#finally posted one of the requests !!

[butteronabun]

diluc + EXES EXES EXES PLEASE (HIIII butter on a bun ^_^ i will Enable you because i have a playlist for him dedicated to this shit) + canon/modern au, etc — pick whatever YOU were thinking writing the request post + spin the wheel and pick a genre~ again, this request is an excuse to hear YOUR thoughts (i have some of my own)

extra: pick whether you want it to be she/her or g/n~ i’m fine with both 🫶

sincerely, 🥩 (who missed you and hasn’t caught up with recent posts bc i was busy </3)

wish that i had more of this borrowed time

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader exes au.

overview: diluc’s heart is his greatest foe.

wc: 3.2k

notes: originally this was 5k words but that was so much & i didn’t want to complicate this more so TAKE IT 😙 this is also a bit open-ended so feel free to interpret this however you like!! also, additional notes will be in the end, so better check that out too :)

“You’re going to break that glass, Master Diluc,” remarks Kaeya Alberich himself, who is this close to purchasing popcorn to watch the ‘drama’ that he has been observing for a while now. Weinlesefest truly has its wonders – fresh wine, good company, and a brother who definitely still isn’t over his ex, even if said brother continues to deny it. “You look under the weather. Why not take a breather and enjoy the sights? You have a loyal staff that’s willing to oversee the Angel’s Share stand for a while.”

Diluc’s cold, unwavering glare remains on that face of his. Kaeya’s almost certain that comparing his ice from his cryo vision with Diluc’s expression will have no difference at all. “I am doing fine, Master Kaeya.” He looks down at the glass he has wiped for—Kaeya guesses—the fifth time now, and picks up another one. 

“Really? But it’s becoming a little hot, Master Diluc. I’ve noticed that as the minutes pass by, the temperature of the stand has been concerningly rising as of late. Are you secretly heating up some tasty bar snacks, or is it something else?”

Kaeya suppresses a smirk when the warmth around them subdues momentarily. He has one theory that he’s sure is actually true—a theory where that ‘heat’ is coming from, and it’s definitely not the wind. 

It’s the ninth month of the calendar. Summer’s already over. So it’s safe to say that. . .

“Don’t you have other matters to tend to?” Diluc narrows his eyes at him. Oh, changing the subject now, aren’t we? “Surely, Cavalry Captains still have to scout the area for any potential threats during Weinlesefest, or have the knights really gone incompetent?”

“Oh, you. Everyone deserves to enjoy the festival every once in a while,” Kaeya raises his keg playfully. “And that includes even you.”

Diluc just grumbles at that. Still stubborn as always, but Kaeya remembers the day when the traveler told him a few years ago that Diluc, despite isolating himself during the previous festivals, reveled. (Reveled on his own, was what they clarified.) It’s a comforting thought that even such a busy man as himself can still enjoy these moments.

And Kaeya wishes he’d see it more. 

Diluc willingly taking charge of the Angel Share’s stand instead of Charles? How endearing. Is it really because he’s here for the celebration, or something else? 

(Kaeya—and he’s pretty sure, Diluc is, too—hears nearby footsteps. Familiar voices.)

Or someone else?

Whatever it is, Kaeya is fine with either. 

“Still baffles me that my suggested proposals got rejected— ah, we’re here. Oh, hi, Kaeya!” 

Kaeya sips his beer and smiles at you. “Hey.” And he watches it all unfold again. You smile back at him, before slowly turning to Diluc, who has never taken his eyes off of you ever since your arrival. 

You hide a lock of your hair behind your ear timidly. “Hi, Diluc.”

It’s really fascinating to see his brother still so soft with you. People may not notice this, but Kaeya knows Diluc best. “Good evening. What would you like tonight?”

“Ah – my company here—” you turn to the man beside you, a fellow colleague perhaps, and Kaeya seriously has to control himself from smirking. The area’s heating up again. “—would like to try some of the Fruits of the Festival that we’ve been hearing of. Is it still available?”

Diluc nods. “Yours?”

“I don’t want anything, actually—”

“Please, don’t do that,” The man calls out your name, and steps forward. The warmth’s growing. “If you think that you’re treating me tonight, then I’ll be treating you as well. Bartender, I’ll be ordering Wolfhook Juice for this lovely lady.”

