#ignore my lack of fashion sense and knowledge

[koreyeet]

idk what i did

i wanted them to dance or something

also im shipping the whispangle and silvaze kiddos

[thebramblewood]

If the Vatores stand united on one thing, it's their absolute disdain for Old Man Vlad.

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(Psst... there's some bonus lore under the cut for those who can't get enough.)

More on the Vatores' complicated relationship with Vlad to come, but for now I will say that settling in Forgotten Hollow despite hating his guts was absolutely a (petty) power move on Lilith's part. Vlad doesn't have any qualms about killing humans. In fact, he has little interest in the affairs of humans at all. But what he doesn't care for is Lilith's ostentatious style. He's very old-fashioned and set in his ways regarding how a "proper" vampire should behave and doesn't like when they draw too much attention to themselves because he believes it puts vampires as a collective at risk. He once hoped to mold Lilith in his image, but that obviously didn't work out, and he now finds her indiscreet, disrespectful, and lacking manners, and he finds Caleb a wimpy annoyance who should have never been turned.

I also wanted to explain a bit more about vampire telepathy in my universe. There's a psychic link between sire vampires and their children that allows them to communicate internally (as we've seen Lilith and Vlad do before - and we'll explore the circumstances of her turning in the future!) and also to probe each other's thoughts/memories (which, for example, is what allows Caleb to track down Helena). Physical distance weakens the link, and stronger vampires can establish barricades against intrusion (like Caleb is trying to do now with Lilith). It's also not a constant thing. It's an active choice to enter another's mind. Caleb is considerate (yes, even with his sister), so he does it sparingly and accesses only the information he needs. Lilith and Vlad couldn't care less, so they'll shamelessly dig for secrets. Most vampires are also able to wield telepathic powers over humans, although obviously this takes skill and practice. Humans' minds are more vulnerable and as such more susceptible to hypnosis. This allows vampires to control humans for feeding and other purposes and also to erase or alter their memories. I don't think any of this greatly deviates from what you would expect, and I've tried to imply most of it through the storytelling, but I just wanted to explain it all in one place.

Caleb: [stiffly] Straud.

Vlad: It seems you’re out and about these days more than your sister is. How is Lilith anyway? I can’t imagine she's finally come to her senses and decided to practice moderation for once in her life.

Caleb: Why don’t you rummage around in her thoughts and find out for yourself? She picked up that habit from you, after all.

Vlad: She’s learned how to keep up her guard against me. [pointed look] As I’m sure you’ve learned your own tricks against her. No matter. There are things in that girl's head beyond description. I’d rather not get mired in her depravity. Surely you know what I mean.

Caleb: I never acquired a taste for extracting people’s secrets without their permission.

Vlad: Of course not. You’re a peculiar creature, aren’t you? I warned her you wouldn’t be suited to this life. Well, in this case, you’re likely better off. Maintaining blissful ignorance is undoubtedly more pleasant than holding the eternal knowledge of all she’s done.

Caleb: [impatiently] Is there something else you wanted to discuss?

Vlad: That man - what is it, Benali? - and his charming little book… It’s not going to cause trouble, is it?

Caleb: I haven’t seen any angry hordes yet. This is your town, old man. There’ll be no trouble so long as you don’t let it in.

[utilitycaster]

Sort of related to the post about people coming in for shipping but something that’s struck me, as actual play fandom has spread, is that there is a certain lack of genre awareness currently - not just surrounding Critical Role, to be honest; it’s a frustration for me for the conversation surrounding Dimension 20 and Worlds Beyond Number for a while as well.

Take fate, for example. The idea of fate, whether it’s as specific as an ancient prophecy, or as broad as the general concept of destiny, is absolutely at the core of so many classic fantasy series that to be vehemently opposed to it within Critical Role is to display profound ignorance of the genre of fantasy. It’s akin to showing up to a sporting event and getting mad that people are running around in athletic gear; it’s like going to an Italian restaurant in the US and screaming in the face of the waiter when they give you bread and olive oil. There is not, per se, a required reading list. You do not need to read nor watch all of Lord of the Rings let alone consider it a formative work; Sam Riegel and Aabria Iyengar sure haven’t. But if you are not familiar with the genre at all, at the very least you do need to come with a certain awareness that you are not familiar with the genre and be open to its conventions. And to be clear: it’s valid to hate the theme of things being fated. But again, that’s like hating they serve bread and olive oil at the Italian restaurant; you should probably simply not go to Italian restaurants.

Another example that is my personal source of irritation is the obsession with radiation as a factor in Burrow’s End. Setting aside my original irritation at just good old-fashioned lack of reading comprehension with the conflation of the poison and the Blue/the Light, the idea that the intelligence was induced by radiation is really…not genre aware. Like, I recognize I’m coming at this with rather more knowledge than average (from a scientific rather than genre-aware perspective no less) but to get back to genre, I take no issue with, say, radiation in comic books. I know the premise of Spider-Man or of Doctor Manhattan’s origins is absolutely ridiculous; but that’s the genre. Radiation in comic books exists to be an easy origin story so we can get to the point of “here’s a guy with powers”. However, in a show that derives its narrative language from Watership Down and Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh, the idea that the magic and the lightning and the source of intelligence are radiation makes little sense. Another example is the weird response to Skip in Starstruck; the idea of an alien brain parasite like that is so genre-typical to space opera it feels like, again, someone going to an Italian restaurant, pointing at the bread, and saying “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? HOW DARE YOU!”

I think my particular frustration with both of the above (and when I talk about Worlds Beyond Number) is that those people ignorant of genre and not letting it wash over them a la Sam will often fall back to the real world (although, unfortunately, not when it comes to radiation) when trying to make sense of the narrative without the signposts, language, and tropes of the genres to which they belong. To understand the subversions or deconstructions that are likely to occur in, for example, the upcoming exploration of the Citadel in Worlds Beyond Number, you need to be open to the idea that it is a complicated place and not simply The Evil Empire That Suvi Will Definitely Leave; if you’re utterly suspicious of everyone and refuse to try to understand why this is a place people enjoy let alone will die for, you can’t actually experience the story. We are going into the Citadel arc; these wizards will be humanized, and if you have closed off your mind to them already you have set yourself up to be miserable. I do think it’s great that actual play has found an increasingly large audience, but the medium of actual play also carries a certain lexicon and ignorance of it will skew one’s interpretations. My personal bugbear here is of course interpreting bog-standard tanking strategies as either romantic or self-sacrificial in intent, but in general, any resistance to the mere concept of gaining power, the existence of concrete deities, combat, and the placement of plot above romance in D&D are all signs of this ignorance. And again: ignorance is fine! But with all of the above there also often comes this entitlement to a story that is familiar, in blatant disregard for those parameters of genre and medium, and I have to wonder, again, why people mad that a fantasy story is leaning heavily on fantasy story norms, or why D&D has combat, are still showing up to the fantasy D&D story. To return to the Italian restaurant, which is getting a lot of terrible patrons in this metaphor, it feels like a lot of people are showing up to this restaurant because they heard it was good, but then becoming furious it won’t serve them peanut butter and jelly. People who are not familiar should still be welcome, but that lack of familiarity needs to be accompanied by an openness and desire to learn, rather than the entitlement that is so often present.

[idkyetxoxo]

One | Vagabond | The Last Kingdom

"Are you a whore?" 

"Watch your mouth you jerk,"

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

"Shots!" Annabelle's cheer resonated as the tray of intoxicating elixirs made its way to our crowded booth. Amid our collective drunkness, the relentless flow of drinks showed no signs of stopping.

Each of us eagerly seized a shot glass, joyously proclaiming "cheers" before succumbing to the bittersweet embrace of the liquid fire. I roughly placed my glass down, surveying the scene unfolding around me. "I love you all so much this is the best birthday ever," I professed loudly, slightly stumbling over my words because of the alcohol-induced haze that had enveloped me several drinks ago. 

"Let's dance!" Erin enthusiastically proposed, seizing the nearest individuals as we stumbled towards the dance floor. I latched onto my boyfriend's neck, coaxing him to join. Though slightly more composed than the rest of us, he was far from being completely coherent.

Pulling him close, we swayed in harmony with the music. "I'll go grab more drinks for us," he slurred before departing for the bar. I nodded in agreement, losing myself in the euphoria of the celebration.

As the night unfolded, it became a kaleidoscope of additional drinks, uninhibited dancing, and eventually, my recollection succumbed to the haze of intoxication. 

The remainder of the evening blurred into fragmented memories.

── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ──

My eyelids reluctantly parted, greeted by the harsh embrace of the sun glaring directly into them. The ache reverberated through my entire body, and as my surroundings gradually came into focus, the realization struck me, I was outdoors. A swift survey disclosed a woodland setting, leaving me disoriented in the midst of nature's embrace.

"Hello" my call echoed, but the only response was a resounding silence. My hands fumbled in search of my phone, only to discover its absence. "Atlas" I shouted, hoping to find the presence of my boyfriend.

In scrutinizing my attire, I was taken aback I was still wearing the very short and tight gold sparkly dress with matching heels. "Where am I?" I mumbled to myself, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

The rhythmic trotting of horses drew my attention as a man and woman approached, they were wearing old-fashioned clothing and both had interesting hairstyles as if plucked from a past era.

"Who are you?" the man inquired, and relief washed over me as he spoke in English. "Y/n," I replied, sensing his intense gaze scrutinizing my body and face, leaving me slightly uncomfortable.

"Are you a whore?" he blurted out, leaving me utterly taken aback. "Watch your mouth, you jerk," I retorted, adjusting my dress subconsciously. The woman chastised him with a disapproving tut, and he nonchalantly shrugged.

"Can I borrow your phone please I think I lost mine?" I asked as politely as I could and they both looked at me like I had asked for their firstborn child. "No," the man said slowly and I frowned, he surely seemed like a little ray of sunshine.

"Where are we?" I queried as frustration began to set in, and the woman answered, "Wessex" with a smile. 

Confusion clouded my mind, as my last recollection placed me in a dark London club surrounded by intoxicated people. "You're not from around here," she added, pointing out the obvious and I resisted the urge to shoot her a mocking smile.

Attempting to clarify, she explained, "You are from the future." 

This time I didn't hold back my laugh at her ridiculous statement. I asked mockingly, "So what you guys from the Stone Age or something?" Their blank stares towards me suggested they struggled to comprehend the notion and my face contorted into worry towards their seriousness.

"You're from a different period of time," she stated, brushing off my previous question. 

I attempted to make sense of the situation by asking about the current era and their ignorance seemed to mirror my own. I groaned realising my lack of knowledge on the subject of history and their lack of knowledge on the future wasn't helping either of us. 

"Is this a joke?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes at them. The woman shook her head while the man sighed in frustration.

Frustrated myself, I probed about the current monarch, only to receive a grunt and an annoyed look.

"Who leads here?" I simplified hoping it was more understandable, and the response I received was "King Alfred," sending a shiver down my spine as a lump formed in my throat.

"Like Alfred the Great, the first King of the English?" I choked out, barely comprehending the improbable truth of being catapulted into medieval times.

"I'm going to be sick," I declared, the urgency in my voice palpable as I staggered towards a nearby tree. Leaning against the rough bark, I doubled over, my body convulsing with waves of nausea. 

The acidic taste lingered in my mouth, mingling with the scent of the earth around me, as I struggled to regain my composure amidst the overwhelming sickness and thoughts swirling around my mind.

The woman finally dismounted her horse, followed shortly by the man. She walked over to me and offered a flask of water, which I hesitantly accepted.

"I want to go back," I said looking at her pleadingly like she could somehow catapult me back. "I'm afraid that is not a possibility" she frowned softly. 

Tears welled up in my eyes as I yearned to reunite with my friends, hoping this was all some kind of cruel and weirdly realistic nightmare. "I want to see Atlas and Annabelle and Erin and all my friends" I bubbled out pushing away from the woman. 

"Your path lies here now there is no return," she explained plainly, and I harshly wiped away the tears that had managed to escape.

"Don't be stupid, I don't know anyone or anything here" I admitted "I have no knowledge of this stuff" I breathed out and she took a step towards me gently placing a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. "Do not worry Uhtred will guide you, he will be your protector." 

The man visibly reluctant, voiced his objections very vocally, I assumed he was the Uhtred she spoke of. 

"I will do no such thing" he said and the woman shook her head "It is your destiny" she said simply and Uhtred sighed heavily wiping his hand over his forehead in disbelief, the word 'destiny' seemed to sway him.

"Come with us, my name is Iseult," she offered, and weighing the risks, I reluctantly followed. 

My options boiled down to a precarious balance, either wander aimlessly, risking an encounter with someone who might not be as understanding, or defy the basic principle of stranger danger and follow after the enigmatic couple who contradicted each other.

Iseult shrugged off her cloak handing it to me "Wear this, the place we're heading to will not be welcoming to a woman dressed like that" she said and I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious in my dress.

I pulled the cloak over my body quickly and Uhtred looked down at my shoes "Why do you have weapons on your feet?" he asked and I lifted one of my legs looking at the heels "These aren't weapons they are heels" I explained. 

For a man who seemed so sure of himself and exuded arrogance, he was quite silly.

"Take them off and leave them here," he said getting onto his horse with ease "I'm not leaving these here they're Versace!" I protested, but he paid no heed. 

Tears welled up again as I hid the precious heels in a set of bushes, reminiscing about the joyful moment they were gifted to me by my boyfriend.

Barefoot, I questioned the absurdity of going unnoticed without shoes and the only response I received was a laugh from the man, he was really beginning to annoy me.

Iseult cautioned against revealing my origins explaining it may not be the wisest decision, and Uhtred simply commanded me not to speak at all. I frowned wrapping the cloak tighter against my body not liking this one bit.

I attempted to get onto his horse once I realised that was our mode of transport and struggled in the process. Uhtred sighed before effortlessly lifting me onto his horse a little harshly, I yelped as he manhandled me swatting his arm firmly as he ignored me rolling his eyes.

The journey through the forest began in silence, leaving me grappling with the unfathomable reality of what was happening.

"Do not speak" Uhtred repeated as the horses took off and I had to stop myself from smacking him across the face.

─── ✦⋅ ☆⋅✦ ───

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS STORY 🤭🤭

[watchandyoullsee]

Ariel Takes the Wheel

Scene 1: Ariel "Just Forgot"

King Triton (1989): "I just don't know what we're going to do with you, young lady."

Ariel (1989): "Daddy, I'm sorry, I just forgot, I--"

King Triton (2023): "It's irresponsible. Your sisters are only here for one phase of the Coral Moon. Can you imagine any one of them missing the gathering?"

Ariel (2023): "No, you're right. I'm sorry." (Excuse the watermark; I don't know where else to find images.) Of course, Flounder comes to her defense in the LA just like the 1989 version, saying it wasn't her fault, but Ariel realizes her mistake and takes full responsibility.

Scene 2: Blaming Sebastian

Ariel never blames anyone but herself in the 2023 version. She knows it's wrong to make the deal with Ursula in both versions, but the Live Action Ariel does not do it just for herself, but for both worlds -- after all, humans and merpeople may be different, but that doesn't make them enemies. Shipwrecks are alarmingly frequent, taking the lives of humans and damaging the seafloor below. Were the relations between the two peoples mended, perhaps their respective worlds could mend as well.

Thus, the stakes are higher. Had Triton been willing to listen while she had her voice (and it is understandable why he wasn't), she would never have had to give it up to be heard. 2023 Ariel not only rebels against her father because he made her upset (and she's obsessed with a human prince), but because she is doing what she believes is right for herself and her people. Since she heard Eric express a similar desire to bridge the gap between their kingdoms and the rest of the world (a desire she has never heard expressed by anyone else), it is only natural that she forms an immediate attachment to him. His beautiful face is not a motivating factor, but a nice bonus, and proof that humans are not all monsters.

Scene 3: Ariel "Didn't Mean To"

Ariel (1989): "Daddy, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to! I didn't know!"

Ariel (2023): "I'm sorry, Father, this was all my fault."

The point of this comparison is to highlight how important it was that Ariel took the wheel of the ship at the end. These are two very different characters, and thus their character arcs are different. Ariel in 1989 was curious, naïve, stubborn, rebellious in the typical adolescent fashion, and innocent as an infant. Her arc wasn't the noblest for a princess, as notwithstanding her mistakes and lack of character growth, she managed to receive all that she desired in the end. She didn't need to kill Ursula because Eric was there to do it for her, just as Scuttle was there to stall the wedding and retrieve her voice, and Sebastian was there all the way along to get her closer to Eric. Animated Ariel did not take responsibility for her actions. How could she, when she didn't know any better? Every movement she made was in her own self-interest (though I think by the end she really did love Eric as a person and not just a pretty face). Still, we love her because she is the picture of wide-eyed, adventurous youth, and there is much room for her yet to grow up, even after she's married. Because of her carefree innocence, it's nigh impossible to hate her.

Live Action Ariel is also carefree to a point, but the weight of her title and responsibilities shines through in her character. She is ignorant about the Above World (by no means from lack of effort), but clearly educated as a princess should be regarding her own. She is less stubborn in her naivety and more secure in her sense of right and wrong. There is an important distinction to be made between knowing what is right and remaining steadfast in that knowledge, versus remaining immovable in one's obliviousness.

So why was it important that Ariel took the wheel in the climax? Because she had taken the wheel all along. Had she been trapped in a vortex like in the cartoon, a damsel in distress, it would have been a disservice to her particular character arc -- that of a girl who took responsibility for her actions at every turn. "Those sacrifices you made were a choice that you can't undo," she sings in 'For the First Time.' This thread of action->consequence->action would have been left dangling, unresolved if she had suddenly lost all power.

Does this in any way diminish Eric's character? Not at all. He was willing to sacrifice his life to be with Ariel through the storm. He did everything in his power to save her. He still threw the spear, which undoubtedly saved her life in that moment (and, might I say, was a display of incredible competence to have an aim underwater like that). In that way, he repays her in kind, after she'd rescued him from drowning.

As an aside, she mimics his exact movement when he had steered the ship earlier in the film. Had she not observed what he did in that storm, she might not have known what to do in the final battle.

Ariel still needed help -- she still needed the support and aid of her animal companions, Eric, the castle staff, and her father. BUT she also took plenty of action to satisfy her arc, avenged her father's death, and she gave credit where it was due:

Ariel (2023): "You gave your life for me."

King Triton (2023): "And you fought to get my life back."

Ariel (2023): "I didn't fight alone, Father. Eric was with me."

I hope this post makes it a little clearer why robbing Ariel of her ability to act in the climax of the film would have been a poor choice, specifically in the Live Action. And, by the way, you can still prefer one or the other, or neither. While I don't dislike the cartoon, I obviously prefer the more mature and responsible Ariel.

[xinimartsy]

Yes there are mangas, animes and etc. with strong female MCs but as I said, mobile otome games are specifically targeted towards helpless women. I’m half Japanese, been living here half my life and all of my Japanese friends are like that in terms of personality, they prefer more dominant boyfriends (also why the most popular suitors are those types). They mostly prefer to have a gentle and “pure” image. Ikemen Sengoku might have that MC because of the setting

First of all, hi ❤️ good to see you here again, anon. Second of all, very interesting, I do enjoy hearing your first hand experience with the subject and I do resonate with it. As a Brazilian, someone who can be considered a latina, I'm no stranger to the cultural aspect of it: that our women are fiery and seductive, which.... Fair.

