#All Natural Beauty Remedies That Really Work

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎDon't Worry Darling౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, childbirth, angst, murder, revenge pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: yours and coriolanus' daughter is kidnapped author’s note: requested by a very lovely anon- I didn't post with the ask because it has the plot in it, but I hope you know who you are and I hope you enjoy! much love, thank you for sending this in <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

He would kill for you.

That wasn't nothing. It was everything he would do for you summed up in five little words. All one syllable. Forming a threat to any who wronged you.

Coriolanus knew his soul was stained, tainted by the wrongdoings of his past, no matter how justified they were in his survival. Awful or not, he had made it this far, and now he had you. So how bad had it been, really?

You were a heart-shaped, lace-trimmed, sugar-filled surprise whom he'd fallen head over heels for instantly. How was he expected to resist such a treasure, a jewel in the worn crown of the Capitol?

No, you were perfect. And he knew he didn't deserve you. That didn't stop him from courting you, however, from making you promises with sweet kisses in tow. It certainly didn't stop him from spoiling you with both pleasure and pretty things, or from sliding an engagement ring onto your finger.

You were the sparkle in his eye, the shine to his reputation. But more than that, you were his love, his darling. Coriolanus had the best of everything, and his wife was absolutely no exception. You were the best of his best.

When you became pregnant, he was absolutely doting, making a point to spoil you even more than before if that was possible. His hands barely left you, except to reach for his credit card. Being the president, he had leeway to take as much time off of work as he needed to be by your side.

Coriolanus coddled your growing belly, spooning you every night with his arms wrapped protectively around it. He cocooned you with his affection and you made no move to break out of it.

You glowed under the effect of pregnancy, just as he knew you would. It filled him with a sense of pride, seeing you all round and full of his child. It was a sign that you were purely, undoubtedly his.

Childbirth very nearly sent him into a frenzy. Here, nature was taking control. Which meant he had none. Memories and thoughts of his dear departed mother flashed through his mind, and he tried not to let his fear show as he held your hand, smoothing sweaty hair from your face and telling you how well you were doing.

It scared him because his money was useless here.

Regal even as you were birthing his child, you spoke meekly, trying not to squeeze his hand too hard in fear of hurting him. He wanted you to break his hand if you needed to, whatever would alleviate your pain. But no, you were soft and kind even in agony.

When your baby girl slid into the world, he sighed in relief, even if only because your suffering was over. And as the doctor handed her to you, he could see tears shining like pearls on your face. There was that familiar pride. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment. "You're amazing," he muttered against your skin.

Then he saw his daughter fully for the first time. Coriolanus didn't believe in love at first sight. But now here he was, staring at his little daughter swaddled in your arms. You made a pretty picture. His girls.

Right then and there, his very first vow was remedied. There were two people he'd kill for now.

Penelope Snow was his purest love, held at equal status with you. Affectionately nicknamed 'Penny', she was the absolute apple of his eye. You always said she looked more like Coriolanus, and he supposed he could see it in her blonde hair and blue eyes. But when he really studied her, all he could see was your ethereal beauty reflected in his daughter.

Although Penny was an absolute darling who loved all she met, she was a daddy's girl through and through. He held her whenever he could, bouncing her on his knee and winding a hand through her blonde curls.

Often you would walk in on the sight of him in his study, Penny sleepy against his chest while he dotted i's and crossed t's on some proposal. He'd look up, smiling tiredly and patting his daughter's side. It was heartwarming- how much he loved her.

Because he was a pushover when it came to her, Coriolanus spoiled Penny beyond anything. You worried to him that she'd become some sort of monster because of it, but she remained sweet, always adorably thanking her daddy when he gave her something new. That only encouraged him more.

Penny loved walking in the garden with her parents, playing with her dolls, and reading. You made a point not to let her spend too much time with a nanny, conscious of the way the children of other socialites in your circles clung to their caretakers in place of their parents. When you brought up this concern to Coriolanus, he agreed, carving out time in his schedule to spend as a family.

Not only did he adore Penny, he also adored you as a mother. It filled him with joy to witness you with your daughter, and he let you know in every way possible. He held you closer than ever, hands wandering past your hips, whispering how much he loved you, how in awe he was of you.

It was a wonder you didn't fall pregnant again sooner. Penny was three when you received word from the doctor.

Of course, you both were overjoyed, and thus began his pregnancy routine again. He felt he'd never been happier than now, with his beautiful daughter and enchanting wife. The three of you were splashed across every tabloid in the Capitol. The envy of everyone, Panem's model picture-perfect family.

That was just the way he wanted it.

Coriolanus watched you adjust your earrings in the mirror, silently admiring you from behind. You caught his eye in the mirror, a lovely smile overtaking you. "Tonight, I'm unsure which part of me you're looking at."

When you stood, he was immediately encircling his arms around you, kissing your forehead twice. "All of you. Every bit. You're beautiful."

"Not too much?" you fussed with your dress as you said it, smoothing the sheer red fabric.

"Perfect," he nodded, holding your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your hairline. "You're absolutely ravishing, my love."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. Reaching your delicate hands up, you smoothed his collar, fixing his tie. "You look so handsome," you said softly, leaning up to kiss him. He didn't care if you got lipstick on his mouth.

"Daddy?" Penny poked her head in, her face lighting up when she saw the both of you. She ran in, burying her little face into Coriolanus' knee. He scooped her up, balancing her on his hip and smiling.

"Isn't Mama pretty?" he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Mama's so pretty," she said with all the sincerity of a child.

You cooed, kissing her cheek and smoothing her hair. "My baby."

Coriolanus gave you a little frown. "We can't take her with us?"

"Oh, she'd be tired halfway through," you slid your arm around his neck, and he wrapped his free one around your waist. "These things go far past bedtime." You stroked your daughter's cheek for a moment. "Penny, give Daddy a kiss so we can get going."

She pressed her lips to Coriolanus' cheek, and he set her down with one last squeeze before she ran off to find her nanny.

Attention turned fully back to you; he thumbed a strand of your hair. "Shall we?"

You nodded, and he gave you a quick kiss before offering you his arm. He helped you down the stairs and into the car. Even though you were in the early stages of pregnancy, that didn't stop him from being overprotective.

The gala was typical of those kinds of events- champagne and allied conversation. It wasn't anything too precarious- you stayed on his arm sipping sparkling cider, playing the diplomatic First Lady wonderfully as you always did.

He could see you getting tired though, about three hours in. Parting ways with the Head Gamemaker, he turned to you, fingers running up and down your waist gently. "Would you like to-"

There was a sharp noise like shattering glass. Coriolanus immediately ducked, bringing you down with him to the floor. Gunshots. Thinking only of you and the baby, Coriolanus held your body close to his, arms protectively wrapped around you, his back facing the direction of the sound.

A hand on his shoulder made him look up, and he saw one of the Peacekeepers gesturing to him. "To the safe room, sir. You and your wife."

Coriolanus stood immediately, gathering you in his arms. You wouldn't be able to run in heels. He carried you hurriedly to where the Peacekeeper directed them, where a few more security and several partygoers were hiding away. A chair was produced, and he set you down, checking to see if you were okay.

Smoothing your hair, he reassured you that everything would be okay. The two of you were safe now. You slid a hand over your belly, inhaling nervously. "How long do you think we'll be here? I'm worried about Penny."

He ran a soothing hand down your face, stroking your cheek. "Penny's fine, sweetheart. She's safe back at the house. It'll be okay."

But still you worried, insisting something didn't feel right. Coriolanus did his best to keep you calm, kneeling at your side and holding your hand and reminding you to breathe steady.

It was nearly an hour later that he noticed the Peacekeepers speaking amongst themselves, casting glances back at them occasionally. He perked up when one started to walk over, his face serious.

Coriolanus stood to meet him, not letting go of your hand. "Has the shooter been apprehended?"

"Yes," the man started, and Coriolanus felt you stand up beside him, squeezing his hand. "But there's been other news."

"What happened?" you asked softly, and Coriolanus wound his arm around your waist, hand slightly over your belly. You touched that hand with your adjacent one, twining your fingers together again.

The man looked grim, and Coriolanus' hold tightened on you. "Sir, your daughter...she's been taken."

You fainted. As soon as the words left his mouth, you crumpled in Coriolanus' arms, and he held on tight, kneeling on the ground and saying your name frantically. He looked up at the bystanders. "Someone get her water!"

Once he heard footsteps hurrying away, he looked back up at the man, face incredulous. "What do you mean, taken?"

He nodded solemnly. "Not fifteen minutes ago. Her caretaker was held at gunpoint, and when she refused to relinquish your child, she was shot. And then they took her. We're trying to figure out where."

"Send every Peacekeeper you can afford," Coriolanus snapped, looking up at the young man. It was funny in a way. He'd once been in that position and now he was giving orders. The thought made his heart soften a bit. "Leave no stone unturned. Find her."

The man saluted and went to tell his comrades. Coriolanus turned his attentions back to you, stroking your cheek and breathing in relief when your eyes fluttered open. He managed a small smile. "Sweetheart...how are you feeling?"

"They took Penny?" you choked, trying to sit up, and he supported you with an arm around your back.

"We're going to find her," he assured, taking the water retrieved by someone nearby and holding it to your lips. "It's going to be okay. She'll be okay."

"You were saying we should bring her...and I said no..." you panicked, your breathing growing unsteady. Coriolanus shook his head, pressing your face to his chest.

"This is not your fault," he whispered into your hair, aware of all eyes on you. "Never. It could never be your fault. They're going to find our daughter. I promise."

You looked up at that. Coriolanus had never made you a promise he couldn't keep, and the certainty in his voice calmed you. He kissed your temple, had you drink more water, and thus began the wait.

It was agony, worrying about his daughter while trying to keep you stable. His mind wandered to the worst possible conclusions, horrible images appearing before his eyes. He waved them off, praying you weren't wondering the same things.

Eventually, the Peacekeepers deemed it safe for everyone to go home. You remained worried, crying softly into Coriolanus' shoulder as he carried you up the stairs into the bedroom. He called for a sleep aid, one of your pregnancy ones, in an attempt for you to get some rest.

The pill kicked in, and he sat beside you, your head in his lap. He idly stroked your hair, anxiety not letting him sleep. The future's possibilities scared him more than anything had before. This is what he fought for. His family, the one thing he wanted to protect more than anything. If he couldn't keep you and your daughter safe, what kind of man was he? What kind of husband? What kind of father?

The phone beside the bed rang, and Coriolanus picked it up instantly as not to disturb you. "What did you find?"

As the person on the other end spoke, his heart beat hopefully. He gave an order in response to the information, and then made a call to send the car to the front. He'd be down in a moment.

Looking down at you, a sense of dread filled him. He didn't want to leave you here, so vulnerable and emotional, especially in your delicate condition. With that in mind, he picked up the phone once more, making a final call.

"...Tigris? You heard the news?" he listened to her for a moment. "Would you come over for a little while? Just until I get back. I don't want to leave her alone...thank you."

Hanging up, he resumed stroking his fingers through your hair, wanting to wake you up and tell you what he was about to do.

But it would only send you into further hysterics. For he'd never told you of that first vow.

Getting out of the car, Coriolanus squinted at the concrete building hidden under the guise of darkness. He looked at the nearby Peacekeeper, who nodded.

Moving swiftly, Coriolanus allowed them to direct him up the stairs, past the freshly murdered bodies splayed bloody across the ground all the way to the top. He barely paid them any mind. The only thing on his mind was Penny.

When he reached the door to the room, there were already several soldiers standing by, guns raised. He could hear noises from the inside, one of which he recognized as his daughter's crying.

The sound spurred him on, and he gave a signaling nod, triggering the head Peacekeeper to kick the door down, a line of his men trailing behind him and shouting things at Penny's captors.

Coriolanus waited a moment before walking in. He surveyed the scene coldly, looking at the men pushed against the wall by the soldiers, held at gunpoint. Then his eyes found Penny. His baby girl.

Messy hair, dusty clothes, scratches on her arms, she was a sorry sight. Tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks, and his heart broke to see it. He went to her, kneeling in front of the chair where she was tied up and undoing the binds. She sniffled, her chin wobbling. "Daddy...Daddy..."

"Shh, princess." He got the ropes undone, scooping her into his arms and standing up. She leaned her face against his shoulder, one ear against it, and he rubbed her back. Since he was still in his dress shirt from the gala, she mussed his collar with tears, but he couldn't care less. "Daddy's here...Daddy's got you."

Over her shoulder, he gave the head Peacekeeper a look, and then turned back to his daughter. "Close your eyes, Penny. It's going to be very loud for a minute but then we're going to go home."

She nodded into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. He steadied one hand over her uncovered ear, and the chaos began.

A dozen fired shots sounded, and Penny winced, but her eyes stayed closed. He dropped a kiss to her hair. She still smelled like the flowery lotion you put on after her baths to keep her skin smooth.

Once the shooting was over, he uncovered her ear, whispering that it was okay, she was safe. She looked up at him with that same sweet smile, despite the fact that she'd been through who knows what. His happy girl.

Then there was another shot. He heard Penny's scream before his brain registered what had happened. It was only when he felt the blood leaking onto his arm that he realized.

Penny was crying, her sobs smashing what was left of his heart. Her arm was bleeding where the bullet had grazed her. The man who'd fired the gun was immediately tackled by a nearby Peacekeeper, who beat him unconscious.

Coriolanus held Penny tight to him, trying to hush her. "Shh, princess, it's okay. You're going to be okay. I've got you. Daddy's got you. Don't worry, baby."

He whispered this to her all the way down the stairs, into the car, and through the ride to the hospital, but she couldn't be calmed. Not that he blamed her-it must have hurt like hell.

It wasn't a problem getting her into a room. The doctors worked quickly, telling him the bullet wasn't lodged in her little arm, that it just needed to be taped up and rested. Still, Penny squirmed when they took bloodwork, cried some more when they stuck an IV in her, and clung to Coriolanus when they came to clean the wound.

He held her through it, ordering the doctors to do everything as gently as possible. She was a three-year-old for heaven's sake.

It was all over soon, not as quickly as he'd have liked, but still. A nurse gave Penny some melatonin, and she was out like a light, sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. He sat beside her, an arm around her sleeping form. Your daughter was safe. That was all that mattered.

Except for one thing.

The door of the car shut behind Coriolanus, and he looked chillingly up at the familiar concrete structure. Once this was all over, he'd have it burned. This place wouldn't taunt his family with its existence any more.

He took his time walking up the stairs. They would have seen that he was here by now, and he wanted to make his captor squirm.

As he casually ascended, his mind dwelled on the events of yesterday. You had come running into the room, still in your beautiful dress from earlier, makeup slightly smudged, but still his stunning wife. Like a magnet you'd been drawn to your baby girl, joining him on the bed and weeping out of pure relief and exhaustion.

Coriolanus had put his arms around both of you, holding his girls tight as you stroked Penny's hair, asking him questions he'd given smooth answers to.

Yes, he'd found her. No, that wasn't his own blood on his shirt. She'd been very scared, but she was going to be okay.

He knew she wouldn't remember most of what happened, thank goodness. The doctor had spoken of memory loss as a trauma response, and he was grateful for it. Not just for Penny's sake, but for yours. You didn't need to know the extent of what had happened that night.

He reached the top floor. Now he was thinking of that sweet, sweet image of you and Penny in his arms, both sleeping against his chest. If he could've commissioned a portrait right then and there he would have.

Penny was safe. Your unborn child was safe. You were safe. And he intended to keep it that way. His status as a husband and father was duly maintained.

There was just one more thing to take care of.

Pausing at the door, he listened for a moment to the groans coming from inside. Pathetic. Deciding he was tired of waiting, Coriolanus pushed the door open, meeting the eyes of the man tied up in the middle of the room, just as his daughter had been twenty-four hours prior.

It was him. The man who'd shot Penny.

The Peacekeeper standing nearby took Coriolanus' suit jacket and handed him his pistol. Rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, he stared the man dead in the eye. "I assume you've had time to think about the offer."

Glaring up at him, the man spat at his feet. "I'd sooner die."

"You will." Coriolanus didn't flinch. "Either you walk out of here with a sense of dignity and disappear or you never walk out of here with a shot through your head."

To his hidden horror, the man's lips twisted in a wry grin. It was disgusting to behold. "Ain't doin' nothin'. I'll get out. And next time it won't just be your daughter. It'll be that bitch you call a wife-"

Coriolanus pulled the trigger before he could finish. He was tired of listening, of being patient. And after insulting his wife, well, he'd signed his own death warrant.

Handing the pistol back to the Peacekeeper, Coriolanus turned his back to the body, putting his suit jacket back on. Maybe on the way home he'd stop and get you flowers. Yes, that'd be just the thing. And something for Penny too. A new book, perhaps, one of the fairy tale ones she loved so much.

Tonight, he'd erase this man's memory from his mind. He'd tuck Penny in and read her new book out loud as she fell asleep. He'd go to you and pamper you and make love to you as slowly and softly as you wanted. And then he'd sleep soundly knowing his promise had been and would continue to be fulfilled.

It was a kick in the face to anyone who'd ever doubted him.

He would kill for you.

[euphoricfilter]

Stardust || JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x F. Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Friends to Lovers au

Summary: If Jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tags/ warnings: himbo-ish jk, so much fluff idk where it came from, smut in the forms of: unintentional masturbation turned coregasm, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex (because that’s really cool), mirror sex, doggy style, technically multiple orgasms, they’re both giggly and in love it’s kinda gross, jk is a tits man, he’s obsessed with boobs, it’s all very tame and kinda soft ig

Notes: yay first fic of 2023. this was way harder to write than i’d anticipated, hopefully i pulled through. and if there’s mistakes, no there aren’t!

<3 thank you to my prettiest baby @4amj3zz for reading this atrocity before i posted it

my full masterlist

✯ ✯ ✯

If every living being’s foundation is made of stardust, scattered when born, then Jungkook thinks the two of you were made from the same star.

A friendship that’s near impossible to come by, crafted by the hands of a higher being— delicate fingertips moulding fickle personalities and emotions that seem incomplete when not together. Two angels sent to earth to be each others’ number one in another life they’ll spend together.

Precious, like naturally formed diamonds.

And maybe that’s what your friendship was, one of the world’s little treasures. One everyone yearns for, though only a select few have.

Sure, diamonds can be replicated, graphite turned jewelry, simply there for show. A statement piece if you must.

Fake diamonds and fake friendships that seem to be more common than the real deal. Hard to crack, though not impossible— splitting the two of you up into pitiful shards and lost pieces; where even the most skilled hands have trouble putting it back together.

Jungkook doesn’t remember life before you. Though he thinks it must have been dull, flimsy smiles, and friends that hadn’t bothered to call once they moved away.

His existence so easily forgotten, that the gnawing sadness didn’t seem to last as long as he’d anticipated. Simply walking the path of life alone, though he often thought solitude wasn’t all that bad.

Until your worlds had collided. The big bang of your friendship, a new world, a new start, everything so fresh and untampered with.

He’d thought about what life would be like if one day the two of you were to ever part ways, the very thought of you not being by his side like a harsh punch the gut.

And maybe he had gotten a little teary eyed on those evenings he felt a little softer, a little sadder at the thought of you ever leaving. His hands fumbling around his sheets for his phone, your voice his only remedy for his growing anxiety, where promises were whispered and sleepy smiles remained on your faces as you rested.

Jungkook doubts that day will ever come. And maybe that’s all just wishful thinking, a juvenile dream that the promise you’d made to one another would hold strong for the rest of time, until the two of you lay six feet under. Resting side by side until your bodies rot, flesh becoming one with the earth, what is left of your existence blossoming into something beautiful; perhaps a tree, a flower, truly anything, as long as you were together.