The man winks at you, confident with himself, until Diluc breaks the flair by simply saying, “She’s allergic to that.”

Ah, this is great. Kaeya’s considering if he should bring Rosaria or even Lisa along for the drama. 

“W–wait, really? You’re allergic to Wolfhook?”

“Ah, D–Diluc—” As much as Kaeya relishes in dear Diluc’s jealousy, your expressions are also just as priceless. Speechless that his amazing brother still has one detail about you memorized? Pfft. Such is a man of great talent who has a knack for processing knowledge in such a short time. He’s a businessman, after all. It’s important to know a lot of things. “You still remember that?”

Diluc doesn’t reply to that question. Instead, he goes on preparing the drink with ease and in silence. Kaeya can feel the awkwardness in the air as they watch Diluc swiftly mix the ingredients, and the man accompanying you merely coughs to dissipate the tension.

“So, um,” The man starts, “I’ve heard that Starsnatch Cliff looks beautiful at this time of night. I was wondering if you’d like to stargaze with me?”

You seem sheepish. “Oh, I—”

There’s a loud thud, surprising everyone, except for Kaeya and Diluc themselves. Diluc has placed the glass in front of the man, face emotionless. “It’s late. Dangerous, even. I recommend that you postpone such a journey.” 

Kaeya hides his smile behind his keg. Oh, Diluc. Could you get even more obvious? He wishes to voice out that poor Klee and the other children might get scared because of his ‘grumpy face’ again, but it is late and they’re not here anymore, so it isn’t a valid reason to mention. 

Oh, the area’s hotter now. The man is visibly sweating under the intimidating man’s stare. “A–Ah, I see- t–thank you for that then, good sir—”

“Diluc, don’t scare him,” you scold him lightly, and take the glass. “And we’ll be fine, I have a vision.”

His stupid brother’s about to protest, and Kaeya readies himself for another session of ‘Diluc Facepalming Himself Because He Made A Fool of Himself In Front of his Ex’ when you add on:

“Though, Diluc’s right. It’s dangerous to go out right now since I’ve heard from the outriders that the concentration of hilichurl camps around that area is growing in size again. So we shouldn’t go.” You give the man his drink, and gesture him to an empty table. “And didn’t you tell me you’re tired already? Why not sit down for a while?”

Once you two are seated on a table that’s too far for Diluc’s liking, Kaeya sighs and shakes his head. Diluc glowers at him. “What?”

“Attentive as ever.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Diluc says as he crosses his arms.

“The least thing you could do is be attentive to her well–being, even though you’re not her lover anymore?” The temperature intensifies. Oops. Kaeya stepped on something he shouldn’t. But it’s always so fun to get on Diluc’s nerves. “Admit it, you still haven’t moved on.”

Diluc then retorts, “Is it so bad to care for an old friend?” “So that’s what you call her now?”

“Kaeya,” Diluc warns.

“Diluc~” Kaeya pleasantly sings. Then, his lips part into an ‘o.’ “My, I smell something burning. Are you really cooking something up?”

Kaeya doesn’t bat an eyelash on the slightly scorched bartop.

_

Diluc’s heart is his greatest foe.

He has too much love in his heart, and oftentimes, it causes him great anguish. 

He wanted to rip his heart out the night his father passed on. He wanted to stomp on it after causing Kaeya harm. 

And he wanted to abandon it, just like how you did.

“Let’s end this,” you told him one dinner, with your head dipped down, not wanting to meet his eyes. You trembled as you anticipated his response, but you didn’t get one. Diluc was left aghast. “This isn’t working for the both of us, Diluc.”

Such was the fate of a Ragnvindr who dedicated his time to protecting the city and thwarting the enemies that threatened his nation. Such is the fate of a Ragnvindr who occupied himself with the winery’s business ventures. 

Such was the fate of a Ragnvindr, who, despite having a big heart, had failed his lover. 

He wanted to say—maybe we could try again. I will be better this time. He knew he could solve this, if he could think of strategies to counterattack the abyss, or even keep his competitors on their toes with his new business plans, surely, he could remedy this. 