And while I don't deny that many pieces of media, otome games included, might present these characteristics for this reason (I'm looking at you, Shoujo heroines), I don't think it's the case for the subject of our debate: Ikemen Prince and Belle's autonomy in it. And I stand by my opinion that, in this game in particular, it stems from lousy writing.

I don't know how familiar you are with writing, if you partake or take interest in the craft, but there are a few rules to writing a consistent story. The two rules I'll be referring to are Chekhov's Gun and the Consistent Characterization.

"Chekhov's Gun" is a writing principle that says a writer mustn't add anything in that doesn't serve the narrative. If the narrator mentions a gun on the wall in the first act, said gun must be useful in a later act, otherwise it'd have been an useless information which Chekhov describes as "false promises" to the audience.

While Consistent Characterization means that the actions the characters perform throughout the story must be reasonable within their prior characterization. A character can't simply possess a convenient skill that was not priorly foreshadowed, the same you can't ignore something you've established without good reason. A character with no knowledge of street smarts can't suddenly know how to lockpick just because, while if a character had a known past as a thief and was suddenly faced with a lock to pick, you can't simply ignore that they would know how to pick it, instead giving a good explanation as to why in that moment, they weren't able to lockpick this specific door.

Why do I raise these two aspects of writing? Because that's exactly what I complain about Emma in Ikemen prince.

In Ikemen Sengoku's prologue, we get some insight on Mai: she loves fashion and is on her way to her dream job, finally. This little piece of information established that Mai was passionate and driven enough to chase what she wants. Characteristics that remain throughout the game in every route. Mai checks out both Chekhov's Gun, by making use of her skills throughout the narrative, as well as Consistent Characterization, by acting accordingly to how she was established to be in the beginning of the game: driven, passionate, and modern.

Mutsuki (ikemen vampire) and Alice (ikemen revolution) are other two main characters from cybird that, despite being very much the pure, gentle and innocent archetype and mostly lacking agency, they work because they act accordingly to how they were established to be: Mutsuki a simple woman with a love for writing and Alice a cheerful and friendly patisserie who's content with life. They both are thrown headfirst in situations in which they find themselves helpless, much like Mai, but while Mai faces it headfirst like the headstrong girl she is, Mitsuki and Alice are more mellow, which doesn't make them bad characters since that's how they've been made to be.

And that's exactly the problem with Emma. The prologue tells us that Emma is optimistic towards the world, has a strong sense of justice, as well as courage to do what she thinks is right. Though Chevalier is known as the "Brutal Beast" and strikes fear in the hearts of people due to his ruthlessness, Emma still jumped in and slapped the drunk man to make sure the prince wouldn't cut him down, even though she likely knew that his sword could just as easily have turned towards her. She wasn't so innocent as not to know that prince Chevalier WOULD cut the man down, and that's why she stepped in. And although it was said for giggles, Sariel did comment on Emma's slap when explaining his reasoning towards his choice for Belle. This prologue tells us Emma has a most fiery personality and won't hesitate to do something she judges correct, regardless of the possible consequences.

However, many routes strip her of the qualities given to her by the writers themselves, which makes Emma fail in both Consistent Characterization and Chekhov's Gun, seeing as she's both not acting accordingly to her previously established traits as well not using her previously established skills to advance or assist the plot.

That happens because they change Emma's personality depending on her suitor as to enhance him, which is why it's most noticeable in the suitors considered more "dominant" (really the most popular ones), because instead of doing the hard and difficult work of writing someone dominant and astounding enough for someone as fiery but kind as Emma to rely on and fall for, they do what? They make her act uncharacteristically in order to emphasize those traits on him, much too pure to enphisize how they're tainted or much too kind to enphisize their darker side, much too innocent to enphisize how they're mature/dominant, much too clueless to enphisize how they're smart, that's why sometimes it seems that the Emma we read in the prologue and the Emma we read within a route are completely different characters.

That's what bothers me, not her passiveness in itself, but the fact that it seems misplaced in someone like Emma given how she was originally characterized. Emma should not be a character only reacting to what the other characters do to her. Within the world of the game, she's a PERSON. Her experiences and personality should not fluctuate depending on the suitor she's pursuing.

And given that she was priorly written as a more fiery gal, we can somewhat discard the excuse of "cultural difference" because Cybird themselves wrote the prologue and cybird themselves gave Emma those characteristics. They're just failing at upholding it.

Thus.... Lousy writing

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette snuck up behind Luka, peeking around him to observe the hot pan on the stove. The smell of food throughout the kitchenette was incredibly pleasant, though she found herself more drawn to Luka's gentle smile than the food itself.

"Does it look good?" he suddenly asked.

"Huh?" She blinked, realizing that he was still staring at the pan. He hadn't caught her staring. "Oh! Yeah! You're—" She cleared her throat, blushing faintly, then added genuinely, "You're so good at this. Did your mom teach you?"

He chuckled, and she didn't miss how he turned just slightly to let her better view the food he was cooking.

"No," he replied, "Mom can cook a few simple things, but I always wanted Jule to eat well. She can be a little picky since she wants to be a model, so I had to learn how to make healthy food for her."

"She's lucky to have you," she commented, not realizing immediately what sort of effect she had on him until she saw his cheeks turn pink despite his poker face.

She couldn't blame the heat from the stove.

"I'm just doing what any brother should do," he deflected, "and I might as well feed my friends too while I'm at it, right?"

She sighed. "I'm so jealous! You cook so well." She watched the tasty food cooking away with a pout. "I'm usually too scared and the pan never seems hot enough."

He hummed in thought, then smiled at her. "You just have to listen."

"Listen?"

He held up a finger to wordlessly tell her to wait, then set up another pan at the stove to heat up. Going across the kitchenette to retrieve a spoon, he poured a tiny amount of water into it and returned to the stove, occasionally jostling the pan of food while he waited.

"Watch this," he instructed, holding the spoon over the hot empty pan.

Marinette gasped as the water was dropped onto the hot pan, Luka tilting his head to listen to the sizzling sound erupting from it.

"That's the perfect temperature for something like this. Sounds are important in cooking too."

"O-oh! Wow." She stared at the pan while the heat under it was being turned off, as though it would divulge secret cooking techniques to her. "So you're all about sounds even outside of instruments?"

"Mhm~" There was a smile in his voice. "And my heart follows wherever the melody takes me."

She looked up at him to continue the conversation, only to see that he'd already been looking at her. She blushed, catching the implication, and averted her gaze from him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear shyly. He looked at her like that all the time, and it always made her want to return the favor.

"Luka, um—" She hesitated. "Would you... no, it's silly."

"What is it?" He must've leaned towards her given how his voice sounded closer.

"Well, I was going to ask if you could teach me how to cook, but..." She trailed off, unsure.

"That's not silly at all. I'd be happy to—"

"No! It's totally silly and doesn't make any sense!" Marinette turned to him, fists clenched tight in front of her. "Because if you taught me how to cook just so I could cook for you then it'd be like eating your own cooking!"

Instead of responding to that, Luka blanked at her. She waited, thinking that she might've won an "argument" between them for once, yet it was clear he was off in his own little world when a bitter scent reached her nose.

She turned on alert, crying out, "L-Luka! The food is burning!"

He blinked, seeming to snap back to reality for a moment, only to then ignore what she'd said entirely to walk away. "I'll grab an apron for you."

"The food! The stove!" she protested, but he didn't seem to even hear her. At the very least, she could handle a stove despite her general lack of cooking knowledge, so she turned it off herself in her panic and moved the pan off the heat.

A few seconds later, Luka returned with a spare apron in hand and handed it to her as though nothing had happened.

"Y-you didn't have to do that." Even though she said that, she still took the apron from him in enabling fashion.

"But I'd love to teach you," he argued simply, shrugging at her.

"Weren't you listening?" She huffed, hands on her hips.

"I heard you perfectly." He grinned. "But it's not true."

"How?"

He held his hand out, giving her an expectant look. She raised a brow at him, but the offer was too tempting, so she slowly brought her hand up to drop it into his. He almost seemed to admire her hand as he ran his thumb across the back of her fingers.

"Two people can play the same instrument, but they'll always be different, and everyone has their own flair to bring. You put a little of yourself in anything you do, so of course it'd be different, and I'd love to eat whatever you make for me."

She blushed, pulling her hand away to rub the back of her neck with it. She should've expected a reply like that, but it surprised her nonetheless.

"I-if you're sure?" she said, trying not smile too much. Then, staring down at the apron and feeling a little daring, she asked, "Do you think you could help me with this first?"

His eyes lit up in realization; he knew exactly why she was asking. Beaming at her, he walked around to the back of her and confirmed, "I'd be happy to."

They both grinned like fools when she slipped the apron on and felt his hands against her back to tie it. She could tell already that they'd both enjoy the lessons to come.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

So I thought about your headcanon for Tulip being into fashion, then decided to make the SMG version of Ash also have some fashion knowledge, partly learned via osmosis since a lot of his friends are into Contests and Contest Equivalents (and in a few cases like Cilan just generally Have Style) and because Team Rocket is Like That, but also partly because becoming the Avatar caused his actually extremely rare crossdressing gag to exaggerate into an actual habit Because Memes.

Then I realized that with how much smaller Lahar's new Girl Form is than their canon Girl Form, none of her alternate costumes actually fit anymore, either literally or in terms of style, so all she's got is her default outfit which is literally just her original form's default outfit with an added bikini top.

And she can't exactly go to her friends back home for help since the SMGs have the exact same (lack of) fashion sense as her, Etna barely wears clothes, Flonne has extremely different tastes, Sicily is Literally A Child and also has similar tastes to Flonne since they're both Angels, they're still working on getting Barbara used to making decisions for herself let alone other people, and she's not really close with anyone else.

So, Tulip and Ash happen to be nearby while she's complaining about this little problem and...well...

Tulip and Ash: *immediately drop what they were doing and give each other a Look before slowly turning towards Laharl with identical big, unsettling grins*

Laharl: Uhhh... *shrinks back slightly from their Gaze* Hi?

Pikachu, realizing what's about to happen: Nope! I'm out. *hops off Ash's shoulder and walks away* Good luck shorty!

Laharl: Good luck with wha- *is suddenly picked up by the arms, Tulip on her left side and Ash on the right* HEY! What's the meaning of this!? As Overlord, I command you to release me!

Tulip, in an exaggeratedly Proper tone: Now now, don't you worry your pretty little head my delightfully devilish friend. We only want to help you, isn't that right Dear Brother?

Ash, adopting the same tone: Oh, absolutely Dear Sister!

Laharl: You do remember you're not actually twins, right?

*they ignore her and continue to wherever it is their going, and through the Power of Scene Transitions they're suddenly in what seems to be one of the many workshops in Tulip's manor, though this one seems to be a cross between a barber shop and a walk-in closet instead of the usual garage or mad science lab*

Laharl, standing on a round, slightly elevated platform near the center of the room: Seriously, what are you doing!?

Tulip, back in her normal voice: *hold up the measuring tape she just had wrapped around her* Uh, checking your waistline? We gotta make sure they actually fit, you know?

Laharl: No, that's-you just-wait, that what fits?

Ash, rummaging through all the clothes: Your new outfits, duh. You were just complaining about not having any options on Girl Days.

Tulip: Like I said, we wanna help.

Laharl: And you couldn't have just offered instead of jumping straight to kidnapping?

Tulip: *levels a flat stare at her* Laharl, you are the single most prideful person I know, including my birth family. Can you honestly tell me that you would've accepted our help willingly instead of being stubborn and telling us off?

Laharl: I...okay, fair. But since when does Ash know anything about fashion? He's worn pretty much the same thing every day since he was ten!

Ash: Hey, you try living out of a backpack in the woods for months on end. Just because I don't have that many opportunities to dress up doesn't mean I don't know how. Plus I know for a fact you've seen some of "Ashley's" outfits.

Laharl, finally realizing she doesn't have any convenient excuse to get out of this: ...Oh, alright. Just don't make me look stupid, got it?

Tulip: Oh don't worry honey, by the time we're through?

You.

Will.

Be.

Fabulous!

THIS IS FUNNY BUT ALSO SO SWEET?

Tulip and Ash both having a fashion sense is great, and them both immediately agreeing that "Yeah let's kidnap Laharl and make her fabulous" because it's so in character?? And Laharl admitting that yeah, her pride would've made it so she wouldn't ask for any help is also sweet? She trusts them enough to not only admit that, but trusts them to make her outfit decisions.

And also the Dear Brother and Dear Sister bit is hilarious. You just know Ash and Tulip have done it on more than one occasion.

[just-a-geeky-therapist]

Wolianger Day 1: 7 Moments in Heaven

“Thou wished to meet?” Urianger said, ducking his head as he walked through the doorway to Brychar’s lodging. Brychar suppressed a laugh at the tall Elezen having to lower his head, having equally been unaccustomed to the Hyur construction, namely its height limitations.

“I did… there are some things which I wish to discuss ,” Brychar said, flashing a devilish grin.

At this Urianger let go of an audible sigh, clearly anticipating some tomfoolery with the Au Ra before him. Little did he know.

“Come, take a seat,” Brychar said, eyeing the space next to him on the bed; no other seats were available in the modest room. 

With calculated steps, Urianger made his way towards the sage, his mischievous comrade, and politely took a seat next to him, careful to allow for enough space between the two. Urianger had to accept that he’d long pined for the tall Au Ra, having found his exotic nature near impossible to dismiss, even amongst the largest of crowds. Initially he’d shaped it to be curiosity naturally from a born scholar. However, as time progressed, he could no longer insult the pursuit of knowledge with the carnal desires which led him towards wishing to further investigate his comrade. 

“So chaste,” Brychar softly mused, bringing a blush to the scholar’s face.

“Though it pleaseth thee so to incriminate thyself with crass humor, I plead that thee omit mine name from such folly,” Urianger eloquently said, attempting to stifle the reaction Brychar’s teasing nature attempted to elicit. 

“Oh, Uri…”

“Please…” Urianger interrupted, “”Twas in confidence I did share the origin of that name , with utmost expectation that thou would refrain from twisting it to stroke thine sense of humor.”

Brychar ignored the scholar’s protest, continuing on, “and it was in honest response that I promised no such thing.” In a slow motion, Brychar brought his hand to rest just above the scholar’s knee, the action appearing almost natural despite the awkward distance Urianger had assured remained between the two. 

The warmth of the sage’s hand through his robe resulted in an unavoidable shudder as Urianger became more fully aware of just how small the room was, especially for two grown men. He shifted uneasily, remembering the last time he had been trapped in such a compromising situation, Brychar’s carnal eagerness threatening to step over the boundary the scholar had felt necessary to set. 

“Brychar… though knoweth my position on what is conspicuously evident upon thy lips,” Urianger said.

“Aye, and thy position was only surpassed in explanation by your admission of longing,” Brychar responded, continuing to push at the scholar’s resolve. 

“‘Tis truly in thy nature to subjugate any knowledge which doeth not suit thy agenda,” Urianger said. The tone almost sounded teasing to the Au Ra, hope urging him to continue his pursuit.

“Prioritization of pertinent knowledge, a skill taught by a very wise scholar… what was his name? Uri?” Brychar teased.

Urianger hated having his own words used against him, as it typically resulted in a loss of words on his part. He knew he was caught in some regard, unable to refute the thread of logic Brychar was using to worm his way into dangerous territory. 

“Thou learned with utmost efficiency,” Urianger mused, hiding his face in his hands.

“Truly, though hardly unexpected with such an unprecedented subject of research,” Brychar flirted. 

“Stop,” Urianger said, quite resolved. “‘Mine concerns were expressed in clear fashion, thou lacking self-governance compounded with mine own concerns of improperly checked desires leaves minuit room for error.”

“Perhaps it is through error that the most rewarding lessons are learned, would you not agree?” Brychar said, eyeing Urianger’s silhouette as the scholar went rigid. 

“Please,” Urianger pleaded.

“As I asked before, give this a chance… give us a chance. We’ve both proven sufficient restraint and control to keep any happenings from creating lasting conflict or change in our duty as Scions,” Brychar explained. 

“B… but should thou find thyself as infatuated as I find mineself, ‘tis most probable that irrevocable damage would commence,” Urianger rebutted. 

“Aye, but is it not with such infatuation and desire that compatibility and commitment is found?” Brychar argued.

“‘Tis hard to debate thy logic… no less monumental in comparison to debating matters of the heart,” Urianger sighed.

“Aye… the heart,” Brychar said suggestively, winking at the scholar. 

“Brychar…” Urianger said with a warning undertone.

“My apologies.”

Both sat for what felt an eon as Brychar silently celebrated in what seemed to be a likely victory - if not one which resulted in immediate action, one which at least had provided reason for his scholarly comrade to revisit forbidden ideations. He knew he was unfair in pushing his friend to such levels of discomfort, but previous regrets in terms of lost relationships had spurred him on in initiating conversation over such matters another time. He knew Urianger’s patience was unrivaled amongst their congregation, which had given him further confidence in being able to push his agenda. 

Urianger’s own mind was equally busy as he sifted through the known information presented through new logic. There was never a moment before when he could recount the balance between his own logic and reason and his carnal wishes being so challenged. He’d always prided himself in making decisions based on reason and for the betterment of the future for many others, never interpersonal decisions and especially those which came with such risks. Yet, despite his earlier resolve, he could feel himself slowly giving into long held curiosity. While he had never admitted to the other healer, he’d never engaged another in any form of intimacy, aside from a friendly hug. The lack of practice and lack of research on such matters left him feeling suddenly inadequate and entirely unprepared should things move forward. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Brychar said, startling Urianger from his thoughts.

In a sudden fit of foolishness, Urianger lunged forward, closing the space between him and Brychar as he brought his lips to connect to the sage’s. The Au Ra’s lips were deliciously soft, despite initially being pulled taught in surprise. While he had no idea what he was doing, the connection immediately felt natural and with no thought his hands came to cradle Brychar’s head in his hand, urging him for a deeper kiss. 

Brychar’s own surprise melted into ecstasy as he allowed himself to be pulled into a more meaningful kiss. He could tell Urianger was unpracticed, but like most things, was quickly learning the ropes. Urianger’s thinner lips voraciously combatted his own for dominance, eventually a tongue darting out to part Brychar’s lips, requesting access. Brychar had never expected the scholar to answer without words, yet now lost himself in the silence aside from the rushing sound in his ears. 

With a regrettable sigh, he who initiated the response, brought it to a close. As Urianger pulled away, both struggled to catch their breath, a sudden awkwardness setting among the room as realization set in. Urianger was fully unprepared for how effective the kiss had been at awakening future questions , becoming fully aware of having passed the point of no return in his inquiry. 

“That was… a most unexpected answer,” Brychar finally said, breath laden with desire.

“Aye, ‘twas with uncertainty which words failed to caress mine tongue,” Urianger responded.