“Together?” you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes, eyebrows creasing in distaste.

Jungkook thinks you look pretty in that moment, even if you are pulling a face at him. The two of you sat at a bench in the park, your head haloed by the setting sun, last of the days warmth kissing both your skin in a gentle goodbye before the moon watches over the two of you.

Littles galaxies reflected in both your eyes, where Jungkook thinks each star in his represents one thing he loves about you; hidden behind the moonlight because he doubt yours represent the same.

“Yes” he nods, hair flopping a little over his forehead, and you push the stray strands out of his eyes. Fingers delicate as they brush over his skin, always so gentle with him that his heart flutters like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

“Kook, I love you— you know I do” and he nods, lips quirking up a little, “But working out just, isn’t for me” you conclude, tone firm and his shoulders deflate. Because he knows it’ll take more than glossy puppy eyes and a pout for you to give in.

“First off, I love you too—“

“Thank you” you nod. But Jungkook doesn’t think you understand the weight behind those words.

“And look, how do you know it’s not for you, if you’ve never tried?”

“You put me off” and Jungkook would have thought you were joking if you didn’t have that deadpan look on your face. One he was all too familiar with.

“Huh” he gawks, “How?”

“You always complain about sore muscles, and the thought of being sweaty grosses me out” your head tips forward dramatically, cushioned by your arms from the table.

“It’s a good ache” he watches you turn your head, lips moulded into an unconvinced pout as you stare up at him through your lashes.

“There is no such thing as a good ache, Jungkook”

“Is too”

“When?” you flail, unbothered as Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists.

“Sex ache”

You pause, “Excuse me?”

“You know?” he cocks his head to the side.

“No” you shake your head in utter disbelief.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, “You’re a little pillow princess aren’t you, I bet you don’t do any of the work”

“Do too, besides—“ you swallow, “It’s none of your business” you pull your hands free of his grasp.

“Come on, I feel like we’re at a point in this relationship we can share these things” his cheek rests atop of your head, each syllable pulled out into a whine.

“I don’t wanna hear about your sex life, Jungkook” you huff.

You watch him sit up ramrod straight, brain whirring behind his eyes. You think that if he thought any harder you’d be able to hear the echo of his voice.

“Actually, I don’t really wanna hear about yours either” his nose scrunches up, melting your resolve.

A secret charm of his that he didn’t know he had; and you’d never tell him either, no way in hell would you let him weaponize your weakness against you when your heart could barely stand being sat so close to him.

“Best friends don’t always share everything” you quip, only it leaves a tangy taste on your tongue.

“I suppose” Jungkook nods, evidently less enthusiasm radiating off him.

Best friends. It always wet your mood. Like sour candy that’s too sour, or a cute dog that’s breath smells like a rotting carcass.

But that’s what you were, introductions to new classmates or new lovers; it was always best friends. Two simple words that felt like utter shit to say, tumbling past your lips like vomit and then you had to rawdog the aftertaste because you don’t have any toothpaste or mints nearby.

Never anything less, even though there was definitely a lot more going on between the two of you. (Not that either of you had any idea about that.)

It’s a wonder as to how neither of you had grasped the fact that every previous relationship the two of you had, had ended because of the other. Nothing ever seeming to fit in place, the click never being there when it came to someone else.

Communication is key in upholding a relationship of any kind, issues easily resolved with hours of conversation turned mutual understanding, and progression made with a mix of both actions and words. As two people whose love languages were physical touch, the former is just as important as the latter.

One of the only reasons your friendship has lasted this long, is that you both value each other enough to communicate when necessary.

Apart from when you could probably really use it, unidentifiable emotions weaving into your hearts, mixed with a dose of denial can really set you back when you’re near infatuated with your closest friend.

It’s not that either of you had never considered a relationship with one another, others outside your little bubble had brought it up enough times that the meager possibility of it actually happening had been cemented into your thick skulls.

Something nice tickling both your brains at the fact so many people thought you were together together; like, in love together.

Long gone were the days where you’d blurt out your denial to dating accusations with rose dusted cheeks, simply believing the world had a thing against opposite sex friendships. Now, the two of you just laughed off whoever liked to comment on how good you looked as a couple. (Which had brought more than a few of Jungkook’s relationships to turmoil)

It’s just that neither of you believed the other wanted anything more than friendship. A rookie mistake on both your parts, especially when you’d both establish that every and all emotions were to be discussed with one another, no matter what you felt.

“One time” you break the silence, any way to ease the growing tension between the two of you “I’ll work out with you one time. And never again”

You watch the smile as it pulls at the corner of his lips, the prettiest smile, your favorite smile, enough of a reward for whatever pain you’re about to put yourself through. Because as long as Jungkook was happy, then you’d crawl to the ends of the earth if it meant you got to see this smile one more time.

“I love you” he bends down, sloppy kiss pressed to your cheek and you can’t help your own smile, heated cheeks covered as you swat him away from your face. Wiping his saliva from your skin with the back of your hand.

“Whatever” you tut, though Jungkook sees through your faux annoyance.

“We can use my at-home gym as well, so we won’t even be in public”

“Wonderful. Let’s go back now, I’m gonna freeze my tits off if we stay any later”

You don’t catch Jungkook’s gaze flickering down to your chest, lingering a little longer than proper before he’s slinging his zip-up hoodie around your shoulders. Eyes flickering down to his hands briefly before he’s knocking shoulders with you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead” you utter, falling into Jungkook’s side when his arm falls over your shoulder.

✯ ✯ ✯

Jeon Jungkook was sex on legs when he worked out.

You were no stranger to him training, countless vacations together, where the morning was spent with him doing press-up on the balcony or the occasional few times he’d bench-press you for a laugh.

You’d never found it funny though, pussy throbbing between your thighs as he’d grab onto you, arms flexing deliciously. And he never seemed to question why you’d lock yourself up in your room after, purely a coincidence that you’d disappear for an hour after his little stunt.

You were no stranger to a half naked Jungkook either.

Nor were you a juvenile teenager whose panties got in a twist when she saw a toned stomach.

However, this wasn’t just any toned stomach.

Jeon Jungkook was built like Adonis. Carved where every crevice had meaning and every flaw only enhanced his beauty. And it’s hard to think the bushy haired, acne prone teen boy you’d first befriended had turned into this.

If puberty had benefited anyone, it was Jungkook.

“We’ll do something easy today, okay?” he claps and you nod, watching as he saunters over to a basket.

“Pink or blue” he holds up two yoga mats.

“I didn’t think you were into rhinestones” you snort, sun catching on the bedazzled rim of the pink mat— streaks of pink painting the wall.

Jungkook drops said mat, chucking you the blue one before he’s dropping to his knees on the floor.

“It’s one of my exes” he tells you, motioning for you to sit.

If people were flowers, then this is the moment you would have wilted. Deflating in on yourself; it’s not that you were jealous per-say. It’s not like him and his ex were dating at all but still. The very mention of her was enough for you to roll your eyes.

“And you didn’t throw it out?” the words hurdle out your mouth before you can even think about what you’re saying.

“No?” his eyes meet your own, “I’m not throwing away good gym equipment”

You sigh, somehow expecting no less from him. Jungkook was a man of many skills, and he’d hounded you to try hobby after hobby with him— but nothing got him going like a good work out. If all other passion in life disappeared then he would still have working out as his escape.

You sigh, “I have somewhere to be later, so let’s hurry this up” a little white lie, but that never hurt anyone.

“You’re not going on another one of those shitty blind dates, are you?” he groans and you whine.

“I told you, I’m never going on any of those ever again”

“You better not” he unrolls his mat, and you follow.

“Or what?” you turn your nose up at him and Jungkook’s foot collides with your thigh.

“On your back, you brat.”

✯ ✯ ✯

“How much more” you flop against the mat, eyes closing.

“That was only the warm up” Jungkook hums, pushing himself up off the floor.

You hear him walk to the other side of the room, cupboard door creaking open as he rummages around for something.

You peek up at him through your lashes when he throws a towel over your back.

“Roll that up” he motions towards it, coming to sit beside you, “And up onto your back again”

Your eyes widen by a fraction when he gently takes the towel out of your hands, pushing your knees apart before he’s closing them; towel stuffed between your thighs.

Your gaze travels down the length of your body, thighs twitching as Jungkook’s fingers wrap around your ankles.

“All you have to do is raise your legs like this okay?” and he demonstrates, making sure to keep your legs straight as he lifts them to a ninety degree angle from your torso. “Leg raises should be easy, even for you” he hums.

“What’s that supposed to mean” you snap, ready to push yourself up, except Jungkook’s hands press down over your chest.

“Hey! No complaining”

You swallow thickly, aware of Jungkook’s eyes on you as you raise your legs on your own this time.

“Pretty good, remember to tense your core when you do it, okay?”

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you do as you’re told.

Your eyes squeeze shut, body hyper aware of each small movement the towel has right over your clit. Pussy throbbing inside your panties and you worry your slick had started to soak through your shorts.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to take notice of your growing predicament, hands hovering over your calf to make sure you’re raising your legs all the way. Though that’s the least of your worries as you feel each new wave of unadulterated pleasure pulse through your core.

“Not so bad huh?” he grins.

It’s a strange sensation, pure arousal ebbing up your body, every brush of your panties over your clit, weight of the towel over your slit slowly bringing you to the precipice of an orgasm.

“I don’t think—“ you start, cutting yourself off with an arm covering your face at a particularly intense wave of arousal. Your stomach tightening at the feeling.

“Just a few more, you’re doing great”

“Kook, I really don’t think—“ your hand clamps over your mouth as Jungkook’s fingers take hold of your legs, helping you raise them; and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge. And you can’t help the surprised moan that drips off your lips.

Your knees bend, nudging against your tits as your hand falls over your sodden pussy, dull wave of your orgasm throbbing throughout your body.

Jungkook looks down at you, eyes wide as you simply lay there with your hands between your legs.

“Did you just piss yourself?” he asks, mouth falling open in awe.

“What the fuck?” you cry, “I just came you idiot”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, “Oh” he nods, “Oh. You had a— holy shit”

“Don’t look at me like that” your eyes glaze over with tears, heat prickling up your body in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to, it just happened”

Your feet fall to the floor, towel falling from between your thighs as you let out a stuttered breath, body still buzzing with the after affects or your surprise orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you peek up at him through hooded eyes, heart pattering so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat.

Jungkook’s eyes meet your own, “That was so fucking hot” he groans, “Looked so pretty”

You watch as his hand rubs over his shorts, his own arousal hard to hide as his head tips back in a way that extenuates his neck.

“Huh?” your eyes widen, willing yourself to not look at what his hands were doing.

“Should have known something like this would have turned you on”

“I wasn’t even turned on” you exasperate, “I clenched my core like you said and it just happened”

“Mhmm” and you can tell he’s unconvinced.

“Stop rubbing your dick, you horny piece of shit” you clamp a hand over your eyes, thighs clenching when he lets out a deep groan.

“Can’t help it” he lets out a sigh, “I’ve been dreaming of what you’d look like when you came, shame it wasn’t on my cock”

Your hand falls from your eyes, “Dreaming?”

“God, haven’t I made it obvious?” he asks, his own hands falling to his sides, though now you have a full view of his straining erection.

“Made what obvious?” you whisper.

“That I like you” he asks and you gawk at him.

“You, like me? I’ve been trying to hint that I like you” you point at him, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Huh?” it’s Jungkook’s turn for furrowed brows, “I swear you didn’t like me”

“I could have sworn you didn’t like me”

Jungkook snorts, “When did I ever say that?”

“You’re unbelievable”

“Me? What about you?”

Your body lays flaccid, muscles loose; heart hammering in your ears as Jungkook leans back on his hands.

“How long?” you ask, not daring to look up at him.

“High school”

You push a palm into the socket of your eye, low groan rumbling up your throat, “I’ve liked you since, I don’t know, probably high school as well”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice soft and you can feel yourself tearing up— so many emotions plaguing your mind at once you don’t know how to feel.

Jungkook scoots closer to you, “I could say the same thing about you” you huff.

“Why’re you crying” he frowns, thumb gentle as it brushes against your damp cheek.

“We wasted so many years. I seriously thought— you’ve had so many girlfriends”

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same, I guess I thought my feelings would go away if I gave my heart to someone else. And then you started dating around too and I really thought I’d never have a chance”

“Me too” you sigh, nose scrunching up in distaste for all your failed relationships.

“Guess it didn’t work out for either of us huh?” he hums and you nod.

“I think we’re both stupid” you murmur.

And Jungkook nods, “I agree”

“What do we do now?” you push yourself up onto your elbows, frown on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook’s head hovers over your own, the sun meeting the moon at the same point in the sky— your eclipse. The rest of your world suddenly shrouded in darkness, all you can see, think, smell, everything just Jungkook.

You nod, eyes flitting across his face as his arms cage your head. You can see his biceps flexing in your peripherals, thick muscle straining under the weight of his torso.

Jungkook’s lips hover over your own, a breaths width away from touching. You tilt your head up, pillowy lips cushioning your own and that’s when everything falls into place.

There’s nothing desperate about the kiss, ever so gentle and slow, the two of you aware that lost time can be made up in the future as you simply bask in this moment; your worlds aligning, tilting on the same axis, everything just perfect and right, and your hearts beating in sync, and breathing stuttered as you both pull away with hesitance.

Your hands cup Jungkook’s cheeks, eyes searching his own for anything, just something to tell you this wasn’t all a dream— that he really did like you back.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” he whispers, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips.

“No” you smile, giggle bubbling up your throat and Jungkook can’t help but grin down at you.

“I’ll tell you every day, all the time. You’ll get sick of me”

“I could never get sick of you, Jungkook” you push yourself up onto your elbows, noses bumping.

He tilts his head, kiss firm, and you moan as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, a silent plea for access.

You oblige, arms slung over his shoulders as you bring his body closer to your own, heat radiating off the two of you in thick waves.

“You taste so good” he groans, hands wandering down your body, teasing as they pull up the hem of your hoodie, “Want this off”

Your fingers tug at the offending material, dragging it up your body, “Hang on” you pull away from the kiss, and Jungkook feels his cock twitch at the sight of you. Red swollen lips, a sheen of his saliva coating them.

You pull your hoodie over your head, throwing it somewhere, a problem for later. Thighs clenching as Jungkook stares down at you— eyes wandering.

“And this” his fingers skim over the edge of your sports bra, dancing over your skin, mapping you out of every little spot he wants to kiss.

You hesitate.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable” Jungkook’s smile is gentle, retracting his hands and you want to whine at the loss of contact.

“I want to” you tell him, hoping the shake in your voice didn’t sound too unconvincing. The incessant throbbing between your legs wouldn’t go away unless Jungkook helped you out and your patience was slowly wearing thin.

“But?” he urges.

“I’m nervous” you admit and he smiles; reassuring.

“How can I help?”

You squirm under his gaze, fizzling embarrassment painting your cheeks red, “Can we both—“ you cut yourself off with a whine.

“Come on, gotta use your words, my love”

“Can we both get naked” you splutter, “At the same time?”

Jungkook’s head falls back, fully belly laugh wracking through his body, “Of course”

You tug your shorts off, Jungkook following you; a pile of both your clothes laying forgotten by your head. You’re too distracted tugging your sports bra off to see Jungkook’s length slap against his stomach. Tip of his cock an angry red, his fingers barely touching his shaft as he closes them around the length.

“Oh” he croons, “How pretty. Can I touch you?”

You nod, falling onto your back.

Jungkook’s careful as he touches you, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, testing the waters as he tugs at them, eliciting a breathy moan from you.

“Feels good?” his voice low, and you nod; hips involuntarily bucking upwards when you finally cast a glance at his length. Eyes widening a little in awe.

His fingers dig into your flesh, and he bends down, lips closing around one of your nipples. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin; tugging in a way that sends warm pleasure straight to your core.

He kisses over your chest, lips worshipping your skin, fingers skimming over the underside of your boob.

Each gentle press of his lips are searing as he works down your body. And your breath hitches as his hovers over your pussy, folds glistening with your arousal.

“Oh baby” he groans, and your thighs twitch as his warm breath fans over your core.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, impatient as they tug him closer to where you need him; an embarrassed whine falling past your lips when he kisses over you clit, once, then twice.

“Jungkook” you squeak, legs tensing when he finally wraps his lips around it, tongue flicking at your clit meanly.

He simply hums, vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure straight through your body, another gush of wetness dribbling from your hole. Jungkook wastes no time, fingers scooping up your leaking arousal before he’s pushing them into you.

“Oh” your chest stutters a breath as he pulls his fingers out of you, tongue licking a broad stripe over your cunt before his thumb brushes over your clit.

“You like that?” he asks, though the question was rhetorical as he repeats the motion. Tongue teasing over your hole before he’s lapping up your slick; sucking at your folds, squelching lewd accompanied by each hearty moan.

Your thighs start to shake, clamping around Jungkook’s head though that barely deters him, as he pushes your legs open by your knees.

“Stop. Kook— please” you whimper, “wanna cum around your cock”

That catches his attention, and with one final kiss to your clit he’s pushing himself onto his elbows.

Jungkook looks like the epitome of sin, slick stained chin and swollen red lips, unashamed as he licks your arousal off his face, humming in satisfaction as your chest stutters out a breath.

“Lemme get a condom” he murmurs, lips pressing another kiss over your knee before he’s pushing himself to stand. Your eyes follow his body, heavy cock bobbing against his stomach with every step he takes.

“Hopefully they’re not expired” he calls from the other room, and you giggle at that, “We’re good” he flashes you a grin as he drops back between your legs; foil wrapper held between two fingers.

You watch his fingers run down his length, thumb brushing over his slit and you feel slick dribble out of your hole as a bead of pre-cum coats the head of his cock shiny.

“Please” your head tips back, hands impatient as they tug at your nipples; Jungkook completely entranced by the sight. “Hurry, hurry” you nudge his thigh with your foot, and albeit reluctant, he tears his eyes away from your tits.

He rips the condom open with his teeth, a cheesy attempt at seducing you, and you weren’t about to tell him all he had to do was breathe and you panties would dampen.

He rolls the rubber down his length, fingers wrapping around his cock as he tugs a few times. You choose that moment to flip yourself over, hips raised as your chest lays flat against the floor and Jungkook moans.

“My pretty baby” he croons, hands roaming your ass before he’s pulling your cheeks apart; eyes fixed on your clenching cunt. Ever so enticing, silently begging to be filled and fucked until you can’t think or walk; a perfect excuse for Jungkook to pamper you a little.

You wiggle your hips, giggle muffled in the crook of your elbow has he parts your lips with his thumb, gently dipping into you hole before he’s pulling out.

“Please, Jungkook”

And that’s all it takes for him to line the head of his cock up with you entrance, tip nudging against your clit before he’s pushing into you; every inch stretching you apart deliciously.

“So good” you sigh, walls clenching around him and Jungkook can’t help the stutter of his hips, punching the air out of your lungs at the sudden intrusion.

“Sorry—“ his fingers dig into your hips, “Just feels so good, sucking me in”

You rock back onto his cock, breathy moan tumbling past your lips as your ass meets his pelvis; cock fully tucked into your pussy.

“Give me a moment” you shudder, body thrumming in anticipation.

Jungkook hums, hands wandering your body, fingers dancing over your skin. A surprised moan echoes throughout the room as his hands grab both your tits, squeezing them, fingers rubbing over both your nipples sending hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

He can feel you rhythmically clenching around him, walls sucking him in as you rock forward an inch before you’re sinking back down on his length.

