#like it makes me sad thinking about them sometimes

[reconstructwriter]

#but just...yeah it is crazy how pretty much *every* Disney bad guy of my childhood#got killed - sometimes in pretty gruesome ways#Scar? Devoured by his own hyenas#Clayton? Strangled / Hung#Ursula? Impaled#Gaston? Fell screaming to his death#Come to think of it Ja'far escaped death in the first Aladin movie - he was defeated by being tricked#into wishing himself into a lamp - which is exactly how a clever street rat like Aladdin would defeat someone#that Steven Universe - a show that was from Day 1 always about either containing ''monsters'' that couldn't help themselves#from hurting others...or befriending gems that tried to kill you#is it any surprise Steven did the same thing with the Diamonds?#is it childish? a bit unrealistic? sure#it's a kid's show what do you expect?#but you know what else it is? Like Aladdin tricking Ja'far - it's 100% a Steven way to defeating your enemies:#make them not your enemies anymore

YES to all of this! It's sad (and scary) we're so inundated with punitive justice that restorative justice gets such a backlash. Especially when restorative justice or even the villain just not dying is more realistic to the characters, narration, story-tone and even the karmatic defeat of the villains themselves!

To me Steven Universe's defeat of the Diamond Authority is far more satisfying than if he'd killed them because it fits his character and the narration and the tone. If the Diamonds had fallen tragically to gravity like in Disney? Eh, it would've felt cliche and weird for the story.

This describes far better than I could why the Avatar ending is the

perfect one! And heck Jafar's defeat is so much better than if he'd fallen off a cliff or whatever to his death. It's in-character for both, its karmatic, its satisfying.

Sometimes I think about how and why some people had such a *bad* reaction to the end of Steven Universe, specifically in regards to the Diamonds living.

Even though they no longer are causing harm to others and are able to actually undo some of their previous harm by living, some folks reacted as though this ending was somehow morally suspect. Morally bankrupt, even.

And I think it might be because so many of us were raised on a very specific kind of kids media trope:

They all fall to their deaths.

Disney loves chucking their bad guys off cliffs. And it makes sense- in a moral framework where villains *must* be punished (regardless of whether their death will actually prevent further harm or not), but killing of any kind is morally bad for the hero, the narrative must find a way to kill the villain without the protagonists doing a murder.

It's a moral assumption that a person can *deserve* to die, that it is cosmically just for them to die, that them dying is evidence that the story itself is morally good and correct. Scar *deserves* to die, but it would be bad for Simba to kill him. So....cliff.

Steven Universe, whatever else it's faults, took at step back and said "but if killing people is bad, then people dying is bad", and instead of dropping White Diamond off a cliff, asked "what would actual *restorative*, not punitive, justice look like? What would actual reparations mean here? If the goal is to heal, not just to punish, how do we handle those who have done harm?" And then did that.

Which I think is interesting, and that there was pushback against it is interesting.

It also reminds me of the folks who get very weird about Aang not killing Ozai at the end of Avatar. And like, Ozai still gets chucked in prison, so it doesn't even push back on our cultural ideas of punitive justice *that much.* and still, I've seen people get real mad that the child monk who is the last survivor of a genocide that wiped out his entire pacifist culture didn't do a murder.

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 4

Summary: You get upset when you see other girls flirting with Jungkook but he always makes sure that you know you're the only one he wants Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Smuttttt hehe Requested by an anon 💜

"So yeah I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime? My friends and I are going out on Friday a-" "Can I come?" I ask, cutting off the woman at the coffee shop that's decided to chat up Jungkook.

I swear I leave his man alone for five minutes and he's already got a line of woman drooling over him.

"Um I'm sorry...who are you?" she asks, scoffing as if she owns him and I'm the one that's imposing. "She's my girlfriend" he says and pulls me in by my hips, kissing me in front of her to make a point leaving her turning her face in disgust.

"Way to lead a girl on" she huffs and walks off.

"Not his fault that you couldn't take a hint Honey" I call after her, telling myself I can't keep bringing him out with me when I'm in the wrong headspace.

I just wanted some company though...plus Ava was busy so I didn't have much of a choice.

"Hi Baby" Jungkook says, coaxing my focus back over to him. "Hi" I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest, clearly still upset making him smile.

"I don't know why you let them talk to you" I huff and sit down at the table he had gotten us with him sliding in across from me, lacing our fingers together and placing a kiss on my knuckles.

"Because I like seeing that look on your face. Plus I know you get satisfied when you see their reactions, knowing that you have something they want but couldn't get even if they tried" he reminds me but it's not good enough to get me out of this bad mood, not today.

"I would rather you just ignored them or told them you have a girlfriend" I huff for what feels like the twelfth time but it doesn't seem to bother him.

"You know I hardly ever get to interact with people besides you and Ava, just think of it as research" he explains leaving me cocking a brow and echoing the last word.

"Yeah you know, I get to be outside of the four walls of our home and learn how to evolve and treat you better and you get peace of mind because you know I'd never want anyone else but you" he continues leaving me sighing, knowing he really doesn't get the chance to get out much and observe the world.

His patterns and behaviors do switch up a bit every time I bring him out with me so I have to admit that it does make things seem less monotonous, makes him feel real.

I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

"Come on" he says and gets up, waiting for me to follow and I do so cautiously. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything" he laughs. "I just know you're not gonna enjoy being here anymore after what happened so let's just go for a walk" he offers, holding out his hand for me and so I resign to his idea and take it, allowing him to lead the way.

Our walk is quiet, contemplative even and it leaves him debating on whether or not to ask me what's wrong when he can infer the answer already, or at least part of it.

"I'm sorry" he says and pulls me aside to a more secluded area, gaining us a little more privacy. "I know you're just acting on your programing but I'm just not in the best headspace right now" I admit, having let my emotions simmer under the surface for a while now, leaving him placing a kiss on my forehead, a further expression of his apologetic state.

"You wanna talk about it?" he ask, cupping my face but not making me look at him, knowing I'd rather have a second to debate on if I'm ready to yet. I decidedly shake my head, realizing I'm not and he hums, not pushing it further, knowing that although in an area hidden from most of the people surrounding us this is not a place for uncomfortable conversations.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, now bringing my face back over to his, stroking my cheek and giving me a sad smile, thinking it might make me feel better and so I nod, accepting his request.

He places his lips against mine, the first time he's done so since we left the house, knowing that public displays of affection tend to make me a little uncomfortable at times. This time the kiss feels different though, I can feel the intensity growing with every meeting, a familiar fluttering felt deep within me.

"Jungkook wait" I gasp, the need for air almost forgotten, trailing his lips down my neck as a compromise but not ceasing his efforts to convey how much he wants me.

"Jungkook someone could see us" I reprimand him half heartedly, tilting my head to the side automatically, my body going through the same song and dance we've done time and time again. "Don't worry, I'll be able to sense them coming" he says, alerting me to another one of his features that I had yet to discover.

"You mean to tell me you have sensors that'll alert you if someone is coming just so we can have sex in public?" I scoff, pushing him off of me so I can see his face, needing to know if he's lying or not. "Well...yeah" he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world...news flash, nothing is normal with him.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples giving him the opportunity to come in closer again, placing his hands on my hips and continuing his onslaught of kisses, no doubt leaving a mark or two.

"Let me make you feel good. Just for a little bit, yeah?" he asks, no doubt sensing my arousal that's starting to leak out. "Are you sure you'll know before someone sees?" I ask after contemplating it for a second and he nods, his kisses now on my collarbone, threatening to go lower.

"I know you want to" he temps and I can't ignore that I do. We both know that this would help improve my mood just a little bit so I don't blame his programing for coming up with this solution. My resigning sigh replaced by a whine, him biting down on my collarbone to make me answer sooner.

"Think you can make me cum in three minutes?" I ask, challenging his abilities when I know for a fact that he can. "I don't need three minute doll" he chuckles and slides his hand from my waist to my hip to my thigh and slips it up my skirt, taking his time to tease me making me groan from impatience.

"Come on, let me take my time with you" he rasps in my ear, playing with the elastic of my underwear. "We don't have time" I remind him but he snaps it back making me jump from the surprise abuse to my hip.

"We have plenty of time" he counters and places a kiss below the shell of my ear, his fingers now changing course and trailing their way to my inner thigh, soon rubbing me through my thong, the damp spot on it undeniable making me mewl at the sensation.

"Jungkook please" I whine, fed up with the teasing so he relents this time, pushing it to the side and running his finger through my folds, catching me off guard when it starts to vibrate against me, placing my hand over my mouth, preventing the moan that was about to come out from being completely audible to any passerby, no matter if they can see us or not.