“So you decided to caress mine instead,” Brychar teased, noting the blush in Urianger’s face.

“Must thou be so cruel in thy jests?” Urianger responded, once again hiding his face in his hands. 

“Was it not with such cruelty that such wondrous research has now been unlocked?” Brychar continued. 

Urianger paused for a moment, once again left with the decision to proceed with seriousness or with jovial intentions. “‘Again, thy logic remaineth unwavering,” he finally responded, utterly failing at his attempt to wink at the sage. 

Both men broke out into a genuine laugh as some of the earlier tension began to melt away.

[ibitsunahaato]

Summer Splash 1

Season: Summer

Keito: —And we shall end today's Keito Lectures with "Discussing Traffic Rules".

Aira: HUH?!

Keito: I heard that. What was that "HUH?!" for?

Aira: Ah, I'm sorry! I think I know what this is about…

Mika: Nn. Shiratori-kun, did ya do sumthin' wrong?

Aira: Um, isn't there a roadway in front of Seisoukan? There didn't seem to be any cars and I was in a hurry so I crossed it—

And ended up meeting eyes with Hasumi-senpai who was on the crosswalk…

Keito: Huh, you haven't forgotten. So you do feel guilty in some way.

But violating traffic rules is incorrigible. Do reflect on your actions properly. Lack of vigilance paves the way for accidents.

Not to mention that we are idols. No matter the time and place; No matter who we are seen by, we must behave in an orderly fashion.

Aira: Ha… Yeah. That’s right. I know in my head that idols have their own private lives too, but seeing an idol ignore traffic lights would be a huge let-down.

I won't repeat it again. I'm really sorry.

Keito: You don't have to apologise to me. Being able to understand is more than enough.

Now, does anyone have any questions regarding traffic rules and etiquette? If there are none, then I shall explain the Road Traffic Act in relation to intersections.

Amagi seems to be raising his hand. Alright, speak up.

Hiiro: Umu! This is a great opportunity so I'd like you to explain the mystery regarding traffic lights.

Hiiro: Why is the "blue light" green in colour? Why don't we call it "green light"?

Aira: Hiro-kun, how's that related to traffic rules?

Mika: Yeah, but I'd like to know as well. I'm kinda curious now that ya mention it.

Keito: Hm. The origin of "blue light", huh…

Yuzuru: …Then, if you can pardon my rudeness, I shall explain.

Back in the day, when traffic lights were first established in Japan, they were legally called "green lights".

But articles introducing traffic lights recorded them as "blue lights", hence calling them "blue lights" became more widespread.

Green vegetable juice, green apples, green crops—They're all green in colour, but since we call them "blue" in Japanese, they seemed to have played a part in the establishment of the name as well.[1]

And soon, even the law started calling them "blue lights".

Keito: Hm, you seem to be well-informed?

Yuzuru: It's all thanks to my master. When Bocchama was young, he would ask to go walking outside on a whim…

So we would hold hands and slowly walk around the mansion.

And he would ask me about various things such as the colour of traffic lights, shapes of signs, the significance of road reflectors… Always with those sparkling eyes, exactly in the way Hiiro-sama just did.

Oh, let me sincerely apologise for going as far as mentioning unrelated details. Were you able to understand why they are called "blue lights"?

Hiiro: Umu. I've understood. Both about "blue lights" and how much Fushimi-senpai treasures Tori-kun.

Yuzuru: Fufu, how embarrassing. Keito-sama, if you may, let us continue now.

Keito: Yes. Are there any other questions?

…There seem to be none. Then let's start with the Road Traffic Act.

Time: After a while

Keito: —That's all for today.

Mika: Thank ya~ My head's a mess from tryin' to take in everythin' that was taught, but t’was mighty useful.

For a pedestrian, the lights from a car can be seen even from a distance, but it's hard to spot dark coloured clothes for the person drivin’, huh~

Maybe I should buy sumthin' reflective and put it on my bag next time.

Hiiro: I shall also do that. Hasumi-senpai, thank you for opening "Keito Lectures". I can acquire various kinds of knowledge by coming here. It's very fun!

Keito: Hm… It's admirable how Amagi tackles studies with so much positivity, but your lack of common sense is deeply worrying.

You haven't been facing any obstacles in your day-to-day life, right?

Hiiro: Umu! I've become quite familiar with the city's common sense.

Aira: He's a lot better compared to when we just met, but somehow the lack of common sense is still there, you know~?

Keito-senpai, let me apologise for this guy of mine.[2]

Hiiro: Why are you apologising, Aira? …Ah.

Fushimi-senpai, I shall also help you tidy up. What can I do?

Yuzuru: I'm much obliged for your kindness. However, there is no reason to worry. You can leave the cleaning to me and have a pleasant chat with the others ♪

Hiiro: Hm… Even if you say that you never let anyone else do it.

We are all friends belonging to the same circle. Just once in a while, I would like you to let me help.

Yuzuru: However…

Keito: What about depending on Amagi's kindness this time, Fushimi? Didn't we agree to have lunch together after this?

It's more efficient to divide the work. I'll also help.

Yuzuru: …Understood. I shall leave the task of replacing the equipment to Keito-sama.

As for Hiiro-sama, would it be possible for you to discard this bundle of newspapers?

Hiiro: Umu. No matter what happens on the way, I shall take responsibility and discard them.

Aira: No, the trashcan is right outside the corridor, so I don't think anything would happen? What about Kagehira-senpai and I?

Yuzuru: Yes… Then how about heading to COCHI before us and securing seats for everyone?

Mika: Got it. Then see ya later~

Yuzuru: Yes, let us meet later.

Since cleaning is my hobby, there was no need to accept help.

But sharing your joy like this isn't bad once in a while…♪

Writer: Yuumasu

story masterlist ✦ next →

Proofing: mia

The names of all the green things Yuzuru mentions contain the kanji for blue (青) in Japanese. And as noted by my proofreader, there were only four primary colours in Japan for a long time (blue, red, white and black). Hence the newspapers introduced the traffic lights as "blue" back in 1930, since the word for "green" was not commonly used until WW2

Aira uses the term うちの人 to talk about Hiiro here which is usually used to refer to one's husband but can also mean a family member in general

[aepeahsthetic]

I thought of him as my first and my last.

It was on the 4th week of august at exactly 12 pm, I was unaware that my life would change then and there. As the guy whom I’ll be calling as my partner had traits that I thought only straight guys possess. He has an interest in arts, gothic fashion and gave vague hints that he liked me.

“Hi, I really love your drawings.” He said with pure admiration.

I responded to him the same way as I would when people compliment me on my works. However, I felt as if something was brewing up in my chest - it was a feeling that I haven’t felt before. It was as if we had a connection. I had to go back to reality and dissociate from that emotion because, in the first place- we just met.

A few days have passed and he messaged me again but this time he bombarded me with questions about myself as if he doesn’t want me to go.

“Good morning :>” , “How are you?” , “Do you play games?” , “What games do you play?” , “What’s your favorite color?” , “Do you watch anime?” etc.

Naturally, I amused him because I didn't want to appear impolite. We spoke for several days, nights, and a week. then something unexpected happened.

“I like you, Ever since I saw your drawings and how cute you are as a person and how well you handle yourself the thought of you really sunk into me, that was when I slowly fell for you.” He was so firm, straightforward , and warm that I couldn’t sense any signs of lies.

“WHAT- I thought you’re straight?!” 

Echoes of confusion and happiness looped in my head saying “What the fudge?” 

His voice was deep - he didn’t show any signs of femininity. It was as if I was in a dream, I couldn’t imagine myself being able to pull someone who’s tall, handsome, smart, humorous , skilled, ambitious, talented , and over all an amazing person as him. I was in a temporary shock of disbelief. it took me a while to recover from that state.

Soon after, the feelings I’ve been holding back - came, flooding up my insides. and the words I thought I wouldn’t be able to say to someone because of my lack of confidence blurted out.

 “I like you too, Henderson. I love how honest you are about yourself, your personality and knowledge attracted me the most.” 

I remember feeling like my cheeks where going to burn, my heart bursting out from shock and happiness that I almost hyperventilated. the 5 second silence between the two of us, made it a little bit awkward that we couldn’t help but laugh at each other. he then proceeded to ask.

“Khail, I want to take you out on a date. will you accept my invitation?” with a crooked smile I replied “It would be my pleasure Mr. Henderson de Nicolas Reyes.” 

It took some time for us to adjust to the sensation. We were so focused on the concept of love rather than understanding what it truly is.

“Young love.” The bliss of the first and the ignorance it accompanies.

We did open about our traumas, pet peeves, likes and dislikes and our problems. But it turns out his secrets weren’t completely shared.

things went smoothly at first. Until we had our first fight. It was a matter of his sexuality that I felt so betrayed.

“I’m afraid that my parents would find out about us. I love you, I always will and I’ll always do. I just think that I haven’t thought about this well enough.” 

We forgot the most important aspect of love, which is to take things slowly and simply understand each other.

“So you’re saying you want to break up. is that it?” 

I became bitter because he already knows my traumas and he just disrespected me, his lover. It was an unacceptable act of betrayal for me but I didn’t want to let go because I love him. Instead of cursing him I talked with him and tried to solve the problem and at the same time I assured him even though what he said hurt me, deeply.

“I told you that you’re the first person I’ve opened my heart to, to the point where no family or bestfriend could even reach. You’re right beside the vulnerability of me.” Tears came flooding down my cheeks.  Because the person I love is confused whether or not he should be with a guy or a girl, the curse of bisexuals and insecurity.

Despite what happened, I chose to understand him. I was openly gay to everyone except to my family at a young age that I got used to being myself whilst He didn’t get to do that when he was a kid.

We where able to resolve the problem but things changed, I couldn’t bring myself to be sweet to him anymore because he hurt me to the point where I would start overthinking and crying at night.

It took awhile for things to bet better, I learned something important.

We rarely fight, most of which the fights are about misunderstandings and then we talk things out the same way as before and we felt more connected than ever. But alas things don’t last forever. A fight broke out between the two of us that lead to out break-up. 

One foolish thing I told him before we officially broke up is that “I will never fall in love with anyone else again.”

Our break up didn’t have any proper way of saying goodbye because he blocked me and wouldn’t show himself to me.

Those times where the hardest moments of my life, I couldn’t control my sadness to the point where I don’t feel hunger I just feel numb and broken. I was depressed and I lost weight ,After a few days my friend told me he had someone new. 

“How is it that it was so easy for him to move on while I’m still suffering. THAT’S NOT FAIR THAT’S NOT FAIR!!” I felt like something tore apart on my heart. It was so painful that all I could do is just cry. It was a heartstring.

A year has passed since then, I still haven’t moved on from that relationship. Henderson showed himself to me again and asked for my forgiveness. He regretted what he did to me because what he did came back to him ten fold. 

“It was at that moment I realized how lucky I was to have you and how stupid I was to let you go.”

I couldn’t help but feel happy because he finally got what he deserved. I was still holding on to the feeling that maybe we’ll get back together but as it turns out my heart cannot feel anything anymore.

In the present I’m slowly forgetting him and I’m grateful that he played a huge roll on helping me become a better person.

[arcane-ish]

There seems to be a lot of variety in where people see Silco in regards to three different parameters. 

- Good/bad person - Good/bad father to Jinx - Whether his feelings for her were real/true

I tend to think that imo it’s fully possible that by the end he really did love her more than he did himself (imo yes he always saw himself in her so there is always some level of narcissism in wanting to protect her and wanting her to suceed, but I think in the end he did see that he didn’t fully control her, but he loved her anway) and yet he can still be a factually bad parent. 

At the same time, there are also situations where he can be a factually bad father, but I struggle to see it as narrowly on a morally good and bad scale. 

Like, it is true that Jinx has emotional/mental problems and if this was real life she should have gotten therapy. But at the same, this is a fantasy world fashioned after industrial revolution England, it seems doubtful that psychology is even a doubtful thing there. So I struggle to blame Silco for not getting Jinx therapy when nobody in this world likely has a concept of therapy (it’s not like Vander got Jinx and Vi therapy for the loss of their parents). 

Which doesn’t mean that he couldn’t have done better even with just his “street smarts” level of knowledge and understanding people, I’m just saying in the environment they live in it’s probably a lot less clear cut in common understanding what’s the right way to raise a child (not that this is 100% agreed on in modern life, but I think there are at least more tendencies). 

In believing that Silco did love Jinx his own way, I tend to read him as a fundamentally flawed and damaged person, who was a bad parent to Jinx in some ways because he wouldn’t look past his own insecurities. Giving him the leeway that most of what he said to her is true rather than manipulation (I understand that not everybody is going to agree with that, but let’s just assume, plus I think particularly by the end the goal of his manipulation had become a lot less important if it hadn’t outright disappeared). 

Anyway, so, assumption: Silco has his own heavy hang ups about betrayal/trust/lonliness. One of his biggest flaws as a parent is keeping Jinx away from others, most notably Vi. But if Silco has heavy hang ups, that makes slightly more sense. If he thinks Vi is bad news and would just hurt Jinx. He doesn’t want to Jinx to get hurt by Vi, because he sees himself in her and he thinks it woulld just be like him being hurt by Vander all over again. 

Similarly, okay, let’s ignore Vi, one of the most striking things is Jinx’s lack of friends her own age (compared to Ekko and all the people he hangs with). Even if we give Silco the benefit of the doubt that he has reason to hate and dislike Vi specifically, imo a good dad would have seen that it would be healthy for Jinx to form friendships with others. But he didn’t, likely because he has hangups where he doesn’t trust anybody. 

IMO we have seen that Jinx was capable of disobeying Silco. He clearly gave her a lot of leeway to roam around and be on her own and we know she didn’t see his word as law. So if she wanted to have friends, presumably she could have tried to connect with people while she was roaming around alone. It’s possible that he discouraged/forbid her spending time with other kids or that he stayed silent on the topic or that he accentuated it with generic warnings (ie “people will try to use you because you are my daughter”), but at the very least we can presume that he also didn’t go and try to encourage Jinx to make friends. [there is also likely some factor about him having insecurities about him leaving her? and he doesn’t want to be left again like Jinx was left by Vi or like he felt like he was left? though I could also read him as he sees himself in her so deeply that he can’t fanthom seeing her as Vi or Vander and he can’t really conceive him leaving her and just assumes that any motions in that way would just be temporary setbacks]

My personal pet theory is that we didn’t see Jinx defying him on this subject is because deep down she probably believed him in this regard or rather she believed something about herself that happened to align with him, namely that she felt guilty about Mylo and Clagger and thought she didn’t deserve friends or that she’s a Jinx and would only hurt people. 

I think it’s interesting that when Silco takes a stab at her insecurities, it’s about how the world is evil, that other people will betray Jinx, instead of saying stuff along the lines of Jinx suck/is a Jinx/ruins everything. I think that’s why it’s potentially believable that he actually believes what he is telling her, that it’s his own trauma to think that the world is that bad (btw his relationship with the chem barons and Sevika is really interesting in that context). 

Overall, I’m getting some Folie A Deux vibes from them, where both are deeply damaged people with a skewed view on the world that isn’t identical but sufficiently similar in some ways. Ie Silco sees “Jinx” in her and Jinx sees that in herself too, but she doesn’t see it quite the same way he does. Silco likely either doesn’t want Jinx to have friends or at least thinks it’s not important because he dislikes all people and Jinx likely thinks she doesn’t deserve friends and would just jinx it up. 

TLDR: Silco’s shortcomings as a father often come from his inability to look was his own hangups and insecurities. 

Hmmm, there is another meta on me on Silco’s relationship with Zaun and the chembarons and his attitude towards revolution and how meeting Jinx might have softened his stance on what he wants for Zaun or how fast he wants it. 

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

FOR GCN’S ❝ 23 | JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY PROJECT ❞ ! Alien AU | “I want to have your last name!” | “I like when you do that, it makes me crazy.”

summary; Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.  warnings; smut in the forms of cunnilingus, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, anal, tit play, and all that jazz bc surprise its tentacle porn rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous; FLUFF, strangers to friends to lovers, curious alien kook, there’s a saber tooth tiger mention, virginity is a social construct, they both have skewed perceptions of sex and love, and idk what else word count; 17.8k

notes; someone said once “all u ever do is write college aus 😃” and i was like lol true but i was also a virgo and was like “i’ll prove u wrong” and next thing i knew i was writing a 17k alien au clap for me lads

special thanks to; my savior and editor rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who very politely tells me when im making up words n also when shit doesn't make sense but lets me make stupid final decisions that will come back to bite me in the ass<3 and also my gf yeji @suqakoo​ who watched me crash and burn about ten times while writing this monstrosity of  fic and just laughed her support amazes me<3

BEFORE READING SEE HERE; body marks, under eye marks, sixam that i stole from the sims 4 

He comes with the sole purpose of populating this uncharted territory with his seed. 

Jungkook has been on many missions abroad. He’s visited about every planet in Sector 76 before this, the largest collection of neighboring galaxies known to exist. And because of that, he likes to think he’s well educated in extraterrestrial affairs, quite knowledgeable in the barbaric ways of the foreigners. They see, they mate. Pretty simple. 

For the past couple years, as leading field researcher of Sixam, Jungkook has been exclusively studying every creature he comes across. He enjoys cataloging their habits, their mating cycles, and the unique culture they develop, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. 

Granted, he’s never been on a mission like this. 

This type of mission has never been his. 

When the great planet of Sixam wishes to settle colonies of new species— Sixamian bred with whatever other species that have deemed suitable —they usually task people like Namjoon or Seokjin, both high ranking generals of the Sixamian Intergalactic Corp. with a near immaculate genetic makeup. Their genotypes carry strong traits, and are oftentimes most reflected in their phenotypes as well. Beings like Namjoon or Jin are the epitome of what it means to be Sixamian, which is why Jungkook is surprised when they ask him to place his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7 of the Via Láctea solar system, otherwise known as ‘Earth.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook had major self image issues, nor did he think he was particularly bad to look at. In fact, Jungkook thinks he’s pretty amazing. Of course he doesn’t compare to Namjoon or Jin, but quite frankly, the comparison is skewed by the fact he works in a different field than them. You cannot compare black holes to asteroid belts; in a similar fashion, you cannot compare military generals to scientific researchers. 

Anyway, Jungkook has never been to Planet 43 Z-7, but some of his coworkers have. They all claim it is a beautiful place, filled to the brim with life and culture never before seen. 

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

He’s seen hundreds of planets, thousands of species, so he hardly feels amazed anymore. There is nothing enjoyable about other planets when he comes from Sixam, quite possibly the most intellectually advanced one in the universe. And he says this having met Yoongi of Planet 732 T-1, another being near immaculate in terms of cognitive abilities.

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

Hoseok says Planet 43 Z-7 has all sorts of unique artifacts, like these edible arrangements called ‘hot dogs’ you eat between two pieces of raised yeast. Planet 43 Z-7 has been unmarked for eons now, but is a popular hideout for rebelling Sixamians during their early years. Jungkook was never one of those types, but he has a handful of friends who were. 

