about 10 minutes before group rehearsal would start. You’d actually be dancing with Stray Kids. It started to be come hard to believe, how had you gotten to this point? No idea, but all you knew is you were incredibly lucky. And you weren’t gonna allow yourself to let them down or take this opportunity for granted. As everyone was doing stretches or warming up, the eight of them wandered in. Laughing and bantering with each other. You decided to try and avoid eye contact with them right now, especially Hyunjin. This whole thing was new and you felt rather awkward about the situation. Making eye contact with him would only make you start thinking, and you’d most likely be distracted. You couldn’t afford it right now. So, you blocked everyone out as you continued your leg stretches. It was definitely something you’d always struggled with. You weren’t the most flexible and always had trouble with this particular stretch. Sitting on the floor as you did your best to reach your toes.

However, this was quickly interrupted as everyone was called by the choreographer. He was there to make sure everyone was on point. His plan was to watch the members do it, then the backup dancers. Followed by combining everyone to make sure it looked good. That’s when something had caught your ear. They said you had only one day to rehearse, you must’ve gotten dates mixed up. It wasn’t really a problem for you, but it was stress inducing none the less. You’d made a mistake of mixing up the dates and now you had to deal with it. You convinced yourself you’d be fine.

Hours and hours went on of rehearsal. It was exhausting dancing for hours upon hours for sure, but dance was something that had brought you comfort and peace. Even with the yelling, the sound of feet against the floor and deep breaths of the others around you. Somehow you were able to tune it out, and focus on your performance and matching the moves to the music. Then, it wasn’t long before it came to an end. Around 9 P.M. it was. Staff, managers, and the choreographer had praised you all. They gave encouraging words as you exited the building. You all waited and waited for the buses to show up outside. Everyone else had seemed to have had their own little groups already. They must’ve all known each other already, wasn’t that great for you. It felt so awkward, standing off to the side as you impatiently tapped your foot on the ground, hoping the buses would show up soon. Fortunately for you, you received a phone call. That would give you some relief and not make you feel like an absolute idiot all by yourself.

Pulling the phone out of your pocket, you noticed it was San calling. Most likely to check up on you and see how your day went. San was probably one of your biggest supporters right now, aside from your girls. You could tell he was a very genuine person who had a very kind and fun personality. Swiping right, you brought the phone up to your ear.

“Hey, San! What’s up?” You spoke as you glanced around for the buses once more.

“Y/N! Just wanted to see how rehearsal went, was it fun?”

“Yeah, definitely. You know how much I enjoy this stuff.” You smiled, chuckling lightly into the phone. Making sure to be aware of how loud your voice was, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself.

“Awesome, the concert’s in a few days right?” With hearing San’s question, you sighed. Being reminded of your careless mistake.

“Ah no actually. I mixed up the dates, it’s tomorrow.” You said sort of embarrassed.

“Well, it’s nothing you can’t handle I’m sure. I know your trip has been hectic so far but, hang in there. It’ll get easier.”

“Thank you, so much San. It means a lot.” Truly, you found his words quite comforting and reassuring. You’d traveled with a few other groups, sure. But none of them were as popular as this one. So although it was entirely new, there were definitely some things you had to adjust to.

“Oh I wanted to ask by the way-“ As San had started to ask, his question was interrupted by a small shriek that came from your side of the call. Followed by a male’s laugh.

You had felt someone poke your sides. You weren’t really ticklish, but it definitely caught you off guard and scared you a little bit. Turning around ready to swing, you were met with Hyunjin laughing. At this point you had suddenly forgot you were on the phone. Before you could say anything, San had brought you back to reality as he spoke.

“You okay?” A laugh had laced his voice. He had known the surface of your situation as you had explained a lot of it.

“Yeah I’m okay it’s just some idiot.” Making sure to put an emphasis on the ‘idiot’ part, specifically so the blonde male that decided to surprise you, could hear. His face fell into a playful pout as you focused your attention back on the phone call.