“Okay” you nod, fingers holding onto the edge of the yoga mat.

“You sure?” he asks, pulling out to the tip, hips slow as he plunges back into you.

“Mhmm”

You feel Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You can’t help each near pornographic moan that’s pushed out of you with each harsh slap of Jungkook’s hips meeting your ass, skin smacking wet as your slick coats your thighs.

“So good for me” his head tips back, arms hooking around your bent elbows.

You let out a squeak as he sits you up, and your walls constrict around his length as he pushes deeper inside of you, gush of wetness clinging to his thighs.

“So good” your head tips back onto his shoulder, knees helping you bounce up his length.

Your back arches when the head of cock hits your g-spot, ring of creamy slick gathering at the base of his cock each time you pull up to the tip.

“Look at that” Jungkook murmurs into your ear, one hand tangling into your hair as the other settles over your throat.

He tugs your head up, and you catch your reflection in the full length mirror; insides of your thighs coated in a sheen of your slick, Jungkook’s hips thrusting his cock up into you, both your bodies glistening with sweat.

The red hue of your cheeks flushes down your neck and chest, shade darkening with each wet squelch of your cunt as Jungkook helps you bounce in his lap.

He watches your tits bounce, both his hands wandering to grab them, pulling your back closer to chest as he pounds into you.

“I’m gonna cum” you hiccup, hands scrambling to hold onto his bicep as your other hand travels down your body, fingers gathering up your slick before you’re circling your clit.

You thighs start to shake, crescent moons indented into your skin as Jungkook’s grip on your chest tightens, your walls throbbing around his cock, drawing him closer to his orgasm.

“Yeah?” his hips stutter, “Come for me then, pretty. Let’s come together”

You moan, fingers unrelenting as you thrum at your clit in tight circles. Your orgasm wracks throughout your entire body when it hits, stomach tensing as your cum coats Jungkook cock, which twitches as he thrusts up into you.

He holds you down on his length, deep groan rumbling through his chest as he shoots his seed into the condom, your walls continuing to milk him of everything he’s got.

“Good girl” he soothes, hands falling to your hips as you fall forwards, cheek pressed against the mat as Jungkook pulls out, thrusting back into you gently.

“Thank you” you whimper, thighs tensing as he pulls himself out of your sodden pussy, folds glistening creamy white.

✯ ✯ ✯

Everything feels right. The two of you tucked into Jungkook’s bed after a shower, both your hands roaming one another’s bodies.

You’d clung to Jungkook’s back as he’d cooked you both dinner, work-out long forgotten as you’d both worked up an appetite. Muscles too sore, too achey, to even think of carrying on anything that isn’t wrapping up warm in each others’ arms.

It’s strange how so much, but nothing had changed. You still danced around each other with practiced ease, hands still feathery light, skimming over hips and backs, where legs are tangled under blankets, cold feet on warm skin.

There was something mellow in the air, a film of freedom, hearts on your sleeves for one another to see, where kisses felt softer, deeper in promise and love.

All the ‘I love yous’ holding the right weight, both understanding that the love you feel is the right kind of love.

He’d thought about it a lot, from the day you’d both confessed; messy, but a confession nonetheless. (And he had made sure to ask you to be his girlfriend in a more romantic setting than his spare room turned gym). That maybe the time growing up as just friends wasn’t wasted.

Failed relationships and sticky breakups simply teaching the two of you the right way to love.

Learning the give and take of relationships, what it truly meant to be in love with another person. Where you want nothing more than their happiness, a pure sort of adoration that consumes your entire being until they’re always on your mind. Small, seemingly insignificant parts of life reminding you of them. Trinkets in corner shops or the changes in season, certain smells, textures of clothing.

Learning about what you want for yourselves and how to take care of one another.

So he doesn’t regret all those years spent as just friends. Because maybe the two of you were too young, too eager, too scared about something as precious as true love. Growing up together, as just friends, might have brought the two of you closer than rushed first loves and petty arguments that you’d look back on and regret.

Red string. Stars. Fate. Destiny. Any of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what brought the two of you together, two souls intertwined until you both part ways when your lights flicker out. Though he thinks you’d reignite them wherever the two of you end up later on, new lives, new worlds. New everything, where he gets to learn about you all over again, explore your being, as you explore his, and you’re moulding into one another once more.

He wonders how long you’ve both been laying there, lips pulled up into lazy smiles, kiss swollen; little galaxies reflected in both your eyes.

Where every glistening star is a reason as to why you love each other. Your galaxies shining with a million different reasons, moonlight no longer veiling what lay beneath.

Because Jungkook thinks, if people were made of stardust before they were born. There’s no doubt in his mind, the two of you were made from the same star.

💫 like, reblog, and feedback is encouraged!! thank you so much for reading <3

taglist: @koikooky @fandems @guesswhatimthinking @slut-formattsun @satisfied18 @apollukee @scastro95 @happygolucky7777 @jjkw-7 @taeboludo @fairy-jaykay @jeonjjks @exactlygreatcoffee @itzz-me-duh @jkkkkkay @starstruckfangirls @tornparts @seoqity @straykidsmaxident @bebejungkook @twilight-love-nochu-main @chimmisbae @redeyezbloodymouth

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

[duskyvenus]

A flower blossoms for its own joy: How will you bloom?

A PAC about your blooming moment and how you will get there. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Open your eyes and choose the photo that speaks to you. 3 piles left to right. This is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates. Feel free to check other piles if it doesn't resonate :)))

Pile 1

I'm seeing that we have some shy people here or people who put a lot of thought before saying something in the sense that they don't want to provoke someone. The message here is to be little unapologetic about certain things. You don't have to be worried about how others perceive you. "Say the weird thing!" I know this can be hard especially if you're not around the right people but the trash will take itself out if you are more open about your likes and dislikes. This is the way you will find the people that are truly meant for you, by letting go and cutting some people off. Also, I'm seeing that you need to practice gratitude and mindfulness. Keeping a journal can help. Travel to places you have always wanted to visit. The last thing that you need to do in order to "blossom" is to accept help. I get that it is nice being independent but being humans we need community. I'm not asking you to be very social and have too many friends, cuz remember the earlier point of not gaf about what other people say; yeah just do enough so that you're comfortable :) Remember that this is going to be a new chapter in your life so the key is balance. I think you can imagine your blooming moment by now. For some of you I'm seeing the presence of a significant other. This will probably be a slow burn.

Here's a moodboard for you:

Songs:

Thank you for reading!

Pile 2

I'm mainly getting the vibe that you don't take care of yourself enough. Like no skincare, self care or you're not eating healthy. I'm not asking you to follow strict regimes to become flawless, I'm just saying that maybe something's missing, some deficiency perhaps (?) idk. I also get the vibe that you are tight on money or grew up in a low income household. There's a lack of self love in this pile. You feel like you don't deserve love or that you're low maintenance because of your past relationships. (That's just not true!) The remedy for all of this is investing in yourself. You don't have to go broke looking after yourself; keep a journal, write down your thoughts, write down positive affirmations, maybe change your wardrobe (clothes carry energy), have a candle light dinner with yourself, etc. I'm also seeing that you could be really good at handicraft so maybe you should start a business. You could even be a good photographer. You just need to start posting you're a true artist! If you do things that make you happy and calm you're going to get closer to your blooming moment. You're going to have a really beautiful house. Your house will be adorned with pottery, paintings, etc. I get a self-satisfied vibe :)

Here's a moodboard for you:

Songs:

Thank you for reading!

Pile 3

I'm getting that this pile is very different from the last two. You probably have everything anybody could ask for or, you are working towards it. You are really close to blooming but that will need just a little more effort. You will bloom if you acknowledge your roots. You have to be very humble and thankful. Maybe you have lost track of your identity due to the grind and the struggle. Taking short breaks from time to time could be a good idea. You will bloom when you include others into your plans. Try giving gifts to friends just because. Tell them that you are glad to have them in your life. Go camping or hiking, reconnect with nature. For some of you I'm seeing an ancestor that protects you because you remind them of themselves :)) Apart from this I see that you're good at your job and leave on the dot which may have ruffled the feathers of a few people. But you don't have to worry about that. Just be your usual self. "Your coworkers can very rarely be your friends so make time for the friends that you already have." - words from your ancestor. I see you happy and smiling in your blooming moment. Shaking hands with important people, doing what you love to do :)) Your ancestors and spirit guides are smiling too <3

Hers's a moodboard for you:

Songs:

Thank you for reading!

[anna-the-undertaker]

Hiii helloooo hiyaaa :3 really loved ur previous short🩷 whaddaya think about this: cottagecore themed MC? What if an MC has that vibe of a grandparent or an old storybook(like brambly hedge), is very caring and chill, likes to bake, enjoys nature and just feels like home

I loved the softness of this. It made me feel all warm inside just to write it.

Hearthbound

When the brothers first meet MC, they’re struck by their unusual presence. The Royals and the Angels are just as captivated by their charm and warm, nurturing personality. Unlike anyone they’ve ever encountered, MC exudes a serene energy that contrasts sharply with the chaos of the Devildom. Their clothes, always cozy and earth-toned, seem to belong more to a peaceful countryside than the underworld. They’re always wearing an apron, usually dusted with flour, and their hands are often busy kneading dough or tending to a small garden of herbs and flowers they’ve somehow managed to cultivate in the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer

Lucifer notices the change in the atmosphere first. The normally tense and foreboding air of the House of Lamentation has softened since MC’s arrival. He finds himself taking deeper breaths, as if trying to absorb the calming aura they bring. At first, he is perplexed by how someone so gentle could survive in the Devildom, but as he watches them bake a loaf of bread or brew a pot of tea, he begins to understand. The warmth of a fresh-baked pie and the comfort of MC’s presence have a way of disarming his stress, and though he doesn’t outwardly show it, he’s grateful. He’ll often find himself lingering in the kitchen, just to watch them move with such care and intention, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Mammon

Mammon is bewildered by MC’s nurturing ways. He’s used to adrenaline-pumping schemes and risky ventures, but with MC, everything slows down. They treat him with a kindness he’s unaccustomed to, knitting him warm scarves and offering him treats fresh from the oven. Mammon, at first, doesn’t know how to handle this kind of affection, but he quickly becomes addicted to the warmth MC brings. He’ll show up at their door at all hours, complaining about the cold or some imaginary ailment, just to be fussed over and spoiled. And when he smells fresh cookies, he’s the first to dart into the kitchen, hoping for a taste of whatever they’ve baked. There’s a particular chair in the kitchen he’s claimed as his own, and he’ll lounge there, watching them work with a contented grin.

Leviathan

Levi is awkward at first, unsure how to approach someone so different from what he’s used to. But when MC presents him with a hand-knitted blanket, soft and comforting, and bakes a cake decorated with his favorite anime characters, he’s smitten. He starts spending more time out of his room, drawn by the smell of MC’s cooking or the promise of a quiet conversation over tea. MC has a way of drawing him out of his shell, and he finds himself feeling more at ease in their presence than he has with anyone else. They remind him of the gentle characters in his favorite slice-of-life animes, and he treasures every moment they spend together.

Satan

Satan is fascinated by MC’s affinity for nature and the old-world charm they bring to the House. He’s captivated by the way they speak about the plants they’re growing, the herbal remedies they’re concocting, and the stories they tell that seem to come from another time. Satan often finds himself in the garden with them, discussing literature and nature, feeling a rare sense of peace. He admires the way they can make something beautiful out of nothing, turning even the most mundane moments into something special. When they bake, he’s often at their side, assisting with a calm enthusiasm that surprises even him. He feels a deep sense of connection with MC, as if they share an unspoken understanding of the world’s quieter joys.

Asmodeus

Asmo is enchanted by MC’s aesthetic. The softness of their demeanor, the care with which they tend to the house, and the simple beauty they bring to everything they touch—it’s all irresistible to him. He often sits with them as they bake, asking endless questions about the ingredients and marveling at the way they turn simple items into something extraordinary. Asmo loves the way MC makes everything feel cozy and inviting, and he’s constantly asking them to make little treats or craft small gifts that he can share with others. He finds their vibe to be the perfect counterbalance to his own flamboyant energy, and he delights in the way they make the house feel like a true home.

Beelzebub

Beel is immediately drawn to MC’s cooking. The scent of fresh bread or a pie cooling on the windowsill is enough to have him wandering into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of something delicious. MC quickly becomes his favorite person to hang out with, especially when they’re baking. Beel loves to watch them work, the way they move with such patience and care, and he’s always eager to taste-test whatever they’re making. But it’s more than just the food; he feels an undeniable sense of comfort in their presence, as if he’s finally found a place that feels like home. He’s protective of MC in a way that’s almost instinctual, always making sure they’re safe and well, and he never lets anyone disturb them when they’re in the kitchen.

Belphegor

Belphie is initially indifferent, preferring to spend his time napping in his usual spots. But MC’s presence slowly begins to permeate even his dreams. He finds himself seeking out the comfort they provide, often curling up on the couch where they’ve placed one of their handmade blankets. Belphie finds an odd sense of security in MC’s calm demeanor, and he starts to nap in the kitchen or the garden just to be near them. He’s drawn to their warmth and the way they make even the coldest days feel cozy. There’s something about the way MC creates a sense of family and belonging that resonates with him, and he finds himself relaxing in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

Diavolo

Diavolo is immediately fascinated by MC's ability to create an atmosphere of warmth and home in the Devildom. The future Demon King is used to grand events and the formalities of royal life, but MC’s simplicity and genuine kindness are a breath of fresh air for him. He finds himself drawn to the calm and peaceful energy that surrounds them, often seeking them out when he needs a break from his duties. He loves the way MC can make even the grandest castle feel like a cozy home, and he often invites them to the palace just to enjoy their company. He loves hearing about their life and experiences, finding their stories and outlook on life refreshing and grounding. He might even ask them to help him create a more welcoming atmosphere in the palace, valuing their input and enjoying the transformation they bring.

Barbatos

Barbatos is perhaps the most subtly affected by MC’s presence. As someone who takes immense pride in his role and responsibilities, Barbatos is not easily swayed by emotions or attachments. However, MC’s quiet strength and nurturing nature do not go unnoticed by him. He admires their attention to detail, whether it’s in baking a perfect loaf of bread or tending to their small garden. Barbatos often finds himself silently watching as MC works, appreciating the care they put into everything they do. He might even join them in the kitchen from time to time, offering his assistance and sharing in the peacefulness of the moment. Their influence softens his strict demeanor, and he finds a rare sense of calm in their presence, something he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Simeon

Simeon is immediately charmed by MC’s gentle nature and the serene atmosphere they create. As an angel who appreciates beauty and harmony, Simeon finds great joy in MC’s cottagecore lifestyle. He often visits them to share tea and enjoy quiet conversations, finding solace in the simplicity and purity of their company. MC’s love for nature resonates deeply with Simeon, and they often bond over their shared appreciation for the natural world. He might bring them small gifts from the Celestial Realm, like a rare flower or a special blend of tea, wanting to share a piece of his world with them. Simeon feels a deep connection to MC, appreciating the way they bring light and warmth to the Devildom, and he often finds himself inspired to write about them in his stories.

Solomon

Solomon is intrigued by MC’s unique presence in the Devildom. As a human who has seen and experienced much, he’s not easily impressed, but there’s something about MC that fascinates him. Their lifestyle, their nurturing nature, and the way they’ve managed to make even the Devildom feel like home pique his curiosity. Solomon enjoys teasing MC, often challenging their calm demeanor with his playful antics, but he also deeply respects the peace they bring. He might ask them to share their recipes or engage them in discussions about herbal remedies and natural magic, valuing their knowledge and perspective. Solomon finds a certain comfort in MC’s presence, appreciating the balance they bring to the often chaotic world of the Devildom. Their relationship is a mix of playful banter and deep mutual respect, and Solomon finds himself looking forward to their time together.

Luke

Luke is immediately drawn to MC’s warmth and kindness. As the youngest and most innocent of the group, Luke quickly becomes attached to MC, viewing them almost like a parental figure. He loves spending time with them in the kitchen, helping them bake cookies or tend to their garden. Luke feels safe and loved in MC’s presence, and he often seeks them out when he’s feeling homesick or overwhelmed by the Devildom. MC’s nurturing nature brings out Luke’s protective instincts, and he often declares that he’ll keep them safe from any harm, despite his small stature. He’s deeply appreciative of the way MC treats him with such care and gentleness, and he often brings them little gifts or tries to help them with their tasks as a way of showing his gratitude.

In the end, they all come to realize that MC, with their cottagecore charm and nurturing ways, has filled their lives with a sense of warmth and love they hadn’t known they were missing. Each of them, in their own way, becomes attached to the feeling of home that MC brings, and they all find themselves seeking out the comfort of their presence, knowing that with MC around, even the darkest corners of the Devildom feel a little brighter.

[residenthughes]

square one

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.6K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, some angst, leon's dealing with some insecurities (acne) :(

summary: leon's always struggled with acne. a recent flareup brings up more than he bargained for.

notes: think i saw a post about the texture of leon's skin in the re4r, as well as a headcannon that he sometimes picks at his skin and idk, just felt compelled to write this. i struggled (still do) with hyperpigmentation from acne, so this was low-key self-indulgent (and me projecting, sorry leon 😭) so enjoy(?) the fruits of that! one more exam and i'll be active again (in between celebrating any chance that i get that exams are over) hope you enjoy! :)

He feels like a teenager again.

Full of angst and riddled with insecurity. There’s so much curiosity in his eyes, fingers gingerly grazing against the scarlet surface of his cheek with inflamed pimples. Leon thought he outgrew this. Despite the occasional picking at his skin when submerged in the anxieties that live rent free in his mind, his skin remained relatively calm rain or shine. It’s worst was when he was in high school, so awkward and unsure of everything. Redness dotted against his face, he felt like puberty brought out the worst in him, forced him to grow in a body now foreign to him, navigate the unknown territory that were his new feelings. It’s a time that isn’t all that nostalgic for him and when he stands in your shared bathroom, long into his adulthood - 27 years old - staring into his reflection, his life flashes before his eyes. He’s right back where he was. Nerdy and hesitant. 

He feels so small.

“Hey,” your call for his attention is soft, doused in all gentleness you can muster as you quietly observe your partner from the door frame. “You ok? Tea’s getting cold.”

Leon huffs in annoyance, not meaning to but when his eyes catch sight of how inflamed his skin is, it takes him gnawing inside his cheek to stop himself from spiralling. It’s so silly, insignificant even. Leon never really cared much for his appearance as an adult. Reminded fairly neutral in regards to himself, stance never swayed despite those that fell to his feet bewitched by his devastatingly good looks. His stance shifted when you two met. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, but in a good way. Do I smell good? Is my hair ok? Am I overdressed? All these little curiosities combated by the love you embrace him in. He doesn’t become confident - your love is not a fix-all remedy for years of trauma and insecurity. But he becomes more sure of himself, reassured and loved wholly. He picks up his own pieces, slowly but surely. You simply steer him in the right direction. A beautiful thing, a lovely thing.

In spite of this beautiful thing, Leon can get in his own way sometimes. Stares at his reflection too long when he’s been spiralling and simply meets your gaze with a vulnerability reserved only for you. “Skin’s been acting up.”

“Honey,” you approach him cautiously, like he’s made of porcelain and Leon leans into the gentleness without a care in the world. Your hands never make contact with him, knowing any touch might open the floodgates of emotional turmoil that slowly seep into his bloodstream, poisonous and harrowing in nature. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He grimaces, eyes avoiding yours as he shrinks into himself. “Been a stressful week is all.”