Needless to say, Jungkook isn’t looking forward to his mission. He asks Namjoon and Jin for tips on how to approach the reproductive members in the species, if there’s any protocol he needs to follow, but they simply laugh it off. They’ve both had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring some of the most beautiful creatures in the universe, so Jungkook’s incompetence must be a sight to see. 

Airship handler Jimin is the last face he sees on Sixam. He’s as relaxed as ever, strapping Jungkook into his travel pod like this is just another one of his research trips and not his first ever population operation. He pats his shoulder once, tells him to bring him back something called a ‘Nintendo DS’ that his partner Taehyung has been begging for since the last time they went to Planet 43 Z-7, but Jungkook has no idea what that is. 

And then he’s off. 

Jungkook has long since grown comfortable with the emptiness of space, a desolate feeling that oddly made him feel at home. But, as he hurtles towards his destination, there’s a newfound sense of anxiety that consumes him at the thought of this unknown planet— this ‘Earth’ that his fellow Sixamian friends speak so highly about. 

He lands in a field. Well, ‘lands’ is a bit of a stretch; his pod comes to a stop a few feet above Planet 43 Z-7’s surface, hovering over the natural flora that seems to grow in abundance in this part of the planet. It’s… dirty, compared to the sleek skyscrapers and glowing structures of Sixam. 

He steps out tentatively, the vegetation crunching beneath the boots of his skintight spacesuit. The folks back at Sixam had told him that whatever the residents of this planet breathed in was compatible with Sixamians, but he still hesitates to click off his helmet. 

The planet is quiet, save for the quiet chirping of some creature underground. The AI on his helmet pulls up the information before his very eyes, the advanced technology quickly tapping into wherever it was these beings stored their information. A mole cricket, he reads, first documented by a researcher about two hundred human years back. Very annoying. 

His pod seals itself shut again, presumably heading back into orbit until Jungkook calls for it again. With it gone, he’s faced with the vast nothingness of Planet 43 Z-7, just grass and trees with very few things in between. He’s beginning to suspect Jimin might have sent him to the wrong coordinates, a void space on the planet with nothing but vegetation for miles. 

Part of him is frustrated, beyond annoyed that he cannot even complete the one thing he came to do if there is no being in sight. But another part, the part of him that had been nervous to even accept this mission, feels grateful. Well, there was no use complaining about it now, he thinks. He pulls up his virtual journal, ready to catalogue every bit of vegetation he can set his eyes on. 

After a while, his helmet becomes stuffy, the digital screen that plays over the glass piece fogging up with his breath. So Jungkook takes his chances and clicks it off, the sudden wash of oxygen filling his lungs quickly. It’s fresh and moist? It smells like his laboratories back on Sixam, the ones that took years of countless trips around the universe and meticulous gardening to cultivate. Yet here on Planet 43 Z-7, this type of phenomenon is common, and apparently, ignored by its residents. 

One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, he supposes. 

He’s scanning a peculiar organism, reddish and dome-shaped, when he hears the first crack of a twig. Immediately, his defenses rise. Jungkook was by no means a skilled warrior, but most Sixamians fared better than other creatures in the universe. Save for the few barbarian, primitive species they’ve encountered, 9/10 times any wild encounter was in their favor. 

His eyes scan over the perimeter of the field, scanning, scanning, scanning— until he spots two, huge, glowing yellow eyes from distance. His eyes widen, flicking on the retractable blaster from his wrist and pointing it at the creature. 

It’s bigger than him, with eyes that look over only a short distance before gradually dying down. He wonders if that’s the scope of its field of vision, crouching down along the vegetation. He creeps closer, rounds the bright beams until he can see the creature’s side, an oddly shaped thing, almost like a shell. It has wheels, he realizes, mentally jotting down the fact this species is advanced enough to develop such technology on their own. 

Right as he’s beginning to lower his wrist, deciding this metal creature posed no threat from its lack of movement, something smaller moves around it, carrying a compact version of those glowing eyes. 

Jungkook panics, wildly clicking through the modes on his wrists. He jumps from his blaster to the thermal detector, and the smaller creature that moves around the metal beast has a heat signature he’s never seen before, warmth that begins at its core but doesn’t drop drastically as it fans out. And then he’s switching to his electroscope and is startled to see that the smaller creature even carries an electric charge beneath its outer membrane. 

This is terrifying, he thinks to himself, wondering why his friends back home had decided to trick him into believing Planet 43 Z-7 was remotely safe. 

Before Jungkook can act rashly and accidentally kill that terrifying creature, he’s blindly stepping into a hole in the ground, a dip in the field. An uncontrollable yelp tears itself from his throat at the roll of his ankle. 

Immediately, the yellow eye is upon him, flickering over his kneeling form in the vegetation. Jungkook freezes, caught in the all-seeing rays of the yellow eye. He wonders if this is the end, the end of an undoubtedly legendary run, as the creature slowly approaches. 

Its figure is shrouded, the blinding eye turning them into just a silhouette that closes in on Jungkook fairly quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he never stepped out of his pod, when the beam flickers off. 

“Hello?” a hesitant voice calls out, and then he’s met with you. 

You had always believed holding out until marriage would come as an advantage. You played it safe your entire life, always did what you were told. You had grown up in a relatively traditional household, always following the rules like a good kid. Your parents said no dating until seventeen? You waited until seventeen. Your health classes in school said practice abstinence? You practiced abstinence. 

Following the rules was what got you into a prestigious university. Following the rules is what got you your first, quite admirable, job. Following the rules is what had gotten you into your first serious relationship with your boyfriend, who became your fiancé, who would become the man to cheat on you three nights before your wedding. 

Being a virgin— that symbol of purity —was supposed to make you desirable to men, you thought. It was supposed to protect you from bad experiences, keep you perfectly polished until the time came. You had many a friend who had engaged in sex at a young age, experienced mind blowing sex that would never be topped, even by their own future husbands. You had saved yourself from disappointment by saving yourself in general. 

Except that concept, that meticulously followed tradition, was what ultimately drove your fiancé away.

Three days. 

Three days before you would marry and lose that treasured thing you had been carrying around for the past twenty-five years, flushed clean down the drain all because he couldn’t wait any longer. He had managed four years with you, four memorable years where he had religiously told you he loved you every chance he got, regardless of your lack of sex life. Just to blow it for some barely legal chick at a bar. 

Needless to say, you were done. Absolutely finished with him and your friends who claimed they “weren’t surprised” only after the fact, or your parents who had urged you to try again. You were done with this saving and waiting all for a man who ultimately did you dirty. You needed to get away from it all, and the only way to do that was to leave the city all together. 

Your parents were uncomfortable with the idea. They said it was too brash a decision to give up after one try. But your whole future had been riding on this one try, and to have it completely ripped away from you crushed not only your hope but your pride. 

On the other hand, your grandmother and her lifelong experiences with men understood you just perfectly. She was old, living in a retirement home near your parents’ home in one of your city’s many suburbs. There was a house out in the countryside, about a two-hour drive from the city. She had grown up there, and even though she hadn’t lived there in years, she simply couldn’t bring herself to sell it off. So she gave it to you. 

It was a cute little thing, a stereotypical farmhouse surrounded by miles and miles of nothingness. Well, your neighbors were about half a mile off on either side, but who was walking half a mile for a cup of sugar? No one. 

You loved it. 

It was peace and quiet, long days of focusing on yourself and your tiny garden outback. There was no societal pressure to act right, or forced ideologies to make yourself the ‘perfect woman.’ It was just you and a stray cat that visited now and then, spending day after day reading and writing, working from home. 

The trips into the city were far and few between. There was a general store close to your house, nestled into a quaint little town you visited every so often. And the mailmen still had to make their stops through here, so everything was practically at your fingertips. The only thing you had to do in the city was drop by the main branch office of your job. Your work had mostly been over a computer before, so moving to work at home was rather easy. However, there was still the occasional board meeting to sit through. 

So here you were, three months into your new living situation and on your way back home from the city. The evening sun is beating down hot on your yellow Beetle. You were in desperate need for a check up, but you kept pushing it off and telling yourself tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seems tomorrow should have been today, because by the time the sun is setting, home is still another thirty minutes away and the temperature gauge is climbing to unhealthy levels. 

The Beetle pushes for another two minutes before wheezing to a stop in the middle of nowhere, your angry slaps against the dashboard doing nothing to revive it. With a muttered curse, you switch the car off. The front lights remain on even as you round the dead car, angrily kicking the tire with your heel. It doesn’t budge. 

You sigh, sinking down to your knees beside the opened door you came out of. The nearest mechanic was still a forty minutes’ drive from here, and you doubt anyone is still open. The con of small towns is that most of the businesses close after sunset. One glance at your phone lets you know it’s way too late to call anyone for help. You contemplate just walking to your house, but it’s dark and far, and your heels were only meant to be worn for an hour or two during your meeting. Not for an entire transcontinental trek back home. 

Sighing, you decide your best bet is tinkering around yourself. You weren’t a total idiot, so you hope whatever is wrong with your car is something you can fix on your own. You shoot back up to your feet, patting the blood back into your face as you round the car. 

There’s nothing but you and the Beetle for miles on end— or so you think. 

Just as you flicker your flashlight over the expanse of grass, there’s a startled shout that scares the living daylights out of you, flashlight fumbling in your hand in your haste to see what it was. 

Great, so not only were you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your heels to carry you to safety, but now there was also a man out there, hiding in the tall grass like a voyeur. 

It’s a terrible idea, but you approach him anyway. There’s a huddled figure, a gleam of a bizarre outfit that has you shaking in your heels as you step closer to the edge of the road. And when you finally get close enough, the light shining over their figure, you’re not exactly sure what you’re looking at. 

“Hello?” you call out, and are met with the most violet eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

To begin with, you carry an electrical charge at your fingertips but are unable to revive your rickety metal ride with said touch. It is undoubtedly a trait he does not remember cataloguing in any other species before yours; it might rival the Sixamians’ aura sensing abilities, the little triangular markings beneath their eyes that allowed them to alter another’s emotions. Electricity beneath surface, he mentally notes for the nth time that night. 

The inside of your vehicle is disgustingly mediocre, a mixture of old clogs and pipes he’s only seen in ancient Sixamian textbooks. Still, they’re devastatingly easy to figure out. One simple twist of a lid later and your car is revving back to life. You squeal and clap, clacking around on the frankly terrifying footwear you call heels that are practically knives as stilts. 

Amazing, you cry, moving like a mini tornado around him. You don’t seem the least bit phased by his appearance, despite the initial shock you’d gotten when you first made eye contact. Actually, Jungkook thinks you might be the quickest extraterrestrial being to accept his existence as fact. He has to wonder what exactly goes on here that has these Humans, as Jimin has called them, so desensitized to the appearance of otherworldly figures such as himself. 

You invite him into your moving death trap, not the least bit concerned with the chest piece of armor he removes and tosses into the seats behind him. Jungkook has been in a lot of near death situations, and somehow your manner of driving this metal box marks high on the list. 

“My home,” you tell him when you finally pull up to a tiny shack of a house. It’s about the same size as his personal lab back on Sixam, so he wonders just which one of you is being deluded by the size. The car engine shuts off with a practiced flick of your wrist, and then you’re making your way up the front steps without sparing him a glance. 

“Lovely,” he says at the entrance. He moves to travel deeper inside, but you warn him to remove his shoes. He does, hesitantly, bare feet padding along the wooden floors behind you. “Forgive me,” he apologizes, watching you bumble around a small space with a standing cooler and heat box. “I haven’t asked your name.”

You hum, tugging out two cups from a hanging cabinet. You fill them with a white substance, followed by a light brown powder that almost makes you sneeze, before shoving them into the heat box that begins suspiciously counting down. “__ ___,” you offer. 

Jungkook frowns. “You have two names?” he asks skeptically. In Sixam, rarely anyone had two names. “Are you a government official?” 

You laugh. “No, but I do work for an office. I have one name, and then my last name,” you explain. 

This only perplexes him more. “A last name?” he repeats. “What is the purpose of this last name?” 

You shrug, and the heat box beeps loudly. Jungkook twitches, ready to aim his blaster once more but you calm the beeping box with a gentle click that has the front opening, the most heavenly scent wafting into his nostrils. Oh Jungkook definitely needed to take that back. Much to his surprise, you hand him one of the handled cups, the sweet smell making his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Well,” you say, seemingly unaware of the way you just changed Jungkook’s entire life. “I have my name, and then I have my family’s name. Like, to show we’re in the same group, kinda,” you explain. “And it also helps sort of differentiate you from other people with the same first name.” You settle down on a seat in front of the counter, carefully blowing across the liquid contents of the mug. Jungkook doesn’t get why until he tries to take a sip and the liquid scalds his tongue. You laugh. “Gotta cool it down, silly.” 

He feels silly. In fact, he feels beyond embarrassed that someone who is not a Sixamian is looking at him with the same eyes you look at an infant with. He has a strong need to reinforce his superiority over you. 

“Well I am Jungkook,” he announces proudly. “Jungkook of Sixam. The only Jungkook of Sixam, because we do not believe in sharing something as intimate as our names with another,” he huffs. You scoff, a genuine look of amusement crossing your features that Jungkook simply does not understand. 

It’s with a practiced grace that you set your cup down on the counter, face coming to a rest in in the palm of your hand as you watch him talk over himself about the intricacies of Sixamian names, and how each one is carefully selected at one’s first celebration to honor the first long year of life they overcame. That look on your face, that disgustingly entertained expression does not melt away, even when Jungkook hastily calls your people imbeciles to your face. 

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, staring deep into the contents of your hot cocoa, as you had called it when offering him a second cup, as if you don’t seem to disagree in the slightest. “Humans are like that. 

There’s a quality to your voice, a rather melancholy tone that curls around your words that stops Jungkook’s tirade against your race for a moment. There’s a look in your eyes, hollow and alone, that he cannot place. He wonders if it’s from past experiences or from a shared Human trauma. Either way, he does not understand. 

It’s with a shake of your head that you look up at him again, sweet smile back on your features. “Humans are selfish creatures, Jungkook,” you say. 

He is not sure if he believes you. 

Jungkook has traveled to many parts of the universe, has visited places your tiny Human brain may never comprehend. Yet he has not always received this treatment. There have been missions where he has been picked on and abused for his curiosity, rudely ejected back into the vast emptiness of space just because he wanted to know more, learn more. Not every planet welcomes him with a soft smile and a warm place to stay. 

Despite the initial unimpressed confusion he felt upon entering Planet 43 Z-7, there is something about the quirk of your lips and gentle tapping of your fingers that intrigues him. 

Huh, he thinks, subconsciously cataloguing your mannerisms in his head. He will write about this later. 

You let Jungkook sleep in your quarters, a small area with a mattress that he sinks into with delight. There’s a change of clothing you set out on the edge of the bed, a rather shabby set that matches yours. He is reluctant to peel away his bodysuit, even more so when he realizes he is standing naked on a foreign planet with a very strange creature clattering around downstairs. He hurries into the clothes. 

You peek your head into the room later on, carefully flicking off the lights as he settles onto the mattress. Jungkook is beyond tired, body fatigued from hurtling thousands of light years through space in such a short amount of time. The abundance of breathable oxygen is still something his body has to grow accustomed to. Your voice is soft as you whisper out a goodnight farewell that he can only sleepily mumble back. 

Jungkook is quite literally the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. Well, person is a stretch considering you’re not entirely sure what he is, or where he’s from. When you found him, sadly crouched in the middle of nowhere, you wanted to convince yourself he was some random college boy lost on his way to a costume convention. But he’s not. His big purple irises are oddly bright, practically luminescent, and that’s definitely not something one could achieve through stage makeup. And he’s not a college student either, despite how youthful he looks, but a foreign being at least three times your age. 

Or so he says. 

Honestly, you’re torn between wanting to write him off a nutjob or believing he is this highly intelligent extraterrestrial being. In the case he is the latter, you find it odd that of all the planets in your solar system— a whopping eight, maybe nine —he chose crappy old Earth to visit. 

Jungkook moves like a fine tuned instrument, graceful limbs wandering around your home and backyard the next morning. His little head piece, a unique accessory that wraps around the base of his skull like a microphone headset or something, seems to keep him in constant communication with his fellow brethren so long as he wears it. So he wears it all the time. 

Still, you’re able to differentiate between his messages back home and his mindless mumbles. Those usually happen more often than not, soft muttering as he inspects your garden, vivid descriptions of the plainest things like an onion. 

“Lemonade’s ready,” you call, stepping into your backyard. Jungkook peers over your rosemaries like a bunny, wide eyes scanning the pitcher you set out on your back porch’s table. Carefully, he steps around your meticulous rows of vegetables. He’s wearing the clothes you lent him last night, a pair of shorts and a shirt your brother had left when he visited a few weeks ago. They fit him nicely, shorts just shy of his knees. 

“This is lemond-aid?” he asks quizzically, tentative hands reaching for the quickly perspiring glass. He has unique markings that begin at his hands, twisting and curling carefully around his arms. They’re gold in the sunlight, contrasting softly against his relatively peachy skin. There’s a matching set on his knees that wrap over and around his thighs, beneath his shorts. He looks every bit the celestial being, yet here he is marveling over the lemon slice balanced on the rim of his glass. 

“Lemonade,” you correct, sitting down on your rocking chair. Your floppy sun hat protects you from the brutal rays of the sun, practically scorching in this summer heat. It reminds you of the honeymoon you were supposed to take a few months back. You stomp out the memory. 

Jungkook takes tentative sips, stopping every few seconds to smack his lips at the taste. Then, suddenly, he’s plopping down on the wooden planks of your porch criss-cross applesauce. The bracelet-like contraption he had removed from his suit is sitting on his wrist by itself, with Jungkook rapidly tapping some unseeable button on it until a blue hologram appears between the two of you. 

“Woah,” you gasp, the projection flawless and stable. Jungkook gets to work tapping at it, unrecognizable symbols appearing on the screen. His glass of lemonade is by his knee, ice tinkling inside. 

“Lemond-aide,” he repeats, mouth moving awkwardly around the world. He glances at you for confirmation. You shake your head. Frustrated, he scoots up beside you, pressed against your leg like a puppy. “Say it,” he commands, tapping at his screen once. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, lemonade?” you offer. Jungkook nods, clicks something else, and then your voice is repeating itself back to the two of you. He looks for your approval once more. “Perfect,” you nod, slightly bashful to hear your own voice played back like that. 

Content with your approval, he gets back to work, clicking and typing wildly at the screen until it’s filled to the brim with those strange symbols. When he’s done, he says his name and date into the same recording device and shuts off his hologram. “It is an interesting thing,” he says quietly, bare feet swinging over the edge of the porch. “A sweet drink procured from a tangy fruit.” 

You nod, can’t stop the smile that consumes your features at his childlike wonder. You know it’s not his fault that such simple things astound him, but there’s something about Jungkook’s genuine curiosity and snarky tongue that make you feel young again. Like a teenager in her prime, sitting with a silly high school boy. Not a woman sitting on the cusp of thirty, alone and untrusting of the world. 

“What are hot dogs?” Jungkook cuts in abruptly, turning to face you with those purple eyes of his. You can’t help it; you laugh. 