“Didn’t know your voice could go that high.” At this point, San had to be teasing you. It was a lie if you had claimed you weren’t embarrassed by that. In your eyes, it wasn’t a very flattering thing.

“Anyways, you sound busy so I’ll let you go.” You took a peek at Hyunjin who still had a small pout worn on his face.

“Alright then, bye San. Talk to you later.”

“See ya y/n.” Pressing your finger on the red button, ending the call with a smile. It quickly faltered as you turned to the blonde haired boy who has interrupted your call.

“Now was that necessary?” You let your head fall to the side with an unamused face, crossing your arms. “Was calling me an idiot necessary?” Hyunjin retorted, taking a step closer mocking your movements. Except his eyebrows were raised as if he was very much aware of what he was doing. Shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Anyways, what do you want?” Your body relaxed as you searched for an answer in his facial expressions.

“I don’t know you seemed lonely so…” Hyunjin swung his body side to side. Almost as if he was trying to act shy, though both of you knew that was definitely not like him. Narrowing your eyes, a few brief moments of silence followed. “Well you must’ve not noticed I was in fact on the phone.” Sarcasm was now leading your voice. You hadn’t known him for very long, but for some reason you felt as if it was the opposite. Almost like you’d known him longer than Lia. Despite your hesitance of interacting with him, as the situation felt rather awkward and unusual, something about him drew you in. And it wasn’t long before those feelings of uneasiness got pushed to the side. You found yourself enjoying the banter you shared.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar yet unfamiliar male voice. “Hey Hyunjin, why’d you run off so quick?” It was a short haired male, and you couldn’t help but notice that his face was rather representative of a fox. Remembering his name was Jeongin, or I.N, he glanced between you and Hyunjin. It shown on his face that his question was answered.

“Oh, this is my new friend Y/N.” The word “friend” fell out of his mouth, and it caught you off guard as you almost didn’t know what to say. “Friend?” You questioned, making sure your ears weren’t fooling you. “Yeah, I mean.. what you don’t wanna be?” That definitely wasn’t the case, you particularly didn’t mind it would just take some getting used to. “You’re always putting words in my mouth I swear dude.”

“Yeah, you’re just easy to tease that’s all.” He shot a dorky yet mischievous smile as you briefly raised your eyebrows. “Sure.” That’s when you two were interrupted by Jeongin. “You know we should go, I see the buses.” I.N spoke to Hyunjin, “I’ll be right there.” He said before turning back to you, “Well, see you tomorrow then.” He nudged you with his shoulders before lightly jogging back over with Jeongin. Waving bye to him as it was finally time to head back to the hotel. You wasted no time at all, it had seemed like a such a long day and you knew you’d most likely pass out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @onementally-unstabel-kid @uso-dakedo

[bubblinelovechild]

The RWBY fandoms treatment of Adam makes me very uncomfortable

This is very long sorry I was rambling <3

There’s something really odd about the dedication RWBY fans have to hating Adam. So much so that they’ll admit the writing of the WF is racist but refuse to admit that Adam a member of the white fang also suffered from that racist writing.

There’s this weird dedication to pretending there are no problems with the choices made around Adams character and vilifying literally everyone who tries to talk about it, for the sake of continuing to blindly hate him. The fandom seems to struggle with understanding that the show is fictional and everything that happens in it is a direct choice of its writers. Y’all talk about Adam like he is a real person who has personally offended you irl. Just a huge lack of media literacy tbh.

A white man wrote a civil rights group, that he admittedly based off the black panthers, as the generic bad guys of his shitty anime knockoff and made a central theme of the show the idea that fighting against your oppression violently makes you just as bad if not worse than your oppressors. Then he mad the leader of that group a generic abusive meanie bad guy. Who essentially is what white supremacists think civil rights activist are all the way down to being the fictional equivalent of a black supremacist.