Leon flashes an unconvincing smile, puffing out a beat of laughter that is all but amused. “Guess this is the result of it, huh?”

Your heart sinks. You remember when this came up early in your relationship. You were often seeing each other, whether it was to go out on the town dressed to the nines or lounge around and snack on whatever junk food (of which there was very little in Leon’s apartment) you two could find. He refused to see you, citing long work days and the lack of energy they left him with as his reasons. You respected his wishes, giving him his space and all the time he needed before finding his way back to you. However, you couldn’t ignore the voice at the back of your head, nudging you towards him with pleas of assurance. Reassurance that he was ok and wasn’t deserting you for reasons you could help with.

You bumped into him on his way back from the grocery store.

Against his better judgement, Leon needed to restock his shelves with leafy greens to rid himself quickly of the acne against his cheeks. He knew you were at work, so he took his chance and sped ran through the isles, mask pulled up to his eyes as he simply went about his business. Packing his grocery bags quickly and making big steps towards his car, only to run into you in the parking lot.

He expects you to drop your belongings. Dramatises the whole scene in his head, imagines your face twisting in disgust and murmuring a half-hearted excuse to leave the conversation early to block his number because his insecurities have gotten the best of him and he can’t think any worse of himself than he is now. 

It’s all fiction, the tragic story he paints in his head. Sees you give a small smile, cautious and coy.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he muses, the awkwardness of his predicament leaving him with nothing but the desire for the ground to swallow him whole. “Would have dressed up a bit.”

You laugh a bit, easing the pain but Leon still wants to leave regardless, foot pointed away from you with his body slightly turning towards the direction of his car.

You take note of his body language and make the conversation flow as casually as possible. “Yeah, I got off work early and was actually gonna pick up some things to come see you.”

“See me?” 

“Yeah, think it’s to be expected to want to see your partner.” you joke lightheartedly, eying the tension that leaves Leon’s shoulders as they relax back from his ears. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Leon starts. “But, I’ve gotta head back to the office…printer’s jammed.”

“Again?”

It ‘jammed’ last week. Along with some other atrocities that left Leon MIA all last week and this week too. It’s not too long to question, but the distance between you is growing unlike times before. It unsettles you.

“Can’t work that thing to save my life. So, it’s my obligation to fix it.”

“Leon,” you’re seeing through his act, calling for the denouement to the charade Leon orchestrates. He feels sickly doing this - this isn’t what you deserve, he knows that. But, during one of scarce times in his life that he’s self-conscious, is it so horrible to want to be left alone? “You’ve been a bit MIA recently. You sure you’re holding up alright?”

He questions for a moment telling you. Disclosing his recent flare up because he knows it isn’t a bad deal, especially with you who nurtures a safe space for him to call home. And he does, he goes to tell you, but in a desperate attempt for closeness, you step forwards and he’s stepping back and suddenly there’s a deafening silence between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s ok,” you reassure, time and time again. His heart hurts from the constant push and pull that plagues your relationship. It wasn’t something you had to deal with. “Just talk to me. Please?”

It’s different seeing you like this. Over text, it’s easier (but not impossible) to tap away at the screen and desert his phone, submerging himself in work to fend off any thoughts that attempt to crawl into his brain. But you’re here, right in front of him. Eyes soft and so unbearably honest with your state of being. It tears him up inside. Makes him acknowledge every attempt to distance himself from you and never do it again if the same circumstances arose.

Leon makes the situation right. Approaches you despite the screams at the back of his head and heads back to his apartment with you sitting in the passenger seat, describing the acne flare ups that in spite of the demons he faces on his missions, makes him react like no other. You comfort him as best as possible, listening to every word he says and not bothering with unsolicited advice or shallow comments that won’t help the situation. You simply craft an evening filled with distractions, all his favourite in-home activities whilst showering him with all the affection he’s missed. And when it comes time to wash up and settle into bed, you make light of the situation, giving him one of the Sanrio headbands you had left in his apartment as you two clean up for the night, the space and comfort you give him enough for him to crawl into your arms under the covers and never let go. It’s an act of service, a day, that he’ll never forget. One that allows him to bare himself to you, years later, and let you take the reins because this, on top of the travesties he’s encountered far too often lately, have made him feel like a shell of himself. 

“It’s hard to keep up with everything when you’re so busy, isn’t it?” He nods. “You’ve been working hard, always have. Saving the world isn’t an easy feat, you know?”

He laughs, this time around humoured. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Well, whatever you do,” he laughs again and you can see him slowly coming back to you. You flash him a smile, a smile that holds timeless tales of your love story and his heart begins to warm. “It’s perfectly normal to get some R&R afterwards. It’s well deserved, especially in your case.”

He simpers, now having worked up the nerve to look into your eyes and in them, sees that dazzle. The same dazzle from your first glance, from your first confession. Even at his lowest, the dazzle remains. Your love, unwavering. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, all of which he does when he feels like himself again. Showers you in abundance and more because that’s what you deserve and more.

“How about I run us a hot bath? You can tell me all about the printer jamming whilst I wash your hair, yeah?” 

He feels like a teenager again. This time, abundant in all the love he has for you.

[receival]

baldur’s gate 3 starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from larian’s baldur’s gate 3. part 2.

look at me - i’m not a monster.

stay back. i don’t want to hurt you, but i will.

no. you’re not one of them at all.

i was ready to run you through. my mistake, friend.

that’s far enough. what’s your business down here?

you revealed our location? that tongue gets any looser, (name), and i’ll cut it out.

reckon i might miss this place.

this place is more dangerous than i thought.

well, don’t you cut a fine figure.

sometimes i’m jealous of that girl. ugh - to feel so invincible again.

in your expert opinion, what’s the best way to kill a devil?

i’m certain there are answers out there. we’ll find them together.

there’s no story. none that you’re entitled to hear, anyway.

you can tolerate a great deal of suffering, so long as it has meaning.

until then, all i can do is endure.

please try to understand that it’s not something i can just talk about freely.

perhaps there’s potential in you.

honestly, your faith is your own concern. i won’t judge, one way or the other.

i think i did well by joining you.

you already know my biggest secrets. what more can you ask?

that wall’s an illusion! hiding what, i wonder …

sun, moon, and stars will still be there, waiting for us.

this place is pretty spectacular, isn’t it?

no book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice.

a perfect ring of mushrooms … nature, or magic?

hmm. i thought that might’ve done something.

another illusion. is anything real down here?

i’m more concerned with this ‘twit’ who set a spectator on you.

a rival - a mere footnote to my legend. you should be more concerned with who i am.

the fools must have turned back. or, better yet, died in the search.

i need no more rivals. try to take this as a compliment, yes?

this presence … this magic is not divine, but fey.

little? i am a god! and i’m gonna rip you - tear you - wear you for a hat -

don’t do anything hasty, now.

i’ll just kill you and claim it for myself.

i’m the lord of murder - i’ll show you why.

if you’re expecting me to drop to my knees before you, forget it.

a wizard’s tower is his sanctum, a private place for research and respite. but as this wizard’s not home … i say we take a peek.

a strange place for a button. especially one that doesn’t work.

what good would it do for me to be troubled? we can’t save them all.

you’ll have to speak slowly. i find it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten.

the whole village is falling to pieces …

hey, maybe we can scare up a few dusty bottles of wine somewhere.

i like your way of thinking. split any takings we find?

what creatures live in water this dark?

i’m a rabid dirty dog. and i bite.

i could’ve killed you before you even noticed me, but i didn’t. stand down.

i can be discreet. no need for bloodshed.

share? you really are in the wrong place.

a bleeding heart, are you? reckon i’ll just roast and eat it.

what in the hells did you do to that corpse?

you do plenty for me, more than you realize. but this cannot be remedied.

are you alright? is there anything i can do to help you?

enough. bickering won’t save your friend.

run away, then.

(name) - i was so worried! did they hurt you?

who cares? we’re together now, thank gods!

i’m grateful, don’t mistake me, but … why help us?

freeze it, cock-stench. we aren’t done just yet.

pay up, and you get to skink away. resist, and i gut you.

drop it. i don’t owe you anything.

your incompetence has been my ruin.

stop! no more innocents will die today, (name).

you care for the weak. most curious.

you so much as touch me, and i’ll tear you from limb to limb.

ah - another treacherous soul walks among us.

i ain’t going down easy.

you been a shit since i laid eyes on you, (name).

strike him down. prove your faith.

your silence speaks to your heresy.

look, you have no idea what you’re dealing with …

it’s the whole damn reason we’re here, and i’m not leaving without it.

the mission comes first.

and i thought i’d heard it all. that’s some cambion-level deception.

i go where there’s shit to stir. and there’s no shortage of options.

i can’t remember much, truth be told.

centuries of torment will do that to you.

you’ve been naughty. and you know what happens when you’re naughty.

just who in the nine hells are you?

well, well. aren’t you a luscious thing?

been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that.

you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it.

you know, i’ve been thinking. and i think there’s something i should tell you. nothing big or terrible, just … a small little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.

i want to join you - to fight by your side.

i’m sorry for barging in like this, but i had to come find you.

i won’t let you down. i promise.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i’m trying to say that you’ve earned my trust in a way very few ever have … i want that to mean something.

freedom - i’d forgotten how it felt. thank you.

if you have a moment, i’d like your opinion on something.

the problem is this: a preponderance of evidence that i am a terrible adventurer.

i can’t risk re-capture. i barely escaped last time.

it was a mistake. and not one we’ll repeat.

i don’t know. he was kind of fun.

we can’t just invite danger in to our hearth like that. we must be more careful.

most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.

an old hunter’s trick - if you can’t mask your scent, spoil it.

i prefer a weapon to stench, thanks.

you’re a monster hunter? not what i imagined.

whatever you’re hunting, your stench alone will kill it.

a quick wit is rare indeed.

know how to ask, and they’ll share that knowledge. if you’re fool enough to pay their price.

speak plainly. what is she?

i think you’re mistaken - this place looks innocent enough.

truth is like a blade, my friend. we can arm ourselves with it - or just as easily find it pressed against our throat.

i would not put you in danger.

your coyness is getting boring. tell me.

you take insult where none is intended, my friend.

how thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one’s friend in the face of danger.

you best have one hells of an apology for me.

you must have mistaken me for someone else.

that wriggler swimming in your brain juice is a bit of an inconvenience, isn’t it?

that’s none of your concern.

don’t change the subject.

keep that hole under your nose shut.

let’s not involve ourselves in this place any longer than is necessary.

you want to play the hero so badly? fine. let’s make this interesting.

gods, it’s hot in here.

i’ve had better days. and worse ones.

i am, after all, the villain of the tale.

you truly are a soul that steels my own.

you are as thick as they come.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall i.

all of this … it must feel like a betrayal.

you bastard! you ruined it, you ruined everything!

slow down - what did i do?

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

i don’t need this. good luck getting out of here on your own.

i know i should head home, but … i can’t bring myself to leave.

(are you alright?) / not even a little bit. but i will be.

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

i cannot thank you enough.

you will face (name)’s judgement.

i wish you could have visited at a better time.

you had no right to intervene.

you’re not one of us.

copper for your thoughts?

always a delight to speak to you.

did i play games like this in my youth? was i sweet once?

what are you doing? i’m busy here!

nothing beats the taste of stolen beer.

come on, now. they’re just having a bit of fun.

let’s do what we have to do, then get out of here.

smell’s like burnt flesh.

hold out your arm so i can mark your flesh.

i’m here to spill your guts across the floor.

pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?

i often feel i like raw pain too much. it scares me.

as long as the story ends in death, it’s all the same to me.

forgive me, but - that look in your eyes. something terrible has happened to you.

what i see in your eyes, in your soul, is only natural.

we’ve all suffered in these dark times. it is little wonder you hear scars of pain and anguish.

touch me and you’ll lose your hand.

the pain you suffer will cleanse you - do not fight it.

you look tired. should i take over?

welcome the pain. let it become part of you.

that looks like it’s going to bruise.

not that i’m suggesting we stop for a drink, of course.

i wouldn’t want to place all my faith in blind luck.

sympathies won’t help me to survive.

your life, much like your words, is meaningless. end the latter to save the former.

looks like the booze got the better of them. they’re practically unconscious.

they’re dying for me. all of them.

why don’t you take a closer look? i’ll observe from back here.

please don’t open the creepy book!

toddlers are easier to please than you lot.

you know, i never pictured myself as a hero.

all i want is a little fun. is that so much to ask?

having performance issues, (name)?

never have i met such troglodytes.

i was hoping you wouldn’t notice i was gone.

i suggest we admire it from afar.

it would be too much to hope that’s nothing to do with us, wouldn’t it?

i go my own way - alone.

i’ll feed your innards to the ants before i do that.

[vampiretendencies]

IDCNTLIKEDARKNESS MILESTONE EVENT ★

request; hi love ! so i saw someone request “jj x reader where they are making out and her lip stick smudges on her face and all over his lips, and they’re just so in love” on another page and i was wondering what your version would look like.. <3

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; shotgunning (smoking), fluff, making out

authors notes; after i did that headcanon yesterday of what jj was like as a boyfriend i decided to do an entire blurb of just shotgunning, i hope this little twist i added is okay !!

masterlist — jj maybank masterlist — milestone masterlist

Neither of you knew how you’d gotten here.

How you are seated at the far end of JJ’s dirt bike, and his back is to the steering handles— facing you. Knees grazing the others, helplessly waiting for the release between JJ’s fingertips. Or maybe it could be described as an escape, a painless one at that. The tight space in John B’s front yard was ideal, and JJ is taken aback that he hadn’t thought of sooner.

His girl, his weed, his bike, and his beer.

His only necessities in life.

Though you are first on that list, his priorities lie with you. Even if there wasn’t another ounce of weed to spare on this planet, you were his remedy.

And he was content with that.

Chasing the love you give him was enough of a rush in itself.

Willing to run forever until he’d gotten enough— and he’d never have enough.

The initial escape, is a blunt and it’s sitting pretty between his knuckles. Aligning together to uphold it at an angle, all the power of nothingness in such a small load. Thankfully he’d be stuck in that nothingness with you. JJ’s neck is somewhat sunburnt, as he’d given you the more shadier side of the bike, guarded by the overpowering tree at the Chateau. He’d never mind though, his girl deserves nothing less. He’s admiring you like he met you an hour ago, like it was the first time. What stuck out most though, was the seductive lip stain adorning your mouth a dark brown accentuating the curvature of your cupids bow and a cinnamon red blotted in the middle. Tinted and emphazing his most favored part on your features.

The shotgunning that’s too commence was a shared hobby between you and JJ. Bonding over it after he’d stepped foot in the local shop you worked at, coming in to buy rolling papers. Though JJ knew full well that they weren’t sold there, he just couldn’t get your image out of his mind upon buying a six pack earlier that week. An exceptional beauty behind the cash register.

Hell, he still has the first blunt the two of you shared locked away beneath his pillow in a small baggie— an emblem of the relationship.

And the rest was history.

“Gonna’ have to open real wide for me baby.”

He reminded, though is wasn’t necessary. What he was really after was seeing your mouth all slack for him, agape and awaiting his sensuous smoke to enter your lungs.

Quite the sight for ravenous eyes.

“I know,” you deadpan. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, as if to say ‘you achieved nothing with that sentence’. Even still he’s offering a shit-eating grin, weight shifting on the bike to reach the zippo lighter in his cargo-shorts pocket— with one swift movement the blunt burned with fire.

JJ encloses his pair of lips on the bud, expertly letting a cloud of smoke flow to the back of his throat, reserving the remainder in his mouth for you. Hallowing his cheeks, his hands form a ‘come closer’ motion and you inch forward on the bike— it was unknown how much more room was still left between the couple after being this insanely closed in and harmoniously integrated.

He curves his index finger beneath your chin— putting it out, unable to waste one drop as he was planning on basking in this moment; talent like because this was second nature. His mouth parted open along with yours, delicately blowing the milky white smoke to the back of your throat. His eyes darkened, watching such a tasteful scene unfold before him.

Allowing you a second to inhale it and feel it deep in your lungs— the sharpness of the weed daggering at your throat causing a cough or two. He desperately rested his hands around your waist, luring you into his eager lap. Smoke-ridden lips feathering loving pecks to your jaw, giving way for you to sulk in the nourishment that the joint gave you.

“Doing so good, pretty girl.”

Large hands centered about your neck, tightening around and grasping onto it with no sanity. Your breath hitches at the suddenness, he hungered for a raw make out session—he was going to get exactly that. Anticipating, with wandering bodies ravaging one another. His tongue searched your bottom lip, licking it with rigorous notions as well as countering the lipstick painting your lips. It was like the cherry on top before his mouth molded with yours, slowly and all at once. His grasp on your neck, cutting off air flow but still you wanted more— you wanted to keep going.

“Fuckin’ love you baby.”

He groaned forward, meaning it but more of confessing it into the kiss so that you could feel it in your bones, continuing to turn his head to meet with yours. And still he lingers, adams apple bobbing, lips attacking yours fully. Teeth biting down on your bottom lip, showing it attention once again. So full of affection he can’t contain it. Pairs of lips intact, moving with the rhythm of the wind until you let go to press your forehead against JJ’s coming up for any granule of air. Chests heaving, his bright eyes take in the sloppy, and smeared lipstick that’s littering your lips.

So fucking messy, but still the prettiest thing he’s seen.

The evidence that you were on his lips was there, the rest of the printed red indented into his plump ones. Pouted outward at the no contact.

“You got a little something there.”

You confirmed, tracing the lipstick shade to his mouth, adjusting your hips in his lap. Sharing sentimental kisses and sharing endless weed with his girl on his bike, again, he’d wished he’d thought of it sooner.

“Lick it off?”

“M’not licking lipstick off of your face JJ.”

Aware that he’d find some notorious way to coerce you into doing so.

[joyce-stick]

An Essay About Slash Review of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, A Video Game Which is Very Good

(and also: has prompted many quite wrong rather bad takes)

An essay by Audrey of the joystick system

The very bad discourse and drama around The Coffin of Andy and Leyley has served to obscure the simple fact that it is quite a very good video game and this video essay is here to tell you about that.

Video version:

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Transcript:

Hi everyone. So. The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is really, really fucking good.

If you’ve heard of this game, you’ve probably heard of it in the context of memes, screenshots divorced from context, and/or capricious moral outrage. If you’ve not heard of this game, well, you’re hearing of it now! And good thing, too, because much of the coverage and discussion around this game that already exists has… been, let’s just say, not particularly earnest. I hope to remedy that at least somewhat with this video.

If you’ve heard about this game because of discourse, and come here expecting drama and hot takes, then, this may not be your video. Or your YouTube channel, even. Or maybe it is, if you’d like the delicious comments section. If you’re that sort of clicker, though— welcome! I’m Audrey of the joystick system, and this is the place where I (and my headmates) talk honestly about things we care about, and I hope you’ll hear me out a little and maybe consider staying and improving our viewer retention. Thanks, if you do.

So, to writ: My purpose today is to gush. I will be gushing here. For most of it. And as for what I will be gushing about, some of it will be gushing BLOOD, GUTS, AND DELICIOUS DEATH. I am entirely serious. The subject of today’s presentation contains mature content, including copious foul language and themes slash depictions of death, cannibalism, cultism, demon summoning rituals, parricide, dystopian social decay, and heterosexuality. Oh, and also a little bit of incest as a treat, I guess, but the incest is heterosexual, and that’s worse.

