#The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

[ashley-kins]

I don't know how to explain it, but it's them

[decayroute]

😣

source - Feyy_Incognito

[h-soup]

🐰🩷 💚🐰

[raynaisanerd]

💚 I think about this image a lot. I see those long ass sleeves Andrew. I see how they are pulled up across your hands Andrew. I see how we never see you in short sleeves after childhood Andrew. I know what you are Andrew. 💚

💚 I’m so curious about why the boys at school believe Andrew to be a “sissy”. Is it because he’s always seen around his sister? Because he always bends to her whims? Or is it just asshole high school boys calling him any bad name they can? Or is it something else? Nemlei I’m so curious about Chapter 3. 💚

[leyley-leyley]

More Andy and Leyley matching icons, requested by @modersajta ! :3

[may-night-salvia]

omori style pixel sprites

[lost-traveller1]

[incorrect-gravescest]

The sibling-spouses are enjoying a nice day at the mall, and Ashley is savoring a new flavor of boba tea.

💚: How is it?

🩷: It's delicious! But I'd rather have your balls in my m-

💚: Finish that sentence and I will smack you on the back of the head.

[ur-mousey]

Cross My Heart and Hope to Die~

-Yan!Andrew Graves x F!Reader x Yan!Ashley Graves-

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Part 1, 3 (coming out soon)

chapter two The Doll prt 1

summary A doll's presence is all it took to cause a ripple effect to occur. warning familial neglect/abuse, quarantine trauma, hunger, implied cheating

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Porcelain dolls have eyes that notice the insignificant details. They settle on a freckle four cm to the left and a quarter inch above your cupid's bow. To anyone but the doll, it would go unnoticed. So, when one peeks at it through its glass confinements, its eyes won't meet them; instead, it'll linger on that minor imperfection. That fracture in a supposedly perfect mold. However, no one's face is prettier than a doll. Once they've noticed all that makes you human, then and only then- will they turn their gaze to the tacky florals patterning the walls.

Mommy had dressed you as such.

Then she yelled at you for seeing the wrinkles gathering around her brows. Adding with age and multiplying with substances.

Daddy left and it meant that Mommy blamed you for driving a wedge within their relationship. Father never wanted a girl. He reminded you each birthday he was present that only lesser men spawned pussies. You never shot back a retort, finding buttercream swirls more appealing than his face.

Then Jared ran away before you turned twelve. He loathed your doe expression. He wanted to cram you into a box to look at forever. The desire to snap your legs to keep you like a wingless bird ever-present in his thoughts. You were so pretty that he tried bruising your flesh to make you undesirable. But, it fueled his preadolescent hormones.

That's why Jared fled. His conflicts were written on torn-out pages of your favorite books, haphazardly strewn under your pillows.

By fifteen, all Mommy had was you and your porcelain eyes.

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You tensed over the checkered tile floor, which you've stared at all morning. The A/C whirled down the hall, sputtering out of sync; it hardly worked, and no repair man could be called. You toed at the roughed-up edges of wooden planes, meeting the kitchen flooring. You traced purple scribbles from a marker long discarded with the heels of your feet. You chuckled at your balance seeming off. Your stomach ached, but nothing could be delivered.

The last you've eaten to satiate the tiniest bit of hunger was a can of tomatoes warmed on the stovetop a half day prior. Unfortunately, it was split among three -the Graves siblings and yourself.

You paced on tip-toes from the sink to the front door -barred on the outside. You used to peek each morning through the peephole for a sign of life besides the security guard making his rounds. And each time, there was one pair of footfalls on the water-drenched carpet.

These days you felt like a marionette, stumbling through the motions on uneven limbs. Your right side lifted higher than your left, and your arms splayed parallel to your hips as if you held onto the wire strings itself. If you hopped off pointe, you felt limp and discarded. Worn out. As though the puppeteer decided a doll of more novelty deserved to breathe life.

And if you ever did stop moving then the TV's saccharine buzz would meld into your pores as it spoke its static language. Foreign if not for its monotony over your life. It reminded you that death remained your last resort.

You wouldn't survive this.

"You're up..." A voice startled your reverie. It was lithe and wooly in the air with hints of sleep attached to each syllable. Leyley stretched over the couch's mustard arm. "That burns calories." She gestured flippant at your display.

"Your point... We'll die anyways," You chewed on your inner cheek.

Ashely faced away. Any snide remark wrangled tight to her chest.

She shrugged, "Who's Andy on the phone with?"

You glanced over at Andrew, the only member of this dump who was fortunate enough to receive weekly check-in calls. "Probs it's Julia."