He dips a finger inside of me, rubbing his thumb against my clit, kicking up the buzzing sensation, making me whimper, the pleasure bubbling up sooner than I had expected.

I had no fucking idea he could do this, the vibrating abilities seemingly hidden from me for a moment like this, when he knows I need to cum hard and fast, voyeurism not being one of my kinks...yet.

"Fuck, Jungkook. Please" I gasp, the intensity of his fingers enough to tip me over but when he kneels down in front of me I about lose it there. His mouth attaching to me immediately, his tongue exploring my cunt and making my eyes roll back, my throat gone completely dry.

I lace my fingers through his hair and pull at his locks, the balance against the tree not being enough for me anymore as he throws one of my legs over his shoulder, granting him better access, his slurping against me making my eyes roll back, forbidden sounds from him making me lose my sense of sanity, forgetting where we are.

Once he places his vibrating thumb on my clit again I'm gone, cumming harder than I have in a while, the intensity of it leaving my knees weak, threatening to make me fall to them.

Once he's stopped licking me clean, the mewls from overstimulation heard loud and clear he gets out from under my dress and smirks at me, clearly satisfied with the work he's done. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, not bothering to try to clean up properly, getting off his knees and pressing his lips against mine again, the taste of myself of his lips enough to make me wet again.

I hear a scoff from behind Jungkook and I bite down on his lip in surprise, backing away from him, him not flinching at all with the lack of feeling absent from his robotic state. "This is a public park you freaks" the same woman from the coffee shop reprimands us, mortified by the scene she happened upon.

"Had to make it up to her for earlier" he shrugs leaving her scoffing once more, her obvious favorite form of response and storming out. Her cheeks now tinted a dark pink from sheer embarrassment, but no doubt mixed with anger.

Jungkook chuckles and turns back to me, expecting my reaction to be just as amused as his but I'm mad. More than mad I'm furious.

"You said you'd be able to stop before someone got close enough to see us!" I growl through gritted teeth making him coo at my now humiliated reaction. "What? I figured it would be best to show her who I'm really interested in, and clearly belong to" he says and pulls me in by my hips with me reluctantly dragging my feet all the way.

"Love you" he chuckles, infuriating me further. "I hate you" I counter and he laughs, "I'm sure you do" he replies and turns to walk away from me making me chase after him.

"Hey! I'm not done talking to you" I call out, trying to yank him to stop but of course it doesn't work, his strength unparalleled leaving me again dragging behind him awkwardly sighing before interlinking our arms to keep him close on this suddenly crowded sidewalk, people no doubt coming out to watch the sunset, me completely disregarding that replaced by my anger towards him.

"Let's just go home, we can continue our conversation there" he chuckles leaving me now being the one to scoff, muttering curses towards him to myself, his hearing impeccable, never being able to hide even the slightest whisper.

"Yes but I'm your dumb fucking robot, emphasis on the fucking" he says, his corny try of making me smile unsuccessful, leaving me rolling my eyes, the reaction although not initially expected making him the one who's smiling as a result.

"I love you" he tries again but is met with silence, "Oh Jungkook I love you too, you know exactly how to eat me out just right. Oh please won't you do it again?" he says in literally my voice, yet another feature hidden from me.

"Shut up!" I growl making him laugh, my clear surprise to it thoroughly amusing.

"Didn't you read the manual? I'm surprised you haven't asked me about my other features besides the basics of replicating human sex" he says, loud enough for just anyone to hear but luckily we're out of earshot. "I thought it was pretty self explanatory" I say in a hushed tone after placing my hand over his mouth, him licking it as a result making me withdraw it immediately.

"What? 'How to fuck your robot' wasn't interesting enough for you?" he chuckles, using the term Ava and I made up for said manual. "Just shut up and get in the car" I groan and he thankfully does as he's told, telling me everything he can do in very, very explicit detail all the way home.

"You wanna try some of them out" he temps, sliding his hand along my thigh once we pull up to the house. "NO!" I growl and get out of the car, slamming the door leaving a very very satisfied Jungkook to follow behind.

Drabble Masterlist

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[magicalgirloffduty]

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

I want to be hardworking, and although I feel that on the inside I don't feel it shows outwardly, which is something I'm working on...but I think that comes with patience with myself.

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

I show up for others when I can, at my best I do it emotionally, but at my worst it is physically. I think others show up for me in the same capacity because I hate to ask others for what I cannot return, so in a sense...they show up best in the ways I don't ask?? Haha.

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

Love in my life feels like being known and heard. It's the little things. Gifts from conversations just on the edge of recent memory... and understanding even when there is no agreement. Respect... that is a given and not just coming from comparison.

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

My time goes to my writing and my art where I love, whether in my notebook or my laptop. I like it less on my phone, but at emotional lows you can find me there. I wish it would go more to my sense of adventure outside, during the winter I lose that a lot lol!

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

Sometimes? My past self. Who I am during the spring, where I roam around town and take myself on little adventures and dates. Who I am when I'm happy and my mind is a reinforcement of my childhood whimsy and the strength I called upon to defend me. Often, it's my friends who are intelligent, well-spoken people who are well-educated and incredibly kind. Keen to others. I wish I had a better discerning eye, a better sense for lies or malicious intent.

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or am I just coasting?

I think, I am twenty-five percent there and that is the closest I can be for now...so I'm happy with it. If I'm in the same place next year, then I would be sad.

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

Money, power and respect! Along with the emotional intelligence (and the morals to use it wisely.).

I think that I'm working toward it well enough, to earn a place in that space. I hope that by following my own morals and being true to what I believe earns respect. I hope that my education will give me the power to earn money to sustain myself and support myself, so that when I use my power I can do it without risking the people I love or betraying myself.

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

My iPad and my keyboard because I'd rather die than not have the chance to write or sketch. My notebook because putting pen to paper is s much better than the Apple Pencil (although typing is faster and easier for my poor hands.). Bandaids for my clumsy ass. Lotion because I'm black <3. A book usually for art studying, japanese... or writing inspo.

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

I start by taking a big gulp of cold water until I feel like a person again, and then follow it up with a BIG stretch. I don't check my phone and get sucked into texting for an unholy amount of time... and hopefully then I slip out of bed to sit in front of my desk and check my tasks for the day preparing to get some work done with hopefully a plan to eat something light for breakfast....even if eating kind of sucks sometimes.

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

Wig styling, lol. I can live with it, but sometimes I think of all the better I'd be if I just... did a liiiiiitttle more. Playing with my kitties more, they deserve some fun.

What’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

Go to bed at a nice time don't force myself to stay up for more entertainment. I wish it was easier to fall asleep on time, clear my head and have nothing I felt I missed out on before I was bed locked. Post this, make use of the blog I'm so excited to use but keep saving for 'the right time.'

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

Hello future me,

I care about you, I hope you know that. I know you do somewhere in there. I'm doing my best not to fall back on my Vulcan habits and just answer the prompt, looking to please the judges in my mind <3. I hope you've met your academic goals and have some sort of proof to yourself that you've really changed, because that is what that means to you, isn't it? We get a sense of catharsis from this shift in ourselves, even if I worry about when there is less change... I hope we are still confident. Even if things don't go toward our best case, we know who we are (pretty dang resilient, cycle breakers.).

I hope you've finally got past that part in the fanfic that we're super exciting to write, and we have something new and exciting to look forward too, perhaps even a surprise favorite we didn't expect. Most importantly, I hope we get a break from those zombie dreams, I'm not sure how many more outbreaks we can survive!

Oh my gosh? I hope we've made more friends in our area, we don't have to just take ourselves out on fun little adventures, but we have some people to do karaoke with and study with at cute little cafés and update on our art accounts and make fun videos with. I hope we have more to add to our essay, finally post to our YouTube and make something we can watch and be proud of. Look! We found a place to put those dreams and ideas without telling on our selves to people we've learned...don't always root for us... Most importantly, I hope we feel sane. I hope we feel like we can be that person who gets asked out on dates we don't want to go on, approached by strangers because they want to be our friend. That we can drive! Spider-Man finally falls in love with us once he remembers how in love we are (lol.). We remember to use some semicolons instead of commas; like we did just now. That we have a little space to look back on just how far we've come <3.

I want you to remember that today, you got a gift from your friend that was so personal to you, it couldn't have been meant for anyone else, that they thought of you and valued you...and expected nothing in return genuinely. Like you would- and that made you feel like you wanted to do something in return, no matter how late it was. No stress, no pressure for the first time. In the midst of the fact that right now you're not sure if it'll work out, that some things didn't go to plan, and we still made it this far. That we spent all of our free time preparing for this and looking forward to this until eventually school felt less like a place where we felt shame and more like a place to escape when we wanted to do something for ourselves. Before this? When was the last time we felt proud of ourselves? Genuinely, with no voices in our head downplaying it or minimizing it. I hope you can think of one, and it's so recently it's a clear picture in your mind.