“I have some in the fridge,” you answer, leaving your rocking chair and him on the porch. Jungkook doesn’t sit still for long, quietly trailing behind you inside the house. The stray cat is here today, slinking around your ankles as you scour the fridge for the hot dogs. It’s a perfect day for a barbecue, you think, with hot dogs and lemonade. 

The cat wanders over towards Jungkook, sniffing at his ankles before nuzzling against him too. “You also have smilodon on your planet,” he comments. “You are comfortable with such murderous beasts in your home?”

You furrow your brows. “It’s just a cat,” you shrug, leaning down to pick up the furry baby. He purrs against your chest while Jungkook glares at it. 

“Have you taken its teeth for your own?” he asks. 

“What?” you laugh. “He has all his teeth.” 

Jungkook frowns. “No, his unusually large canines,” he explains, mimics two giant fangs with his fingers. “Is this a kitten of a smilodon?” You have no idea what he’s saying at this point, rubbing the cat’s back gently as Jungkook talks over himself. He does that a lot, you realize, ramble about facts you would otherwise see as of little importance. 

The afternoon is spent grilling hot dogs, Jungkook carefully trailing the cat he has taken to calling Smilodon. You watch from the grill as he follows the cat around the garden, gently shooing it off when it gets too close to your broccoli plants. He’s cute, you think, watching him maneuver around your plants with the grace of a trained dancer. 

He absolutely adores the hot dogs, spending another twenty minutes typing out one of those funky journal entries into the computer in his wristband. He asks about the Nintendo DS, something that makes you laugh boisterously at the absurdity of the question. 

When it gets dark outside, he stands in one place and stares up at the sky, rendered motionless at the sight. Jungkook doesn’t like coffee, but he loves hot cocoa. He settles in to watch the nightly news with you, every five minutes filled with an abundance of questions about your planet— which he refers to by a unique set of numbers and letters you’ve never heard before —and what you like to do. Every tidbit of information is documented in his wristband. 

He sleeps on the couch this time, feeling shameful to have pulled you away from such an amazing mattress. He says goodnight shyly from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a tentative wave he saw you give the mailman that morning. You say it back and fall asleep, the alien in your living room not making a peep. 

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

On the seventh day of his stay, Jungkook is woken up by the quiet beeping of his headpiece. It’s Chief Kim Namjoon, calling to ask how his population operation of Planet 43 Z-7 is going. Jungkook stills, the quiet chirping of the birds outside your window filling in the space. The water is running somewhere inside your house, signaling your conscious state. 

His answers are quick and sharp, nervous laughter falling from his lips as he rushes to end the call with Namjoon. He manages to do so just as you appear in the living room, skin nice and dewy from your morning shower, eyes still showing signs of your peaceful slumber. 

“Good morning,” you rasp quietly, a soft ruffle of his hair as you pass by Jungkook on your way to the kitchen. His face feels warm, under eye markings surely glowing a vivid red at the gesture you have gradually ingrained into him, one that makes his heart rev up like an engine preparing to shoot off millions of light years into the distance. 

Jungkook enters the kitchen behind you, your pet smilodon greeting the two of you with a gentle head butt against his ankles that is unlike any other smilodon he has encountered before. He sits at the counter as you work on breakfast, the faint scent of your cucumber body scrub wafting by with every turn you make in the small kitchen. 

And then he’s thinking. 

There are a few crucial bits of information that Jungkook has come to realize over the past week, some of which he hears directly from you, others he picks up from watching your ancient projection in the living room. 

One: of the variety of human genders that exist on Earth, you are one that seems to carry the specific set of bodily structures necessary for reproduction. He’s inspected you carefully the last few days, watching the way you move and carry yourself, just to ensure such is true. By finding you right away, Jungkook was halfway to his goal of settling his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7. 

Two: unlike most humans of Planet 43 Z-7, your body seems oddly… preserved, to say the least. He knows you are familiar with their reproductive rituals as he’s watched a few of said rituals on the projection box in your living room with you. They were very normalized among your people, with almost every broadcast including at least one mention of them every day. Despite that, your body shows no significant reaction to the scenes, and one sneaky scan of your vitals shows Jungkook that you have yet to participate in this ritual yourself. 

Lastly, Jungkook has come to the terrible, godawful conclusion that he does not wish to rope you into breeding with him for the sake of Sixam’s colonialist ways. There’s something about you and your people that does not deserve to be seized by Jungkook and his people. A sort of untouched quality of the progression of your species.

As the oldest and most advanced planet in quite possibly the entire universe, Sixam holds significant power over everyone else. Their higher order brains have helped many a planet follow the right path in attaining the same level of perfection. They were saviors of some sort, touching every planet they visited with the finger of a god. While there were certainly some Sixamians who did not believe in this way of life, of stretching their hold across entire galaxies, others did. 

Jungkook had always fallen in the middle. He had no particular desire to reign over the planets he visited, because his interests had always laid with the existence of the individuals on said planets. He was a researcher, not a military official like Namjoon or Jin. But he has to admit that time and again his research has procured the same results; while there were certainly other planets where the beings were more beautiful or the landscape more stunning than that of Sixam, there was not a single planet that matched their advanced mental capabilities. 

Until now. 

Your civilization moved in a rather fluid way, always changing and never settling. There were eras he learned about on TV, revolutions where one invention rose to prominence, where one sub-race rose to power. Even now, a simple scan through your news broadcasts leaves Jungkook curious. For the first time in a long time, his countless journal entries of information do not lead him to a plausible conclusion. Would you make it right and settle your disputes? Or would this endless fighting, sometimes carried out passively and through words, other times with the use of advanced weaponry, continue until the end of time? Jungkook didn’t know. 

And it was wrong of him to ask you to carry the burden of introducing an entirely new species— a Human and Sixamian at once —for the sole belief that it would somehow “fix” your planet. For the sake of your people, it was best if Jungkook just bugged off. 

And yet, the soft scent of your body lotion, the gentle brush of your hands against his scalp, the delicate way his name rolls off your lips like you’re tasting it for the first time, they all make his heart beat unnaturally fast beneath his skin. They make him yearn for a feeling, an emotion, he cannot quite describe. 

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

You hadn’t been too focused on it this time around, mostly just worried about your period and how awkward it would feel around Jungkook of Sixam. Preoccupied with stockpiling pads and finding your heat pad, you forget about the few days before the period. The time where your libido rages like an animal that has been poked at one too many times. 

The realization dawns on you slowly. Jungkook is sitting on the couch, avidly watching a documentary on ancient civilizations. He’s got one hand in a bowl of popcorn you set out for him, another mindlessly toying with a stray thread on a throw pillow. It’s when he looks at you with those big purple eyes, lips pouty and pink, that something distinctly carnal flickers on inside of you. 

You ignore it. You wrap those feelings in a box and shove it deep into the recesses of your mind. 

But Jungkook was devastatingly handsome, that much you’d known from the moment you saw him. When he’s not in the sun, those Sixamian markings wrap around his body in charcoal streaks, peeking out from the hem of whatever clothes you find for him everyday. For the most part, he’s been running through the pack of plain shirts you picked up from the general store, and the same two pairs of shorts on rotation. His body is artfully toned, thighs big and bulging, but waist small and tapered. His lower lip is the juiciest pink color you’ve ever seen, plush and soft, framing two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair is jet black, part favoring one side more than the other. 

His hands are firm on the rare occasion he touches you; on your hips when you stumble around the kitchen, on your shoulder when he’s pointing out a particular constellation to you. Jungkook’s presence slowly begins driving you to insanity. 

The worst thing is, you cannot tell if his curiosity comes from your status as a potential partner or his overall interests in your species. You want to convince yourself that he is just as interested in your body as an individual as you are his, but those hopes are dashed with every question he asks. Where does the sink drain? Where does the chocolate powder come from? How far is the nearest government official? 

So you calm your thoughts, push them away with the same practiced ease you’ve mastered from a young age. Your purity remains untainted by others, only teased in the shower when Jungkook is wandering around outside. Then and only then do you offer yourself a reprieve, press your fingers down between your thighs and wonder what it is like to have someone else there. 

You picture two purple eyes peering up at you from below, a pink tongue carefully licking against your puffy folds until you’re shaking. How well endowed was a Sixamian? You didn’t know, but you imagine them to be quite big if the subtle shifts you catch of Jungkook every now and then are any sign. 

One finger wiggles past the tight ring of muscle surrounding your hole, the intrusion makes your knees buck. You sink along the shower wall, huffing and puffing as your fingers dance along your swollen clit, thumb swirling hurried circles around the bud until you’re cumming, body spasming from the force.

The water rains down on you, washes your shameful acts down the drain. Vaguely, you wonder if Jungkook is still outside or if the heat drove him into your air conditioned home. Did he hear you? For all his curiosity, you’re certain there are some aspects of the human experience that Jungkook did not want to see. His roommate/caretaker/only-human-friend masturbating was probably one of them.  

It has been years since your fantasies included any other man, faithfully revolving around your ex-fiancé until the very end. It is scary how quickly the mere idea of Jungkook riles you up, how that violet gaze is enough to tear you apart. 

When you resurface in the living room, the house is still. The only sounds are that of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional creaking of the pipes. Jungkook is still outside, you sigh in relief, catching his fluffy head of hair bounding across the front yard with Smilodon on his heels. When he turns, you catch his eyes and he pauses. He offers you that same cute wave he learned last week, gentle smile gracing his features. 

It’s the soft curve of his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners, that make the rapid thumping in your chest settle. You raise your hand, waving back through the window. All was well. 

For now. 

The next morning brings with it an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Namjoon calls him again in the morning, and this time Jungkook cannot skirt around the truth. He hurriedly tells his friend of his findings, of the beautiful society that flourishes on Planet 43 Z-7, and the never-ending personalities he has the chance of encountering. There is an author fansign, you told him, of a book he thoroughly enjoyed taking place next week. There is a woman in town who can fix any technology sent her way. There is a group of children who pass by and sell you food, these flattened things called Girls Cout Cook Ease. There is so much to see and so much to learn that it has Jungkook unconsciously projecting his excitement via his under eye markings. 

You come downstairs mid-call, smiley and ditzy. You were normally a bubbly person, but this much excitement can’t possibly be yours. It’s the sign Jungkook needs to settle down, but Namjoon offers him one too. 

Much to his chagrin, he warns Jungkook against getting too comfortable, tells him to finish his operation and scram as quickly as possible. The Higher Sixamian Court does not take kindly to Sixamians becoming enamored with other planets, especially if they are as advanced as Jungkook claims them to be. He’s rushing out information, begging Jungkook to finish or abandon his mission, anything but stay too long, and before Jungkook can respond, their comms are abruptly shut off. 

He’s left blankly staring at your coffee table, Namjoon’s caution ringing loudly in his ears. 

After the effects of his accidental influence wear off on you, you shake yourself awake, confusedly glancing around the place before shrugging it off. “Morning,” you say, the same as ever, patting his head softly. Jungkook watches you begin your daily routine, the kettle running on the stove as you get to work preparing his hot cocoa. 

For a moment he wonders what it’s like to be like this, to live like this. Free from the standards of Sixam as you go about your morning. There is no drive in you to conquer everyone, no overwhelming need to ‘fix’ those around you. You exist by yourself in this tiny house outside the city, like a moon always circling but never interacting. He knows you have your own circumstances that drove you here, issues where you suffered that same grueling past of people forcing ideas and beliefs upon you as Jungkook. But now you’re here, housing an extraterrestrial being such as himself without any payment. 

He wants to be like you. 

He wanders over towards the kitchen, returning your sleepy smile when you catch his gaze. Jungkook likes this. He enjoys seeing you in the morning, still trailed by the remnants of sleep, with skin tender to the touch. The smell of cocoa filling his nostrils, the chirp of the birds outside your window. He likes Smilodon and the mailman, and the woman half a mile from here who brought you peaches the other day. 

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

Not as a breeding partner or convenient hostess, but as a person. Your laughter makes him feel warm inside, like he is genuinely appreciated as is. You’re gentle with your words, and even more so with your touch; hands pat his head, hold his arm when he stumbles too close to the garden. 

Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

He wants to remain beside you. 

It’s a little stuffy inside your house today, a problem you solve by cracking open the kitchen window. A nice breeze flows over the two of you, pushing the scent of the cocoa and your coffee his way. But a sweeter one follows, something thick and earthy that rolls off of you in waves. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ward off those sounds he heard from you just yesterday afternoon. 

Those whiny sounds, airy whimpers that had drifted down from upstairs. A wet squelch that had registered a little too loudly to his superior ears. It had haunted him last night on the couch, made Jungkook twist and turn until the fuzzy image of you relieving yourself went away. 

Jungkook wanted to help with that too. He wanted to put his hands and his mouth in places you needed him most, pleasure you like you deserved. 

But how could he tell you all this and more? Did he even have the right as an invader to profess his infatuation to you? This Planet 43 Z-7, this Earth, was filled to the brim with interesting things, yet you remained at the very top of Jungkook’s list. He couldn’t leave, not now, but he couldn’t stay either. His entire presence in itself was a ploy to spread his seed, a fact you continued to be unaware of. 

Namjoon’s words bounce around his brain, twist and wrap around him until he’s shakily reaching for his mug. He couldn’t stay here any longer under this false pretense. He couldn’t lie to you another day, another second more. He was tired of being a sheep. It’s with this conflicting resolve that he commands himself to confess this to you at once. 

So he spills it all out to you. 

From the complex history of the Sixamians to his assignment of this mission. You listen quietly as you munch through breakfast, nodding along to each new point he brings up that changes the story. He tells you about the population mission, about how he was sent here to spread his superior genes over the land, but how he’s let that sit on the back burner while you taught him all sorts of new things. If you are unimpressed with Jungkook and Sixam, you don’t show it. 

“So you came to... breed?” you ask when he has finished, hands neatly folded on your lap. Breakfast is finished, plate scraped clean. 

Jungkook nods shamefully. “I was asked to contribute to the reconstruction of Planet 43 Z-7,” he says, repeating the practiced reasoning every Sixamian has heard at least once in their life. But in front of you, it makes him cringe. 

The grandfather clock in the hallway clicks along quietly, the soundtrack to Jungkook’s desperate read of you. Your eyes are focused on the plate before you, lost in thought at the abundance of information he has just thrown on you. He could easily switch his influential abilities back on, brighten your mood like he has been taught to do with countless other species since the beginning of time. But it feels wrong to subject you to that, to strip you of your emotions, even if it would save him the discomfort. 

Instead he sits in silence. 

Jungkook waits patiently, even though every fiber in his being is telling him to get up and make a run for it. Escape before he can see a look of disgust aimed his way. But he has come to value your opinions as equal to his, and the thought of leaving you by yourself does not sit well with him. So he waits. 

It takes a few minutes of contemplation before you grace him with an answer, nervously rubbing your hands over your thighs. “I understand, Jungkook,” you exhale tightly. “But I don’t think I’m the partner you are looking for.”

“No! I was not— It was not my intention,” he stammers, waving his hands all over the place in his hurry to explain. He sucks in a sharp breath. “I do not wish to force such a burden on you, __,” he manages, “I would not do that to you.”

He is about to pat himself on the back for his save, when suddenly the corners of your lips take a sharp drop. “Oh, I see,” you mutter, arms self consciously wrapping around your frame. “So you don’t see me as a suitable partner?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your drawn conclusion. “No,” he chokes, and your frown deepens. “I mean, yes, I do see you as a viable partner to engage in reproductive activities,” and now he’s spiraling, the surprised look on your face only fueling his pea-brained ramblings, “I just—I assumed you did not enjoy that? 

His excuse sounds so unbelievably weak even to his own ears. 

“What made you think that?” you ask. At the rate this conversation is going, Jungkook fears his brain will soon fry itself out. 

His mind is a spinning mess, like the inside of a vacuum that rumbles and turns with each new thought that enters. What was he supposed to say? That he’s heard you in your most intimate moments, moments where you hid from him? Or that he’s done countless scans on your body when you weren’t looking and came to the same result every time; that result being that you have never been touched by another before? And what was he supposed to draw from these conclusions if not that you abhorred such intimacy?  

“I-I heard… you,” Jungkook admits quietly. “And, I felt your emotions. They were nervous.” He does not need his thermal detector to feel the heat that floods your face. “I did not want to impose on such a fragile moment,” he continues. “And I apologize if my actions have made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” you wave off, pressing the back of your knuckles to your cheeks. “I apologize for doing something so inappropriate with you in my house.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Do you not enjoy participating in sexual activities, __?” he asks curiously. 

You gulp loudly, obviously startled by his question. Which part of it, Jungkook doesn’t know. He nudges your knee with his, urging you to answer. A shaky exhale, and then you’re rambling. “I-No, I do,” you rush out, avidly avoiding his gaze. “I, um, I just have never, uh, been with anyone.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Is that why your reproductive areas are strangely well preserved for a being your age? I was beginning to wonder about the complexities of Human reproduction after meeting you, __. Is there a certain tradition one must follow to copulate with you?” 

“No, no,” you rush to correct. Jungkook has obviously said something that upset you, because when you speak again your aura is tainted with the hints of irritation. “Tradition is stupid,” you explain slowly, a sense of heartache consuming him at your rather lonely figure. He is beside you, yet feels a thousand light years away from your heart. “I was just a fool.”

His gaze softens, carefully placing a hand on your knee comfortingly. He doesn’t have to say anything more, just let you know he isn’t far at all, and you understand. You lean against his shoulder, the same sad look in your eyes. The grandfather clock ticks on in the hallway, in sync with the slow rhythm of your heart. Jungkook places a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The day drags on. 

Your morning chores are finished quickly with Jungkook at your side. He obsesses over the plants and plays with Smilodon. You make apple juice today with the fruits that fall from the tree out front. Jungkook enjoys it, but not as much as lemonade. Still, it gets its own entry in his log. 

He asks more questions about your world, straying away from the ones he had last week that seemed to exclusively revolve around the fauna and flora. Now, he is interested in your Human way of life. The TV confuses him, and he doesn’t quite understand the difference between dramas and news stations. So you explain as best you can for him. 

His main issue lies in his inability to comprehend the constant strife within your planet, especially when you explain to him topics like poverty or homelessness. Sixam is nothing like Earth, he says, because everyone on Sixam is looked after and taken care of as deemed appropriate. There is no division of classes because deep down, every Sixamian acknowledges they are superior to the rest of the universe. It sounds like a utopia to you, but you’ve read enough books to know how those usually turn out. 

That fact intrigues Jungkook as well. How Humans can be aware of so many altering concepts and beliefs, yet desensitized to all. He doesn’t get it, and explaining the concept of fiction existing on a separate plane only confuses him more. 

Eventually you bring it back to tradition, somehow, that dreaded word you’ve come to abhor. Jungkook enjoys learning about your culture and your way of life, little things you do here and there. But as most things do in your life, the conversation circles back around to your failed marriage. 

“Ah,” Jungkook says. “So it is tradition to save your first reproductive act for the one you ‘marry’?” You nod, toes tucked up into the couch. It’s a little before sunset now, the orange hue of the outdoors leaking into your living room. “And then you take their last name? That is very confusing, __. I thought this last name identified you to your fellow Human, how can you so easily change it around?” 