“I have too much on my plate. You have too much on yours. Let us end this before we affect each other.”

When your tears cascaded down your cheeks, Diluc wanted to wipe them away. But he couldn’t even move. Not even an inch. How could he, when his heart was being shattered to pieces? 

You had too much on your plate? Why didn’t you say anything? You know he’d always be here for you.

So why?

He wanted to say — then let’s face them together.

But you had other plans.

It was over. 

And he understood.

_

“How fortunate that our dear cutie decided to visit this year’s Weinlesefest,” Lisa says as she touches the petals of the cecilias. She’s here in Diluc’s garden. Lisa, for some reason, has the tendency to make unannounced visits. She smiles up at Diluc who’s observing her from the gazebo. “Don’t you feel the same way too, Diluc? That she’s here again, after almost two and a half years.”

Diluc crosses his arms. “I fail to understand why I’d have to voice out my opinions on the matter.”

“Ah, but didn’t you say something to Kaeya? Supposedly, shouldn’t you be happy that an ‘old friend’ came back?”

Diluc averts his gaze, and Lisa smiles even wider before tending back to the flowers.

“She favors these, don't they? Cecilia flowers.” Lisa sniffs one. This one smells very fresh. It’s as if all the flowers here are greatly taken care of. “Oh, this takes me back. I still recall how you and her first met. You two were so adorable! She used to chase you around, desperate for your attention. And despite your attempts to push her away, she still managed to win you over. Her blushing face was the absolute best when you gifted her a bouquet of cecilias. Really, who knew that you could get so romantic?”

Lisa lifts her head and fixates on the clouds. “She’s your first love, right? And you treasured her so.” She checks to see if Diluc’s still there, and he is. 

He’s still sulking like the baby he is.

“Diluc?”

Lisa can hear him murmur, but it’s not too audible for her ears to pick up. “I beg your pardon?”

“. . .her favorite.”

Lisa tilts her head. “Favorite?” 

“Cecilia flowers.” Diluc says. “They’re not her favorite.”

“Oh, my. So what’s her favorite, then?”

Diluc is reluctant. But he answers anyway. “Small lamp grass flowers.”

Oh, Lisa knows.

She just wanted to hear him say it.

_

No one knows how much Diluc has struggled during the first months of your breakup with him. 

He got moody, at times. Even slept in too much, which was surprising, because he wasn’t the type of person to sleep, not at all, when he had errands to run. He was a business owner by day, and a vigilante by night—he shouldn’t coop himself up inside his quarters all the time just to let his broken heart weep.

So even if those days, those weeks, those months, were nothing but unimaginable suffering – Diluc had to rise. Someone still had to face the darkness for the dawn.

The overseeing of the winery and the scouting of adversaries were great distractions to someone like him.

But he couldn’t deny the fact that whenever he was resting, or even had one moment of leisure, those thoughts canw creeping in. How were you? Where were you? Are you faring well? Do you still yearn for him, as much as he yearns for you?

Are you as ruined as he is?

Diluc didn’t expect that breakups could get this hard. He thought the drunkards in his taverns were over exaggerating it a bit too much because of the alcohol, but now, he could understand.

( He didn’t resort to alcoholism, though. )

He really tried to get over you. He really did. He really tried to forget. 

But how could he, when he cherished you so?

How could he, when his heart continuously ached for you? How could he, when he longed for you desperately after you left Mondstadt.

_

( ”There are plenty of fish in the sea. There are lots of daughters from various nations wanting to be your wife! Why not choose any of them, to fill that hole in your chest?”

The last time a patron told Master Diluc those exact words, he nearly banished them from his tavern. )

_

Moving on was not an option here, it seemed, when everything reminded Diluc of you. 

He saw you everywhere. You liked talking a lot, and he liked listening to you, even before you two were dating. Every experience, every anecdote, every musing, and every vent — he remembered it all. 