Last thing, I look over at our corkboard right now and it's quite barren. Some stuff taken down... sure, like our schedule that we really should be remaking for us or... that tuition dispute we handled like a boss! Mainly, though, because we're once again waiting to add things to it. I hope we didn't push off the 'right time' we're masters of procrastination delegation. Buy that Polaroid camera, get that makeup job! Pin up those goals, and make those conspiracy theories (WE ARE GETTING THAT MOVIE!). Finish that Fic!! and make the next book! DO everything you want! You can, congrats you made it past 18, and now you're 23, happy to be here. That took time. You did it. I hope you know that! I think you just realized that! Go have fun!!!! Right now, I feel proud. If anything, you'll remember this.

Painfully sincerely, Present me-Past you.

Journaling prompts to reinvent yourself ౨ৎ

how do I want the world to see me, and does it match how I see myself?

how do I show up for others, and how do they show up for me?

what about my life feels like love and what doesn't?

where does my time go, and where do I wish it would go?

who do I admire most, and what about them speaks to my soul?

is the way I live aligned with the life I dream of, or a I just coasting?

what qualities in others feel the most magnetic to me? Do I reflect those?

what’s inside my bag, and what does it say about me? (be honest, even the gum wrappers count.)

if I could script my perfect morning, how would it begin?

what passions have I ignored that I would like to reclaim?

what’s one small, powerful shift I could make today to move toward my dream life?

write a tender letter to the future version of yourself. What do you hope they’ve become, and what do you want them to remember about now?

As always, please feel free to share your own prompts and check out my insta for more of me! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[dsybouquet]

cant stop thinking about art atelier owner! ellie who recently moved the atelier to a bigger and prettier place.

the former flower shop has stood empty for years since the old lady running it has turned too old. when ellie bought the place from her, she saw the sadness behind the woman’s eyes who spent decades of her life in the building and now had to leave it behind. therefore ellie made the promise to keep the place im a good shape.

that being said, ellie stood by her word. couple of months have passed and the atelier is almost finished. she was missing some things here and there, but the time will bring them in - or rather, her local delivery girl will.

it was a cold november day and you regretted showing up at work. since christmas was approaching, the amount of packages was nearly unbearable. you stopped the mail-vehicle and put your head on the steering wheel. “think about the money, ______.”, you reminded yourself before grabbing the letters from the box next to you.

“williams?”, you whispered to yourself, clearly remembering that the shop belonged to a elderly woman named sophie thomson.

looking at your handscanner, you saw that you also had three packages to deliver at the adress.

thinking nothing of it, you got out of the vehicle. the cold air was immediately piercing your fingers and you wrapped your scarf closer around your neck. the side door slid open and you took the four packages all adress to ‘ellie williams - williams’ atelier’

odd, you thought, but you scanned them in and made your way inside. it was completely renovated. the walls, that used to have a flowery wallpaper, are now painted in a dark green tone, that made the atmosphere super mysterious. brown armchairs and a retro looking glass table, that was littered with art magazines, stood next to the entrance. it felt like a lobby.

“hello? im here to deliver a package.”, you called out, placing the packages on the nearby counter.

“coming!”, you heard a woman reply.

rushing from the backdoor was a woman, approximately around the age of 25. her hair was half up in a messy bun, possibly to keep it out of her face. she wore a beat down overall that was covered in paint stains.

“sorry, didn’t hear ya coming in.”, she then said, looking at you with her piercing eyes. for a second you were just staring at her tattoos, her face and her eyes.

“y-yeah don’t worry! i just need a signature for one of these.”, you fumbled on the handscanner. “can i ask your name, so i can type it in?”

“ellie williams.”, she responded, leaning against the counter, eyeing you.

“alright, miss williams, i need you to sign right on the display and then we’re done.”, you smiled, holding the scanner out to her.

she signed with a smile on her face, and placed the packages on the backdoor.

“hey! i have a few more orders coming in in the next weeks. also some furniture. if anything is too heavy just come in and yell. i will make sure to help you.”, she said, walking back to you.

this wasn’t the last time you had to go to the atelier. actually, mrs. williams was ordering a lot. you always wanted to roll your eyes when you’re collages commented how many packages the adress had, but you couldn’t.

after some time passed, she would eventually start to offer you a cup of coffee or some sweets. eventually you would drop calling her mrs. williams and call her ellie or els.

“what are your opening hours between christmas and new year?”, you asked as you placed her packages on the counter and clicked the ‘recipient’ button to confirm the package delivery.

“we’re closed, but just ring the door bell as i will be here sometimes. maybe you can catch me.”, she smiled and grabbed your to go coffee cup to refill it for you - something that she started to do last week.

“______, wait here for a second.”, she then said, turning her back to you and jogging towards the backdoor. “i got you a little something.”

she handed you a dark green, christmas themed giftbag filled with some chocolate and a little canvas. “thank you for your hard work and for carrying my heavy furniture in here”

“thank you, els.”, you smiled.

back in your car, you looked at the little envelope in the bag. there was a card inside, littered with christmas wishes and..

ellies number at the bottom of it. ‘text me if you see this xx’

[aziraphales-library]

Hi mods!!! Thank you so much for the work you do 💛

I was thinking if there's fics you all wanted to add to the #mods favorites tag??

Here, have a cake for me to express my gratitude 🍰 some of my absolute favorites I found in this blog! 💛💛

Hello and thank you! <3 This ask prompted me to go through the tabs on my phone to bookmark and close the fics I've read. So, to add to the #mod faves tag, here are my favourites of the ones I've read recently...

Critical Upgrade (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tech) by Kirathaune (T)

Modern Office AU: Aziraphale likes his vintage computer equipment, but it's causing problems with his colleagues. Gabriel mandates an upgrade, and Crowley from IT is assigned to make it all work.

Our homeward steps were just as light by On1OccasionFork (T)

She flipped to the paperwork for the new gentleman, a Mr. A. Z. Fell. He was a retired literature professor, it seemed. He was slated to be in the room next to — oh, this could be a problem — Anthony.

Creative Writing for Creative Children and Panicked Nannies by munchmulch (T)

Unsurprisingly, it only takes a few moments for pounding feet to be heard from the hall before a harried looking man skids to the entrance of the room, halting with a jerk before actually stepping in. “Adam! You can’t just run off like that! I told you that they’re not going to want a bloo—“ he cuts himself off with a strangled sound, ��blasted adult sitting in on a club!” --- Aziraphale is as prepared for the new school year as he can be-- what he's not prepared for is an awkward man in sunglasses who's about to pull Aziraphale into not only his own life, but the lives of Aziraphale's students.

Take Me to Heaven by TawnyOwl95 (M)

Aziraphale does not have a priest kink. His brother, Father Gabriel, is a priest, for goodness sake. It's just that Father Anthony isn't really like any priest Aziraphale has met before and he's thoroughly upsetting the carefully constructed habits Aziraphale has made to keep himself safe. When Father Anthony replaces Aziraphale as the conductor of St. Beryl's Church choir, they are forced to work together to get the choir up to snuff before Bishop Frances' visit. Aziraphale's attraction grows and it becomes harder to repress who he is and what he wants from life. A life he's starting to feel like he's wasted by trying so hard to conform.

The Garden of Temptation by tishae (E)

Anthony J Crowley is a gardener in the small village of Tadfield, making barely enough to get by. He rents a room, doesn't eat or drink much, but he's getting to live his 'passion', whatever that means. Aziraphale Godfrey, a professional antiques dealer, is engaged and he has no reason to be unhappy. He has a wonderful apartment, is taken care of, and only sometimes is he made to feel small and inadequate. When Crowley comes into an inheritance that includes a number of items that he's pretty sure are junk, he is way out of his depth, and readily calls up a professional to help him work through it. Turns out they both have a lot to unpack. or I wanted to write about sad Aziraphale becoming happy Aziraphale, so here we are.