When there was backlash to this he made a knockoff Malcom X and then killed her in her only scene and made a character whose ideology is basically sit down and lick the feet of your oppressors and had the audacity to say he was based off of MLK. How the fuck do you base a character off of somebody without doing basic research on them because contrary to what people seem to believe MLK was not a doormat and this is a conversation for a different day but I’m sick and tired of his memory being weaponised against black people.

What’s worse is that Adam is the only character portrayed as actually doing something to fight racism. Ghira’s faction is only ever seen fighting against other groups. I don’t know if y’all know this but that’s not how the civil rights movement worked. Most of the leaders didn’t agree on methods but they coexisted because the main goal was the liberation of black people and they knew they had to coexist. MLK did not go around calling the cops on revolutionaries he disagreed with.

The problems with Adam and the WF are not separate and cannot be. Most of what’s wrong with the Faunus plot line is the way the show handles Adam. The choices made with his writing cannot be separated from those they made with the WF overall. Adams choice to kill his attackers to keep himself and other Faunus safe, from people literally trying to kill them, is treated the way it is because of the stance they took with WFs writing. When Adam kills a human supremacist trying to kill Ghira you’re supposed to see it as an extreme and the beginning of his turn to evil. Adam isn’t a real person every descisiom he makes is informed by the white writers of the show. Why would the bias they displayed writing the WF not apply to him?

Some of you have been abused and relate to Blake in that sense, a lot of you seem to be projecting your abusers onto Adam. I’m sorry you went through that but you are not excused from buying into racist rhetoric. It’s incredibly uncomfortable as a black person to watch people talk about how “healing” it was for them to watch a civil rights leader admittedly inspired by black people slapped around and killed by two white women. It is anger inducing to watch fans celebrate “queer representation” dancing on the corpse of a monumental disrespect to black people and our history.

RWBY doesn’t even handle abuse well tbh and most of the queer rep is not that great, there are many shows that do it so much better, there is actually no excuse for hanging on to the black people are bad for fighting against racism show.

[seiless]

This may get a bit dark, but how about some heavy hurt/comfort. I used my irl d&d campaign as my Astarion route Tav (tiefling wild magic sorceress) intending for BG3 to be the next adventure in her storyline after the d&d campaign... then my DM threw some really messed up angst at her, knowing I'm a lover of angst and Astarion. Turns out her mother (a queen & sorceress) had been using her as a pawn to seduce, charm, and eliminate rivals who wished to usurp her throne, then erased the memories and planted false ones.

So maybe dome hurt/comfort of Astarion when Tav finds out what she's actually been through, her life has been a pie, etc etc? If this is too heavy/too specific, pls just delete but the campaign has been being A TIME for me and I need some Astarion affection

(The first prompt is finished, at last! Many more to come! U V U)

You were used. Of course you were. If all your other companions had some sort of difficult or twisted past, why would you be any different?

But it wasn’t that you had one as well that bothered you. What had your stomach in knots and your heart twisting apart was the fact that it had been happening your whole life…and you hadn’t ever once noticed.

That you weren’t just your mother’s daughter; no, far from it. You were your mother’s tool. A weapon for her to wield, to manipulate and coerce others to do what she needed them to do.

Not only did you never have a say in the matter…you didn't even realize it. Not until your memories were forcefully returned by the tadpole and broke whatever insidious curse that kept the truth at bay.

They didn’t come all at once; they started as nightmares, over the course of months. The kind that became more frequent, more vivid.

And then the realization struck; they weren’t nightmares at all. They were memories. Shadowheart helped you come to this realization when you explained what you were suffering through each night.

Astarion had been awre of these dreams that tormented you; sharing a tent did make that easy. But you had insisted he not worry; it was your problem to resolve, and he had enough he had to deal with.

But that didn’t stop him from keeping a close eye on you. So when you strode from Shadowheart’s tent that night and made a beeline for your own, he could tell quite clearly something was wrong.

His gaze flicked to Shadowheart, who had lingered at the entrance and watched as you steppped away. She was worried; that much was obvious.