You laugh. “It's complicated,” you offer. Jungkook chuckles as well, obviously overwhelmed with all the new information you provided him with today. 

Jungkook nods pensively but you doubt he understands. “I see,” he mumbles, fingertip tapping against the armrest he’s leaning against. It’s a tell tale sign that he desperately wants to document what you’ve said in his supercomputer bracelet but is holding back for the sake of this moment. You think it’s rather sweet. “So copulation does not always secure you a partner.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “People have different drives,” you say. “Some of them want love and some just want sex.”

“And you?” he asks suddenly, big purple eyes swirling with entire galaxies. “What would you like?” 

A lot of things, you think, but when it comes down to it, when Jungkook asks you with his pretty eyes and pouty lips, you can’t find the right words. “Both,” is your measly reply. “What about you?” 

He seems just as thrown off by your question as you, eyes widening as he leans back. The living room is bathed in warm splashes of color, the last of the sun’s rays painting Jungkook in a rather romantic light. You can’t look away. “I too would like both,” he admits, idly tracing the tip of his finger along the markings that decorate the tops of his knees. “This notion of attraction beyond the physical realm is not common in Sixam,” he answers. “Sixam is very… strict about what a relationship entails. 

You set your mug down on the side table, shuffling around until your toes poke his hip, arm thrown over the back of the couch. “How so?” you ask. 

Jungkook’s lips push out into a frown. “The Higher Sixamian Court has long since ruled that mating rituals between citizens are strictly limited to those that will produce the most immaculate genome,” he says, as if that is just another simple, everyday fact of life. It is for him, but not for you. 

“So, are you like… assigned?” you press, suddenly wondering how a being as curious and sentimental as Jungkook has survived so long in a place like Sixam. “And like, do you raise kids together?”

“Until the end of their first era,” Jungkook supplies, as if that makes the slightest bit of sense. “And sort of. Sixam is not that oppressive,” he jokes, but there is something about his eyes missing their usual glow that tips you off. “I have yet to copulate for reproductive purposes.”

You pause. “But you have for… fun purposes?” 

Jungkook looks at you seriously. And then, ever so slowly, the little marks beneath the corners of his eyes, the little triangles that usually flare blue, fade into a lovely pink shade. “I-“ he stammers, obviously flustered by your question. “I have.”

Your mouth parts into a little o. “With other Sixamians? Or….” Jungkook flushes, nods meekly. His expression seems off, like it isn’t a particular fond memory he carries. “Was it bad or something?” 

He sighs. “It is… very lacking. Nothing like the scenes depicted in your projection box.” He nods towards the TV, you barely contain a giggle at its name. You reach for your mug instead. “There is no,” he waves a hand in front of his face. The last rays of sun catch on his hand and turn his charcoal  markings a pretty gold. “No expressions of adoration beyond what is necessary. And I do not particularly enjoy that.” 

You nod understandingly. “You're soft,” you tease, watch his little triangles light up again at your words. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “so am I.”

He says nothing, just stares blankly out the front window as the sun disappears behind the horizons, leaving thousands of glittering lights in its wake. Not man made but natural; right. “I think your last name is lovely,” he suddenly announces. You chuckle against the lip of your mug, but Jungkook doesn’t find it amusing. He turns to you with that sparkling purple gaze, like you’ve hung those stars outside yourself. “There is no other __ ___ like you.”

Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the coffee steam rising from the mug or Jungkook’s unexpected reassurance. It makes your heart tender, sends a shock through your system that leaves your body buzzing. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, covering the palm he rests over the couch with yours. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ovulation ends, but your blossoming feelings for Jungkook do not go away. 

The next morning his comms remain shut off. Jungkook has never had his communications back home cut off, save for the time in his first era where he brashly spoke out against his superior in a lab. He was young and had much to learn, took too many risks and didn’t consider the consequences. He guesses he hasn’t grown much since then as he watches you tend to your garden. 

“Smilodon urinated in the closet,” he announces, witnessing the smile slowly slip off your features. He lets you revel in your annoyance for exactly two seconds before following with the phrase he heard on your box the other day. “Just kidding! You are being prank’d. 

Your frown is nothing like the expression the program’s contests exhibited following their supposed pranking. “Jungkook, that’s not funny,” you huff and his heart sinks. A soft snort. “Okay, maybe a little,” you concede with a terribly contained smile. 

He bounds over, kneels down beside you, and begins pulling the overgrown weeds out with you. “I saw it on the projection box the other day,” he explains excitedly, tossing the weeds into the bag between you two. “I did not know such pleasure could be received from silly broadcasts like that.” You nod, say something about all kinds of dumb shows existing before a pout taints your lips. “What's wrong?” 

A long sigh from you. “I think the sun isn’t reaching these,” you tell him, lifting the stem of a sad looking tomato plant. It’s the closest one to the house, often covered by the house’s shadow when the sun shines best. “They’re sad.”

He tilts his head to the side quizzically. “Sad?” he repeats, reaching for his wristband before he can stop to think. If his extensive journaling reads right, your planet’s vegetation follows similar patterns to that of another’s, requiring allotted amounts of sunlight and water to flourish. “How can it be sad?” 

Caught up in his notes, he doesn’t realize you’ve migrated to the other side of the garden now, dutifully picking out more weeds. “Well, it looks sad doesn’t it?” Jungkook glances back again. The tomato stalk is significantly droopy and malformed, smaller than its brethren who sit only a few inches away in direct sunlight. It’s colors are dulled and almost… sad. Huh. How peculiar. 

He chances one glance back at you, deems you far enough, and then channels the entirety of his energy towards the tomato plant. It wiggles a few times, kind of like it’s dancing, before you’re calling his name from the other side. “What’re you doing?” you ask, hand on your hip. Jungkook stills. 

“Um,” he drawls. The plant returns to its sulky state. 

Garbage bag full of weeds, you pass by him with a shake of your head. “Don’t do anything weird to my plants, silly,” you chide. Jungkook huffs, follows behind to take the bag off your hands. You thank him, join him for his walk around the house until he tosses the bag into the garbage can out front. Before he can retort and engage you in a playful argument regarding his superior abilities, you’re crouching down by the spigot out front. It’s making a weird hissing noise that has Jungkook frowning as he walks over. 

Right as he approaches, you make the amateur mistake of turning the handle, water spewing out from the gap between the spigot’s mouth and where it’s supposed to meet the hose. You screech, and Jungkook can’t shut it off fast enough. 

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

“Ugh,” you groan as you walk around the house to the unlocked back door. Jungkook trudges behind, just a teensy bit annoyed by the mud that quickly stains his rubber sandals. “This is so annoying!” you complain loudly, shaking yourself off like Smilodon when it accidentally fell into the sink the other day. “Ruined my day.”

At that Jungkook frowns. He does not want your day to be ruined, especially not by some faulty spigot outside. You were too good for such emotions, too perfect in his eyes. Sadness and the like did not suit you; they had no place ruining your beautiful features. You’re huffily patting yourself down at the back porch now, distress prominent on your features as you most likely consider the second load of laundry you will have to do today. 

The tomato stalk glances at him sadly from the ground, and before Jungkook can stop himself, he’s breathing in deeply and pushing his generally relaxed attitude onto you. You can be mad later, but right now Jungkook doesn’t want to see you sad. It’s effective immediately, your gloominess quickly fading away. You breathe in deeply, eyes falling shut, and when you open them again you’re offering him the most gentle smile he has ever seen. 

And a soaked through shirt that highlights the shape of your red undergarments. Jungkook’s eyes widen, unconsciously flicking down to the sight you present him with, and a different emotion floods his senses. 

It’s quite possibly his biggest mistake. Because while he can easily look away, it takes longer for those emotions to fade, and soon they’re being reflected on you. 

“Wow,” you exhale, shaking your head in confusion because these aren’t your emotions— you probably know they’re his. Jungkook feels terrible instantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushes out, scrambling up the steps to guide you inside. Simultaneously, he’s shutting down his influential abilities, scolding himself for slipping up with you like this. You most certainly did not want to feel this way around Jungkook, yet here he was quite literally projecting onto you. “Please, let’s go inside.” 

You nod, jolt when his hand touches the small of your back as he guides you in. “Oh,” you gasp, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to force himself from making the situation worse, from thinking thoughts you would not approve of. “Why— what's happening?” you ask in a breathy tone, lingering by the staircase Jungkook tries to push you up. 

He sighs. “I— I was trying to brighten your mood,” he admits, metaphorical ears pressed against his head like when Smilodon gets scolded for knocking down a plant. “And, um. There was— the, um, sight of your undergarments distracted me for a moment.” You glance down and seemingly become aware for the first time that your bright red bra is on display, shyly covering yourself with your arms. 

“Distracted?” you mumble softly, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Your skin is radiating more heat than Jungkook ever recalls, face demurely turned down towards the floor. He could have sworn he stopped projecting minutes again— why were you still behaving like this? Did he break you? Did he exude more energy than he meant to, accidentally extend the length of the emotions? “I’ll go upstairs now,” you announce quietly, touch his arm almost sensually as you pass by. 

Your skin is warm, that heavenly scent that Jungkook craved rolling off in waves— but he was certain he’d stopped himself before anything became too overwhelming. Were his emotions stronger than he had fooled himself into believing? There was no way he had felt or looked as riled up when he accidentally influenced you. So where exactly were these emotions coming from? What exactly was making you behave this way even after he’d withdrawn his influence? Could it be...

Jungkook watches with wide eyes, almost certain that your behavior, though sparked by his initial slip up, was entirely your own at this point. 

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

The water turns on upstairs, and he has to strain his ears, still his breathing, just for a hint of your sounds. But they’re there, quiet successors to the louder moans you’d let out the other day. They make him shiver, melt against the staircase as his cock twitches in his pants. His body comes alive, something distinctly carnal twitching beneath his skin, blossoming out at the base of his spine. 

And still, as he grinds his hand into his palm, it is not merely the sight of your red undergarments that render Jungkook useless. No, the ghost of your smile at his poorly executed prank follows, brands itself into the inside of his eyelids as he slowly falls apart. 

Was it your own emotions that had made you like that? he wonders, sinking to his knees in the hallway. If you came down right now, you’d certainly catch him. But Jungkook can still hear your muffled cries from upstairs, and furthermore, Jungkook wanted desperately for you to catch him. He knows you won’t, but the idea makes him shiver, has him coming in his bottoms shamefully. 

“What the,” he huffs, sweat trailing down his forehead. His brain replays that look in your eyes. That emotion you displayed that, although it may have been planted by him, was taken by you and magnified. Had you been just as excited by the sight of Jungkook’s wet body as he had yours? And if such was the case, was your attraction to him limited to the physical realm?

He doesn’t want to delude himself, but your words from the other day ring loudly in his ears. Soft, you had called him, for wanting something both physically and emotionally intimate. But you were the same, or so you claimed. 

Was it so wrong for Jungkook to think that ideology applied now?

That night you join Jungkook outside for his routine stargazing. He sits on the porch while you sit on your rocking chair, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jungkook retells his adventures across the universe. 

Space is bigger than you thought, with a culture far more complex than Earth’s. It makes you wonder how Jungkook, who has quite literally seen it all, can become so enamored with this place. There’s bigger and better somewhere out there; planets that won’t force terrible traditions on him or task him into ungodly missions. Yet he lingers here, in this quiet space between your garden and your house, head on your lap. 

His hair is soft, almost like silk, and he enjoys having it touched. “I do not wish to leave,” he admits quietly, empty mug long since set aside. You hum, encourage him to elaborate. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7.” 

You snort. “No way,” you say, trace your hand down his jawline. Jungkook says nothing of your wandering hands, skin warm to the touch. Some of his markings decorate his neck, curl around the pale skin in perfectly symmetrical swoops. They creep beneath the hem of his shirt, and you wonder what they look like down there. 

You flush those thoughts away, that afternoon’s events still fresh in your mind. From your understanding of the events, Jungkook had been excited at the sight of your body, so he obviously had to hold some attraction towards you. But how much of that was purely physical and how much was emotional? 

“I want to have your last name,” he announces suddenly. You choke, breath caught in your throat from the randomness of the statement. Your reaction makes Jungkook pull away from your touch, stare at you with wide eyes like you do him. 

“I— what?” you stammer, having gained back your composure. Or at least some of it. “Jungkook, I don’t think you know what that means.”

He frowns, shuffles around until he’s facing you, and lays his head across your lap again. This time, those purple eyes that dance with nebulas and stardust zero in on you. His hair tickles your bare thighs, makes you unconsciously press them together when his warm breath fans across your skin. “You amaze me,” he murmurs, eyes glazed. “I have never seen a being like you, who lives so far off from society, thrive in their own bubble— is it too much for me to want to live like you? Be with you?”

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

Jungkook smiles, turns his face to hide it against you. Pink lips brush against your skin, your hands unconsciously shooting into his hair to guide him away. When his head rolls back, he’s got this rather melancholy look on his face. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7,” he says again, “and I am looking right at her.” 

Your face burns. 

Heart hammering in your chest, palms sweaty, you don’t know what to say. He looks at you with that vibrant gaze, drinks you in like you’re the finest of wines and your heart absolutely cannot handle it. Your brain fumbles for a response but by then Jungkook is standing up, head tilted downwards cutely as he observes you. One hand in his, thumb gently swiping over your knuckles. “I would like to show you every expression of adoration possible, __,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing back inside. 

You stay outside, turning his words inside and out, backwards and forwards, until you deduce that Jungkook of Sixam most definitely harbored the same feelings for you as you did for him. It’s odd, because it is exactly what you want but the idea scares you to death. The last time you let a man into your life under a similar guise you ended up wasting years of your life, clinging to this grand finale you never got. And now this foreign being was proclaiming his feelings for you, possibly propositioning you for the same thing. 

Did you want Jungkook? Yes, undoubtedly yes. He was free from the shackles of tradition that had held you down so long, didn’t believe in this twisted notion of your body being “sacred.” He was a breath of fresh air, unlike anyone you’ve ever met before (although part of that was due to his alien heritage).

However, he was not free of flaws, and perhaps that is what entices you more.

Jungkook, though he looked and spoke like the perfect man, was a being of his own, with struggles of his own. He too had his own handful of painful memories, toxic ideologies that followed him around. But Jungkook was willing to learn, to change. And you admired him for it. 

Tip-toeing back inside, you find the house shrouded in darkness. The steady tick of the grandfather clock lessens the rapid beating of your heart. Jungkook is sitting on the living room couch, legs pulled to his chest. Muscle memory has you reaching out for the top of his head like always, ready to pat his fluffy hair as if you hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes outside doing just that. He turns around just as your fingers touch his soft strands, purple eyes meeting yours. You trace your hand down the side of his face, knuckles brushing over his cheekbones; he puckers his lips, bestows a second tender smooch against you. 

“I like when you do that,” he says, voice unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent house. As he speaks, he shifts to the side, arm thrown over the back of the couch to look at you completely. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip and he gulps. “Makes me crazy.” 

You chuckle, releasing him to round the couch. Jungkook’s got this sweet smile on his face, hand outstretched for you. When you take it, he tugs you onto the couch, flush beside him. Your thigh is practically thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. You heart flutters and you can no longer look him in the eye. 

But that’s okay because Jungkook can. He ducks down, dark hair tickling your skin as his breath ghosts over your lips. “May I?” he asks softly, nose bumping against yours. “May I have the honor of pleasuring you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, answering with a tiny nod that makes his lower lip brush against yours teasingly. “I-If I am suitable,” you mumble, tingles spreading all over your body. 

Jungkook smiles, pretty and bright, as he turns his head to slot your mouths together. “No,” he says, “if I am suitable. You are more than enough.” Lips brush against yours, shaky breath meets yours, and then he’s kissing you. Slow yet suave, carefully molding against you as if he is afraid of breaking you. His lips are like two soft pillows, moving against yours in a practiced rhythm that makes you tremble against him. Every bit the measly virgin, but Jungkook likes you just so. 

He pulls away with a pop, his figure shadowed by the darkness of the room. But his eyes, purple irises, glow brightly. Like two pools of cosmic dust swirling around his dark pupils. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before, but you hardly saw Jungkook in the dark anyway. He hides them too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in again. 

The second time, there’s a faint flick of his tongue against your bottom lip. The action makes you gasp quietly, lips parting for a fraction of a second. But Jungkook is quick, slips his tongue past your lips. It’s lewd; his breath mingles with yours, tongue pushing against yours. Slick and dirty, spit traveling between your two mouths, but Jungkook makes sure you’re okay, sinfully wrapping his lips around your tongue when you get too brave. A moan escapes you, fingers squeezing around his. 

Jungkook squeezes back, pushes forward until you’re pressed against the back cushions of the couch. “This okay?” he husks, low-lidded eyes meeting yours when he pulls away. You nod, words caught in your throat. Jungkook’s gaze lasers in on your mouth, and he seems to have an internal debate before eventually pulling away to kiss your neck. 

You tilt your head back, choppy exhales creeping out from between your lips as he kisses down the column of your neck, untangling his hand from yours to press against your hip instead. It’s with a devastatingly slow speed that he eventually slinks away, finds himself kneeling between you on the floor with hands dancing over the tops of your thighs. Your heart is beating a thousand miles in your chest, threatening to rip itself right out when he meets your eyes a second time. 

He pushes your legs apart, not once looking away as he gently encourages you to raise one. Lips pressed against your knee, slowly trailing down the skin of your thigh. Your hand squeezes at the couch cushions. Jungkook pulls a startled yelp from you when he tugs at the backs of your knees, makes you slump down the couch with your legs perfectly spread out for him, feet flat on the floor. Then he’s back to kissing you, languidly pressing smooch after smooch against your scorching skin until he’s reaching the apex of your thighs, stilling once to look your way. 

“Go ahead,” you choke out, hands clutched over your chest, as if that’ll keep your heart from up and running away. Jungkook takes your admission and moves on, puckered lips meeting your mound through your clothing. It’s the first time you’ve ever had someone else so close to your most sensitive areas, and rightly so, you whimper. 

“Shh,” he soothes, thumb pressing against your hip as he carefully hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. You’re quivering like a leaf, lower lip bitten raw between your teeth as you watch him move between your legs. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” Jungkook murmurs. 

Another press of his mouth against you, this time right over where your bud hides, and the sensation makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers tighten around the waistband of your shorts, take your underwear with them when he begins pulling them down your hips. You push yourself up briefly, let him slide them down your legs and bare yourself to him for the first time. 

Your cheeks flood with warmth, hands unconsciously reaching to pull your shirt down, but Jungkook catches you. Fingers tangle with yours, warm breath fanning over your slick folds. Unconsciously, you tense up at his proximity, the stark realization that this was the moment you had waited for for a good chunk of your life suddenly hitting you. Jungkook seems to notice you crawl inside your head, drawing you back with a squeeze around your hand, luminous eyes meeting yours. 

“If you need me to stop, I will,” he reassures you.

The blood is rushing to your ears, his words nearly lost in the madness. “Aren’t you scared?” you ask quietly, voice wobbly, holding his hands so tightly you’re surprised he doesn’t complain.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “Would you like to know how I feel?”