Diluc knew what type of coffee you liked. At first, you weren’t such a big fan of them, but you found one that suited your taste. ( “Just one cup is enough, though. Two or more will make me palpitate!” ) Pepperoni became your favorite pizza topping when you ate with Jean when she invited you for lunch out of gratitude. ( “Cheesy spinach is a close second!” ) You liked reading books and seemed to get lost in them a lot; you even excitedly discussed your reviews to him of the novels or pieces of information you’ve read. ( “Like can you believe it?! He had a twin brother all along!” or “Now I understand why you have such a big chair in your office! It’s because it signifies your status! ” )

You were so endearing. Diluc really, really loved every bit of you and made sure to give you the love that you deserved. He tried his best as he could to provide you with the affection that you needed.

Yet it still wasn’t enough.

Because if it did, Diluc would still be here at his dining table, reading his documents and sipping coffee with you. If it did, you’d still offer Diluc one slice of pepperoni or cheesy spinach pizza after your lunch with Jean. If it did, you would still bother him underneath the sheets until late hours into the night regarding the mundane and the interesting.

Move on, they said. They were all growing concerned.

Move on, a rational part of him also said. It was for his own good.

But he had always been stubborn.

_

( 

“Master Diluc’s single?! Again?”

“The most eligible bachelor’s throne is his once more.”

“Back off, even if the Master’s single, he won’t give you no heed. Just give up.”

“Come on, support me a little! I just want to give him a good time. Don’t you think I have a chance?”

“Not one bit, lass. Not one bit.” )

_

Weinlesefest is in full swing—

“Yet here you are, moping.” A green bard sits on the pier beside Diluc, who’s currently throwing rocks onto the surface of the water. “Master Diluc, shouldn’t you be out there and celebrate? Or did you choose to stay here because you haven’t scored a date?”

Diluc narrows his eyes at him curtly, before throwing another stone into the water. 

“A silent treatment for me, I see,” The bard strings his lyre, “But I have no worry, for you’ll answer me eventually.”

Diluc sighs. “She’s occupied as of the moment.”

“Oh~? I see that the tables have turned, then?”

Diluc scoffs. Of course he also knows about what had happened before. “Really. What’s your purpose for being here? And stop with your rhyming. It’s annoying me.”

The bard snickers. Stroke a chord it seems. “It’s the second to the last day of this festive event, and I’ve yet to see you participate. Minus the fact of taking care of the Angel Share’s stall, but you must at least do something that’s not related to work.”

“It’s in my blood to dedicate myself when it comes to work.” Diluc throws another stone. “I have no other choice, Venti.”

“Yet here you are, skipping stones?”

“Here I am, skipping stones.”

The bard sighs sadly. As he kicks his legs back and forth, he says - “Do you remember the Thousand-Wind Wine Razor made with the Traveler?”

“Of course. The barrel they used belongs to my winery.”

There’s another silence. Then Venti speaks again. “The wind is many things, you know. It can bring back the soul, and especially, preserve memories—you know of the fact that dandelion seeds are added last as a way of capturing the wind at the very moment when the barrel is sealed. Meaning, the memory of that ‘moment’ is stored in the wine, for all eternity.”

“And your point is?”

“Let yourself be happy this once.”

_

After the citizens of Mondstadt welcomed the Anemo God, they all felt the gentle breeze kissing their skin as he graciously made himself present into the wind. The children cheered, and the adults raised their cups for a toast. Everyone was having a splendid time.

“To the Anemo Archon!”

You, however, have just finished preparing for your departure back to Sumeru. After packing your belongings and making sure you didn’t leave anything in the inn, you had to go find your companion — who’s still probably busy trying out new drinks. 

You sigh at that, a little amused. You also resign to this fate. The journey to Sumeru will have to wait until later. Plus, you haven’t even properly said your goodbyes to the others, so, there’s that. 

A polite cough echoes behind you. You turn around, and your heart flutters at the sight of a familiar man. Diluc.

“May I request a bit of your time?” He asks, always so gently.

You’re pleased and surprised, of course - because it’s Diluc. Diluc, who’s obviously seeking you, even if he’s made clear that he’s occupied with duties of the winery. 

You want to humor him a little bit, so you snicker. “But what if I don’t want to?” You gesture to your satchel. “I’m preparing for my departure, you see.”

Diluc already knows that, doesn’t he? He doesn’t even react. “If that’s the case, then I respect your decision.”