Astarion pursed his lips, but knew there was little time to wait. With a lift of his chin and a fluff of his tunic, he made his way over to the tent you had disappeared into.

Of course, he could hear the sobs before he’d even reached you. The sound was muffled, pressed into the palm of your hand. 

It did make his heart twist. You had done so little to deserve such distress (well, in his unbiased opinion).

His initial thought was to dismiss any heartfelt attempt at comfort, say something lighthearted and teasing to break the heaviness that suffocated the tent.

He thought better of it, and instead reached out to take hold of your hand, gingerly forcing your attention away from the bedroll you had all but pressed yourself tightly into.

You turned your head some, offering a little acknowledgement to the vampire.

But there was little else you could do; not without a whole new waterfall of tears gushing forth.

“What did they say?” He asked gentlyin a soft voice; gentle enough that it might coax you from the whimpering.

You shook your head, averting your gaze back to the dirt in front of you.

“It was all real. The nightmares…t-they were memories. All of it. .I was…I was a tool. A pawn, used by my own…” You choked back a sob, and he could hear your teeth grind as your jaw clenched tightly. My own mother.”

Astarion nodded quietly; he had suspected as much, given the vividness and the sheer amount of detail you were able to recall with each instance.

You bit your lip, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I don’t know what to think…the things I did for her, Astarion, what I thought was right, what would help her….the people I hurt, that I-!’

“I’m quite familiar with it, darling.” Astarion’s tone remained gentle, if only with a hint of a teasing lilt. “If it’s any comfort, at least you didn’t know the things you were doing were inherently wrong.”

You whipped your glare back to him, pulling your hand from his. “That doesn’t make it any better. That makes it worse. I couldn’t even atone for my sins because I thought it was the right thing to do. That I was doing it for her- Gods, I can’t believe…”

There was a deep, unending understanding in his heart. There were few who could understand what you were going through. 

“I…I am sorry, my love. I know exactly what you’re going through. To have come from your own mother is unfathomably awful. It is something no one deserves…least of all, you.”

You nodded, pushing the tears away as you worked to sit yourself upright. Your expression was bordering on embarrassed; sheepish. Like you were ashamed to be telling him any of this.

“Thank you, Asta, really. But…but I don’t think it’s anything like what you had to go through. I wouldn’t dare compare the two things.”

“You didn’t. I did. You weren’t given a say in your actions; certainly, you may not have been tormented and brutalized in a whole host of different ways, but-”

“My point exactly,” You frowned, this time moving to take his hand in your own. Your body was hot with sorrow; with anger. “You don’t need to try and-”

“I’m not doing anything other than giving you the same compassion you've shown me. You needn't belittle your experiences simply because it doesn't compare to my own.”

“I-I’m not trying to comp- I just- I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to be this. I hate that this is what I am. I hate that she made me this way, and I didn’t even know it. And I don’t want to t-talk about it either, because I’m hardly t-the only one with issues like this!”

“But you still need time to process it, as we all did. And you will not be alone in this. Quite the contrary; I’m certain there’s a number of people that are willing to be there for you, aside from myself.”

“That’s…that’s true.” You sniffed, taking in a long, shaking breath in a feeble attempt to calm down. “I’m sorry. You're right, I’m just…I’m not in a good headspace. I do need some t-time to process it.”

“Couldn’t agree more, darling.” Astarion smiled softly, “Would you prefer to be on your own? I’ll gladly fuck off, if you demand it.”

“No.” You shook your head, holding out a trembling hand. “I want you to stay.” 

Cool fingertips skated over your palm, and laced with your own as he drew you gently into his chest. Deceptively broad, and reliably strong, you melted into him, unwinding your hands so that you could properly wrap your arms around him and fall into a much needed embrace.

Astarion laid you both down gingerly, prizing your comfort as the floodgatesopened once more.

You don’t know how long you cried, and at certain points, you weren’t entirely sure what your breaths were hitching for.