The Parent Trap by illustrious_slimeman, nonbinarysharks (T)

Adam and Warlock are identical twins, separated as infants and each raised by one of their adoptive fathers. When a chance meeting at a summer camp brings them together again, they hatch a plan to get their helpless parents back together. In the process, they learn more about themselves, each other, and their parents' history than they ever imagined. --- This is based off of Melonsharks' Parent Trap AU and is a fairly faithful adaptation of the 1998 Lindsay Lohan version of the film but with a few changes here and there, a whole lot of new scenes, and accompanying illustrations courtesy of Shark! The fic is pretty much fully written at this point and will be updating every Saturday

- Mod D

[springwitch8]

venus, are you there? (agatha harkness x fem!witch!reader)

💜 reupload sorry i fucked up and i'm really sad about it 💜

summary: your patron goddess, venus, has been distant lately. you don't know what you did to upset her, but your life and your powers have been suffering in her absence. you visit the local mage, agatha harkness, about your problem. as you come to find out, it takes a special kind of ritual to provoke the goddess of love.

warnings: lesbian sex duh (18+), DUBCON (innocent!reader is really into agatha's "counsel" but oblivious to her sexual intentions until they're doing the deed), historic westview AU (before it was a suburb, it was a magical village), agatha's improv skills, no beta we die like lilia

notes: after much rumination on the AAA finale, i've decided that being a lifelong liar and diabolical villain can only make a lesbian hotter. centuries is a long time to live, and my brain has gone wild thinking of all the messed-up ways agatha must have passed the time. i imagine she had some fun with the women around her—giving them the attention and stimulation they needed, regardless of whether they knew it or not. gotta keep the bed warm between all the power-stealing and mass murder, am i right ladies?

"agatha harkness, mother of witches, watches over westview from her dwelling on the hill. any spell you can't cast, she will."

so the story went, passed around among the women of the village. if they were to be believed, agatha ran an apothecary out of her home, a one-stop shop of sorts for witches in dire need of guidance. the locals spoke about her with admiration, and the tales of her magical miracles were legend.

hardly a day went by without some talk of agatha's feats: how she unbound someone's great-aunt after the woman had been powerless for decades, or how she rescued a friend of a friend from certain death after a nasty broomstick accident.

---

venus, goddess of love and beauty, had been guiding you all your life. when you were little, you saw her sometimes in the flower-dotted meadow behind your house—a spectral angel, wrapped in pink silk with her hand outstretched to you.

now, though, venus had been silent for nearly a month. her altar was covered in offerings, none of which seemed to please her. you tried every trick under the moon to lure your patron goddess out of hiding, but nothing stuck.

with every failure, things felt increasingly... off. out of the blue, your jewelry degraded to the point that it looked cheap and rusty. you felt tired more often; your skin grew cold and dry. then, you started to feel venus's absence in your relationships. when you got into a huge fight with your best friend over a random misunderstanding, you knew you had to do something.

---

bouncing anxiously on your heels, you waited for agatha to answer the knocks at her door. there was something foreboding about her house in all its gothic glory.

the intricately carved door swung open and there she was, the fabled mother of witches. long brown waves cascaded over her purple-clad shoulders, wild tresses gliding over a silken cloak. you hadn't expected her to be so gorgeous. you'd always pictured the local legend as a crone.

"can i help you, sweetheart?" her voice was warm and lilting. you were almost too staggered by her darkly striking looks to reply, and agatha seemed to know it. her eyes sparkled with amusement, and the corners of her mouth tilted upward.

"um, i hope so," you finally managed before steadying yourself with a deep breath. "venus is my guide, but she's been ignoring me lately. all my gifts and devotions have been worthless; i still can't find her."

"hmmm..." agatha hummed in contemplation, her brows furrowed and fingernails tapping rhythmically against the doorframe. moments later, she ushered you inside and closed the door behind you. "what have you offered her? do you have a proper altar at home?"

"yes, and i've tried everything: fresh roses and myrtle, sea shells, wine, honey, chocolate..." you trailed off as you noticed the scenery around you.

agatha's walls were covered from floor to ceiling in magical materials and aids. she had jars upon jars of herbs, petals and extracts; woven tapestries of pagan deities and common incantations; various crystals suspended in place, arranged to form rune-like symbols; and a massive "death" tarot card in a frame lined with wilted flowers.

as you looked around her home, awestruck, agatha gently nudged you toward her couch. you sunk into the black leather and surveyed the coffee table in front of you, similarly cluttered with witchy items like candles, incense, and a cauldron. agatha stayed on her feet, pacing back and forth while she pondered your situation.

"how long has it been since you last sensed her?" agatha asked. you felt your face heat up when she turned her intense blue gaze to you. you could practically feel the power radiating off of her.

"about a month," you answered sheepishly, wringing your hands in your lap. a look of intrigue flashed across the witch's face and she stalked toward you. soon, she was standing behind the couch where you were sat, her hands firm on your shoulders.

"you're a pretty girl..." she thought out loud, and you squirmed subtly in place at the compliment. "servant of venus, and it shows..." her fingernails traced barely-there spirals on either side of your neck, and goosebumps spread across your skin. satisfied, agatha pulled away to resume her pacing. "got anyone special in your life?"

"i-i'm close with some of the other witches in town, and my grandma lives in the next village over—"

"not what i meant, honey," agatha purred and perched herself on the couch next to you. "who looks after your needs?" you didn't reply, staring at her quizzically. she tried again. "cute thing like you must have a gentleman caller or two, no?"

"not at the moment," you shook your head. "although there was a man who passed through westview a while back, a traveler. he courted me."

"and were you intimate with this nomad?"

"he only kissed me once, right before he left town. said he'd be back for me."

"how did it feel?"

"p-pardon?" you stammered, not expecting to be grilled on your romantic history today—let alone by agatha harkness, who grinned like a cheshire cat at your shyness.

"magic-wise, i mean. acts of affection can trigger power surges, especially for witches who follow venus... if she approves."

"i don't remember sensing anything out of the ordinary," you shrugged. "i wasn't expecting to feel a spark right away; it was just nice to be admired."

"i'm sure, but you're a disciple of venus. do keep in mind: she rules over love, not self-esteem," agatha took hold of your hand while she advised you, sending a chill up your arm. "i have a theory. when did you meet this man?"

"five or six weeks ago, i'd say."

"then it sounds like your goddess was displeased with your choice of lover."

"what, so she's just gone? i kissed the wrong guy and she gave up on me?"

"oh no, sweetpea, you just have to get her attention again."

"how can i do that?" agatha paused at the question, surveying the room in all its magical madness.

"do you still have power?"

"yes," you said, extending your palm toward her—only your magic wouldn't spark. it fizzled, emitting blots of pale pink, but you couldn't get your powers flowing fully.

"oh dear! looks like your magic's not flowing right. it's still there, promise."

"how can you tell?"

agatha narrowed her eyes and gave you a smirk that made you clench your thighs together. then she surged forward, cupping your face and kissing you deeply before you even knew what was happening.

agatha's kiss was hungry, purposeful. her tongue lapped at yours while her fingers sent purple caresses along your jawline. she took your breath away and set your body on fire all at once. to your disappointment, she subsequently pulled away.

"see, lovebug?" she beamed at the sight of you with hooded eyes and kiss-swollen lips. then, she held your open palm up to your light of sight. "you've still got it."

sure enough, the glow of your magic was there. it was weak, but it was there, swirling in the center of your hand.

"why don't you try lifting that spell jar over there?" agatha gestured to a small object on a wall shelf. "the one with the pink wax seal."

you aimed your palm at the spell jar and focused your energy, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't harness the telekinetic power to make it budge. you huffed in frustration.

"don't lose hope, angel," agatha rubbed your thigh comfortingly. "i know a ritual."

"you can bring venus back to my side? really?" you perked up in near-disbelief.

"would you be here if you doubted me?" she quipped back, forcing a conciliatory head shake out of you. "didn't think so. now take your clothes off."

"what?" your eyes almost bulged out of your head, but your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the thought of the older witch seeing your body. one predatory smile from agatha, and your mind was officially at war with your body. she stroked your cheek in mock sympathy, but you could see the amusement in her eyes. she gestured to the wall opposite you both, plastered with photos and illustrations of nude witches dancing under the moon and wading into the sea.

"precious few magical rites involve fabric, darling," agatha soothed. "it's an unnecessary barrier between your energy and the earth."

reluctant yet hanging on her every word, you relented and stripped for her. there was a pleased glint in her eye while she watched your body intently. you peeled off your clothes, giving her occasional anxious looks while you bared yourself.

"good girl," she cooed, watching you shift uneasily from foot to foot. your nipples hardened at a chill, and you could swear her eyes darkened in response. you blinked, and she was in front of you, her robes mere inches from your naked body. after another blink and a rush of purple, you found yourself in another room in the sprawling house—what seemed, at a cursory glance, like agatha's bedroom. "pardon the change of scenery; this is the most magically protected place in the house. now," she gestured to a king-sized, plush purple bed. "on your back, gorgeous. get nice and comfy so we can draw out your power."