Oh, that’s a bit disappointing. You kind of want to slap yourself for that. You should’ve just accepted Diluc’s request instead of pulling stuff like this. Why play hard to get, when Diluc’s already—

“But I beg of you,” Diluc adds, and you blink. There’s determination in his eyes, and your heart skips a beat when you notice that there’s also something else. “Before you leave. . . please, spend time with me. All it takes is just a short moment with you, and I’ll be content. I won’t ask for anything more.”

—making initiative, huh.

How can you say no to that?

You smile at him—a little bit too tenderly. “Alright then, Diluc.” You lift a hand, gesturing for him to take it. “Lead the way.”

supposedly this was seriously longer, it had more plot ( i indulged on this way too much when i was writing this but had to omit a lot of stuff because i was getting overboard + wanted to more focus on how diluc interacts with his ex / what he feels about his ex / what he felt without his ex asfghjfk also, here's one screenshot before i deleted this part; i wasn't rlly kidding that it had more substance and it was originally angsty:

anw. shoutout to my bestie who brainstormed with me abt ex diluc hcs it was so fun. lemme share to y'all what we talked abt: 1) we thought that diluc is the type of person who’d date to marry, 2) his heart is so so freaking loyal he'd still pine for his first love, and 3) he falls hard and is stupidly sentimental plus. if he did have an ex, the breakup will def bother / ruin / devastate him, especially when he loved that person sm :(

[achillean-knight]

Part 1 - Part 2 Here you go, the final part. This is for you, Anon's who requested the continuation of this JKHGDSHGS

[sweetieviktor]

viktor x librarian! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios) part 2

summary: even before your relationship, heimerdinger already knew you and viktor liked each other. now, he wants to help to bring you two together.

content warning: fluff!! and a bit of language towards the end :D (it was written with s1 viktor in mind!)

author notes: im here again with the viktor and librarian! reader hcs, but it was so cute and i couldn't turn down the anon who sended me the request!! i really liked to write this (i mean.... you can see how much i liked, its pretty big lol) and i hope you like it too! (i recommend you read the part 1 before this, bcs you wont might understand some stuff since its on the first. well, here's the link for part 1!)

» being a librarian near piltover’s academy means that every time a student needed some book or document you might have, they would come to you. even professors.

you’ve seen the doors opening, but you didn’t see anyone standing there. you thought that maybe it was the wind, but soon you heard a voice coming from behind the reception desk. “hey, down there!” looking down, you recognized the owner of the voice, professor cecil b. heimerdinger.

“oh, i’m sorry, didn’t see you in there!’’, you rubbed the back of your neck, nervous, afraid considering that you had one of the most important people of piltover inside the library you work in. “well, how could i help you?”, you offered him a polite smile and he offered one of his, fur twitching up around the corners of his mouth.

“oh, you see, maybe you do have some old stuff, like-”

» after this, whenever he needed something, he would find himself already walking to your library. he often recommended the establishment for his students and pupils, making it a spot for study dates and scientific discussions. now, it was even harder to take breaks, the place was more crowded than it ever was. oh, you just wanted to hear what heimerdinger was wanting to say, about what had been happening at the academy or, even better, at the council, but, obviously, only the non-confidential stuff.

when your lunch break hit, you were finally able to come meet the professor, a normal occurrence every week. you could see his small figure waving and smiling, seated and already waiting for you at the cafeteria he likes. “hi, friend! i’ve ordered the usual for us,” he said while adjusting himself on his seat, “my assistant and one of my students are working together on... something. it's revolutionary, i could say, but very dangerous. i’ve already advertised them about it but they insist on doing it anyway,” he sighed, tidying the ends of his furry moustache, “and my assistant, specifically, wants to know if you have some old materials that could possibly help them.”

“oh, of course! it’s always a pleasure to help piltover’s geniuses.”

» next week, he showed up with the said assistant, viktor, and it was love at first sight. he was gorgeous and intelligent too. oh, dear janna, he was the perfect kind of guy. you eyes didn't catch how he was less confident than how normally he is, or the way he smiled at you, of course you didn’t, it was the first time you’ve met each other, but professor knew you both well enough to know something was going on. and he was correct when he said viktor would come in there often, because, indeed, he did. way too often for someone who was meant to be just a customer.