But when the storm passed, and you finally cried yourself asleep, Astarion was there.

Unwavering in his loyalty, reluctant to let you go for even a moment, his thoughts were filled only with you.

Well, you and a variety of schemes to take revenge on your mother, but you nonetheless.

You were there in the darkest of times, and knew you would remain at his side when he finally found the strength to face his greatest fears.

There could be no doubt that he would do the very same for you. He would never allow such a concern to ever cross your mind.

[mikailys]

MCL NewGen Ep 7 Commentary

Since there's a lot to cover I think it's for the best doing a full post, so under the cut you go~

First thing first, I have actually liked it, a lot. The whole fake dating situation is hilarious, as the continuous teasing between Candy and Mr. Mendal. In some points it kinda took a toll on me and I had to physically stop the game, get up and go taking a walk around the house because the second-hand embarassement was really something, but despite everything it was enjoyable.

I read some players didn't like the fact it was way shorter than the others but I didn't really mind it. It had everything I expected and even more. Nonetheless I have to agree with the ending, it could have been a little lesser rushed but as for the things were unfolding on Jason's route, that was for the best. I liked how Candy rushed out of the apartment without a caring in the world, leaving Jason and the realtor discussing in there lol

I won't spend a lot of words on how Candy "decided" it was the right moment to move out, I understand she wants her autonomy and indipendence but the Tasha's sketch wasn't a good example. If such a scene had happened in irl, it would have had a different ending. Certainly my mother wouldn't have defended her knowing that I would have to go to work while my sibling is messing around, trying some TikTok trend in the only bathroom of the mansion. But alas that's how they do it in the Dolga's household and, as a consequence, Candy has to wash herself in the kitchen sink... I feel for you love :/

Anyway, leaving this nonsense aside, the whole visit to the apartment was a nice, peculiar emotional rollercoaster. Starting with a Jason who blindly agrees to pretend to be our fianceè, to a Candy who has to pretend to be his mistress. Damn, Jason really? You didn't have any other ideas in that pretty head of yours? What were the chances...

And so begins the banter between the two, with a pinch of sexual references. At the beginning, they were funny, ngl — I was a bit shocked to hear such innuendos from Jason already, but that's fine, I'm not complaining AT ALL.

However, the problem was their excessive repetition, and given the context, they were totally out of pocket rip realtor who had to witness this whole charade, I would ask for a raise for the hours wasted with these two

As they say, the joke's gone far enough and Candy, after being humiliated for the thousandth time, goes apeshit with JayJay. I really appreciated when she dropped the act and demanded some respect. Knowing her backstory it's obvious that hearing all those mean things and having to play the role of the mistress, even if only for pretend, brought her sorrow and unpleasant memories Ioan when I catch you, you filthy worm >:(

Unfortunately, Jason doesn't realize the gravity of the situation he created and continues to tease her until Candy finally bursts into tears and tells him about her past with Ioan. I loved how as soon as she tells him, his expression completely changes, and he suddenly slips into the who did this to you trope.

I mean- LOOK AT HIS FACE, LOOK AT THE SUDDEN CHANGE OF EXPRESSION WHEN HE HEARS ABOUT IT UGHSKJSNKA I LOVE HIM SM AGENT

And so we get the special scene. I think it's one of my favorites; it's the first time we see Jason being so distressed and regretful while apologizing to Candy and carefully wiping her tears. BEAUTIFUL.

I love when my men beg for forgiveness.

After the special scene Candy cheers up, even if still pissed at Jason, decides to forgive him because, quoting her verbatim, she "doesn't want to stay angry with him indefinitely" oh dear you're also so down bad

Also, it seems that Jason already knew Ioan's last name, and it also seems that he wants to make him pay. I'm totally in for whatever form of revenge you pick dear, 'cause he deserves it. A bummer though that my Goldreamz and EPMC collab headcanon will remain only a mere headcanon :(

The episodes ends with the poor, traumatised realtor kicking us out of the apartment and Jason, who is trying to talk business with him (maybe he wants to pay her back for ruining the visit and giving her a second chance to rent the apartment?), while Candy is running out with tail between her legs, ready to start the afternoon work shift. 🙃

What an eventful lunch break it has been, uh?