[long pause]

Excellent. You’re still here. So. This morbidly beautiful video game may not be for everyone, but that’s good, because it is instead for exactly me! A short plot synopsis of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley might go as follows:

if you're not watching the video listen to this for extra effect

Siblings Andrew and Ashley Graves are forcibly quarantined inside their apartment by the local authorities, with no food and even less hope for rescue. Their parents have abandoned them. Absolutely no one is coming to save them. In order to survive and escape this awful situation, they butcher and consume the fresh flesh of some guy who got himself soul vored by a demon that he summoned without a plan.

This conspicuously carnivorous crime, and their effort to cover their tracks, puts them in a fair bit of a deeper shithole than they are already in. So naturally they keep digging themselves deeper by committing even more crimes, AND in the process, also dig themselves deeper into their toxic codependent sibling relationship, which is going just great, thank you. Sure, Andrew almost killed his sister, but he didn’t, and that’s what matters! And she still loves him, so it’s all good!

This is of course a joke.

First thing I absolutely love about this game is the writing. It’s witty, intelligent, uncompromising, and just generally delicious. It holds nothing back in depicting the toxicity of the two leads and their relationship, resulting in two compelling characters whose flaws and few virtues perfectly complement slash exacerbate one another, resulting in a beautiful train wreck of a relationship dynamic that proves equal parts disturbing, mesmerizing, and hilarious.

The charming darkly comedic bite of the writing style also lends a lot of great character to the setting. This sardonically presented dystopian world is both richly detailed and fleetingly elaborated on, a commendable balance to have achieved, in my opinion. The first chapter of this game is hilarious not just because of the banter between Ashley and Andrew (which is terrific), but because it presents such a sharp satire of current year bullshit.

As just an example, I give you, one of my favorite jokes in the game:

I probably don’t need to explain the thing this is making fun of to you, but I will anyway.

The situation presented in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley’s first episode is very easily readable as an allegory for how disasters that are a direct result of ongoing 2020s late capitalist decay continuously fuck people over. In particular, this scenario feels like a direct commentary on both the COVID-19 pandemic as well as the Flint, Michigan water crisis. The former obviously has affected way more people but what both have in common is that they are crises created and exacerbated by malfeasance and/or negligence committed in the name of for-profit interests, and that the “response,” to them, such as there was one, has amounted to dehumanizing and marginalizing the victims while minimizing the issue, forcing the victims out of society’s wider view, and being reticent to punish the individuals responsible. 

Just as the authorities responded to the water crisis and the worst excesses of the pandemic in real life, the authorities in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley impose half-measures designed to further restrict the freedom of the dirty undesirables who bear the worst damages, while merely shielding the upper echelons of society from the disaster rather than actually addressing or attempting to solve the issue. Most of you who lived through 2020 in the United States probably have experienced the frustration of being on the receiving end of this kind of policy.

During the pandemic, the quarantine was supposed to protect us, but for a lot of people it ended up doing quite the opposite. A lot of folks didn’t have any savings, and couldn’t get any since the employment market wasn’t exactly on fire, and our representatives had to be bothered way too much just to put out a pithy economic stimulus just to save face. Not to say that this all has stopped, exactly, as all that’s changed now is that we’re just, living with this situation, but.

It wasn’t literally a cop outside everyone’s door preventing them from going outside to not die, but for a lot of people, it might as well have been that! Never mind those who, y’know, had no inside to retreat to. Or were imprisoned during the pandemic and left even more unprotected! Or thrown out by their landlords! And so on. And, y’know, the big chain grocery stores keep throwing out all the perfectly good unsold food, so they’re already sending this message in all but, well… these exact words.

So, that’s why I think this joke lands. It’s exaggerated, but familiarly rooted, and that’s just good satire! It’s a joke which feels lifted right out of Invader Zim, which, I would put The Coffin of Andy and Leyley right about on the level of as far as both the tone it’s going for and the quality of its execution. Which of course, brings us to the extremes that these circumstances push its characters, and its plot, to.

Okay, so, also like Invader Zim, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is hardly a polemic, nor is it a morality tale. Sure, there’s social commentary in it, but that’s just a nice side thing. It’s not a story about the otherwise innocent victims of an unjust society who are pushed to do terrible things by circumstances outside their control— it is, rather a story of terrible people, who, both because of their character failings, and the desperate situations they find themselves in, find themselves doing even worse things.

Andrew and Ashley commit the cannibalism the first time in large part because they kind of have to do it. No food! Cop outside their door actively deterring them from getting food! Out of options! So they do it. They could probably be excused, if only they were given a fair trial. Which they realize they’re not going to get. So yeah. It’s understandable that they do it. And that they kill this one cop, who very much has it coming.

But they do not have to keep doing it! And gosh grief, do they keep fucking doing it— so many its. They really do not stop digging that hole that they are in. Even the first time that they do the cannibalism, when they kind of really have to do the cannibalism, Ashley is just a little bit more excited about doing the cannibalism than she probably should be.

I love this kind of delicious edgy dark humor. I love stories that go for it, imagine the worst possible people they can, and also try to make that funny. I love this about Invader Zim, that it presents a character who is unquestionably a monster, but also has relatable human desires like wanting to fit in and being concerned about looking weird or abnormal, but has those feelings for very different reasons and acts on them by committing some very despicable crimes. It really gets at a deep-seated darkness that I and a lot of other fucked up traumatized queer people who were little kids when this show aired have, the catharsis of visualizing some of our worst intrusive thoughts while evoking the emotions that pushed us to imagine this kind of fucked up shit.

I’ve loved this kind of thing since we saw Heathers when we were 14. Heathers is an absolutely incredible film that you should check out, by the way, and about which we failed to properly or interestingly articulate our thoughts a few years back. Its lead protagonists, Jason “J.D.” Dean and Veronica Sawyer, are similarly relatable characters who have familiar feeling flaws and emotionally resonant trauma hangups, and also function as very toxic enablers of each other’s worst traits, leading them to work through those feelings by, y’know, murdering their classmates!

Heathers made us realize just how exactly mentally ill of a 14 year old we really were when we were 14, and I love it for that. So. So fucking much.

That was ten years and change ago.

We are still a mentally ill 24 year old.

And Andrew and Ashley Graves, if I had to sum them up, are basically J.D. and Veronica, if they were in their twenties, siblings, and also way, way, way worse.

And I love them.

So, obviously. Ashley and Andrew are hilarious. At least, I find them to be such. They’re terrible, and awful, and amazing, and Ashley is such a girlboss. She is one of the most God Forbid Women Do Anything characters ever.

Anyway! I’ve talked about the cannibalism, and the dystopia, and the characters, and why all of that’s good. I’ve also forgotten to talk about the part where they evade an assassin, and, also a host of other things.

I love that this game has so many fun little optional interactions with NPCs, objects, and items, that you can totally miss. I love how the narration hints at the solutions to puzzles by snarkily referring to things you can interact with as what their purpose is to the characters rather than what they are, this quip about the mop that you clean up a murder scene with, the interactions that Andrew has with these cultists who suck at demon summoning, the excellent in-game art and the brilliant visual duality of Andrew and Ashley’s character designs, this line where Andrew is upset that life is so hard for them as fugitives from the law because they can only find this one shitty motel that takes cash and doesn’t ask them for their ID, and also the music, which is royalty free music made by people unassociated with the developer but is nonetheless perfectly suited for the game.

So much about this game is stuff I find so completely brilliant, and I have so little to criticize, that I think we’d probably be here all day if I kept going. So.

Let’s spend a thousand ish more words talking about the parents.

When The Coffin of Andy and Leyley begins, the protagonists’ parents are absent. You can optionally find two early references to them early on— one, if you interact with the bed in their bedroom, and encounter the shocking revelation that “Your parents have FUCKED on this bed.”

The second, is if you interact with the phone, the game dutifully informs you that,

You’re probably less than five minutes into the game at this point, barely begun solving the first puzzle, which prompted you to “find nutrients to not die.” And of course, this says about all you need to know. These children have been abandoned. But if it needed to be any clearer, the game later delivers unto you a flashback to prior in the story, when Ashley desperately calls Mrs. Graves for help after they leave and go move to a hotel, and later a new house, to which the kids are of course not invited. And this specific scene, specific line, here, fucking hit me:

“And I don’t want to hear these lies about starving anymore.”

Emphasis mine.

Even as Ashley and Andrew escalate the severity of their crimes which gradually come to have less and less to do with their need to survive as the story goes on, I find it very hard to not be on their side at least a little bit, and this is easily the biggest reason why.

I have had this phone call.

Not this exact specific phone call, of course. Obviously, I’ve never been locked up in an apartment with an armed patrol outside my door whose job it was to gaslight me while ensuring that I starved to death. Obviously, my mom has never said those exact words.

But gosh grief and fuck me if it’s never felt like she has. She may as well have fucking told me that, with all the things she told me I was lying about. And who fucking knows, maybe she did say those exact words to us, and we repressed them. I don’t know. I am very not done working through all the bullshit that she gaslit us over.

*sighs, preparing to vent*

I have called our mother and had to beg her to pay for food. I have called her and had to beg to pay for our rent, while our parents were supposed to be supporting us studying abroad. I have called her and begged her to forgive me for daring to use just a few of the thirty dollars our parents used to send us to live with every month back then, to buy a drink or a movie ticket or something. I have had to concede to our parents financially holding us hostage, had to go the last week of the month on a shoestring diet while waiting for them to graciously deposit another thirty dollars into our bank account... so that we could continue eating. I used to relish February, the shortest month, for being the one part of the year in which I had to stretch out that thirty dollars the least. And once, I pleaded with our mother to pay for us to move to another apartment when the landlord suddenly kicked us out of the current one, abruptly and obligatorily switching gears from arguing with her to kissing her ass through our gritted teeth, under threat of our parents cutting off their financial support of us completely, abandoning us in a foreign country where we had no money, no job, and barely spoke the language.

And one day, after I stopped dancing to their tune, they just stopped listening, stopped even pretending to want to help. After nineteen years of escalating emotional and physical abuse and neglect, they abandoned us. And one day, after I spent months working 10 hour days every week Ubering food around for tips, sending my resume, filling applications, making calls, stopping into places to ask for work, all to no avail, for months, and desperately plugging the Patreon page of this very YouTube channel praying that some generous soul with money to burn would solve all our problems. All of this still wasn’t enough, and wasn’t going anywhere, and I’d run out of money and was short on rent on the one sublet room we could get that cost exactly three hundred dollars…

And I called her, and I asked her for help. I really didn’t want to. I wanted to hear nothing of her again. And she said to stop lying. To stop bullshitting her that I couldn’t get enough money, or find a job.

Not too long after, I swore off all contact with her, and eventually also with our father. And every time I have spoken to either of them since, I have made no secret of how I feel. Because if I get nothing out of kissing their ass, why fucking pretend.

My family is not poor. They own their house. They own, and leased out, a second house. Their house is full of fancy IKEA furniture and various other niceties, they’ve renovated the place at least twice, they live in a nice, safe neighborhood, they have an attic and a basement, they at one point paid for multiple plane tickets for us per year while still refusing to let us eat on any more than thirty five dollars, an extra five dollars we also had to beg them for. Our dad has a lucrative tech job. All of this, and they insisted, while refusing to answer questions about their finances in any detail, that they couldn’t afford to help us go to where we wanted to go for college, that they had no place for us in their house, that they couldn’t afford three hundred dollars of rent to help us have a roof over our head for one more month.

So when I read this delightful jaunt of a chapter of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, where Andrew and Ashley break into their parents’ new huge house to steal all their shit, and Ashley says “This is some rich people stuff!” about their fireplace,

And when their mom says, “there’s no room to keep housing you here indefinitely,” and the internal monologue says, “even though it’s way bigger than the old house.” It’s both an entertaining mockery of the attitude of the typical American family, how first you’re your parents’ property for eighteen years and then you’re turned out on your own to face the world without their support, and how the fuck are you supposed to live like that, to figure out how to live your life in the face of that, to meaningfully be a fulfilled person in that situation, especially in a time, when, no, mom, I can’t pay a college tuition on a waitress salary like you did back in the fucking nineties, you c--t,

Even though they have an extra bed in their basement and a perfectly good couch and plenty of space for another bed besides, and a vegetable garden, and a kitchen, and all these other middle-class petty bougie niceties, the Graves mom says, “sorry, we can’t keep helping you,” and. And. I read all this, and I think,

“I understand why Ashley wants to fucking flay these people. I understand why she wants to K1!L them.”

I cannot tell you how much catharsis the ending of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley episode 2 gave me. I cannot convey the weight of my gratitude that someone out there validated my anger and my specific fucked up power fantasy with their art. I didn’t even ask them to. I probably would’ve eventually done it on my own. But I’m so glad that someone did it for me.

If I ever hypothetically meet Nemlei, somehow, and have some cash, I will happily buy them a drink. Hopefully, by paying this excellent game’s ten dollar cover price, I already have!

I know you’re not watching this, but on the off chance this reaches your ears, I just wanna say thanks. For giving me a safe, legal, regret-free, socially acceptable, non-violent outlet for the rage I feel towards my parents.

Well.

Mostly socially acceptable.

Meow.

This game is not finished, as you may have noticed if you’ve gone to check it out on Steam. It ends on an ambiguous and open note, but in my opinion, a perfectly satisfying one. Nemlei could disappear absolutely, never release the proper ending of this game, and never make another game again, and I would not be mad. I've already got more than my money’s worth and then some. So. Yeah. I’m happy. Count me as happy!

I kinda wanna start talking a bit more about the branches of the second episode. I wanna say how it’s a brilliant idea to have two separate story arcs for the two variations of this episode’s ending, and how I hope that that’s executed on as beautifully as the rest of the game already is. I wanna talk about the ways in which Andrew and Ashley’s mom is ambiguously humanized despite being so obviously terrible. I wanna talk about the dialogue Andrew does when his parents offer him a chance to make amends, and he has doubts, if you choose to let him have them, and how I would probably also have doubts in his position, and not be able to follow through without my lovely evil cannibal sister pushing me towards… the thing. I wanna talk about this line, where Ashley talks about why she likes eating people, and how it’s so equal parts poetic and macabre and edgy bullshit and that that’s such a beautifully balanced cocktail of emotion to nail and Nemlei totally fucking nails it

I WANT TO GUSH FOREVER. ABOUT THIS GAME. AND I WANT NO ONE TO STOP ME.

Alas, I will stop myself.

And move on to the elephant in the room!

THE FUCKING.

Mom: “But that-.... That doesn’t make any sense.” Mom: “Why would you not-......” Mom: “Ah, I get it.” Andrew: “..........??” Mom: “You fuck her.” Andrew: “Wha— HUUUUH?!?!!?” Mom: “Oh that is disgusting! Andrew, she’s your sister for god’s sake!” Andrew: “I haven’t done anything!? What the hell, mom!?” Mom: “Then what does she give you that makes it worth all this?” Andrew: “W-well that’s none of your business, is it??” Mom: “I knew something was off… How did I fuck up so bad? I’m the worst mother ever..!” Andrew: “No! I mean yes you are, but I have never—!” Ashley: “I’m baaaa-ack!!!” Andrew: “Now of all times!?” Ashley: “I got the money! Did you miss me, handsome?? Did you? Did you??” Mom: “...........................” Andrew: “(I WANT TO DIE!!!!!!)”

Okay. So. I said I didn’t want to talk about this. But I’m talking about this game. I can’t not talk about it.

Yep, it’s hot takes and drama time!

So, not too long ago, Nemlei deleted their Twitter, their Itch.io, their everything, their entire online presence. The Steam page for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, which used to list Nemlei as the developer and publisher, now lists “Kit9 Studio.” It is the only game to their name on the platform. A community forum post from said entity known as Kit9 announces that “the developer” (no name given) “has decided to permanently and completely terminate their activities online from here on.”

I don’t know exactly what happened, or why they did this. There’s a lot of people around who sure think they know. But in brief, as neutrally as possible: Nemlei, or someone close to them, was doxxed, or at least sought out as a doxxing target, by one or multiple users of an online forum. Their supposed crime? Making a video game “for degenerates.”

I don’t know who did the doxxing. I don’t know what their motive was, and for my own sanity, I am not going to look. I am choosing not to care. The most important and most obvious fact at hand here is that Nemlei’s creation has been met with controversy amongst social media users, and about one or two hack video game outrage journalists, who seem to have nothing better to do or say. And it seems clear that the doxxing wouldn’t have happened had they not been met with this negative attention. And all because of this.

Not the cannibalism, not the parricide, not the demon sacrifices. No, um, the one implied sex scene.

And it doesn’t even actually happen! It’s just a premonition of a possible future event that Ashley and Andrew supernaturally receive. It’s not particularly graphic, it doesn’t yet go anywhere, and it’s a short scene on an optional route that the game actively forewarns you about. You have to be trying to see it on purpose.

Well, that’s all true. It is indeed a minor and avoidable scene, and the discourse about it has absolutely poisoned the well when it comes to the conversation about the game. But also, “uhh, it’s optional and not a big thing,” is inadequate as a defense. This is still content in the game that Nemlei actively chose to put in the game, and even discounting this, the themes of incest are all over the game. Ashley speaks flirtatiously to Andrew at basically every turn. Even if you avoid this specific scene, the incest themes are not something you’re going to just not notice, if you’re paying attention to the text.

All that being said, it’s not like this content comes as a surprise. The Coffin of Andy and Leyley’s Steam store page accurately represents the product! A brother and sister. Codependency and cannibalism. It’s not as if you don’t know what you’re paying for and choosing to play. You came here for this! Most of the people playing this are here for this! You have to figure that if they are fine with killing and eating people, they’re probably fine with fucking each other, or, eventually possibly eventually going to be, at least.

So you’d think, except that many people seem to unironically believe that the cannibalism is more moral than the incest.

Oh, god, I’m doing this right now, aren’t I.

So, I get it. While I’m pretty skeptical of the notion that cannibalism is not as bad as incest, I do realize that incest is, at the very least, the more taboo of these things, and that a lot of people are more uncomfortable with it than they are with the cannibalism and the murder. To quote the one positive and in-depth review available in any media outlet at the time of this writing, from Destructoid:

“This aspect is undoubtedly the most controversial element about The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, and I understand why. While cannibalism is a taboo subject, it’s present in mainstream games like Fallout as an option for players. Having incestuous themes crosses over into Drakengard territory, and even then, no option allows Caim to reciprocate Furiae’s feelings for him.”

"The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is horrifying and I can’t get enough of it" Andrea Gonzalez, Destructoid, November 12 2023

So, yeah, I. y’know. Get it. I know why. However.

I can point to a lot of things that Andrew and Ashley do wrong in this game. They are, as per the game’s premise, very not okay, not as individuals, and not together. Andrew is way too attached to Ashley, and Ashley is generally an awful person who is way too attached herself, and also, all too quick on the draw to take advantage of Andrew’s attachment to her to make him do what she wants. This is not a healthy relationship. And we’re here for it! It’s compelling!

But, I think it’s worth asking why it’s such a toxic dynamic. Is it because they’re siblings? Well, not really. It’s a dynamic that’s specifically possible with them being siblings, but it’s not because of their sibling connection.

The actual reason why Andrew and Ashley’s relationship turns abusive isn’t because their relationship is abusive by necessity or nature, but because Ashley abuses their relationship. And she is doing this for basically the whole game. Like, it is abusive the whole time. It doesn’t become abusive when their relationship takes its romantic turn. Does it become more abusive? I mean. Maybe. Maybe the romance exacerbates the abuse. I dunno, we’ll have to wait and see what the next episode says.