» sometimes, heimerdinger would stay in the library, pretending to read some book, only to observe how you and viktor interacted around one another. it was crystal clear how you liked each other, but were rather afraid to confess your feelings, so the yordle made it his personal mission to help you two to get together.

» and when you first sorted and stored some books for viktor based on what he was reading these past days, it was when it hit him that he might be liking you. and later, once he reached the academy again, jayce and heimerdinger already were waiting for him in the lab, both of them noticing how tense he was as soon as he opened the door.

“viktor, my boy, what happened?” the yordle said, making up space on the couch so his assistant could sit by his side. which he did, leaving the books on the table and his cane near himself, often rotating it around its own axis, just so he could occupy his mind with something that wasn't you.

“it's nothing, professor,” but he knew viktor was lying. the way he played with his cane, or how he wasn't looking at their eyes, it all made him seem more and more suspicious.

jayce came closer, sitting at the edge of his rotating chair, touching viktor's shoulder lightly, “hey, if something is happening, you can count on us,” his eyes full of empathy, looking at his friend, “whatever it may be.”

soon, it clicked for heimerdinger. his assistant just came back from the library, he had books on his hands and was visibly shaken. of course! how could he forget about the librarian? “i might have a theory why he is like this, jayce,” he chuckled, leaving viktor flustered and jayce confused. he met jayce's curious gaze, his own smile bringing a smirk to his pupil's face.

“and what would be that theory?”, jayce asked, thinking about all the possibilities of what had happened to get viktor like that.

“he is in love, boy.”

jayce smirk grew to a smile, then this smile turned itself into a full laugh, shaking his whole body, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to recompose himself. “i can't believe it!”, he was trying to hold his laugh, while viktor looked at him, completely serious.

“then don't,” viktor said, giving his friend a death stare.

jayce took a deep breath, never wanting to see this look again on viktor's face, adjusting his posture and continuing, “tell me, who is the lucky one?”

“i don't want to say it.”

“please?”

“fine! ehhh... do you remember the libra-”

“HA! I KNEW IT WAS THEM!”, jayce shouted, throwing his hands in the air, celebrating.

» from this day on, jayce and heimerdinger often gave viktor advices on how to win over your heart (because they had a lot of love experiences before, obviously). one day, heimerdinger suggested for him to bring over some coffee and pastries for you while you were working, he even recommended the ones he knew you liked, the usual you ordered in the cafeteria on your lunch breaks with him.

» so your not-a-date happened. people were talking loudly on the streets, but not a single client in. the natural light coming from across the windows giving the whole place even more of a cozy feeling, the light breeze was getting colder but the coffee he brought for you was keeping you warm. there was soft music playing in the background – most clients liked it since it helped them to focus, or so they said –, but you couldn't concentrate since he was looking at you, stealing glances from in-between pages, admiring you while you pretended to read, just like him. little did he know your heart was already on his hands.

» after a particular day, where you finally confessed to one another, exchanging your firsts “i love you's”, you both started to be spotted together a lot, usually at library or, like now, at piltover’s academy, bringing your boyfriend resources useful for him and for jayce too.

you knocked on the lab's door, receiving an answer from the other side, a muffled “come in” from someone you assumed was jayce. you then opened the said door, greeting jayce quickly while you walked towards a desk, leaving everything upon it.

heimerdinger was near viktor's workbench, helping him solve an equation, both totally focused on their tasks. when the tiny creature noticed you, he immediately came to you, “oh, friend, you're here! what brought you in there?”

“i've invited them,” viktor said, putting his goggles over his forehead, reaching for his cane and standing up, leaning on it. “i wished my, ehhh, partner knew my work place. besides, they also got me the books we needed, right?”, you nodded your head, gesturing to the desk where the books were placed on.

heimerdinger looked at them, then to viktor, to you and back at him, “oh... so, now you're partners?”, heimerdinger raised his brows, tilting his head to the side, “well, i knew it would happen sometime. i mean, ever since i’ve seen you both together, i knew you would be together,” he smiled, his fur turning up, “oh, friend, one day, me and jayce realized why he was acting so weird around us, just after one of his visits to the library, it was because-”, heimerdinger was talking excitedly, gesturing with big motions until viktor cut him.