Anyhow, the next ep leaves me confused?? Although I don't like Roy and I don't want to know anything about his weird swimming practices — I'm curious in how they're going to include Jason with such a peculiar plot. 🤔

[thefirstknife]

So, is there a "prevailing" idea/theory/lore fact on why Osiris and Saint have different memories of things? That he really isn't "our" Saint, or that he and Osiris just remember things differently because even IRL people who were there for the same thing can remember it happening in different ways since memory isn't infallible? Something else? (I don't personally think it changes that Saint is Saint--unless he was pulled from a timeline where he had radically different experiences that would shape him into a wildly different person, he's still himself at his core across all those timelines that would lead to him being the same person.)

From what I've seen, most people just assume that the Conductor is correct and Osiris fucked up or something and we saved the wrong Saint.

Personally, I think it's more complicated than that, especially with today's reveal about the Saint that died. Originally, it was never cleared up if us saving Saint completely overwrote his death. Like, we didn't know if his grave would simply be gone after we saved him. It appears not (or at least that's what Ikora believes; Ikora is convinced we'll find his body there)! Which is really interesting because there's several really complex things involved, most notably the time paradox.

This is really difficult to get across but basically, we can pretend that the original Saint that died is Saint 1 and the one we saved is Saint 2. Saint 1 must've met us because we found the remains of the Perfect Paradox on his body. We took that and crafted the gun and then delivered it to Saint 2 in another timeline who is then saved. But that creates a problem of how does Saint 1 have it; we have to give it to him too. And if we gave it to him, that means the Sundial was created and we're there. This is further complicated by the nature of the Infinite Forest as a simulation engine. The Perfect Paradox is a really big point, as is the whole actual time paradox. I think it significantly complicates the situation to go beyond the simple "oh it's just a Saint from some other timeline and we rescued a wrong one." Obviously, it depends on how detailed they want to go with this story right now.

Even if these are two different Saints, they both must've met us which sets the course for Saint's life and shouldn't really change much about it. The divergence possibly happens in regards to whether or not Osiris creates the Sundial in that timeline (but if he doesn't, then the Saint that dies can't have the Perfect Paradox on him). If Osiris' "real" Saint died and we saved another one, there should not actually be any significant difference with their memories. Their memories should NOT differ. And they didn't, until the yoke.

That means that the yoke is what caused this and if it's caused by the yoke, then we can't really fully believe anything that the Conductor put in Saint's head. So far we've seen them having diverging memories on one thing, but just before that, we saw them in complete agreement on their memories. And Saint never experienced this before with anyone else either. My conclusion is that the Conductor scoured the timelines for other Saints and fed him other memories that may exist, which naturally caused an existential crisis.

This week Saint also seems to be doing better. He exhibited other memories that we know are correct, like where and when he met us and how that all went. He also specifically doubts the Conductor's manipulation by saying that he remembers the smells and sounds of the City normally, so how can he possibly be a fake?

I wonder how they'll go about this. How in-depth they'll dig and if there's an easier explanation that I'm not seeing. I do think that a significant part of the solution will just be convincing Saint that no matter what, he is Saint who lives with Osiris right now and that's it. It doesn't matter which version he is. Saint already had some thoughts like this today in the radio!

If anyone else wants to take a crack at the time shenanigans, feel free to add!

[strawberryflavoredvenum]

Creepypasta hcs:

Jeff:

He loves music. He's one of those people who has an earbud in 24/7, even if they're talking to you. He's damaged his hearing from loud metal/rock. Something about being alone with his thoughts bothers him.(Same)

I don't think he would like Midwest emo/classic emo music and will make fun of other proxies for listening to it.(Nina and toby)

He couldn't care less about if the bands are run by terrible people. He doesn't try to justify anything he just doesn't care.(most of the creepypastas don't/are too busy to do research)

He doesn't think about his past at all and hates when it is brought up. He still loves liu as his brother but avoids him because he brings back memories.