Hesitantly, you nod. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, but the little triangle markings beneath his eyes begin to glow. Like fireflies in the dark, two little lights that intensify as he exhales.

And then, suddenly, you’re flooded with a new wave of emotions, similar to yours but not. They feel like yours, but are distinctly his, make you arch against the cushions with a soft groan. 

At the forefront, lust that swarms your senses and makes your body melt into the couch beneath you. It makes you shiver, nipples peaked beneath your top as his feelings and their intensity grow on you. It feels like drowning, like swallowing a thick and sticky substance that lingers in your throat and refuses to go away. It’s how he feels about you at this moment, so strongly it could drown him. 

So overwhelmed with that sensation alone, you almost don’t recognize the second emotion that Jungkook takes and pours into you. 

Warm and comforting, like being embraced by a thousand doves, kissed by a swarm of butterflies. It’s different from the first, doesn’t tap directly into your physical body, but wraps around your heart, creeps into your thoughts. Until you’re rolling your eyes back open and meeting his, the feeling so plainly spelled out across his features. 

Sheer and utter adoration. 

“Oh,” you breathe, face scorching to the touch following the emotions Jungkook’s just revealed to you. 

He grins, shy, and squeezes your hand. “What do you want to do?”

Biting your lip, you take initiative and hook your knee over his shoulder, the same way he had shown you just moments prior. “Please,” you murmur, “show me more.”

And Jungkook does.

A soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose running along your skin teasingly. And then he’s faced with your puffy lips, pink skin slick with arousal. Jungkook sighs softly, tilts his head as if he’s analyzing his next course of action, and then carefully places his mouth against you. 

“Mmmh,” you whimper, hips instinctively bucking into the touch, never having felt such intense pleasure before. Jungkook doesn’t mind as he languidly kisses your folds, eyes shut as he loses himself in the motions. The first swipe of his tongue makes you twitch, arms flailing but Jungkook holds them down, entwined fingers pressed against the couch. 

His tongue is an entity of its own, wet muscle pressing and licking at your most sensitive areas like it was made specifically for this. Never mind talking, Jungkook’s tongue was made to lap at your pussy like this. He licks a long stripe up from your quivering hole to your engorged clit, curling at the end as if you were nothing more but a sweet for him to mindlessly play with. 

Your muscles clench up, the leg thrown around his shoulder unconsciously pulling him closer until his nose is pressed flush against your clit. Jungkook breathes in deeply, moans softly but it sends earth-shattering vibrations up your core until you’re a whimpering mess. “O-Oh,” you cry, sweat clinging to your skin as Jungkook continues lapping at your folds. 

He releases one hand, uses it to push your other leg further away to properly slot himself against you. You take the opportunity to wildly reach for him, grabby hands lost in the silky waves on his head as you urge him closer to where you need him most. You’re not even sure where that is anymore, your clit or your entrance, but Jungkook switches between the two just fine. 

That warm tongue prods at your entrance, tip sinking inside just enough to make you gasp. It’s a new experience for you, someone’s tongue touching and stroking you there, and it feels like an entirely new door opens from that action alone. You whimper his name, dig your nails across his scalp like maybe he’ll grant you a reprieve and pull away. But you don’t really want that, and so you’re happy when he stays where he is. 

The hand that had rested against the juncture of your hip glides up, lays flat over your mound with his thumb idly swirling around your clit. The combination of his tongue breaching your hole and his fingers playing along your clit makes you spasm. “Wait,” you sob, the muscles in your thighs twitching as he licks away. “I-I’m gonna—“

An overpowering wave of relief floods your senses shortly before that last syllable can escape your lips; everything goes tight and then suddenly you’re on a cloud, cum spilling from your heat and onto his waiting tongue. Jungkook licks it all up, slurps loudly against your clit as the last waves of your orgasm run their course. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing up your navel, t-shirt pushed away as he goes. 

When he reaches your face, you’re quite embarrassed to find the area around his mouth to be glistening with your juices. “You’re incredible,” he says, easygoing smile on his lips. But there’s something hard and heavy against you, snuggled between your thighs, that makes your face heat up all over again. 

You can’t find the words to respond, and lose the opportunity when Jungkook captures your lips with his again. He’s more assertive this time around, roughly pushing against you until you’re certain you’ll bruise. But it feels good, makes you wrap your hands around him as Jungkook grinds down against you. When he pulls away, he’s got this dark look on his face, out of place against such bright eyes. 

He says nothing as his hands creep up your waist, push your t-shirt and bra out of the way, until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. Experienced hands massage them thoroughly, roll the soft skin between his fingers. His mouth is against yours again, tongues pressed together; Jungkook groans and the sound shoots straight between your thighs. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you whimper, break away from his kiss to hide your face against his shoulder.

His cock is heavy against your folds, the thick material of his pants slowly stimulating you again. The cotton brushes against you, most certainly picks up your wetness as it goes, and Jungkook lets it as he continues to grind down against you with his hands on your tits. Your hands tear their way down his back, fist the material of his shirt in your hands. “Off, off,” you plead, desperate to feel more of him against you.

Jungkook complies, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. You were right about his markings, dark swoops and circles that decorate his chest and abdomen before tapering down around his waist. Your mouth salivates at the sight, blindly reaching for your own clothes as if one look away will make him disappear. 

He doesn’t.

In fact, the removal of both your tops only makes Jungkook hungrier, completely abandoning your lips to suck your breast into his mouth instead. “Jungk— fuck,” you wail, slipping further down the couch as you lose yourself in Jungkook’s embrace. His teeth nibble at your swollen bud, roll the sensitive skin around before pulling off with a wet pop. 

Your breath jumps when he reaches behind you, corded arm locking around your waist as he repositions the two of you, unsatisfied with the previous position. He lifts you up with his undoubtedly superior strength, one palm beneath your thigh as he plops you down across the couch more comfortably, head neatly resting on a throw pillow. 

Your heart is in your throat, desperate to memorize the man before you, inked skin, lean and meaty, vibrant violet eyes that focus solely on you. Before he can join you on the couch, Jungkook steps away, tucks his thumbs into his waistband and swiftly removes them. His engorged cock, bigger than any you’ve seen in any erotic video— and that was saying a lot —springs up against his navel, flaming tip glaring right at you. Your pussy quivers at the sight. 

“Come here,” he husks out as he moves towards you. You welcome him with open arms, a soft groan of his name against his lips as he shoves his tongue past. His hands are everywhere now; one squeezes at your breast, hand molded to the flesh, while the other runs along the underside of your thigh, guides it over his waist. And another tickles around your navel, soft—

You shriek, eyes snapping open as you tug Jungkook over you as a shield. “What was that?” you heave, wide eyes roving over the dark living room, like maybe you’ll find Smilodon traversing the carpet and it was his silky tail that came too close. 

But Smilodon doesn’t usually appear at night, nor is there anything else in the living room with you and Jungkook. Your heart hammers in your chest, carefully meeting his dark gaze until something thin and distinctively alive appears over his shoulder. Another scream tears itself from your lips.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook shushes, pulls away to cup your face in his hands. “Forgive me,” he says tenderly, “we are so similar, I forget you do not possess extra arms.”

You pale. “E-Extra arms?” you choke, eyes focused on the thin ‘arm’ that slinks out from behind Jungkook, almost screeching again when a second one appears on the opposite side. And then a third, a fourth. 

It is no arm, but rather… a tentacle? Sans the weird suction cups. They’re thin little things, no thicker than his wrist, that dance behind him as if they have a mind of their own. They move as if suspended in water, soft lilac skin tenderly touching yours. You shiver, its smooth skin odd against your supple flesh. Jungkook relaxes, but draws them back anyway. “Forgive me,” he says again, taking your hand in his to press a peck against it. Your heart flutters at the gesture that was slowly driving you insane. “I shall keep them at bay.”

You nod shakily, but cannot deny the curiosity that picks at you when they slink back into the base of his spine, blend seamlessly against his skin. “What… what do they do?” you ask tentatively. 

Jungkook hums as he descends upon you, featherlight kisses against your shoulder and up your neck. “Hmm? They help me out,” he explains mindlessly, pulling you flush against his cock again. A moan tears itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut as you force yourself to focus on the moment again. 

But your hands unconsciously wander down his spine as he kisses you, circle the skin where your swear they had to have disappeared beneath, until Jungkook is pulling away with a confused expression on his face. “Would you like to see them again?” he asks quizzically, sweat forming along his hairline. 

You cannot play it off any longer; meekly, you nod. “I— they were interesting,” you admit in a quiet voice, nervously twiddling your fingers over your chest. 

Jungkook says nothing for a second, until he’s lightly chuckling and pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Okay,” he concedes, and goes back to rolling his hips against yours. 

About to protest, the words are robbed from your throat when something soft and blunt tickles your thigh. “Oh,” you shudder, prevailing through the initial shock as Jungkook’s ‘arm’ slides around the diameter of your thigh to brush against your cunt. It’s silky and smooth, pushes against your lips until it’s emerging past them, slipping inside of you.

You gasp, head lolling backwards as the sensation gets to you. It feels the same as your fingers do when you’re in the shower, but it moves differently, gauging your reactions as it curls within your walls. Jungkook muffles a low chuckle against your chin, kisses spread over you until his tongue is back down your throat.

“Feels good?” he asks, hot mouth against yours. You nod jerkily, hands digging into his biceps. Another appendage tickles around your waist, dips into your navel and makes you giggle. It’s a sound that’s frankly out of place amongst your moans and whimpers, but it makes Jungkook smile. It eventually moves away, continuing its soft caresses elsewhere. 

The one that plays in your pussy has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, jaw slack. Perfect for Jungkook who pushes and prods until his saliva is dripping down your throat, catching in the corners of your lips. It impossibly fattens inside of you, makes you choke just as a different one dances around your neck. “I— I,” you stutter, boneless beneath him as the soft tip traces around the column of your neck tenderly, lovingly. 

There’s so many different areas to focus on: one rubs comfortingly beneath your breast, while another fucks into your cunt. The contrast has your head spinning, unsure of where to look. 

There’s something about the one inside of you that makes you feel so sticky and wet, more so than before. Like it’s oozing something out, making the glide against your walls smoother than before. It makes your body tingle, sends a feeling down your spine that you’re almost certain isn’t normal. 

At the same time, there’s a brush along your thigh again, a tight coil around the flesh of your skin tightly that encourages your legs apart. More room for Jungkook to squeeze in. It wraps around you, slithers past its sibling and prods against your ass. Your heart skips a beat, buck into Jungkook’s embrace as it slips between your cheeks— you gasp. It releases that same substance that makes everything so wet. You tremble at the touch, body already so overwhelmed. 

Your attention is snatched away before anything can happen, Jungkook tugging you closer until the ridges of his cock are running along your folds, each push sending his goddamn tentacle deeper inside of you. You moan, hands shakily traversing his skin until you’re cupping his face in your palms. “More,” you hoarsely whisper, dazed eyes meeting his. “Please.”

Jungkook nods, presses one more kiss against your lips before shuffling around. The appendage inside of you swiftly recoils, has you shivering from the way it slips out of you so easily. As it finally emerges from your folds, you find it’s slick with cum and something slightly pink, sparkly and wet as if it’s got precum of its own. The sight amazes you, makes you want to touch it. Before you can, it’s moving again. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t go away, doesn’t return to hide within Jungkook’s body, but wraps around his cock tightly. Purple tendril against engorged skin, makes him sigh at the squeeze. 

He holds the base of his cock, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he regards you with an unrecognizable look. One hand on your thigh, fingers gripping tightly even before he’s done anything. “Tell me you want this,” he exhales, “please?” 

You nod hurriedly, hands reaching for his hips to urge him closer. “Want this,” you assure him, quiver when the head of his cock presses against your folds. Bigger than your fingers, bigger than that damned appendage, and it was going inside of you. “Want this so bad,” you whimper, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. A squeeze around your breasts, a flick against your nipples. It’s not Jungkook’s hands, and that fact makes you shiver. 

They curl around your breasts, frame the mounds gently before the flatted tips meet your nipples, tease them with featherlight nudge. 

Eased by the certainty of your words, Jungkook relaxes. He places a hand on your hip, the other still holding his cock as he lines himself up with your throbbing entrance. You’re so wet, dripping in your own cum and whatever that tentacle released, thighs slippery and shiny. The anticipation in your chest swells, pushes against your rib cage until you’re afraid it’ll break. The little markings beneath his eyes flash and suddenly it’s gone, replaced with a sense of comfort that only doubles when he flashes you a tiny smile.

The first press of his cock makes your back arch, has you knocking every throw pillow off the couch as he slowly eases his way in. “Oh god—“ you sob, the sudden intrusion being questioned by every muscle in your body. Immediately, two of his tentacles snap forward, release their soft grip on your neck and their wrap around your breasts to caress up your sides, smooth ends practically kissing your skin with their soft nudges. 

They by no means lessen the pain, but their butterfly touches are a nice distraction that tickles your skin, makes you whimper softly as Jungkook slowly sinks into you. 

Jungkook ducks over you, tip of his nose against yours. “Breathe for me,” he instructs, even though his breath is labored against yours. One appendage cups your cheek, curls softly around your ear to hold your head still— you feel so spoiled with all the attention. You make an effort, breathe in swiftly through your nose as Jungkook pushes in deeper.

Slowly, the discomfort fades away. It melts and in its wake you’re left with a dull numbing sensation that starts in your toes and magnifies as it reaches your ears. It grows until the weight of his cock inside of you has you drooling, eyes unfocused as you watch Jungkook push himself to the hilt, the ridges of the tentacle wrapped around his cock making you jolt with every push. 

At the same time as his cock thrusts inside of you, a sneaky little thing continues it’s dance between your cheeks, pokes and kisses at your hole like it’s testing you. It is, really, because you've never had anything up your ass before— up until a few moments ago, you had barely had anything in your pussy. 

This was your first time, yet two seperate holes were begging to be filled, clenching tightly at Jungkook kisses along your chest, hands wound beneath the small of your back. The playful tentacle near your behind does just that— plays until you gently reach back for it, trembling hands giving it the go ahead it needs to finally plunge itself within you. Like an excited little being, it flutters against your hand a soft, kiss-like press against your palm before returning to its favored spot. 

It chooses the perfect moment to press in, takes advantage of Jungkook’s first few slow thrusts to slip its way inside. A loud moan tears itself from your throat, and Jungkook joins along. “I-I’m sorry,” he pants, mouth against yours. “I-I just want to feel you.”

You shake him off, body twitching from the utter fullness you felt, the weight in between your folds and your ass that moves in opposing strokes. His cock, wrapped in those bulging ridges, pushes in just as the tentacle in your rear pulls out, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper and sob. 

It feels good, amazing even, and you almost can’t believe it’s happening. Jungkook’s lips slot against yours, slow and lazy as he lets your body grow familiar with the stretch. He kisses you until the cat-like grip you have on his shoulders weakens, replaced with wandering hands that trail down his spine. The base of his spine where his protrusions appear is unique, makes him buck against you when you wrap your hands around one appendage.

“S-Sensitive,” he says as an apology, never mind the fact you want him desperately to fuck into you like that again. You voice such thoughts and Jungkook groans against your skin. “Really?” He chokes out, “I can move?”

One nod and then he’s off, for real this time. 

He’s slow at first, like he’s hesitant about hurting you, but you tuck one leg around him, pull him closer until he’s forced deeper inside of you, and from there everything is a downward spiral. You forget Jungkook of Sixam is superior for more than just one reason, harsh reminder given in the strong snap of his hips that would have otherwise sent you flying off the couch if that same strength wasn’t channeled into the arms he held you with. 

You reach for his hair, desperate to feel that comforting silk between your fingers, but then there’s something wrapping around your wrists. It pins your hands down, twists around your wrists twice before snaking up and curling along your fingers. Like it wants to hold your hand, wants to fill the spaces for Jungkook. The thought makes you burn, insides a boiling mess as he fucks into you, hands held down above your head.

“Jungkook,” you sob, squirming in his hold. It’s like whenever you move, there’s something there, holding you down or fucking you senseless. He responds with a grunt, roughly thrusting into you over and over until all you can manage is a series of hiccups. 

The ridges around his cock, the added thickness lended to him by his extra appendage, has every shove past your lips sending tingles like an ascending xylophone shooting throughout your body. The rhythmic stretches make you huff like a dog against him, brain fuzzy and overwhelmed. 

At the same time as he delivers killer grind after grind, another arm, the one that had been left out of the fray, slithers around your chest, looping twice around your frame and caging your breasts between them. Like bondage, except it’s Jungkook’s own body holding you down. 

You don’t think about the absurdity of it too much, couldn’t anyway. Your brain is a scrambled mess of Jungkook’s lips and incandescent eyes, lost in the purple galaxies and stars he holds, slowly slipping away from reality with each brutal thrust he gives. His name tumbles from your lips, and yours from his. He holds you like you’ll slip away, sweaty skin pulling you impossibly closer with each roll of his hips.

The thick appendage buried within your ass makes you squirm. It’s a tight fit, one you don’t get too stuck on because for every reprieve from its maniac thrusts you are met with the equally ferocious slam of Jungkook’s cock. So it stays in the back of your mind, this curling tentacle that stretches the tight rim of your ass apart. 

You were stuffed to the brim, eyes rolling back as you struggled to keep up. A soft brush along your jawline makes you gasp, before your mouth is tentatively filled with something soft and pulsing. Oh, you would die, you think, mindlessly sucking around the tentacle squeezed between your lips. It fattens in your mouth, pushes roughly against your tongue in rhythm with Jungkook’s cock. You cough, gag even, but it doesn’t move away. It drips a thick substance down your throat, disgustingly sweet. 

“Please, please,” he pants, quiet and lost among your own higher-pitched moans. Your leg hikes itself further up, accidentally brushes at the base of where two of his tentacles protrude, and Jungkook jolts against you. His cock presses so deep into your walls, you swear you feel him kiss your cervix. “__,” he pants, tongue lapping at the skin of your neck, picking up the sweat and replacing it with his thick saliva. “Be mine, please.”

Your heart pounds with the beat of a marching band's pace, loud thundering that competes against the slapping of Jungkook’s skin against yours. You whimper around the weight in your mouth, the idea he places in your head only fueling that lifelong dream of yours. Your grip around the appendages that hold your wrists down tightens, its faint heartbeat-like pulse felt between your fingers. 

“Let me be yours,” Jungkook moans, pulls out once only to slam his cock past your folds, hold himself there as your brain scrambles to rewire itself. As he says this, your mouth is freed, saliva and that sticky wet substance sloppily splattering across your lips and chin at the rather harsh exit. “And you will be mine.”

“Yes, yes!” you choke, dribbling drool down your chin.

It ends too soon.

Jungkook reaches a hand down, thumb feeling for your clit, but he’s pressed so tightly against you, it takes a second before the rough pad makes contact. That simple swipe, one half circle, is enough to make you unravel. “J-Jungkook,” you wail, biting down against his shoulder, “I’m—“

Your orgasm swallows you whole, his tentacle in your ass joining alongside you. It bursts inside of you, makes your ass leak with cum when it finally pulls out. 