"are you gonna have me meditate? or, ummm, astral project?" you asked in arousal and disbelief.

"sure, more or less," she chuckled darkly. impatient, she sent you floating to the center of the mattress with a purple mist. standing at the foot of the bed, she stared at you like you were her last meal. you heard a faint, sparkling whoosh and looked up to see tendrils of violet flying from her palms, a knowing grin on her face. when her magic latched onto your skin and began to stroke its way up your thighs, she piped up again. "can you feel that, sweet girl?"

before you could respond, agatha pounced. she caged your body with hers and dove for a sensitive spot on your neck. she suckled, and you gave a breathy moan that seemed to excite her.

she made her way down to your sternum with sloppy kisses, then turned her attention to your breasts—squeezing and caressing them while you both sighed in pleasure. her hands were rough and greedy and felt so good.

"is this, ahhh, part of the—" agatha cut you off by pinching your nipple between her fingers, rolling it while threads of her magic danced around the sensitive bud. when she closed her mouth around your other nipple, your back arched off the bed, and the three candles on agatha's nightstand spontaneously lit. you gaped at the witch above you in shock. "did i do that?"

"sure did, superstar. i told you this ritual would draw out your power," the older witch said with a smugly victorious smile. she gave each of your tits a kiss farewell before reluctantly parting with them. then, she planted a meandering path of energy-infused smooches from your chest all the way down to your lower belly. even the gentlest touches of her magic electrified your nerve endings, making you writhe under agatha in a silent plea for more, more, more. "oh dear, aren't you needy?"

"yes, yes please agatha, i need you to..." you trailed off upon seeing the expectant, self-satisfied look on the woman's face. the clouds of your desire parted momentarily, and you finally realized what exactly you were asking the mother of witches to do for you (to you). agatha had seduced you into her lair, reduced you to a begging mess. you decided right then and there not to hold it against her. "finish the ritual."

"how could i deny such a polite request from such a pretty girl?" agatha cooed before snapping her fingers, pinning your legs open with her magic. your ankles were bound to opposite corners of the bed by shimmering purple cuffs of energy. agatha grinned wolfishly as she situated herself between your spread legs. "alright, baby, just relax. let yourself feel."

you released a shaky breath and closed your eyes in preparation for agatha's touch. at the first stroke of her fingers through your folds, you felt magic crackling in your veins. you tried to stay on top of the wave of power that threatened to overwhelm you.

"goddess, you're dripping. that's a good sign," agatha drawled, her eyes fixed on her fingers as they lightly stroked up and down your pussy. with no warning, her pointer finger found your clit and pressed down, eliciting a yelp from you. when she began to draw firm circles on the bundle of nerves, you cried out, and the candles on agatha's bedside table rumbled like they were about to tip over. "that's my girl. feels nice when i rub you there, hmmm?"

"s'good, agatha, please don't stop..." you babbled breathlessly, your hips bucking toward her hand. agatha made a low growling sound and laid her free arm across your abdomen, pinning your lower body to the mattress. then, while you were still reeling from her manhandling, she slipped two slender fingers inside you. "oh!" you squealed at the foreign sensation, the sudden fullness. her digits probed your pussy, searching for something. you squirmed as her long fingers combed your fluttering walls. "ag—ahhh, i feel funny."

"i know, sweetie, just bear with me for a second here. you're taking it so well," agatha's free hand twitched and sent a bolt of tingling purple warmth to your clit, rewarding your patience. you gasped and bit your lip to keep from screaming. agatha wasn't even touching your bundle of nerves, yet you could feel her playing with it all the same. while agatha chuckled at your barely-restrained desire, her fingers found your g-spot. this time, you couldn't suppress a keening moan. "oooh, i like that sound. stay loud, lovely girl; let venus hear you."

she emphasized her words with a hard stroke of her fingertips against your special spot, and you shrieked. your hands scrambled for purchase somewhere, anywhere, and ultimately clung to two threads tied to the bedframe above your head. you didn't remember them being there before, but you figured it was one of agatha's tricks. had you opened your eyes, you would have seen the rosy color of the glowing strings and realized that you, not agatha, conjured them.

"are you close, baby girl? i can feel your magic pulsing and flowing," agatha whispered with a sultry wink. you clenched around her fingers and she cackled, pressing her violet-charged thumb to your clit and doubling the energetic stimulation there. you yanked at the pink restraints above your head and writhed pathetically at her touch. "if the ritual is true, you're about to experience pure ecstasy. say my name when you do."

it was all too much. her fingers twisted inside you and brushed your g-spot while her thumb rubbed vibrating, sparkling circles on your clit. a wave of white-hot bliss crested over you, and you cried out: "agatha!"

"princess," the older witch soothed as she continued her ruthless strokes. she looked around in awe as the room was bathed in blushing light, your just-recovered power shining in the afterglow of your orgasm. but agatha didn't let up. she wanted a replay of your precious, pleasured face. when you tried to wiggle out of her grasp, she scoffed. "don't pretend you can't give me another because you're going to, little witch."

she then ducked down to mouth at your clit while sneaking a third finger into you, curling to hit your most sensitive spots with vibrating energy. she took your button into her mouth and sucked vigorously, which sent you floating over the edge once more. again you screamed her name, but this time you also reached for her free hand where it rested on your chest. her fingers eagerly intertwined with yours, and your magic reached out for hers—a pink orb yearning for a touch of purple, charged hands held together by attraction.

"come back to me, superstar," the older woman coaxed as your orgasm faded. she smiled and guided your palm into your field of view. there it was, as if it had never dimmed: your power. agatha had fulfilled her promise. "told you so. i could have stopped after one, so that second round was just for me—you're stunning when you come."

"you... you did it. you got her back," you whispered in disbelief and gratitude. "thank you, agatha. i don't know how to repay you for this."

"oh, i can think of a few ways," she laughed, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "how about you show me what you can do with all that power, honey?"

you sat up and stared at her, confused. she took your glowing hand and dragged it over her upper thigh, exposed by a slit in her dress. you took the hint, swiftly using your magic to vanish her clothes just as she'd done for you. you waved her legs apart and teased your way through her folds, savoring the feeling of her arousal on your fingers. agatha huffed.

"that all you got, daughter of venus? not even gonna touch me witch-style?" agatha provoked. you sighed but gave in, your index finger sending a beam of pink stimulation to explore her from the inside. she gasped and bucked her hips at you frantically. smirking, you lowered your face down to her pussy and started worshipping her clit. while you sucked the bundle of nerves into your mouth, your hands snuck up to agatha's chest. you tweaked her nipples with magic-tinged fingers, and the triple stimulation made the older witch fall apart. "such a good, sweet girl... don't stop, angel..."

you kept working diligently until the witch groaned and pushed you away with a wall of violet. you sat back on your knees and gazed at her, dazedly waiting for any sign of approval. as soon as agatha recovered from her high, she caught you by surprise with a deep, heated kiss.

"you, my darling, are full of surprises," agatha booped your nose as she pulled away. "and look at you!" she cradled your hand and pressed her finger into the center of your swirling, rosy magic. "got your groove back. i told you i'd fix ya right up, and the ritual wasn't so bad, was it?"

"n-no, it was... thank you," you stammered, still reacting to the ritual. "how much do i owe you?"

"don't be silly, toots," agatha said melodically while she wrapped her arms around you and lay back. "i believe in karma. you'll pay me back in kind someday, sugar; don't sweat it today."

"what if she leaves again?" you whispered, feeling agatha's shallow breathing against the crown of your head as she snuggled you. she shook her head, and you felt her nose moving from side to side.

"shhh, sweetheart," she cooed, running her fingers up and down the exposed side of your torso. "that's what i'm here for. any more problems, you come to me. i'd happily make you feel good as new."

satisfied, you burrowed into agatha's hold and drifted off to sleep. with the object of her desire finally at her mercy, agatha was pleased too. she thought about her next move; she'd need to possess another man to pursue you and throw off your powers again. you'd probably get wise to it after the third or fourth guy, but what could you do about it? try to kill her? agatha smiled at the day's work and breathed in your scent, lulling herself to sleep.

[venomous-qwille]

Hi Qwille!

So I was wondering because I’m struggling with this myself- how did you continuously improve with art when you were first still building upon your skills? Like to get to a level that could be professional?

And I think I mean this in more of a mental capacity way. I tend to get angry at the fact that I’m not better by now and feel like I struggle by the skin of my teeth to improve from where I’m at every time, even if objectively speaking I’m already better than people would expect me to be.