So, then, why is the notion of them possibly in the future having sex the elephant in the room here, when before that, they do so many objectively worse things that cause much more harm both to themselves and others? Is that really so much more of a bigger deal than the murder and the people eating?

Or. To phrase it Ashley’s way. You played a game about mutilating and eating your parents’ corpses, and getting laid is what you’re freaking out about?

Is the incest really that much more extreme, or are you just more disgusted with it?

And even if you are more disgusted with it. Even if we grant that it is, actually, somehow, more harmful for siblings to have sex with each other, than to do murder and cannibalism. Is this the hill you’re dying on? What you’ve decided is of such utmost importance and injustice that you decide to go harass some random indie dev who just wants to make a silly video game about a couple of siblings eating people?

Does it truly make sense to let your kneejerk moral disgust guide you to the conclusion that the creator of this game deserves to be persecuted for merely writing about and drawing a thing you don’t like?

Well, to answer that, we have to get into the question of whether or not “immoral fiction” is harmful, or “normalizing” things that are wrong. Does fictionally depicting an immoral action actually cause harm?

I could dance around in circles for a little while about the edge cases, and certain writers who are publishing bad or hateful material in bad faith, or fascist propaganda, which is of course always bad, or whatever other example I could use to qualify my point or list out an exception to appease the people who disagree with me, but, I’ll just cut right to the chase, and tell you the answer

No!

The answer is NO!

The thing about taboos is that they don’t make us more safe. They don’t protect us from bad things. All they do is protect people’s comfort by silencing people they don’t want to understand, and enable bad actors by keeping their victims in the dark, and denying them the ability to talk about it.

The only thing we end up doing by censoring stories about these uncomfortable topics, and making it socially unacceptable to talk about them, is make it harder to know. We deny ourselves knowledge. We deny ourselves a conversation about these subjects, we deny ourselves the ability to meaningfully understand them. We deny ourselves power, what little we have, as readers, to understand, and to critique, to reason.

There’s a tumblr post I really like. Well, a number of them, I really like, on this topic, but I’m picking this one, because it’s got a quote I really like. It talks about Lolita. That Lolita. And, now, I’ve never read Lolita, at least not yet. Lolita is a novel about child sexual abuse, told from the perspective of an abuser. It’s an uncomfortable book with an uncomfortable topic, and it’s not wrong to be uncomfortable with it. The author of this post acknowledges that.

But they talk about it. They talk about how it shines a light on its subject matter. The why and the how of abusers and their actions. The ways in which their victims suffer. How it shows all of this in a way that it only could from the perspective it takes. And, I’m just going to quote them. I can’t do anything else. They said it better than I could, right now.

“Embrace disgusting fiction and then fucking talk about why it’s nasty. Now YOU have the power over reality.” - tumblr user legsdemandias

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley has been ridiculed, joked about, hot taked on, made a target, drama-ed over, and so on, but it’s hardly been criticized. No one I’ve seen admitting to not liking it talks critically about why it’s disgusting to them, or tries to understand why it exists, or what it’s for. And this is most people’s reaction to most media that deals seriously with anything taboo. “I don’t get it. I don’t like it. It shouldn’t exist. Get it away from me.”

I’m annoyed that the medium, the art form, of video games, is valued so little by so many that this is the wide reaction when something like this gets popular. That the mainstream games journalism media ridicules it, and the creator gets threatened by an internet mob, and it falls on the weirdos and the freaks and the no-name YouTube uwu girls, to give it the serious consideration and recognition it deserves.

To summarize, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is, in my opinion, a very good video game, and on its behalf, I am mad at video games.

Now, go on. You made it through this video. I told you the plot! You can probably stomach the plot! So go, go. Shoo. Go buy Nemlei a drink. If you want to.

Or, buy us, the joystick system, a drink! You can do that at patreon dot com slash joycestick, or, ko-fi dot com slash joycestick. You can buy us drinks in both of those places.

I’ve been Audrey. Thank you for listening.

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[cr0ftisprocrastinating]

Do you have any all time favorite fics? Any that specifically inspired your own? I absolutely love some recommendations for feel good, sexy, engaging romance (enemies to friends to lovers or just friends to lovers) fics. Thank you so much!!

Hello! And YES, I absolutely do. Some of these are the classic ones that everyone recs, but I've also included some WIPs that I am really loving atm that make me happy. SO:

Classics I re-read all the time:

DMATMOBIL - @isthisselfcare. This singlehandedly got me back into the fandom. I'm sure you've read it, but if you haven't, you absolutely must!

I love everything that @scullymurphy writes (plus they have great taste in music, and wine). Start with Universal Truths, but the recently completed Teach Me How To Forget is also delicious.

Similar for @thebemoon, I just love their stuff. The Darkwood Wand and The Gloriana Set are just so fun and enjoyable. I smile the whole way through.

Love and Other Historical Accidents by @pacific-rimbaud is frequently rec'd for a very good reason. Beautiful.

Also I have to shout out The Nature of Purity by @starsoforionwrites for some really interesting takes on wizarding society (and electricity!!!) which I am still thinking about.

How to Win Friends and Influence People by @olivieblake is the closest fic I've found to a Caput Mortuum-esque unhinged Hermione, and is really great fun.

Now we get to the WIPs that I'm loving, which again probably don't count as inspirations but are very much in the genre of things I love to read (and therefore, write!)

You Do It For Me by @zeebee3 is just delicious. Talk about fics you smile the whole way through.

I am ADORING Scary Partner Privilege by @nightbloom7reads. It deserves SO MUCH hype, because it's just excellent.

Erotic Friend Fiction by @whiskeygreen hasn't been updated in a while, but it is hilarious and you have 47 delicious chapters to get through!

Things Without Remedy by @onebedtorulethemall is also brilliant and deserves more hype. Very sexy big brain, hyper competent Hermione, and very sexy laboratory descriptions too. Anyone who writes anything about time travel I instantly am in awe, because I just don't think my brain could ever work that way.

Finally, If These Walls Could Talk by @incognitotoro is absolutely delightful. Bloody love cursebreaking, bloody love the medieval period, bloody love when they both exist in a fic.

these are all I can think of off the top of my head, but yes, I hope there are a few that you haven't come across yet! xxx

[rangerzath]

I've finally played the Lake House and now I'm going to talk about it for awhile. Spoilers below the break.

I will start off by saying this is one of the BEST DLCs I have ever played in any game.

I have always loved Kiran as a character since we first saw her, but The Lake House really highlighted just how fantastically rounded and detailed this character is given the short amount of time we spend with her. Her humor, the fear she experiences, but above all the determination she has to do her job makes a great character.

I appreciated how much we see of the everyman FBC agent. Not everyone at the FBC is a parautilitarian, a lovable scientist dork, or the Director. There are normal people working there believing in what they do. This is a very important part of the overall story of this organization to me. Often I see the Bureau demonized as a whole by the fandom and that really upsets me. Bad apples are everywhere, as we see in this DLC. But we also see how a good person like Kiran stands up against it. Even through the emails and documents we find in game you see good people trying their best against that evil. I am again thankful for Remedy's writing team that they really highlighted that. Even going as far as showing Darling denying a request to capture live test subjects, which means he learned after Dylan. You even see that Trench denied outlandish requests despite being being in the late stages of a galactic war raging in his mind.

You know I had to talk about Trench and Darling, but it was nice to see them again in this way. They still felt a part of this world in a way that made sense. Document storytelling has been one of my favorite things about Control. They present us with just enough framework to use on our own canvas to try and piece together details of those blank pages.

Did I get emotional over signatures? Yes, yes I did.

The atmosphere of this DLC hit all the right horror points. From the moment you walk into The Lake House it captures all the scariest horror vibes from the main game. The paint spattered on the walls like blood, but somehow even creepier because of how it wouldn't make sense to see paint like that (until you figure out just what is happening). Being helpless to the painted because again you are just an FBC Agent not a parautilitarian emphasized this feeling.

Using a picture frame set up with Kiran telling Saga what happened at The Lake House made sense and gives us the point in time Kiran would be providing this information. She left us clues in the main game with her dialogue of something horrible that went down at the Lake House, so it feels very appropriate that we get to see that in detail.

The question that resounded throughout this DLC of what is art was very appropriate given the struggles we face today with AI and plagiarism. How is art perceived and how does its emotional impact play on its viewer? Again the writing team really shines here with all the little details. The room with the ATDs was truly horrifying. I don't think they have ever made a room with no one feel so ominous.

Obviously there was a lot in the DLC for Control fans. We will be speculating on every detail for the next couple of years. I always hoped this last DLC of Alan Wake would lead into Control 2, so I couldn't be happier to see just that happen.

Unlike some DLCs that feel as though they were an afterthought, the story feels like the natural ending of Alan Wake 2's story. It felt like the only goodbye we would have with this game and its characters.

The ending song was a beautiful final note to capstone a game that Remedy struggled for so long to make, and I imagine at times doubted that it would ever be made.

I often struggle to put my feelings into written words, but I wanted to try and get them out. Remedy's future looks bright with multiple games on the horizon, but we see how quickly companies can run into issues and nothing is set in stone. Anything could happen in these uncertain times. We may never see these characters again, and most certainly not in the form they are now. It makes me really sad to think we may never see Saga and FBI Casey or Kiran ever again. Maybe there won't ever be an Alan Wake 3. Maybe we won't see Alan battle the Dark Presence again. Maybe we won't ever see Dark Place Casey's echos pave a path for Alan. Maybe we won't see Alice show us just how much a character can grown into her own. Maybe we don't even get to see more of Jesse, or Emily, or Arish. I already know with the passing of James McCaffrey some of these things are impossible. But its not only death that separates seeing a character again. The song End of an Era highlights this goodbye. This end scene. The curtains close. It is an end.

What I appreciated in this song was that it highlighted the struggle of getting to that ending. No matter what goal you are trying to reach, whether it's Alan trying to escape the Dark Place, Jesse finding out what happened to her brother, any one of us creating things that make us happy, that path always has its ups and downs. And that end will always be bittersweet. It will change us. It is a goodbye.

Whatever Remedy creates in the future it could be something we may like or something we may end up disliking. They could ruin characters or make brand new ones for us to fall in love with all over again. We can take that or leave it. Whatever they decide to do. Maybe we like Firebreak and their new type of Remedy game, maybe we don't. But none of that will change how we felt about these prior games and how these characters made us feel at this moment in time. We can look back and remember how it made us feel. When we laughed, when we cried. The journey they took us on.

I will always be grateful that I was able to experience these games. They moved me in ways I cannot find the words to fully describe. I will carry these feelings forward and cherish this memory.

“There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, So just give me a happy middle And a very happy start.” - Shel Silverstein

[daportalpractitioner]

cycle syncing guide: nu moon in gemini

the nu moon in gemini takes place on june 6, 2024 at 7:37 AM CST. major themes include: sisterhood wounds, friendship, ancestral communication, relocation, sacral + throat chakra healing, and breaking generational patterns.

bleed phase: sisters bleeding with the nu moon are in one accord with nature's rhythm, so the need to detox, cleanse, and start anew will feel really apparent. if there are friendships and social circles that you have outgrown but haven't had the courage to cut ties with, then this is your invitation. your ancestors will be speaking to you in order to help you navigate this season in life. so, if you are one to venerate your ancestors, then this nu moon would be a great time to spend some intentional time at the altar or in nature with them. it's time to move forward from the past and stop giving the past permission to be your current story. you have to make room for all the beautiful experiences that match the energy that you're stepping into by releasing all that once was from your reality. some of y'all also may be experiencing constipation as a physical manifestation of you holding onto SHIT that has no business being here anymore.

follicular phase: my follicular sisters may feel increased creativity and inspiration during this nu moon. this is giving you the momentum, power, and strength to choose a different story. it's a beautiful time to think about what you want your life to look like in the next months, by the full moon in gemini in december (gemini is the master manifestor). be mindful of placing limitations on your vision because of what your 3D reality looks like. with this energetic portal, you'll be surprised at what's going to manifest from it. this is a social time to also meet up with your sisters and spend intentional quality time with the women that choose to pour into you.

ovulatory phase: this nu moon is bringing big life changes to my ovulating sisters. there is a strong need for a change that better suits you. you could be thinking about relocating, getting into a more serious commitment, going back to school, or changing careers. regardless of what the change is, it's important that you make a move with the urges that you're receiving. change is scary, but soul necessary for your growth and overall satisfaction in life. you have to take accountability for writing your own story. at the end of the day, this is your life and it is your duty to call the shots around here. take a risk like you know that God has your back.

luteal phase: this nu moon may hit the luteal sisters hard as it has a heavy emphasis on deep healing + curse breaking regarding wounded sisterhood. wounded sisterhood stems from the mother wound and we can only show up as better sisters when we actively work on remedying the relationship that we have with our greatest mirrors — our mothers. a lot of us come from homes where our mother was not properly supported by her community, a wound that has trickled down to us, creating a blockage in how show up for our connections (especially with our sisters). we're being called to address the pains that have led us to not experience genuine sisterhood so that we can then take accountability for the ways in which we've kept perpetuating the cycle. sisterhood is crucial for each woman and how you show up for your sisters is reflected in how you show up in all areas of your life. accept what has already transpired and release it with love through compassion and forgiveness. give yourself permission to eject yourself from this painful story because you deserve to write a nu one where you are chronically experiencing mutual, reciprocated love and trust from other women cause there is nothing else in the word like it.

[samanddean76]

How To Accidentally Create Soulmates

Gabriel had been enjoying a leisurely afternoon spent shirking everything that even vaguely resembled one of his many responsibilities, when the frantic prayer made a previously unscheduled stop inside his head.  It was, of course, from his favorite little wayward angel, Castiel, and as he listened to the panicked words as they filled his mind, well, he knew that he was going to have to personally remedy the unfolding drama before it spiraled wildly out of control.  He rolled out of the hammock that had been slung between two palm trees on the shore of a lovely little volcanic island, looked around one last time at the natural beauty that he rarely found the time to be able to enjoy, and then ascended to heaven in a whoosh of magnificent wings. 

The specific nursery was easy to find, what with the high-pitched shrieking that was carrying down the hall.  That was very concerning, as the soul nurseries were the picture-perfect ideal for all things calm and serene.  Chuck was prone to planning ahead, and one day, with no warning whatsoever, all of the archangels were marched into a special wing of heaven.  They had needed to shade their eyes against the bright glow of countless souls milling about, waiting for the time that their body would be formed and that they would then go down and live out their destined lives.  The brothers had been informed that this wing was under their personal protection, as it also contained another nursery further down the hall.  That was the one that needed their defense. 

Michael had immediately volunteered to watch over the harmless little balls of light, feeling that as they were far behind the magnificent gates of heaven, nothing would ever be able to harm them.  Their safety was ensured by their location. 

Raphael had said nothing, just standing there looking bored.  Gabriel had worried that his big brother was plotting, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that Raphael could get up to that would require a vast quantity of souls in order to accomplish it. 

Lucifer had smiled that oily smile of his, the one that let everyone know that he was up to something, just not having worked out the particulars of his insidious plan just yet.

Gabriel had stood silent, looking down at the marble floor.  Just feeling that this was not a matter that merited his concern, and that his father would inevitably pick one of his glorious warrior brothers to see to the task at hand.  Leaving Gabriel to wander off and see to his favorite hobby, animal creation.  He was still miffed that no one had been excited about his platypus, cute little thing that it was.  Perfectly adorable as far as he was concerned. 

But no.  That hadn’t been what had come to pass. 

“Well, see, I mean, I called you here to let you know that I actually had one of you selected already.”  Chuck had been a little bleary eyed as he spoke, jittery from too much of his favorite drink, something he called coffee.  Said it would be incredible once the humans discovered how to make it for themselves. 

“But see, I think that this is a responsibility that will be perfect for you, Gabriel.”  All eyes had turned towards the diminutive Archangel, some curious, some jealous, and all now utterly bored with the topic at hand, as it no longer concerned them.  For if Gabriel had been selected, then it really couldn’t have been that important anyway.  The others had wandered off as Chuck had taken Gabriel on a guided tour.  Showed him all of the different rooms, pointed out all of the potential problems, as far as Chuck saw it anyway.  Gabriel had tried to show some interest, but he really couldn’t see the point of walking down a hallway every few days, peering in through a window, nearly being blinded as the little souls simply didn’t know how to dim themselves, and then wandering off, as it wasn’t even a practical notion that he might be successful in counting them.  So, what else could he possibly do? 

Once he had assured Chuck that he was very proud to have been given this great honor, Gabriel had made a beeline to Castiel’s quarters.  He found the oddball little angel as he usually was, meditating on some profound matter.  The reason that Gabriel liked him so much was because he always had the best ideas for new animals, or at least the best theoretical ideas, which Gabriel pondered and then produced some truly inspired creations from. 

Castiel had been honored at the thought that he could help Gabriel in such a momentous way.  Gabriel had simply shrugged, thanked him, gone off to design a seahorse (because pregnant males were so going to annoy his brothers), and had forgotten all about this newly shirked responsibility.  So that was why the frantic prayer was so worrisome.  What could possibly have gone so wrong that Castiel was unable to handle it? 

The answer smacked Gabriel right in the face as soon as he opened the door, literally.  The little soul, which seemed smaller than normal, had been wailing its little metaphorical lungs out, when it had glommed onto Gabriel and slid down to rest directly over his heart.  The purring sound that was wafting up was strangely soothing, but Gabriel couldn’t focus on that, he needed to know what was going on.  His honey-gold eyes caught upon Castiel, as he sat in the middle of the floor, with his own little soul happily stuck to him.  It also appeared to be smaller than normal, and before Gabriel could ask his question, Castiel simply announced the needed answer.  Or his version of it, anyway. 

“Gabriel!  Please, I don’t know what happened!  I was passing this room when I heard a disturbance coming from within.  When I looked through the window, this soul was glowing blue and gold while trying to break free, and then it, simply passed through the glass and won’t let go of me.”  Castiel looked down at his own little purring ball of light, and Gabriel watched as it strobed with each approximation of a breath. 

“Ok, but that doesn’t explain this.  Why are there two tiny souls?”  Gabriel waved a hand at his own very small soul, noted the look of dread on Castiel’s face, and inquired, “What?  What does that look mean?” 

Castiel was now chewing on his lip, before he swallowed hard, and then squeaked out.  “It’s this soul.” 

“Come again?”  Because, no, nope, bad, so bad, no good would come of this, oh for the love of dad!  Gabriel braced himself for the answer, knowing that no matter what it was, it was not going to make the situation any better. 

“It’s the same soul.  It tore itself in two.”  Gabriel could only stare at Castiel as his mouth hung open and he pondered what he could have possibly done to have earned such an insane punishment.  Not from Castiel, of course, but from Chuck once he learned that the one and only unbreakable thing in all of creation had been broken.  In less than three weeks, that which could never be destroyed had been ripped in two. 

Gabriel realized he needed to invent some expletives, because situations like these simply called for them to be used with vigor and a shocking degree of creative inventiveness.  And he was nothing if not a linguistic connoisseur.  But that was for later.  Right now, he needed to focus on cleaning up this mess. 

“Castiel, you’re absolutely positive that this was one, single soul.  That there weren’t two tiny souls that you overlooked?”  Were it not for the precariousness of the moment he found himself tangled up within, Gabriel would have laughed at the look of pure indignant annoyance that was framed on Castiel’s worried visage.  An entire forests worth of carefully documented paperwork appeared from out of the clear blue sky and landed near Gabriel’s feet. 