“I’ve got you,” he shudders, stills when your pussy clenches down around him, creamy pleasure dripping down around his cock. Your cries fill the air, body falling slack against the couch as you struggle to recover. Your head is a foggy mess, clouded by the slow snap of Jungkook’s hips as he reaches his arousal. Each push against your folds feels even more intense now, overstimulated walls fluttering wildly around him as his cock slips in. 

His body stiffens and he swiftly pulls out, every ridge of his cock sucked back by your pussy, and when he finally frees himself— from your clenching walls and his tightly-gripping tentacle—he spills over your abdomen. Sticky and pink, like the strawberry lube you keep in your drawer, except its come out of Jungkook as a result of your rump in the sheets. 

As quickly as his body locked up, it slumps just as fast, heavy muscles and long limbs crashing down over you before you can react. 

“Jungkook—“

The sun shines in through the front window, wakes him from his slumber slowly and then all at once. He accidentally shifts into a patch of sunshine, the blinding light irritating his eyes until Jungkook is forced awake. His body aches but has never felt better, a weird sense of relaxation flooding his senses. For a moment, he is confused.

Eyes scan over the room, purple irises carefully calculating every bit of information until he catches sight of Smilodon’s furry tail and the memories of last night come swarming back in. He sits up quickly, whirling around for any glimpse of you, only to find you’re nowhere in sigh—

“Morning.” A small hand atop of his head, fingers stroking against his scalp. Instantly, Jungkook melts into the touch. 

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where you get to work making the usual breakfast for you and Jungkook. He watches you from the couch, naked beneath the blanket you’ve so graciously covered him with. The sun leaks into the kitchen, paints you in soft shades of orange as you amble around the area. 

The scent of hot cocoa fills the air, calling him to the space behind you after he dresses. “Good morning,” he says shyly, presses a kiss against your shoulder. Hesitantly, he lets his hands slide around your waist, lock over your navel. You don’t push him away, simply pat the side of his head as Jungkook snuggles into you. 

You don’t speak about last night and neither does he. You eat eggs for breakfast and Jungkook playfully knocks his foot against yours beneath the table. “Don’t play footsies with me,” you laugh. Jungkook quite likes footsies. 

Morning chores are skipped, pushed off in favor of sitting in front of the couch. You sit beside him, flush against his side, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The projection box tells him about the weather, says something about a stock market, but other than that, it is relatively quiet. 

There is no mission to complete, no tradition to uphold. It is just Jungkook in this new and not as scary world. The mailman always visits, and Smilodon shows his face every now and then. It is a routine he adores, but not as much as the Human at his side.

He doesn’t remember taking his headpiece off until it beeps from its spot on the coffee table, three distinctive chirps that signal an incoming call from the Higher Sixamian Court.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[alula-fujotings]

Failing Student!Asta x Tutor!Yuno [2/?]

If it weren’t Asta’s stupidity, Yuno would dislike him for his (lack of) fashion sense alone. “You’re doomed.”



Yuno has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Asta loses his balance and nearly topples over backward. It’s only his reflexes as an athlete that save him from plummeting to the ground at the last possible second. It’s impressive as it is funny, and Yuno must let a scoff lose because those green eyes immediately zero in on him, thin lips quirked in a smile. “Really?”



The back of Yuno’s neck heats at the undivided attention but clears his throat, straightening his shoulders. “Be honest, you have no idea what’s going on in this class.”



Asta, to his credit, still smiles that wide smile that’s all teeth (that are surprisingly white) and replies, “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, yeah?”



It’s really not funny, but Yuno finds himself biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood to prevent the laugh that’s dying to escape. He’s really an imbecile!



As if proving Yuno’s taunting thoughts right, Asta again leans back on his chair legs. “If you wanna laugh, you should; it was funny! Plus,” he lands firmly back on all four chair legs and squints slightly at Yuno’s face, “you look constipated trying to hold it in.”



Any mirth he harbors evaporates at the insult and Yuno clears his throat. I don’t even need the money that badly.. “Well, Mr. Hildebrand, it’s clear that your complete lack of knowledge can’t be rectified in a week.” He returns the study sheet a little too aggressively back at Asta, but he doesn’t care. This isn’t my problem anymore. “Say goodbye to the championships this year.” He gathers all his tutoring materials, ignoring Asta’s sputtering and gawking. “You’re a junior, right? You always have next year.”

Yuno shoulders his laptop bag and shrugs on his sweater. “It’s been…a time, Asta. Good luck.”

He makes it all the way to the reference desk in the main lobby of the library before a calloused hand grabs at his wrist, effortlessly spinning him around. Standing, Asta seems even shorter compared to him, though he’s sure he’s only six to seven inches taller. Yuno feels his eyebrows lift and he snatches his arm back. Or tries to, but Asta’s hold is strong, and his arm smarts. 

“Let go,” Yuno snaps, looking pointedly at Asta’s grip on his wrist.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Personality/random headcanons for the boys:

David:

The biggest asshole on the entire planet

But is simultaneously such a fucking hopeless romantic

Basically a bisexual disaster

One of those guys that is simultaneously a narcissist and insecure at the same time

Is the most mean out of all the boys, and fucks with people for fun

He's the type of mean where you can't always tell if he's making fun of you or not- and that's why he's the meanest

Is the leader simply because he said so (also, because he's that one friend in the group that can actually come up with things to do)

He's also the only one with a sense of direction so he defaults as the navigator

Cares a little too much about his reputation

He's an immortal that's obsessed with history and even though he's a 'young' immortal, his amount of knowledge makes him seem older

Is definitely an extravert

Doesn't believe in having a "best" friend and he insists all the boys are his bestfriend- is actually unfortunately the type of person to put "hoes before bros" so his s/o is his bestfriend

Though, he is very protective of all of them and always willing to throw hands for his boys

Marko:

Angry White Boy™

Would punch a hole in a wall

A gremlin that doesn't care about keeping vampirism a secret because aNGRY-

A wild-card that probably does dumb things just cause why not

Thinks creeping people out is fun (exhibit a: purposely says "hi/goodbye michael" just to fuck with him)

Probably the best fighter ngl and if they had killed any of the other boys in the cave, the ending would've gone differently you cannot change my mind

Least able to control his emotions and impulses which leads to fighting or collecting any animal he sees

Is actually an introvert, just has a very loud sense of style- hence why he is super selective with who he talks to and seems to latch onto the two extraverts of the group (David and Paul)

Very crafty, can at least sew

One of the most sadistic- low-key kinda mean. If he doesn't like you, he'll rip you to shreds with just his words and considering he doesn't talk much? It hurts worse when that's what he has to say

David is his second best-friend and that's because he and David have similar flaws- also, cause David's an extravert like Paul so all he really has to do with David is just listen to him monologue

Paul:

Is a himbo

Too dumb to be purposely mean, sometimes it just comes out like that

He just wants to have a funky, chill time so he prefers to avoid fights and confrontation- tries to keep the peace and just goes with the flow

Has definitely said "I'm a lover, not a fighter" at one point in his life

Hard to piss him off, but he can't control himself when he does get pissed (either gets bitey or will cry)

He's a hoe and would definitely catcall someone I'm sorry- he's used to getting slapped at this point because he has a big fucking mouth

Y'know how Motley Crue was in the 80s? Yeah, he'd probably be really good friends with them (for better or for worse)

Can't lie for shit, hence why he literally tells Michael "you're one of us, bud" and probably would've elaborated if Michael had asked

Has poor impulse control but he's more of a talker than a do-er so it seems like his impulse control is better

He's definitely the funny one of the group and he does his best to keep things light

He's very enthusiastic about the fashion changes over the past 80 years or so, and has gotten slapped/punched because he's gotten caught staring or, worse, cause he whistled

He was the last of the boys to learn how to read/write and was only convinced because Marko told him that you can't woo chicks/dudes/peeps with poems/songs if you can't write them down

Considers Marko his best friend and doesn't keep track after that

Dwayne

Is one of the best fighters, but he prefers not to (unless it's for cash)

Which is ironic considering that he's a communist, but Dwayne is definitely not against taking money from assholes (calls it "redistributing the wealth")

Is also an introvert, which is why we only really see him interact with David or Paul separately

Likes kids which is why he immediately knocks Michael out but only really messes with Sam (also why he takes care of Laddie)

Drinks the most Respect Women™ juice out of all of them

Talks the least but has the most opinions out of all of them- and his opinions are actually supported with facts unlike some of them

So while he's not the meanest, it hurts the most cause his reasons for not liking you are based on logic and things you did wrong

His biggest flaw is that nobody knows what's going on with him ever. He's completely unpredictable and slightly unhinged but he hides it by being super quiet

Has common sense but chooses to ignore it for the sake of having fun with the Boys™

He's the best liar and he gets out of shit constantly- is definitely the type of guy to break something at the cave and let the other three argue about who broke it while none of them suspect it was him

Is the biggest bastard out of all of them because he actively chooses to be wild and bastard-like while the others are just guided by impulse, lack of brain cells, and the need to prove a point

Arguing with him is impossible because he either does everything to de-escalate it or he's right. It's incredibly infuriating

His bestfriend position is still open

[everything-laito]

if I don’t have tendinitis by the end of writing this series, I am officially immortal. anyways here’s the long awaited Laito and Cordelia analysis: Part I

Hi, Corn here! Holy shit I’ve been wanting to write this for forever now; idk how long this series will be but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I’m gonna wing it.

Lemme get something REAL clear before I begin. Because for some fucking reason I still see people trying to say that Cordelia did not molest/rape/etc Laito. Cuz she did. It’s called grooming and manipulation, sweetie. And I’ll explain that too. 

Also, I’m not defending or justifying Cordelia’s actions (there’s a difference between explaining why something happens and defending it. For example, we know racism is harmful and awful, but explaining what it is and why it happens isn’t defending it). I also don’t defend Laito’s nonconsensual or abusive actions either on here, I also wanna clarify that. I just merely explain his theorized rationale and psyche.

God I don’t even know where to start, or where this is exactly going to end, but my god, time to pop off. I’m going to divide this into sections as well. 

Also I think this is usually a given with all the Laito stuff I put on here, but, spoilers ahead! And trigger warnings galore! Pedophilia/rape/abuse/grooming/depression/anxiety are the ones I can think of now, but all of those are really a given on this blog. Just wanna emphasize it because I’m gonna go deep into em. 

As always,,,,, rant under the cut~!

Section 1: Before the Storm (insert Life is Strange joke here)

There’s quite a bit of back and forth about where Cordelia started doing this. I just finished Dark Fate and the conversation between the triplets caught my eye. Laito mentions in his Dark Fate Ecstacy Epilogue that implies Cordelia wasn’t abusive at first. It’s revealed how Karlheinz used Cordelia just for his Adam and Eve experiment to create a new human race, which is why he blatantly ignores her after courting her and making her have kids that she didn’t even wanna have. Which is. Yikes. I’d say that’s a form of coercive pregnancy abuse.

The conversation turns to Laito who then says that Cordelia lost her mind due to of sexual frustration and then hurt the triplets. Sexual frustration is a real and common thing, but I’m gonna explain the potential logistics of this being turned into abuse. 

Sexual frustration in general can be described as a sense of “dissatisfaction stemming from a discrepancy between a person’s desired and achieved sexual activity” (source). I know it’s from Wikipedia but the phrasing of that definition is just too perfect. (also Wikipedia’s good just to get the basics from ;) ) Sexual frustration can happen from physical, mental, emotional, social, religious, or spiritual barriers. Everyone has some kind of ideal sexual activity, whether it be innate and or learned (like getting used to sexual acts over time, whether that be from a traumatic or consensual experience). However, I can safely say that Cordelia has high libido, regardless of the reason. 

Oxytocin, my absolute favorite hormone to talk about, is huge in this case. Touch starvation (what I’d say most of us are going through now because of quarantine) also depends on oxytocin level. We’re social creatures, and we need touch in some way. Having sexual needs is also not a thing to be shameful of (if you do have them), since that is also very human and very biological. Oxytocin is needed for so many things! From social bonding, sexual bonding, reproduction in general, and general emotional wellbeing. Everyone has different levels of oxytocin needs. With a lack of oxytocin, whether it causes sexual frustration or touch starvation (or both), it can create fear, anxiety, and or depression. This has to do with my favorite part of the brain, the amygdala. It’s this lil almond shaped part (hence, amygdala, which is Latin for “almond”) is responsible for empathy, your fight and flight response, as well as SO many other things. I’ll talk more about the amygdala later, because I’m getting off track. 

Back to the logistics of oxytocin deficiency and abuse. Basically, I didn’t initially think that touch starvation or sexual frustration could get so bad that someone would resort to abuse. Haven’t found anything that supports that either. However, since it is linked to depression and stress, I do believe Cordelia would have other underlying psychological issues that made her response to depression and stress just so much worse. It’s kind of obvious that Karlheinz absurd her, and when someone goes through a traumatic episode, there’s different coping mechanisms or different emotions are triggered. Maybe even before Karlheinz she had issues, but we will never know. I just know that Cordelia seems susceptible to some kind of manic episodes, such as mood swings and intense behaviors. 

Dark Fate confirms that Karlheinz most likely used this, and used Cordelia due to her Founder blood and that her psyche was “optimal” to eventually have the triplets kill her. Karl can see the future and past etc, I believe that was confirmed in Lost Eden too. Anyways, all of this paves the way to what Cordelia did to the triplets.

Section 2: The Beginning

There’s been quite a bit of back and forth between when did Cordelia start sexually abusing Laito? We know that Kanato and Ayato were abused when they were young, but there’s no flashbacks in Laito’s routes that depicts him being a child (to my knowledge). Not saying Laito wasn’t abused when he was a child, but I can assure you that the first time Cordelia had explicit sex with Laito was when he was older. 

Special thanks to @vampiretsuki​ and @amiecris​ for helping me think this through on Zara’s server! 

There hasn’t been any flashbacks that specifically show us the first time that happened. However, I believe that there was a flashback in HDB that shows one of the first times. Here’s a scene from Laito’s Dark Epilogue:

Cordelia: ー Laito…Laito… Laito: …Hm? Is something the matter? Cordelia: I have a favor to ask. It just isn’t enough. You can do it, right Laito? Laito: You really are something…So that’s why you came to me again? Cordelia: Fufufu…That’s right, Laito. Come on, quickly… Laito: …Guess it can’t be helped. I’ll love you plenty. Cordelia: Aah…My cute Laito~ I love you. I really do. Laito: I can do it…right? Cordelia: Of course, Laito. Now, quickly…

First of all, ew. Second of all, Laito’s diction implies that this was maybe the second or third time this occurred. He asks a question, and ends it with “again.” We know by this that it is not the first time, but the question also means that Laito might not have expected to occur again. His tone also implies some surprise to it, at least in my ears. His other question, “I can do it, right?” screams hesitance to me. If this scene took place down the line, or after many times he did this with Cordelia, I don’t believe he’d be some level of surprised or hesitance. 

Now, you may be thinking, “Oh! What about Ayato and Laito’s Versus II CD?! Didn’t it mention that Laito wasn’t in the triplet’s shared bed 9/10 times?!” And yeah, if you remembered that, kudos to you! Yes, you’re totally right. I thought this was some inconsistent writing, but I don’t believe so. I believe Cordelia was grooming Laito as a kid. For some reason, grooming never came to my mind, it was Tsuki who mentioned grooming, and Cris also backed that notion up. It’s not confirmed if Cordelia planned to do this to Laito in the beginning (which I doubt, I think she sexually exploited him on a whim due to sexual frustration and because Karl wouldn’t; and the suitors she had wasn’t “enough” for her) but I think it’s implied that it happened (from the earlier excerpt). As for grooming, here’s an excerpt from the VS II CD:

Ayato: You weren’t even there 9 out of the 10 times. Laito: So you knew, Ayato-kun. Ayato: … Laito: You know, I have been thinking how I came to be the person I am today. I am still wondering why wasn’t it Ayato-kun or Kanato-kun.

God that’s so SAAAD! This is why Laito being groomed from a young age would make sense. It would also make sense as to why he was so dismissive and hesitant to help Ayato out. In Ayato’s flashbacks, Laito is there, but doesn’t interfere when Cordelia gets into the picture. Laito tends to run away from his problems, and this manifests even when he’s a kid. To further the support of the claim, it’s definitely not farfetched that Cordelia would do something to a child, especially her own child. She used Kanato for his singing voice when she was having sex..... yikes. That’s another form of sexual exploitation. So uh, let’s dive right into see what grooming does,,,,, *opens another private window* Here’s the source I’ll be using too. 

Grooming is a process that is typically used to sexually exploit children. Ewewewewewewew. It can be a quick or gradual process. It’s basically harnessing the trust in children utilizing constant contact. There’s not much explicit evidence describing this with Cordelia, but if Laito wasn’t sexually exploited when he was younger in the fashion he was “used” to when he got older, again I do think he was groomed. It would make sense as to why he either avoided conflict with Cordelia as a child. Either that was his own disposition (which to a degree I think it is), or maybe he was confused about Cordelia’s actions towards his other brothers, since he “loved” Cordelia. Young Laito typically fell silent when Cordelia entered the room, which again could be because of his disposition, fear, or he knows not to say much in front of her. 

During the grooming process, a child can result in not being able to see coercion and deception. In general, kids 7 years old and under biologically are not able to differentiate persuasion from their own decisions, which results in the laws surrounding advertisements catering to children. Fun fact. I know we’re dealing with vampires and so their brains might not work like that, but from what I’ve seen, they’re pretty human. Also, we’re still not sure about their ages or how vampire biological ages work, but bear with me on this. 

Another stage of grooming involves cutting off the child’s support system, whether it be family, friends, etc. I made a comment in an analysis that Laito doesn’t have a support system, and at the very least, his brothers. But even that is pretty weak. You know how it’s mentioned how Laito wasn’t even in bed with Ayato and Kanato most of the time? That’s probably due to Cordelia weakening Laito’s bonds with them. Furthermore, on the website I’m using to get information from, it says this:

Control and alienation is exercised in the following ways:

[more bullet points here]

- creating conflicting feelings of love and hate, protection and exploitation, guilt and innocence, entitlements and duties.

OOOOOHHHHHH BBBBBOOOOOYYYYYY!!!!! Ayato and Kanato say that they fucking hate Cordelia. But... Laito’s the only one that says he “loves” her. He also says that he hates her. So, from this, I think it might be safe to say that Cordelia groomed Laito as a child, and continued to use those tactics when he was older.

Well, I’m gonna end it here for part one. That was quite the ride, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! Next part, we’ll be getting into Laito when he’s older and the effects it had on him, along with some other crazy dark sides of psychology. I still won’t be answering many of my inbox questions until this huge analysis is finished, sorry! I kinda wanna focus on this first. But feel free to hit me up with any questions! I’ll still get to them :)

Any Cordelia/Laito questions will most likely be answered in this series, just a heads up. But if you have any questions pertaining to Cordelia/Laito right now or after the series, feel free to hit me up still! Any clarifying questions for this post or anything in general are always encouraged as well if you’re confused or want me to elaborate on something :)

Part two is planned to be up next week! See ya then ;) -Corn