I just feel like there’s a better way to go about it than being fueled by anger or spite. I enjoy art, and I’m proud of my work, but I don’t know how to *not* be angry at myself for not being better at it. How do you accept self criticism with grace when it comes to your work? Or how did you, when you were younger? If that’s a question you’re willing to ask, of course! Thank you <3

Hiya! So, I'll start out by saying that this is absolutely the hardest part about learning to draw/paint. The continuous failure and discontent with the work we produce is a constant struggle that is, I believe, the main reason people stop trying to learn at all.

It's okay to get angry and sad, it's okay to be dissatisfied. It's a very cruel joke that, as artists, our eye will improve faster than our ability to draw. We are constantly chasing a carrot that is being pulled further away from us. For me: my improvement was not constant. There were several points where I didn't draw for years, because of other life factors and because the art I was creating brought me no joy.

Things had to change when I decided that I wanted to do art professionally. I needed to improve and improve fast, so I bent a lot of time towards studies. I found that the things I got better at the fastest were the ones where I found studying to be really fun. I really enjoy copying master paintings- especially the nineteenth and twentieth century realists. Finding fun in doing them for the sake of doing them really helped me improve fast because it wasn't stressful- I was just creating art I liked, even if they were copies.

I think accepting that the main joy of art is in the creating, not the result, really helped me be at peace with my artwork. Also, becoming a professional artist and realising that I didnt own what I created- and that I was subject to the (often questionable) tastes of my commissioners/art directors/stakeholders really allowed me to unlatch my emotional self from my work.

Every piece is a step, sometimes you will hit your bellcurve, make the best thing you are currently capable of making- and fuck that feels good- but often you wont, and you wont know why you dont like it. Learning to enjoy the push towards those small moments, the slow improvement as you gradually grasp new skills, learning to love learning, that is the most curative thing. Once I started to enjoy failing, because it meant I was learning- and once I started forgiving myself for not picking everything up straight away- I was much, much happier.

It's okay for it to be hard and your emotions are valid. Forgive yourself for having them and try to find something you enjoy about the process. Recontextualise your mistakes as what they are: not a failure, but just another step up the giant mountain of your art journey. There is always a higher peak. The journey never ends. Stop looking at the top and just enjoy the view and the mountain air. (And for fucks sake don't compare yourself to other people. They're not even climbing the same landmass.)

[dollsanddandy]

ST5 WRAP PHOTOS RAMBLINGS:

Erica looks so stunning here, love her, but the way this is presented is making me wonder if all is actually well here because she is wearing a similar sweater in this scene:

Possible Vecna vision for Erica? Especially with the way they appear to be directing Erica in that picture as if there’s something wrong with the turkey. Lowkey really want everyone to receive a Vecna vision.

Murray and Robin together makes for an interesting duo, though if they’re teamed up I can only think that the torch might be passed onto Robin and she’ll be the one to clock Byler. It’ll be done in the same way, but knowing Robin she’ll fumble her wording and I imagine it could cause a falling out between Byler to cause tension before they get together.

We’ve basically confirmed at this point that the Wheelers and Byers are living together, which I’d like to add fuel to the fire: if Byler wasn’t endgame, why have them live in the same house? Wouldn’t it make more sense for Mileven to live in the same house if they’re endgame? Just a thought 🤗 Anyway, I wonder how a Joyce-Karen dynamic would work. Karen does sometimes actually seem like a good parent near the level of Joyce, but I’ve read some posts that change my mind about how I feel about Karen. Maybe Joyce might clock her, who knows?

Ignoring the flop in front of the car, Eleven and Joyce scenes possible?? I love Eleven and Joyce relationship I wish we had more time with them as a mother and daughter. We got so little of them and it makes me sad, so I hope ST5 will correct this.

[menofprogress]

Here are some of my hot (or maybe tepid) takes about arcane:

(Under the cut bc i got wordy lol)

-the show could have used another season or like at least 5 more eps per season. Thats not a dig at the creators bc we know they were already forced to cut stuff out, but imho it shows a little, esp in s2. I fully believe Sevika was one of the biggest victims here, i genuinely believe she had an arc in s2 act 3 that was fully cut. And her being one of the biggest defenders of zaunite independence also means that by cutting her they basically gutted that storyline.

-the sheer lack of time with some characters also means that i simply did not connect with some of them, which made their deaths kind of underwhelming. Like i gasped when loris, isha, elora and sky died, but i cant say i was actually sad. That might be a me problem, but i need a little more time and info on a character to feel literally anything about them.

-on the other hand: we need to accept that sometimes background or minor characters are just that. No they werent robbed, no they werent underwritten, theyre simply not that important and thats OK bc theyre characters, not real people. You dont need to give equal attention to all characters for it to be "fair". And i sometimes feel like ppl think they HAVE to bemoan this. esp when its a female character a lot of fans talk about "sidelining" or "theyre using them as a plot device!!" Buddy, sometimes characters are literally just there to move the plot along, thats not inherently a social justice issue. (Ive seen this the most with sky and lest and like.... sorry, they were never gonna be more important than this. They can still be your fave, but just bc you wanted to see more of them doesnt mean they were sidelined for nefarious reasons)

-however sometimes the problem isnt that a character got too little screentime. S2 is a perfect example to show you can do a lot of character work in less time (viktor, ekko) and little character work with a lot of screentime (vi, sorry). Viktor and ekko were missing for entire episodes and managed to have full character arcs and vi was kind of there the whole time, but stuff just happened to her? Like she does do a lot, she looks incredibly cool, i liked watching her scenes, but her motivations, her goals and her values are ALL over the place. I love caitvi, but it did kinda ruin vis integrity when she threw away core beliefs (she becomes an enforcer, she temporarily agrees to kill jinx, she participates in chem warfare against the undercity) for cait. Hmmmmm.....

-i wasnt that deep in the fandom in s1 so i might have simply missed it or i might just not be following assholes, but the "jayvik shippers hate mel" thing never made sense to me. NOT because i dont believe it, bc i sure as hell have seen enough mlm shippers be fully misogynistic or racist, but the way ppl (mainly meljay shippers lbr) talked about jayvik shippers being horrible to mel like it was this HUGE thing confused me bc i personally have seen like 2 fanfics where they horribly mischaracterise mel to be a viktor-hating bitch, but thats it? Like, was that an actual problem or was it ppl deliberately misunderstanding stuff? (One specific example: ive seen someone accuse jayvik shippers of being misogynists bc they accused mel of manipulating jayce and sidelining Viktor. Which is a canonical thing happening in the show. Like ofc you can word it in a way to make mel a horrid evil bitch, im sure there are ppl who DO hate mel and think she is an evil succubus, but this person in particular just seemed upset about the fact that ppl were talking about things that mel canonically did.) This is a genuine question, bc from my pov after s1 mel was one of the fan faves and jayvik wasnt THAT big of a deal until s2. I literally saw a hundred times more jayce hate than i did mel hate, but maybe thats not the universal arcane fandom experience? Like, again, i HAVE seen (for lack of a better term) fujoshis get wildly hateful towards female characters in the vicinity of their ship, i was just pleasantly surprised that the arcane fandom seemingly DIDNT. So the unrestrained resentment and bitterness of some fans after jayvik "went canon" caught me off guard.

-the reason i ask this: i saw a video where someone talked about some rando homophobic timebomb fans who apparently resented caitvi for getting a happy ending instead of jinx and ekko. So i commented "i s2g het-shippers act like theyre an oppressed group sometimes" to which another person responded "well jayvik fans were really shitty about mel, soo...." and i was so fucking confused bc what? The video wasnt even about mel or jayvik?? They just heard me make a snarky comment about het ships and immediately felt called out. But yeah thats what prompted my question.

-i dont get the thirst for the fish man. I get the salo thirst even less. I cheered when jayce bonked him.

-i actually dont want jayce or viktor to appear in future projects. While i love the idea of them being ~not dead~, i think any further canonical storylines about them would devalue the extremely emotional ending they had. Like, imagine if they only bring one of them back?? What then?? No, i actually prefer post-canon fix it fanfics in this case. (Cough cough esp bc this way i can still plausibly delude myself into them being actually canon and yall KNOW it probably would not stay this way if their story continues)

[moociaoafterdark]

The last post was a rhetorical question, but, glad you guys want to hear me out!

Anyway, the Imperial Palace is haunted. "Haunted".

Surely, there are no such things as ghosts, right?

Except, when the Raven Guard Astartes began to report things disappearing when you don't look at them and also seeing pale ghostly figure stalking the hallways, people began to tense up, even though some just brushed it off as them confusing a ghost for one of their own. When the Custodes began to back up the Raven Guard's claims, the Primarchs got involved.