He would totally be one of those guys with a scruffy face/ patchy beard if he could grow one.

The hair on his head is patchy and thin. He would like to try new styles but is scared to cut it because it hardly grows. He's insecure of his hair and is scared of balding when he gets older.

Toby:

He had dysgraphia and hates writing. He pushes any paperwork onto other people and blames laziness. Even if he does paperwork his handwriting isn't readable to even himself.

LOVES Midwestern emo bands like the front bottoms or McCafferty. He would have wanted to join a band like that if he wasn't a proxy. He couldn't care less about what Jeff says.

He's much more quiet than the fandom depicts. He stares at people and has a monotone voice. He gets along well with everyone but keeps his friend circle extremely small.

He's good friends with clockwork, not romantically though. He doesn't feel romance towards anyone and likely never will. Natalie is big sister figure for him, a stand in for Lyra.

Nina

Became obsessed with Jeff during a manic episode and now that everything has happened she isn't that interested in him anymore.

She doesn't regret becoming a proxy but regrets how it happened. She wants an identity outside of being a Jeff fan girl and makes a point to go out on her own.

She would have a tumbler and myspace if the proxies were allowed to have social media.

She watches a lot of anime and loves the yandere subculture. She loves cosplay and has even done some of her own. She even does anime mannerisms irl and the other creepypastas make fun of her for it.

When she first joined the proxies, she was kind of a pick me and didn't get along well with the other girls. Now that she's been living in the mansion for a while, she's way nicer to the girls than the guys. She's a girl's girl now. (Also having her bi awakening sped this process along)

She wants a parental figure and will force that role on slender man. Deep down she knows Slenderman doesn't care for her but pretends anyway.

She's a maladaptive daydreamer. She started when she was younger to escape from reality and it's grown to be an actual problem. (speaking from experience lol) She'll listen to music/ anime intros and pace around her room for hours making up stories about her favorite anime/ media. She used to daydream about Jeff but not anymore.

Jane:

ABSOLUTELY HATES when people compare her to jeff. She hates Jeff but mostly avoids him. Jeff isn't worth her effort half the time.

She's insanely protective over the other girls, especially Sally. She didn't get along with Nina at first but she's now like a little sister to Jane.

She has long pointy black acrylic nails and they are her pride and joy. Laughing Jack also likes them because they look like his claws.

Jane, Nina, and Sally get together to do their nails. Sally gets simple pink, Nina has gel nail stickers, and Jane does acrylics. Sometimes they try and rope the boys into it as well with varying degrees of success.

[lefluoritesys]

It's so weird to feel excluded in DID spaces because... we don't suffer 24/7. And I mean we don't suffer so much, we actually have a good experience with DID most of the time, and it genuienly helps us survive. Like we're not perfect, of course, but the good overrides the bad, and most of our problems don't come from alters.

I could pop in to front and ask an alter at front to not talk to somebody, or do something for me, and they would. If they have questions, they'd ask. Like, "Hey, I don't like this person... can you be careful around them?" or "Don't share that info about me", and they'd be like "Okay, cool" and move on.

We found ways to differenciate between each other, and sometimes dissociation actually makes us feel better. Because with too many alters in front, we can temporarily dissociate into one blob that would let us function. Best part? It lets us use all the roles of alters inf ront at once as this one blob. Temporary merging that isn't really temporary merging, to be honest... I have no idea how else to describe it. it is but it isn't. And even if there is dissociation, it's not cause of alters, it's cause of our brain being a bitch.

I sometimes lean back in my chair in the front room when I'm in control of the body, turn to our physical persecutor (who also happens to be my best friend), and go, "Hey, you good if I do homework on your subject today?" And they go, "Sure. You sure you can do it tho? Like, do you have memories of how?" And I'd go, "I think so, I just don't wanna switch rn, I'll call you if I need help, though." And they'd go "Cool."