“oh, please, professor. stop it,” viktor said, walking up to you and standing by your side. redness was spreading over his cheeks and ears, “there's no need to share any of this.”

“but you were-”

“professor,” you called, looking at him with apologetic eyes, “sorry to interrupt you but my break is going to an end in-”, you looked at the lab's clock, “fifteen minutes, i must go now.” you've met heimerdinger and jayce with a goodbye, then, getting closer to viktor, tidying his hair and adjusting his goggles over it so it won't fall over his golden eyes again, “see you later, vik. i would like to hear about any stories you might want to tell me,” you kissed his cheek, happy on how he blushed even more after the little display of affection, walking away and leaving the lab.

“you are in love!”, jayce said in between a laugh, pointing towards viktor.

“fuck you.”

“language, boy!”

[good-beansdraws]

They made Alien Stage merch of the singers being treated inhumanely in Anakt Garden? ;__;

Milgram

I'm still reeling that they released such intense art as merch.... At the same time it's not like I'm complaining -- wanting to draw this with 0 hesitation only proved I am also not immune to "Let's put those guys in situations 👁👁"

Small descriptions of these scenes under the cut, then some overall au thoughts because this got my brain going...

Mahiru is always speaking of romance and her heart racing -- the aliens want to test just how fast she can go before "overheating."

Amane always enjoyed singing as part of a choir, but the aliens hope to isolate just her voice, and every piece of it, no matter how long she must stand and sing for them.

Kotoko is quick at improvisation in both her music and in a fight, so they wish to find out exactly what makes her tick in these different areas.

Fuuta's big mouth is what makes him stand out in Alien Stage -- they consider straightening his crooked teeth to make him more marketable before deciding on a fang.

Haruka has always been deceptively strong to the smaller members of Anakt Garden, so the aliens only analyze him in a state of weakness.

Mikoto struggles daily with the breathing and circulation issues from the lab, only allowing himself to break when the cameras are down.

I chose the assignments based on the pics themselves, and only afterwards started looking into the overall au -- compared to typical Milgram assignments, I feel like these made for some really interesting dynamics:

Mahiru meets the prodigy Amane in Anakt Garden and takes her under her wing. She obsesses over romance as a general idea, but it's mainly the vision of a complete, happy family that she's dreaming of. Therefore she's optimistic for a tie, and that the two can become a family at the end of Alien Stage -- until Round 1 stops all her dreams short.

Amane had always spoken of god and the universe, and the others find themselves finally listening only after she’s gone. (It mainly affects Mahiru, but I like the fact that Fuuta can still call her his god.) Mahiru reflects on their time together -- though Amane had a big heart, spending time with her caretakers often left her quiet and stoic. Mahiru remembers meeting her in her perfect, doll-frilled dress and vowing to take care of her.

Someone as strong-willed and rebellious as Kotoko has always hated how 03060809 play along with Alien Stage -- she is their self appointed enemy for aiding the aliens in killing other humans. Deep down, though, Mahiru’s shining light has given her hope. She can hardly admit to herself what strong feelings she's developed for Mahiru, much less tell her outright. She focuses all her efforts to fight aliens and corrupt humans til the end. She isn't afraid to smash guitars and throw some punches along the way.

At the same time, Kotoko has never noticed the person idolizing her in silence: Fuuta. Even when she lashes out at him, he's inspired by her strength and intensity. He can tell she doesn't feel the same toward him, so he keeps his growing, touchstarved crush a secret. He's also willing to fight the whole way, even finding a flaming escape opportunity for them as kids (to which Kotoko argues she isn't a coward, and needs to stay and fight.) It isn't until he sees his idol lose her fire that he finally stops and hands the win over. He gets in one violent, rash show of love before it's all extinguished in the rain.

Alongside them, Mikoto becomes a fan favorite to the public. The asthmatic with a gentle side and violently self-preserving one is a huge hit. (Something about Mikoto’s mvs being the most popular for a while.) He earns win after win, no matter the health and memory issues that haunt him. Any time a performance gets too risky, John takes matters into his own hands to make sure they come out on top.