So, the main ghost hunting squad consists of Horus, Sanguinius, Corvus and Alpharius (and Omegon, but, shh). If we assign them the "Mystery Gang" roles, then Horus is Fred, Sanguinius is Daphne, Corvus is Velma and Alpharius is either Shaggy and Omegon is Scooby, or it's the other way around. No one notices the changes anyway.

A lot of their methods include things like a ouija board (from which they learned many interesting things about the ghost, particularly how many pickles it can shove up its ass), asking the ghost questions in the dark room, taunting the ghost (and screaming like little girls when the ghost retaliates), using a radio to try to communicate with it... That kind of stuff. A lot of the times, Corvus tries to negotiate with the ghost by offering Horus a sacrifice, much to Sanguinius' annoyance. Surprisingly, Horus doesn't really mind becoming a sacrifice (he thinks he can fight the ghost off) (he can't do shit). Alpharius and Omegon are both amused, however they initially didn't take the hauntings seriously. As time went on, though, they slowly started to plan their way out of the group.

The gang then turned to Lorgar for help. Their research led them to find out that numerous religions, in the past, had ways to ward off ghosts. Perhaps Lorgar can do something? Lorgar decided that a religious sacrifice could potentially pacify the paranormal ("No, Corvus, we are not sacrificing Horus"). He ordered Alpharius and Omegon to find and bring a small animal that they could sacrifice, while Lorgar prepared the salt, the candles and the prayers. Alpharius brought a little white rabbit from the Palace's kitchen. Sanguinius was sad to see such cutie get sacrificed, he made sure to give that rabbit some pats before the ritual. When the right time came, the Primarchs, all 6 of them now, stood in the circle made out of salt, in the room that was pitch black safe for some lit candles. Lorgar read the prayers and tried to stab the rabbit in order to kill it. The dagger, instead, bent to the side, as if the animal was made out of steel. The white rabbit then became possessed and jumped onto Alpharius, trying to bite through his helmet... And almost succeeding, had Sanguinius not grabbed and tossed the vermin out from the circle. Despite being tossed by a Primarch with full force, the rabbit didn't even break a sweat, instead preparing to pounce on its next victim. Thankfully it was put down by Horus and a couple of shots from his bolter pistol that he thankfully brought with himself. The killer rabbit was dead and Lorgar felt despair. Why didn't his faith in their father stop the malicious presence? He will make that ghost pay! Feeling wronged, he joins the ghost hunting squad and helps keep the group together and to coordinate the rituals.

Magnus thinks he can crack the case himself. He gets the photo evidence of paranormal activity, however, his recording skills are subpar. The photos and videos are blurry as fuck, as if Magnus covered the lense with a thick coat of vaseline beforehand. No one believes him or takes his evidence as, well, actual evidence... Except Jaghatai. His bike has been acting weird lately. Sometimes it turns on all by itself, drives itself for a good distance, sometimes it refuses to turn on, or strange things pop out on the display. Something is messing with his bike and the Great Khan is REALLY pissed at this. And, so far, he only trusts Magnus with this, so, they become a ghost hunting duo. Through the series of unfortunate events, the two have to race away from the pissed off ghost, with Magnus clinging onto Jagh and yelling "DRIVE FASTER, I'M SCARED".

The ghost also visited the Night Haunter himself. When Konrad realized he had an intruder he looked at the ghost, who decided to appear to him as a demonic looking old woman, taller than Konrad himself. Their eyes locked together and Konrad just... smiled, his rotting teeth revealed by a wide grin. He and the Night Lords were never bothered by the ghost again after that.

When news reached Roboute of what was happening in the Imperial Palace, he just made a shocked face and went "Oh no... Anyway!" and then went back to drinking the finest of wines you could find on Ultramar, while basking under Macragge's sun. Jackass.

Ferrus and Rogal were both working on the project together and didn't even notice the ghost. At some point, the ghost became a third participant: holding a hammer or shinning a light where it was needed. When Ferrus and Rogal realized what was happening, they just... Went back to work and continued to exploit the ghost. They would never say no to free labour.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again.��

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[wysteriaisapenguin]

Sometimes I think about the Voice and Vessel ships that aren't their respective pairs. So I'm gonna ramble about the ones I really like

Hero and Thorn: I like to think that out of all the vessels, Hero would resonate with Thorn the most. Both of them start off as soft individuals who end up hurting each other after things go south and becoming hostile and cautious. But they eventually reach a point where they are so tired of all the pain and mistrust. Even so, they still want to believe they can make things right and leave together peacefully. Hero always believed in doing the right thing. His compassion is enough to let Thorn know that he truly wants to help her and she can trust him. She's scared of being hurt again and so is he. Now that they understand each other and the pain they've been through, they want to reassure each other that things will be ok between them now. And that's just very sweet to me.

Wraith and Opportunist OR Wraith and Cheated: Ok I might be cheating here since I choose two different voices to pair with Wraith. But I like them both for different reasons! The dynamic between Wraith and Opportunist is just so hilarious (Scary villainess and her loyal bumbling henchman LOL). I love how he tries to butter up to her and she isn't having it at first, but then she starts finding him amusing. And if you let her out, she's genuinely endeared by his support. It's a funny interaction and probably the one nice thing Oppy has ever done for a princess. It also makes sense too since they both have abandonment issues and will do anything it takes to not be hurt again, even if it means they have to hurt others. As for Wraith and Cheated, both are pissed off by the unfair circumstances that they are each placed in (Wraith being cruelly slain as a trapped prisoner and Cheated taking on the role as a slayer with a terrible reward). They take out their anger on each other because they both think that the other made things worse for them. But even so, I like to think this shared feeling might offer both of them to connect somehow. Even if these two aren't willing to empathize with each other, they both know that whatever game they're playing in is "rigged against them". So perhaps, if they were to put their hatred aside and work together, they can both fight for the freedom they've been longing for so long. It may never happen, but ideally it would be an endearing dynamic.

[The next few ships include Pristine Cut Spoilers]

Paranoid and Happily Ever After: We know that Paranoid is usually afraid of the princess, always expecting the worst possible thing she could do to her. But what happens when she meets a princess who just wants to make her happy and is clearly miserable because of it? Despite her initial caution, Paranoid realizes that HEA is just as trapped as she is and urges her to be honest so that the both of them can be free. Sure enough, that urge is what encourages HEA to finally speak up for herself. Perhaps she knows how anxious Paranoid is but still wants her to feel comfortable around her. So she tries to build trust with the voice by being patient and caring towards her. Thanks to this, Paranoid slowly feels less afraid of HEA. Both of these fragile souls know how much it hurts to have their will and freedom taken away, but they can seek comfort in each other now that they are finally free.

Cold and Fury: I really love how out of all the vessels, Cold is clearly amused by Fury (if you get him from Adversary). As a voice who claims to "feel nothing", it would be expected for him to be drawn to someone filled with raw emotion. (WHO'S READY FOR BURNED BRIDGES 2.0 BABYYYYYYYYYY) But then it turns out that he shares something in common with her. Both of them are desperate to feel something, anything. And for Fury in particular, she wants to feel the spark she once had so bad but can't anymore. Once she's taken out all of her anger, once she's done with her agonizing torment, she's left in a sad, lost, and empty state. But Cold is still there. Despite everything, he was able to withstand all the pain. And he too wants to feel something; he just didn't want to do the same thing over and over with Fury. Even if they have both have grown numb to their own feelings, they can still build something together. It's not too late for either of them.

Skeptic and Eye of the Needle: So this is mostly based on the updated ending for EOTN when you free her with Skeptic. Once she's finally out, she is left in a state of confusion. Violence is the only thing she ever cared about and everything outside of that is so new to her. She feels so lost and scared, as if she had long forgotten something important. And that's when Skeptic comes in. He'd be the best one to help her come to terms with her identity crisis. He also knows what it's like to feel lost with so many unanswered questions and he's sure EOTN has a lot of them. So he's willing to guide her towards the answers she is looking for, no violence required. And EOTN would be grateful for this...although this probably won't stop her from wanting to fight him too. (She'd still think he’s a weakling who needs to toughen up and be her equal.) The spark she once had isn't lost yet; she just needs a different approach.