Like, don't get me wrong, we have had problems. But they were never because somebody was bad, they were because of people's actions that were honestly mostly fueled by being abused, trauma, and figuring out how to properly function. No one was ever the problem. We have alters who are just awful, but that's a separate problem. People in front for us are lovely. Sometimes we have fights, sometimes we have relapses, sometimes we just have horrible things happen to each other or IRL or something else. But no one is ever the problem. We never had that mentality that DID, and our alters, were the problem. Their actions are sometimes, but not them as separate personalities. Actually, we had problems with each other and with DID because people outside told us we should. DID improved our lives, and the areas that it didn't, we never saw it as it "ruined" them, it just... made them harder, and told us there are different ways we need to go about daily stuff and life. To each other, we're literally just people with mental health issues who are trying to make the body functional, but also? We're even kinda happy to be here. And if not happy, at the very least neutral enough not to want to become one.

It's so weird hanging around here, having a blog dedicated to spread positivity about DID, kinda being like:

"Hello, we are actually... functional. And would have always been if people didn't try to convince us otherwise out of their own misery and want for everyone else to be miserable."

We have issues, but they're not because of DID, DID actually helps us with them. It doesn't make us feel invalid, I don't think, but it does make us question whether we belong in DID community. And we have a lot of alters with low empathy, somehow, that makes us more compassionate? It's such a weird problem to have. It shouldn't even be a problem but here we are.

-host

[rabbit-parasite]

Intro post!!

”Ha! I’m never impuls…is that a yo-yo?”

^art by @/kamikan

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Hi hello!! My name is Yuichi (Usagi) or Hase, but nicknames work too :P

This is my side blog (wowie) somewhere where I can ramble on about stupid things, interact with my friends, and share some of my kin memories/feelings. (Truthfully, I’m going to be very lenient with this blog because it’s mainly an ask blog)

KINFAAAAAMM🫶 (I’m so sorry for the tags guys I wanted to re-do this)

Lima bean (Leon) -> @thebettertwin-obviously

Dontron -> @don-a-tron9000

Old Lima bean (old Leo) -> @dis-in-disaster

Dontron 2.0 (old Donnie) -> @aster-in-disaster

Not apart of the kinfam but I’m legally obligated to include her (the bestie) -> @secretlytherealsonicthehedgehog

Boundries + other stuff under the cut^^

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Boundries!

Before we start I'd like to say that this is, 99% of the time, NOT going to be a roleplay blog. I'm a Yuichi fictionkin, not a roleplayer. I'm still a teen IRL and will block you if you're weird.

Do NOT send me asks about romantic relationships with other characters from my media, (or frankly, any other media) as I do not see them that way and I am aroace.

You can send in any asks you want! Art requests, questions about myself or my media, you can even just say hi! Anything that isn’t weird or previously stated to be off limits is on the table, go nuts!

I have absolutely no problem with doubles or mediamates! (it would actually be so cool of you to,, idk,,, interact maybe /nf)

I also love to discuss my media! I don't have bad memories/feelings tied to events (that I'm aware of) so genuinely don't be afraid to ask me things about it!!

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Tags!

I'll be a little more organized on this blog, so here's what tags will look like:

My own art (often reblogged from my main account) will be under # 🖌️ my art

Fictionkin memories or feelings will be under # 💭 memories

Ask games will be under # 🫐 ask game

Me answering questions will be under # 🫐 answered

Me talking about random shit or just other stuff will be under # 🍰 rambles

ME INTERACTING WITH THE SILLIES # 🫶 kinfam

Other tags will be added as I use the blog more^^

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Other!

Gender is weird, but my current pronoun preference is he/xae/bun. You can use other pronouns as well (like it/its) but just don't use she/her.

My main blog -> parasitic-anomaly

Casey blog