“I believe that if you refer to page 1,537,951,482,706 of my notes that you will find I have measurements for only one since the very first day I assumed this responsibility.”  Gabriel realized that he had underestimated his little cohort.  As he quickly perused Castiel’s meticulous notes, the little soul that had snuggled into him glanced back over its shoulder (and Gabriel would swear on everything holy and pure to the voracity of this fact), but that it then blew a raspberry at its other half.  That prompted a sound that if Gabriel had to hazard a guess, would become the basis of a future expletive. 

Gabriel needed a minute to think, to try to puzzle out a solution to a quandary that he hadn’t seen coming.  At all.  Not only had he failed in his duties, but his minion had also broken the unbreakable, and now the two little halves seemed quite content to stay with their chosen angel.  Which could prove to be rather difficult to explain to Chuck.  Because really, how does that conversation go? 

“Hey son, you seem a little extra bright today.  Anything different?” 

“Naw, nothing at all.  Hey!  Look over there!” 

Gabriel then pictured himself running away, not stopping until he was at least four galaxies over.  He was brought out of his dire thoughts by the little soul letting out a huge yawn and then beginning to drift off to sleep.  Must have tuckered itself out after the screaming fit, was all that Gabriel could think to explain the action.  But Castiel looked down at his own half, and Gabriel knew then that they were still connected.  Even though one was now two, they still shared a bond that couldn’t be completely severed. 

Castiel was looking up at him, big blue eyes full of hope that maybe he hadn’t inadvertently destroyed their father’s most prized creation, and it was then that Gabriel decided that a little Archangel mojo was called for.  Lest he end up being punished for something that wasn’t entirely his fault.  Yes, he had delegated, but how hard could it be to look after a few quintillion souls?  Really?  Gabriel let his grace flow out, helping to wipe away Castiel’s memory of this day, and then he picked up the sleeping soul and wrapped both halves around the other. 

Gabriel watched, utterly fascinated as a closed seam appeared where the soul had been torn in two.  On further inspection, it looked as if the seam could be opened with very little effort, meaning that this soul would be able to split into two whenever it felt the desire to.  Well, he couldn’t be having that, so with a snap of his finger he did the best he could to erase their memory of this day. 

It should work, right?  I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? 

Gabriel pulled the tall drink of water that was Sam Winchester closer to him, tucking his massive head into the hollow of Gabriel’s throat.  Wondered how he had ever been foolish enough to think that he would have been able to make this determined little soul ever forget about him.  The being that had helped to motivate it to literally rip itself in half. 

Castiel and Dean were in the next room over, quiet now, after they had gotten done rearranging the furniture.  Gabriel still chuckled every single time Castiel made a reference to that damn porno.  Especially since it wasn’t even one of Gabriel’s. 

Chuck had never said a word, just given Gabriel an odd look one day.  Like Gabriel had managed to surprise him.  Or that he had done exactly what he was supposed to.  Omnipotence at work. 

It didn’t really matter.  Not anymore. 

Because what more can you do after you accidentally accomplish the impossible? 

[kankuroplease]

I've read a lot about the uchiha brothers and 'it's a bit early' but if you have some ideas for... what will Yaya, Mate, Gin, Wakaba ,+ Katsura ?be like as a mother.

The mamas! Under the cut because it’s kinda long

Katsura

She would seek advice immediately other women around her as she knows she’s in over her head

She will also gag while changing her first particularly stinky diaper

But she is a headstrong woman and would set her mind to doing this mothering thing

Once that kid is too big, they are not getting picked up anymore she’s very short, what would she look like carrying a child half her size 💀

Memorizes all their favorite foods and desserts to make them on special occasions

Uses everyday moments as teaching ones

She’s ready to fight the other mothers and their children for her child if need be

Would be the loudest mother cheering for their kid at the the exams

Teaches them about poisons and swordsmanship

She’s the mom that will keep her kid’s secrets. Even from her husband

Gin

She would be so awkward with a baby at first

How do you hold it? She’s supposed to just put it to her chest to feed it? Why does it sleep so much but not when it should?

Once she gets the basics down, she’ll be okay

But very protective of the baby. No you can’t hold them, they aren’t some pet to be passed around

Makes bone play structures for the kids and it would creep people out a bit

She would raise her child(ren) how her father raised her; strict but with love

She’s their first sparring partner and continue to push them to be stronger

Quitting isn’t acceptable. They don’t have to be a legendary warrior, but what ever they chose to do, they better give it their all

“You can date when you’re 27” - Gin. She doesn’t mean it, but she will still be shocked if her kids start dating in their teens.

When she was a teen she was on battle fields fight grown men, so this is better? She doesn’t know

Mate

Would introduce herself at the child’s birthday like “hi… I’m your mother 🥹🥲😭”

Honestly would wrap up her child and carry them everywhere with her

Doesn’t see the point in being overly strict as a child is only a child for so long

Very gentle and nurturing

Kisses scraped knees and elbows as well as gives raspberries

Knows all the remedies for tummy aches and colds

She will cry when her child reaches training age and leaves the house excitedly for the first time to join their father

Makes sure to drop their lunches off with them and that dinner is hearty and ready for them when they get home

Probably not the only mom that would ask their child(ren) if they want a sibling. It’s very important that they are okay with the idea of a larger family

Wakaba

She’s the mother that would get a nanny. Tenko can afford one easily and she likes her beauty sleep, so why not?

Insist on dressing up the baby in silks with pretty embroidery just because

Her maternal instincts need a bit of work, but she is playful with her children

Their tantrums would stress her out

Also would brag about their accomplishments, especially in fire jutsu

Definitely would spoil her children rotten because the deserve the best

Might regret how spoiled she raised them later

Yaya

She’s a natural at motherhood and really enjoys it

The kids are welcome to sleep next to her until their lure grown for all she cares (Inari would have to bribe the kid to sleep in their own room)

She’s the type to help them whenever they need it. Tough love? She doesn’t know her

If they have a problem, mama will help them the best she can

Loves all the kid gifts and would keep them in a chest for safe keeping and would probably pull them out to show them when they’re older

Neighborhood mom, she looks out for all the children and let’s them hang out at her place, although she would send for back up if too many showed up (most likely Ringo, Mate, or Gin)

Learned how to make dango just for the kids

Ringo

Expects her man to help raise HIS kids. Her father was ab active part of her life and wasn’t pig headed about it, so the bar is high

She gets her mom to move in for the first few months with her newborn because she wants her pro tips

Then would proceed to try to do her own thing and end up whining about becoming engorged because she let the baby sleep verses waking them up for a feeding

Probably leaves rouge stains on the babies face from kissing their cheeks too much and tries to get off

She is definitely the mother that can’t cook and everything taste like cardboard (send help)

But she is the fun mom!!

Loves all the funny toddler moments

[riddler-green]

Could I request a riddler/ reader w/ a reader who likes to draw him pls 🙏🙏 like as a gift or even just keeps and he finds them in their studio and realises his face is littered along their portfolio like a thoughtfully crafted tapestry and testament of their love or something corny like that I love the idea of a reader who’s just awe strikingly in love and him the same it’s so sweet WAAA but u can do whatever w/ the idea of artist/riddler ur so cool Ty <333

Mi musa.

Summary:  you are an artist with your own habits but you never forget who your true muse is.

A/N: hey hiii! it's me again! thanks so much for the request! I really appreciate it! and I hope you enjoy it, I love that Riddler/ artist concept too!1 ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

Warning: possessiveness on the part of both, fluff!

Words: 1500.

Art can be a means to convey what you want to say when you don't have the words to get them out of your mouth, you have never proclaimed yourself as the best artist in the world, but for as long as you can remember others have recognized your talent, you are grateful for the compliments of others who find charm in your work when you only find things to improve.

Perfectionism is something that tortures you when you look at your own work, you know there are things to improve but somehow when you draw the man of your dreams it's the opposite. Sometimes they tend to be simple doodles on yellow post-its, sometimes you draw portraits worthy of hanging in renowned museums, when it comes to Edward, you always find solace. A calmness in painting is like a therapeutic remedy.

Edward couldn't stand the itch in his nose, he had to sneeze covering his nose with his shoulder, you stopped painting and looked at the palette in your hand "Sorry" Edward apologizes in a low voice but you can hear him, you move away from the canvas to look at him "No need to be completely still my love, it's okay" you inform him mixing different shades of brown to paint his hair.

Edward kept as still as possible even though he is only sitting on a chair with a dark blue background, he couldn't help but think that when he poses for you it reminds him of an ancient king asking his star painter to do a portrait of him to show his greatness and power. But he knows he is not a king, he is still a little incredulous how someone like him managed to date someone like you, someone who looks at him with so much admiration, so much love that lasts for hours, even when you are out of your studio and he is at his most unfavorable moments you still look at him with great esteem.

"I think I will have to add more red to your cheeks, they are too red" you joke behind the canvas, Edward laughs at the comment, maybe in the past he would have refused to even have his picture taken, as he didn't like the way he looked, but now, he poses in front of you naturally as it is not the first time you paint him.

He doesn't mind that your studio is full of paintings, sheets full of drawings of him, he found it beautiful and wonderful, he started to love himself with your paintings, he sees the beauty that you see in him "Some day you should draw yourself too" says Edward calmly looking everywhere in the studio without turning his head.

"I don't know, self-portraits are hard to do" you reply placing a brush in your mouth as you use a palette knife on the canvas "Although it's not impossible either".

Edward remains satisfied with the answer and is silent again, he feels so excited with the result of the painting, you always make it a masterpiece at the end in his opinion. He scribbled sometimes on his accounting sheets and on his crossword puzzle, he drew question marks, and sometimes he drew you, or well, a caricature version of you, when he showed it to you, you cried, without you knowing you already started sobbing, it's different when they draw you.

Edward catches a glimpse of a rather large picture with all the drawings he has given you as a gesture of love, all the drawings placed as a big collage and protected by glass, under the picture, there was a signature "Eddie's Drawings".

His cheeks ache for he adores that you appreciate him too, it never crossed your mind to judge his drawing skills, you always received the little pen doodles with love "I'm almost done" you speak to him and he makes a happy humming sound, for you, you could be posing for days if you wanted to.

Again he thinks again, deep in his heart he loves it when you proclaim that he is your only muse, not Bruce Wayne, not another rich guy who pays for your paintings, Edward Nashton of KMTJ brings out your creativity to make paintings non-stop.

"I hope it comes out well in this painting," he says and you switch brushes "You always come out beautiful Eddie" you assure him as if it's a no-brainer.

Edward stretches his legs a little when he notices you are putting down all the brushes "More than the plain Mona?" you laugh at his question "More than the plain monkey" you reply and call him over to come to see the painting.

"wow" is the first thing he says when he sees it is him with various mixtures of paints that make it look great, he stays a few minutes fascinated with the work while you finish putting away all the paints and utensils.

"Do you want to take it home?" you ask taking off your Machado apron of various paint textures and Edward nods his head buzzing with delight as he takes your hand.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Is it a cow?" you ask looking at the paper in front of you, when they came in from your study day Edward wanted to show you a drawing he did on his break from work "It's a dog" Edward clarifies pointing to the somewhat deformed figure of the dog "it's you and me and the dog we saw in the park" he explains his drawing as you look happily at the drawing, so proud of him.

"It's so cute!" you squeal with happiness placing the drawing on one of the walls of the room "I think I'll put it in my next collection" you speak to him lovingly as the two of you embrace, Gotham nights are usually cold, but when you're next to Eddie it seems like the whole apartment becomes warm.

"I would like you to attend my next Exhibition will you go, right?" the two of you look at each other face to face Edward keeps his eyes closed completely in love with the position they are in "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The presenter looked at you with respect, he was sitting next to you with several question cards waiting for the program to start, all the time your facial expression was serious.

When the program started the presenter began with a charismatic talk about your works "So, tell us, who is that man who is always in your paintings?" he let out the question with a curious tone the cameramen pointed to your face looking for a surprised expression from you, instead you answered naturally.

"He is my partner, Edward, we have been together for several years and I always fell in love with his way of being" you start talking with a formal tone "When I see something I love, I want to capture it in my paintings so it can be immortalized" you settle back in your seat placing your elbows on armrests.

"Before I was looking for perfection in my art, but now I achieved it without realizing it" the presenter remains static before your speech "perfection is when I look at the effort I put in each work and that it was worth it" you look at the camera in front of you "sometimes art can hurt us, but I decided to be happy painting the love of my life".

The presenter you forgot his name gave a few admiring claps as you took a sip of water. God, you just hope Edward watches the show.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

The man in clear glasses leapt towards you to hug you both standing outside the program set, the stoic countenance disappeared when you noticed your boyfriend, he squealed with joy for the program "God, how I love you!" he proclaims and before you could respond he kisses you on the lips, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment.

"Me too Eddie" you reply kissing him again, you remember hearing about Edward's past, you wish the people who hurt your muse would suffer the consequences of their actions.

"I think I have inspiration for another painting, but this time I need to buy a darker green" you comment smiling at him, Edward gets excited "what kind of green?".

"Mmmm" you pretended to think making a thoughtful sound "What color is the Riddler mask?".

Edward almost choked on his own saliva, in a few times you have painted him as the Riddler and that makes him get more excited "I um, I think, I can tell which gree-en it is" he stutters nervously.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

There were nights when Edward tried to draw you with canvas, and you happily posed while Edward mixed different tones that you could easily make a rainbow vomit, still, it was a dream for you to see him like that, you swear he looks so cool behind the canvas, you seriously consider buying him a beret to match his beautiful eyes.

When Edward finished he proudly showed you the artwork, someone else would say it was a perfect Picasso with the drawings barely repeatable but for you, it was the masterpiece of the century.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!

[proshippers-against-censorship]

I want to confess something kinda funny about one of my fics because I saw a post somewhere about how antis put "not a ship" under their work (and then the work itself has the most sweetest shippiest vibe ever lol). I hope this is amusing.

I made this one fic about a pair of siblings, a fic I intentionally wanted to make platonic because I do not ship them personally. I don't judge anyone shipping them, I myself just don't for whatever reason. All I wanted to do was write a nice wholesome fic for them.

Except I'm abysmal at writing non-shippy physical touch and emotional exchanges. I mainly do various flavours of angsty romance or aromantic sexual relations, so... some of the points at the fic I thought "this is gonna come off as kinda maybe romantic isn't it". So, what I remedied it with was a tag. I tagged it with 'not a ship' of course. Because that's gonna fix it, right? Literally slapped it on like a piece of tape on a burst pipe. I'm so smart!!1

Now, it's OK if people read my fic with shipping in mind, it really is. The point is that I'm such a failperson that when I try to write cute gen friendships it comes across like they're in danger of tripping into a booty grabbing hug all the time and it's so mortifyingly funny now that I think of it after the fact.

Imagine wanting to draw a circle and going about it by drawing a square with extremely rounded corners. Like technically it passes for a circle but there's something vaguely suspicious about it. And you wonder if people see it that way as well.

I'm thinking of taking the tag out but then again it's just so damn funny maybe I should leave it there for giggles because maybe it'll crack a bonafide sibling shipper up, idk. Moral of the story I'm the writer equivalent of the doujin artist doing cheeky shit like automatically inserting messed up ass and tiddy shots into serious emotionally impactful scenes. I'm the mfer that draws the old evil man with plump glossy lips and big naturals.

Anyway have a beautiful Sunday my lovely people 🫶

Pfft.

[vvallent1ne]

THE HEIRESS - genshin impact

summary: Being the Heiress of the Cryo Archon, more commonly known as the Tsaritsa, was no easy task. Which is precisely why the Archon hand-picked a lowly, Monstandtian, Visionless girl.

… meet Feyre, the local bookworm of Mondstadt!

chap. II: the descent down the mountain brings the anamnesis of at-hand acquaintances

chap. I - chap. II - chap. III (IN PROGRESS)

wc: 5k

THE trek down the mountain was but a normal one at the most. Albedo took the initiative to stay squarely in front of Feyre, mayhaps to shield her from any open threats. Feyre, being behind her mentor, was able to admire him brazenly. His hair seemed so ... soft. Was it real? Or was it just synthetic, much like the rest of him? Albedo had informed the girl of his true nature not too long ago, while Feyre was working on bringing a sweet flower back to life. She was shocked, to say the least. Though, some part of her always felt off around him. Not in any major way to affect their relationship or how she viewed him, but just a small feeling in her gut. That the person she was talking to, the person she assisted, the person she was taught by, was in fact, not a real human. It sometimes made her feel uneasy whenever she thought about that night. The way his voice was unwavering as he revealed his deepest secrets to her, bared his entire being in front of her. The hushed whispers, the candid words, the fleeting touches. She shivered at the memory.

She wondered what it would be like to be aware that you were not truly alive—just...breathing. She felt a pang of pity in her heart for her mentor. She, herself, had not really known what living was until she met Albedo. Oh, how alluring he was. Feyre was trapped in his presence like a fly in a spider's web. They first met not too long ago, maybe when she was 17. She was going up into Dragonspine in order to pick some extra mint for a homemade remedy she was crafting. Well, technically, she met Sucrose first, but then came him.

She had just bent down to pick the last of the mint before she heard the sound of snow crunching, as well as clothes rubbing together. She could faintly hear the sound of jewelry clanking in the slight breeze. Her mind shocked her into defense mode. She'd had a dream like this before. It was that same Fatui agent in almost all of her dreams, binding her wrists and dragging her away by her hair. She refused to go down without a fight. She grabbed the hilt of her sword, a pathetic weapon to have if not used with a vision. She gripped the handle like a vice, her body freezing mid-stand. She paused for a second. So did the person. She then turned around as quick as a hare and pounced on the individual, pinning them to the ground.

Feyre was 100% not expecting a green haired, glasses wearing, meek alchemist to be under her. She immediately recognized the girl as Sucrose, Kaeya had mentioned her in a few conversations while he talked to her about his new job at the Knights of Favonius. He said that she was a shy little thing with a tendency to grow embarrassed or flustered by the smallest things. Feyre could relate to her on some level.

After recognition hit Feyre like a freight train, she climbed off of the shaking girl and stood up, offering her hand out to the alchemist.

"I am so sorry. I thought you were ... well, I actually don't know, but ..." She trailed off, silencing herself before she could ramble on again. The green-haired girl took her hand and lifted herself up, readjusting her uniform. She repositioned her glasses as a small smile split on her mouth. Feyre then recalled what Kaeya had said about her tendency to grow flustered, and looked at her cheeks. Low and behold, the alchemist was blushing furiously. The contrast between the red of her cheeks, the green of her hair, and the porcelain of her skin was a beautiful sight, Feyre decided. This thought caused her cheeks to erupt in heat as well.

"It's alright, I understand. I'm sorry for sneaking up on you like that, It's just ... I saw you picking mint and wanted to ask what it was for," The green-haired girl confessed, her eyes glued to the snow next to her shoes. Feyre realized that she wasn't one for eye contact either, and was thankful for this fact. After a few beats of silence, mostly caused because of Feyre admiring the sight of the alchemist's face, the said girl interjected worriedly. "You don't have to answer that! I totally understand if you think I'm strange for sneaking up on you, It's just that I thought maybe you were interested in alchemy as well, and if you happened to be researching the same things as me and-" The girl's rambling was promptly cut off by Feyre's calmly spoken words.

"Don't worry. I don't think you're strange, I know how insatiable curiosity feels," The flaxen-haired girl began. "Since you want to know, I was picking some mint in order to create a homemade remedy for certain illnesses. I've heard of you before, Sucrose, right?" The girl questioned.