[esoteric-crow]

hey actually isn’t there something kind of really sad about the fact that the hardest difficulty (that isn’t just like. hell or hell. which is just ‘haha hehe Blow up.’) is called Dante Must Die. i think about it a lot. i can’t quite put my finger on why it makes me miserable but maybe someone else can.

but you know what i CAN talk about and i DO have actual fully formed thoughts about?

regenerating like crazy is great. but isn’t there something kind of inherently fucked up about the fact that, because of the regeneration dante and vergil have, neither of them will ever have tangible evidence to themselves or others of their suffering? asking themselves, was it really that bad? did it even happen at all? no matter how much you put vergil through hell and how afraid he is inside, there will never be a mark on his skin that says “i have suffered”. the world leaves no proof, nothing to take home from this experience aside from a more broken mind. vergil doesn’t say his feelings, or even allow them to surface properly, because that’s a kind of vulnerability he cannot handle. the only way he could perhaps earn someone’s sympathetic care is by expressing what he has suffered through, but he cannot verbalize that. and he looks perfect. unmarked by time or trauma. there isn’t a single part of his body that could scream out for him that something horrible has happened that he cannot figure out how to deal with alone.

and dante is just as poor off. and he’s very difficult to figure out emotionally to a passerby. dante purposefully puts on a happy face every day, and to the majority of the world, it’s convincing. there’s certainly no evidence to themselves contrary. not a scratch on him. but he is like kind of constantly getting the ever loving fuck beat out of him. stabbed and jabbed. when you look at him, you see happy, sweet, goofy dante. for all the years of pain he’s gone through, there isn’t a single marred inch of his skin that could tell you even a day of the agony unless he told you. and why would dante do that when he can pretend it simply isn’t happening until he’s alone and can sit with the terror that’s constantly in him and the loss he’s been living with, over and over losing people and being surrounded by the ghosts of their presence. whether the ghost is a wayward descendent, a gun, or just a lingering smell of ash in his childhood home. but that will only be private. he can be the walking dead, he can treat himself like shit, but his body refuses to show anything for it. and he’s certainly not going to die.

obviously, the same thing can be said for the opposite side of the spectrum: scars can be a constant reminder in the mirror of what happened that you cannot erase, always to some degree a part of you. among other stuff. so both sides of the coin are full of The Pains and The Anguishes.

on a side note, i really like when people give them like, one scar. i don’t really have a favorite one that people give vergil but i really like dante with just the one bigass gnarly one in the middle of his abdomen from the rebellion gettin jammed in there. his One scar. a treate. like it defies his regeneration somehow.

i love making a scarred up guy. i have plenty of scars n marks myself, and i feel like they should definitely be more normalized, so like, no this post isn’t anti scars or something. they’re normal and not ugly or whatever the hell people try to say. this side note is probably entirely unnecessary, but i’m tired and i’m worried about someone misunderstanding me i think. anyway i’m trying to say ooh scar angst yeah but sometimes No scars is also fucked up too. that’s the point here.

to sum up: i believe there can be something Fucked Up and angsty to be said about the fact that the sparda boys heal perfectly fine, but only externally. it is 3am. this is not articulated as well as it could be i don’t think. aaaand post.

[phantasmatoucan]

I WAS TRYING TO PICK WHO IS MY FAVORITE VOICE BUT FAILED MISERABLY... RAMBLINGS UNDER HERE

I CANT FOR THE LIFE OF ME PICK A FAVORITE VOICE THEYRE ALL SO GOOD, EVEN THE 4 ONES I PICKED THAT I LIKED MOST ARE THERE LIKE BY A SMIDGE OF HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM AND CARE THEM

SMITTEN HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE VOICE SINCE BEFORE PRISTINE CUT CAME OUT WHEN I FIRST SAW THE GAME LIKE A YEAR AGO, I JUST LOVE CHARACTERS WHO ARE ASSOCIATED WITH LOVE IN A DETRIMENTAL WAY, HIS CODEPENDANCY WITH THE PRINCESS IS JUST SO GOOD, HE CAN NOT STOP LOVING HER EVEN IF SHE HURTS HIM, MANS BLINDED BY LOVE AND ALSO THE FACT THAT HES SO POWERFUL? LIKE THROUGHT THE POWER OF LOVE HES ABLE TO MANIFEST WHATEVER HE HAS IN MIND EVEN TO THE POINT OF CREATING A PLACE OF HIS OWN ACCORD WITHOUT TLQ'S INFLUENCE [to a point], HE NEEDS THERAPY SEVERLY BUT FOR NOW I WILL HOLD HIM IN PURSE

I ALWAYS HAD A SOFT SPOT FOR BROKEN, NOT BECAUSE OF HOW PATHETIC HE COULD BE SOMETIMES WHICH MOST OF MY FRIENDS FIND KIND OF ANNOYING BUT I MOSTLY THINK ITS FUNNY [also a fair stance i too would fold if a goddess told me to do whatever she tells me] BUT BECAUSE HE COULD BE SO SASSY AND BITTER TOWARDS THE OTHER VOICES WHICH OFTEN MADE ME SO INTERESTED IN HIM, HE WAS BROUGHT UPON BY TLQ BASICALLY GIVING UP ON STANDING UP TO THE PRINCESS OF COURSE HES GONNA LET HER TAKE THE REINGS SINCE TLQ BASICALLY GAVE UP HER POWER OVER HIM TO HER AND WITHT HE PRISTINE CUT HE GOT SO MUCH MORE FOR HIMSELF AS WELL, HIS EMPATHY IS SO POWERFUL THAT HE CAN USE IT TO HIS ADVANTAGE AND FOR BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THE PRINCESS

I HAVE A THING FOR CHARACTERS WHO TRY TO COVER UP THEMSELVES FOR THEIR OWN PROTECTION AND OPPORTUNIST FITS THE BILL, HES A SURVIVALIST FIRST AND MOST OF ALL, HE WILL DO ANYTHING IN HIS POWER TO SURVIVE BE IT BY GIVING HIS CHOICES TO THE MOST POWERFUL PERSON IN THE ROOM OR USING WHATEVER CARD HE HAS IN STORE TO ONE UP WHOEVER IS WITH HIM FOR HIS OWN SAFETY, AFTER ALL HE CAN ONLY TRUST HIMSELF TO KEEP HIMSELF SAFE, HE LIKES TO BE PRAISED AND THE ATTENTION AND I THINK HE DOES WANT CONNECTION BE IT THE OTHER VOICES OR THE PRINCESS BUT HE HAS TO PUT UP A FRONT NO MATTER WHAT SO THAT HE CAN ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING UP HIS SLEEVE, ALSO HIS GRIN IN PRINCESS AND THE DRAGON IS SO GOOD...

PARANOID! I ALWAYS LIKED HIM AND HOW FUNNY HE CAN BE WITH HIS BLUNTNESS, HE ALWAYS IS TRYING TO KEEP TLQ SAFE BUT WITH THAT COMES HIS LACK OF ACTION, AS IN USUALLY DUE TO THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ROUTES HE CANNOT FIND A GOOD OUTCOME OF ANY OF THE CHOICES U HAVE, HE HAS A GOOD GRASP OF HOW THE SITUATION IN THE CONSTRUCT WORKS AKA BELIEVING AND THINKING IN SOMETHING CAN HAPPEN WILL HAPPEN, BUT THAT ALSO COMES WITH CONSEQUENCES OF BELIEVING BAD THINGS CAN HAPPEN DO HAPPEN [the nightmare in its entirety], HES ONE OF THE BEST VOICES IN TERMS OF SURVIVAL THO BUT WHEN IT COMES TO UNDERSTANDING OTHERS LIKE THE PRINCESS HES THE WORST AT SINCE HE ALWAYS WILL PUT HIS SAFETY FIRST AND WONT TRY TO TAKE A LEAP OF FAITH, his stress laugh in the cage is also very cute [heart]

I DONT WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG SO I WILL SAY WITH THE OTHER VOICES I CARE THEM A LOT, HERO COULD ALSO BE IN THE TIER ABOVE SINCE HES THE BEST BUT HE GOTS HIS FLAWS [his lack of desicion making dont want to get into it this is long enough as is help] BUT FOR NOW THATS THAT

THE NARRATOR MOSTLY MAKES ME SAD SINCE WE SEE SO MUCH ABOUT HIM AND HOW BITTER AND AFRAID HE CAN BE ABOUT TRYING TO SAVE HIS WORLD AND HOW EVEN IF HE DOES HAVE A CHANGE OF HEART OR SOME UNDERSTANDING WITH THE PRINCESS IT WILL NEVER STICK AROUND BECAUSE HES JUST AN ECHO AND HE CAN NEVER GROW FROM THAT

AND THATS ALL I HAVE TALKED LONG ENOUGH THAT THIS TOOK ME LIKE HALF AN HOUR TO WRITE JESUS CHRIST 23ÑLRKMOPR21