Who else could it be besides her? Julia this and Julia that. When the phone rang, Andrew pounced for the receiver, soaring head-first into her tales of a world outside. You had not bothered to listen except to the forlorn sighs breaching over the static. But your steps mimicked the rhythm of which he'd spoken -hushed and bothered.

Ashley wore a blank facade. Her pink eyes sparked devilishly against the paleness of her skin. "Oh?" She gritted through thin lips.

You brushed frigid fingers through your hair, which remained a hot-knotted mess. Leyley reached over pillows for the remote, and with speed, she muted the sound, before filtering through the television stations as if anything would pop up. However, she knew there was nothing but the news which had shut off an hour prior.

Andrew sneered at his sister. "Or I can try talking to them? But-- No or I mean yes. But that doesn't--... No, I'm not angry. I'm just--"

Pause. More shoutings of female rage sputtered over the receiver.

"No, I--... Can you let me talk?" Andrew snorted.

A female voice shrilled from the phone, "--'ve time to think---... just can't do it anymore."

"What else is there to say …Sorry?" Andrew stiffened. He pinched at the furrow of his eyebrow. "Although I don't see why I should be held accountable for--"

beep -- beep -- beep… CLANK

Metal smashed against itself as Andrew deposited the rotary phone back into place. "Who was it?" Ashley spoke. Her fingers stroked the gem dangling from her inked black chocker wrapped in a death vice around her neck.

"My ex-girlfriend. Apparently."

You hopped down, bare heels meeting the ground.

"Oooo, she dumped you? Why is that?" Leyley twirled her words together into a song.

A silence bloomed between the siblings.

The back tag of Andrew's sweater was flipped up, reaching toward the nape of his hair. "Why do you think?" He breathed out low.

"H-how should I know? Maybe… because you're a parasite-infested homebody, that's apparently perma-quarantined?" Ashley brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin above it. "Or, it's because she found somebody new? It's been a few months, buddy. Or maybe she didn't like you much in the first place."

"…Whatever you say, Ashley." Andrew dragged his feet to the balcony. The door slammed shut on this argument.

Leyley swiveled her gaze to you. "I didn't even tell him the worst of it. I could've brought up the fact that he's fucking you."

You puffed out a soft laugh. "It's because you tell me to."

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"NOOOO!!!" Ashley welled. She had kicked her feet into the air, flailing them about like weapons with no aim. Anything and everything was a target in her blind fury. "I don't want her sleeping in my room."

You huddled on the top step to the second floor, head buried into the flesh of your arm. Andrew hobbled past your form with your bookbag in tow. You glanced at the rabbit toy nodding off towards the door. Its arm flopped over his shoulder.

Mrs. Graves tore sheets out of the hallway closet with haste. She had bags under her eyes and her groans were exaggerated. "Ashley! Stop. I told you, when she stays the night, she'll be in your room."

"No faaaaair-" The little girl drawled. "Let her stay on the couch!!!"

"And let that child have an accident on it? No."

"So, she'll pee in my room!" Ashley's cheeks pooled red with heat.

"If she so has to," Mrs. Graves rolled her eyes. "But, I assume she's potty trained..." She waltzed towards her daughter, depositing the linens over top of her head.

Andrew wrangled Ashley from underneath the covers. Her arms spun like broken windmills -knocking her fists against his head. "That's not the point!!! I don't want her here."

Mrs. Graves flattened the blankets out on the ground. "It's not about what you want."

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Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo! Sorry to have this come out so late!! Hope you all enjoy, part three should be out sooner. Next chapter will explore more of this "sleep over"

@aika-starlight @snackpaxk @jimmycest @moriwori

[chengfagshi]

I saw this and I can't stop laughing.

[kawacy]

Andy and Leyley

based on official devlog art

[decayroute]

doodle u.u

source - diToXin

[sinningminning]

Worlds best worst boyfriend

[raynaisanerd]

🩷Hmmmm do you ever think Ashley tried to make Renee a Mother’s Day card/present? 🩷

🩷Thinking about little Leyley makes me sad. 🩷

There’s two ways I can see this going. Andrew finds the card/present in the bin, or Ashley does.

💚If Andrew finds it he will desperately attempt to hide from Ashley, he will take it out and keep it for himself (hidden in the bottom of a drawer) or if it’s unsalvageable he will shove it deeper in the bin so she can’t find it. (This means Ashley continues to try and make her mother or father gifts for the respective days, despite it being completely unappreciated).

🩷If Ashley finds her cars in the bin I don’t even think she’d be surprised. She would try to act as if it doesn’t bother her but it does. She put a lot of effort into the hand drawn card or picture, or whatever. She would in turn start making mother and Father’s Day gifts for Andrew instead. 🩷💚

[aqours]

we've entered a really fucking weird era of shipping discourse ngl