"Ah—um—yes! That's me!" The girl with the vibrant emerald hair finally found her voice, her words tumbling out in an awkward yet endearing fashion. Her hand absent-mindedly moved to scratch the back of her neck, a clear indication of her nervousness. "If you don't mind ... and you don't have to if you do ... but I'm quite curious as to where you heard of me?" Taking advantage of the pause in the conversation, the young alchemist decided to return the question, her tone filled with a hint of cautious curiosity.

"You worry too much," the flaxen-haired girl said, her voice as soothing as a calm breeze over a tranquil sea. "My brother is Kaeya, the renowned Cavalry Captain of the Knights. His reputation surely precedes him. It's quite possible you've heard of him, given you work in the same organization," She paused, her bright eyes reflecting the flicker of light from the snow. "Moreover, he's spoken of you in our conversations before." Her words hung in the air, and the gravity of them caused the alchemist, already flushed, to blush a deeper shade of red, a color so intense it could rival the setting sun.

"In conversation ... huh ...—w-wait! You're Kaeya's sister? You must be Feyre, then. It's nice to finally meet you!" The alchemist beamed in recognition.

"Yes, I am Feyre. I'm truly grateful to meet your acquaintance, Miss Sucrose," Feyre affirmed, her words carrying an undercurrent of sincere gratitude. As she spoke, she respectfully bowed her head, a gesture of deference accompanying the mention of her respective title. This unexpected display of humility seemed to startle the alchemist. She widened her eyes, a clear expression of surprise flashing across her face, and instinctively wove her hands in front of herself in a sporadic manner.

"Oh, please, you don't need to call me that! Just Sucrose is fine." She relented, giggling slightly at the thought of being referred to as such a professional title.

"If you say so, Sucrose." Feyre spoke, giving the alchemist a closed-eye smile. The green-haired girl was fascinated, star-struck, even. The next words that left her mouth did not feel of her own accord, rather a gut feeling manifested.

"Would you ... want to meet my Master? You mentioned that you were working on a remedy for illnesses, and I think he'd be impressed by your work." The girl almost gasped when she realized what she'd said, why would a brand new acquaintance want to meet a stranger and share her home remedy recipe? Archons, what was she thinking?! Before she could interrupt herself again and evoke the offer, Feyre spoke, her lulling voice crashing over the alchemist like waves over sand.

"That sounds lovely, actually. I would be honored to meet him." Feyre said, her smile growing larger and larger. Sucrose was dumbstruck by the sight. The snow falling perfectly on her hair, the enchanting smile gracing her face, the twinkle of excitement in her eye, the lighting the sky shed on her tanned skin. Sucrose could definitely see how she was related to Kaeya. Both were inarguably beguiling. It took her whole being not to take a picture and capture the sight forever.

"Great! Come with me, he doesn't have any labs planned for today, so it should be a perfect time for a meeting!" The alchemist said cheerfully, her personality unfurling as more time went by. Feyre was happy to know that the shy girl was comfortable enough around her to let herself be ... herself.

"You seem to know his schedule pretty well." Feyre observed, beginning the follow the now-walking alchemist. Sucrose turned her face around, but kept walking while she responded.

"Of course, It's my duty. Well, Master Albedo says that It's not entirely necessary, but I care to disagree!" Sucrose replied, turning her head back around to watch her surroundings. Feyre hummed in acknowledgment. "He tends to start his mornings around 6 A.M. sharp, though I've never seen him sleep ... anyway, he then makes a cup of coffee—he prefers it black—and while he drinks it, he'll explain to me what the plan for the day is. But most of the time, I already know what it is before he says it," The alchemist rambled on, a smile bloomed on her face as the two grew closer to the camp. "And after he's finished his coffee, he looks through his notes from the previous day—if we were working on the same experiment, that is—and revises them if needed. Then the majority of the rest of the day is spent working. Doing labs, performing experiments, collecting data, forming hypothesis’, and so on. Oh! And the most interesting part of the day is when Master Albedo paints. It doesn't necessarily happen every day, but it's pretty common. If he hasn't told me to head back yet, I get to see him collect his array of supplies and head out to find a spot that sparks his creativity. Then, he'll sit down or stand depending on his mood, and he'll begin painting what's in front of him. It's almost scary how accurate his depictions are. It's like he took a picture and printed it out onto the canvas. I'm telling you, he really has a gift for-"

The green haired alchemist was cut off by a sudden impact. She stumbled for a second before she regained her balance, glancing up at what she had bumped into. Low and behold, it was her Master. Feyre had seen the man approaching, but decided not to say anything in case he wasn't who she thought he was. Sucrose obviously was too enraptured by her own storytelling, not noticing his nearing figure. Feyre did not make eye contact, however, feeling awkward around two already-acquainted individuals.

"Sucrose, there you are. I was worried you were injured," He spoke with a voice as smooth as silk but as cool as ice. His eyes trailed to the blonde girl next to the alchemist. "And whose this you've brought with you?" He spoke, removing his gaze from the girl, despite feeling an obligation to continue staring at her.

"Oh, Master Albedo! This is Feyre, Kaeya's sister! She was gathering mint for a homemade remedy she was going to craft—isn't that just amazing?! I thought you'd be interested in hearing more about it from her yourself!" Sucrose spoke in an excited manner, beaming with joy and radiance.

"Kaeya's sister, huh? I was not aware he had any siblings. It's an honor to finally meet you, Miss Feyre." The Master said, putting a solemn hand to his heart as he bowed gently. Feyre blushed at the undeserving gesture. She now understood how Sucrose must've felt earlier.

"Please, there is no need for formalities. It's my pleasure." Feyre responded, bowing in return. Albedo had smiled slightly at the sight of her pink-tinted cheeks.

"So, a homemade remedy, hm? Do you or Kaeya get sick often?" Albedo queried, one eyebrow raised as he began to lead the two girls towards the opening of the camp. The truth was yes... but also no. Kaeya tended to get sick more often than she did, but the two of them had very weak immune systems period. Whenever Kaeya would feel under the weather, which was a lot, she would create medicine from different herbs found in Mondstadt. And in her free time, she would research what different herbs did to the body. She'd search the highs and lows of every mountain and plateau in the whole nation to find something to soothe her brother's pain.

"I suppose you could say so. Him more than me, but we do just fine." Feyre spoke, purposefully being secretive about any matter relating to her brother. Though she was younger, she was the more protective one. She didn't want anyone to lay a finger on Kaeya, which is why it was so hard for her to let him join the Knights, and even harder for her to keep her composure when he returns home scratched up. Her nose scrunched at the memories. Albedo took notice and ceased his questions regarding her brother for the time being.

"It is quite admirable that you would do that for him. You seem like a good sister." The alchemist said in an almost teasing manner. Feyre wasn't suspecting his voice to ever change tones, so this certainly shocked her. With wife eyes and a flushed face, she replied.

"You flatter me. I simply do it because I want to keep my family safe, just as any sibling would do. Plus, I enjoy gathering and creating mixtures, it's oddly soothing in an ... indescribable fashion." Feyre spoke, beginning to daze off while thinking of the enjoyment the hobby brings her. Her lips slightly curled up unbeknownst to her. The alchemist passed through the threshold marked by the pitch of several tents.

"Ah, I can relate, in a way. I, too, have to look after someone I would consider my sibling. We are not blood related, of course, but we share a bond like we are," Albedo spoke, a fond, reminiscent tone voicing his words. He pictured tiny little Klee, with her partial to bomb making, in her little red attire, holding Dodoco at her hip. He smiled at the thought.

Feyre, however, was not put at ease by his openness. Why was he so honest, so trusting towards her? She didn't know him and he didn't know her, so what was the point of revealing weaknesses? She scrunched her eyebrows in uncomfortableness, opting not to respond after him. What if he was trying to lure her into a false sense of security? Feyre's thought process was cut off by the alchemist continuing his point. "Moving onto the main subject at hand," the alchemist began again, passing a couple of the many tents in the camp. "Have you always been interested in creating medicine to sustain health?" He spoke so formally that Feyre was overcome with shivers. Nobody in Teyvat—at least in Mondstadt—spoke in such a manner. Her suspicions of the peculiar blond alchemist grew. Feyre pondered his question, mulling it over in her mind, trying to decide whether she should answer it or pretend she had never heard him in the first place. She ultimately decided that it wouldn't kill her to tell him.

"I suppose so. When I was an infant, I would combine divergent substances and mixtures to see how they would react—or what they would create." Feyre could play the formality game, and she could also win. Was he trying to maim her? Distract her enough with his gorgeous golden locs or his serene voice so that she would divulge her Achilles heels? What utter nonsense. Did he believe she was naive? Mayhaps stupid? Her eyes glinted with malice. She refused to give into the ploy he was playing at.

"You find enjoyment in the creation of something unique? How very interesting... have you ever considered studying Alchemy? I believe you would find it thoroughly exhilarating, given your past activities." Albedo spoke with a persuasive tone, obviously trying to convince her to research the topic. Feyre was laser-focused on what he had said at first. He thought her medicine making was ... interesting? Nobody thought so. Kaeya teased her for being so worried, the few people who knew her deemed the activity strange, and those that didn't thought she was a witch of some sorts. The one thing she'd never never heard before was "interesting", and from, according to Sucrose, a very smart man nonetheless. She was so stunned, she almost forgot to respond to his question.

"Um ... not really." She spoke curtly, trying to gauge where this conversation was going. The alchemist reached a certain green tent and went inside, ducking to avoid getting hit with the tent's flaps. Feyre did not know if it was rude to go in as well without asking—but honestly, she didn't want to ask either. She decided to stand and wait outside of the tent until he returned.

After a few seconds, Feyre could hear the alchemist's footsteps pause before stopping completely. She sucked in a breath for an unknown reason, the icy air filling her lungs. Why did he stop? Did he forget something? Not long after, she could hear his steps approaching the entrance of the tent, getting louder as he grew closer. Her heart skipped a beat or two. She was oddly ... unsettled by the man. He did not radiate the warmth that even the coldest people in Teyvat did. Though he was kind and respectful, he acted in a foreign way. His hair was too perfect. His skin was too spotless. His eyes were too bright. He seemed almost inhuman. As his footsteps drew nearer, she found herself frozen, almost like a deer in headlights. The alchemist, having bent down slightly at the hips, pushed the tent flaps away and looked into her eyes. Horripilation passed over her. Those eyes ... their haunting amalgam of lurid color was downright seductive.

"Aren't you going to come in?" He spoke, blinking the snow off of his lashes. Too long. Too thick. Too beautiful. She blushed bashfully out of embarrassment. She nodded her head rapidly while blinking intermittently, displaying her discomfort. She cursed herself for not realizing what the alchemist was requesting her to do firstly. As said alchemist ducked back under the shelter of the tent, Feyre took a deep breath in preparation. After a beat of silence, she followed resolutely.

The interior of the tent was larger than she expected. The green walls of fabric seemed secure and blocked out the icy winds as well as the glare of the descending sun. Inside lay a lone sleeping bag that didn't look comfortable in the slightest. Feyre noticed that it was also unwrinkled, almost as if never been used before. If this was where the alchemist stayed during extended experiments, why was the bed untouched? She shrugged off the weird feeling her self-imposed question gave her. At the front of the tent was a small desk along with a small chair. Both made of regular wood from Mondstadt. On the desk sat multiple stacks of papers and documents, all of them sorted neatly into noticeable piles. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about what they said, and she fought the urge to run over to the desk and read them herself.

The alchemist walked over to said desk, his back facing her. She took this time to appreciate his hair. The way it fell beautifully onto his neck and upper back, the way it seemed to capture the sunlight like chlorophyll, the way she could envision how it would feel between her fingertips, her legs, her teeth. She was overcome with a waterfall of emotions, her irrational urges surging as she had to figuratively glue herself in place to not act on impulse. She was shocked at her own brain. Why was she feeling this way? Thankfully, she never had time to think too hard about it, as the alchemist beckoned her over with a finger. She followed like a lost puppy to its owner. She mentally cringed at her compliance.

"Come, take a look at this experiment I've been working on. Of course, these are mere notes taken, but I promise you, they are trustworthy." Albedo spoke, picking up a sheet of paper and handing it over to the girl. Feyre grasped the paper in her hands, careful not to bend it. Her eyes glazed over the notes—several charts, graphs, and bullet points clattered her vision. She almost gained a headache from the sheer amount of information entering her brain. She tried her best to make sense of the experiment, and after doing so, handed the paper back to the alchemist with a distressed look on her face.

"You're ... trying to revive a Whopperflower?" She queried, her head slightly tilting. The alchemist seemed to think her confusion was amusing, as a sly smile crept upon his face.

"Precisely. My ultimate goal is to create something from nothing. That is what the art of Alchemy reflects, is it not?" The alchemist smirked and Feyre's heart skipped another beat. She was still heavily confused, though. Why a Whopperflower? She asked him this very question. "While I might be thoroughly skilled in the art of alchemy, even I have not been able to create life. So, In working my way to that point, I will start off small. In the past, I've revived mint and cecelias. The next step is Whopperflowers. I am going to execute my first attempt at this experiment tomorrow evening. I was wondering if you'd care to join me." Albedo asked genuinely. Feyre was skeptical of his request, however. Why would a great alchemist such as him require someone whose practice in alchemy is akin to that of a vegetarian in a meat shop?

"You want me to join?" Feyre questioned, assuring that she heard him correctly the first time around. The alchemist nodded his head in return, all signs of teasing absent from his porcelain face. Truly, it was a sin to be that beautiful. Feyre had to pry her eyes away from his before she was stuck there forever. She glanced down at the page he now held, the one she had held before, in an effort to escape his gaze. In doing so, she read something she hadn't noticed before. In the top corner, she could clearly see the stamp of the Knights of Favonius. "You work for the Knights as well?" She asked, referring to Sucrose. She knew that Sucrose worked for the Knights, but she didn't expect someone of Albedo's intelligence to commit to such a lowly workforce.

"Ah, how rude of me. It seems I have forgotten to mention my occupation. Allow me to formally introduce myself to you once more. I am Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius." He spoke with such gravity that her eyes were drawn back to his, drinking in their shallow yet cavernous depth. She couldn't help but just nod at everything he said. She felt like she was in a trance—or drunk. One of the two. "I am going to be completely transparent with you regarding my motives. I wish for you to become my subordinate—my liaison, if you will. I am very interested in seeing how your interest in the topic of alchemy unfurls overtime." Albedo said, a gentle smile gracing his lips once more. She found herself smiling as well, nodding like a brain-dead idiot. She realized her stupidity quickly, though, and quit doing it. Her suspicions began to kick in again. She pondered if he would have any ulterior motives for asking her to be his assistant.

As Albedo began to go over what the job entailed, Feyre couldn't help but envision what it would be like to be his assistant. He said that she would have to monitor major experiments as well as pursue her own. Ask questions. Form a hypothesis. Experiment. Take notes. Analyze. Draw conclusions. The scientific method, she realized. She felt like a student. In regards to the pursuit of crafting life, he told her that she would begin with reviving a sweet flower so as to not overwhelm her. He told her to think of it as "dipping her toes into the ocean of alchemy."

"So, what do you say?" Albedo asked, a playful smile returning to his face. Feyre paused before expressing her hesitation.

"I'm not ..." She started, but quickly changed what she was going to say. "Are you sure you want me? I've never practiced alchemy before ..." She confessed, dropping her head to the floor in partial shame and embarrassment. The alchemist merely laughed for a short second—the melodious sound of it evading her senses. It was as smooth as his voice, yet as unnerving as his eyes. He looked at her in a harmless manner before responding.

"Do not fret. I have faith in my ability to instruct you, and even more faith in your exceptional talents." The alchemist spoke, the teasing lilt in his voice manifesting once more. As he awaited her answer, he began to stack his moved papers once more, removing his eyes from her figure. Feyre couldn't help but look at his arms, his hands, his fingers. The way they moved with practiced precision, almost like they'd done the motion a million times before. After a few moments of no answer, Albedo turned his head to face the girl while continuing to stack his papers. Feyre wasn't sure why she felt her heart beat a little louder at this action. He looked at her inquisitively, awaiting her response.

"I would be honored. Thank you for this opportunity." Feyre decided, wanting to feel free from his stare. The alchemist nodded affirmatively as he finished stacking the last pile, straightening the papers out in one swift tap on the desk. He turned his entire body to face her.

"Then it's decided. You will be my assistant, an alchemist-in-training. You will do as I previously stated, from sunrise to sunset," He spoke, moving to exit the tent in which they had entered. "In my opinion, your first steps into alchemy are your hardest. Grasping the concept, understanding the material... It can be difficult. This is why I will have mercy on you during your first weeks," He ducked under the flaps, the icy wind hitting him immediately as he stood patiently for the girl to follow. Once she did, he began walking to the edge of the campsite, where Sucrose was stationed, keeping herself busy as she reviewed her notes. "Although, I cannot promise I will be as merciful in the future." He ended, coming to a stop a few feet away from the green haired girl.

Feyre nodded, agreeing to all terms and conditions to her new job. She wanted to ask about the pay, but grew too shy. She didn't want it to come off as the only reason she agreed to this. Sucrose looked up, noticing the two nearing the exit of the campsite. She closed her notebook and stood up.

"You're back! How did everything go?" Sucrose asked, already having suspected that her mentor was to ask the blonde girl to become his apprentice. She felt some kind of excitement for the blonde girl, remembering when she was in her shoes just a few years ago.

Albedo nodded once before speaking with a gentle smile. "Quite well. Sucrose, meet your new coworker. She will be practicing alchemy under my wing when not assisting me in experiments and labs." He smiled a little wider saying the words out loud. His new apprentice. Oh, surely his experiments and progress would go by so much quicker with another set of hands, right? A happy feeling bloomed in his stomach at the thought of future endeavors.

"Oh, that's great! I can't wait to work alongside you!" Sucrose spoke, resisting the temptation to throw her arms around the girl as a congratulations.

"I should be saying that to you," Feyre replied before turning to Albedo for the last time. "Again, thank you for this opportunity." She bowed slightly as she spoke.

Albedo shook his head slowly before replying. "Of course. I'm curious to see where your steps in alchemy take you, Feyre. I'm sure you'll travel far." Feyre blushed slightly at his words, feeling as small as a snowflake in his presence. "Now, it is quite late. You should be returning home. Sucrose, would you accompany her back down Dragonspine?" The alchemist asked politely, eyeing the darkening sky. The winds began to grow colder, and he knew they would become unbearable soon if Feyre did not take her leave. Sucrose nodded urgently, determined to fulfill her task.

"Of course! Follow me, I know the safest and fastest way down." Sucrose exclaimed, waving Feyre over as she began to follow said path. Albedo had simply waved at the two girls in adieu, Sucrose and Feyre returning the gesture before turning their backs completely.

THE rest of that night was a mushy blur of wind and ice, Feyre realized as she recalled the memory. Albedo continued walking in front of her down their trek as Feyre got caught up in the rapture of their first meeting. She could remember it so clearly, so vividly. She could remember the way the falling snow felt on top of her hair, the way she couldn't look away from Sucrose's emerald hair, or Albedo's cerulean eyes. She smiled fondly at the recollection.

As her and her mentor's journey came to an end, she found herself staring into his hair gently swaying in the wind. She fought the urge to touch it, almost reaching her hand out before she instinctively pulled it back. She knew that she was limited to the mere sight of it—that the fantasy of experiencing it with any of her other senses was one that would stay a fantasy—nothing more, nothing less.