Though it's harder for him to physically evoke Amane's relationship with Mahiru in round 5, he knows how to play into right lyrics: "make me your god, I can give you everything." It's easier for him to act as Fuuta, giving Kotoko a Deep Cover moment of guilt that she'd gotten him killed by fighting for the wrong things. In a twist of irony from canon, Kotoko says her final words in Mahiru’s arms, and Mahiru is the one left feeling responsible for the loss...

Back in their childhood, Haruka and Mikoto had found themselves outcasts together. Haruka was always afraid of Mikoto after witnessing his violence against the other children (I think it'd be weird to switch around victims so maybe it was both of their faults that Haruka’s suster died.) But at the same time, a part of him kept coming back and seeking Mikoto's attention because he admired him so much.

After being rescued from a disastrous Alien Stage round, the others in the resistance were taken in by Haruka’s innocent shyness. Regardless of his protests at poor public speaking, his heart earned him the spot of leader. He is willing throw himself in the path of danger to protect the people he cares about -- an admired trait until it actually does get him killed.

(And a bonus Yuno for Bones :D)

[weskie]

Revenge and Recovery (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

reader is injured, hurt/comfort, shared shower, established relationship | Fic Directory

He isn’t there when you wake.  The doctors don’t know what to tell you other than that he brought in the best of the best to ensure your recovery went as smoothly as possible.

Three days go by until you’re discharged with just aches and pains and a couple bandages over your healing gunshot wound.  Your assailants hadn’t wanted to kill you, clearly.  If they did, they’d have aimed better.  You were simply a message.

You’d half expected to find Wesker in his office, but something in your gut told you he was nowhere near home.  Probably worlds away, if you had to guess.

The first few days are the worst.  Waking up in fits of pain, sweating, breathing labored as you struggle to sit up to take more pain medication.  Silly you, letting the aches catch back up to you.  It’s difficult to do much of anything, but you persevere.  You take it day by day.

By the end of the week, you can lift your arms above your head without the stretch feeling as if you were ripping in two.  You have more energy to do the things you enjoy, so you spend your time inside Albert’s study, reclined on his couch as you scribble away in your sketchbook.  You feel most comfortable here since everything happened.  It’s like you’re surrounded by him, by the man you know would protect you with everything he has even if he isn’t necessarily there to do it.  You can only imagine the guilt he’s felt since you were attacked.  Not that it was his fault for being absent.  He’d been called away over a client attempting to back out of a deal and was attempting to rebuild the bridge to his dreams.  You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him.

The scratch of your pencil becomes like white noise as you fall into your drawing.  The more you think of Al, the more your work begins to shape itself into him.  The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the shimmer of his cat-like eyes.  You’re not the world’s most talented artist, but you’d dare to say you captured his likeness quite well by the time you’re nearly done.

“You’ve got my nose all wrong,” comes a voice from behind you, startling you to jump halfway out of your skin.  Your mostly healed injuries protest such sharp movements, but the recognition of that voice dulls every ache.  When you turn around, you don’t care at all how badly your body complains.  You throw yourself at him entirely.

“Al!” You gasp, tears welling in your eyes.  You squeeze him tightly, as if letting go would allow for him to fade away like smoke through your fingers.  His arms around you bring you back to earth.  They make you feel safer than ever.

It’s only as you relax that you notice something is off.  He smells… smokey.  There’s a hint of something else, and your eyes go wide when you finally pull away to look at him.

Soot stains mark his face, but not nearly as much as the dried, crusted blood does.  It’s all over him, practically from head to toe.  It stains his hair, coats his hands and forearms, the thickest areas of it crackle and chip along the folds of his clothes.

“You need never worry about them again, my dear.”  He murmurs, removing a stained glove to lift your chin between his bare thumb and forefinger.  “They’ve been put down like the feral creatures they are.”

You simply stare at him in wonder.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him stained in the blood of his victims, but it’s the first time it’s ever been for you.  You can only imagine what must have happened.  Perhaps he flew into a blind rage after getting you to safety and tracked down your assailants.  Or, worse, maybe he was entirely calm about it.

You imagine the latter would result in significantly more pain for the men who shot you.

The hands that hold you now likely ripped each of your attackers in two, pierced their flesh, tore the hearts from their bodies, but they hold you as though you’re no more than a delicate flower whose petals would fall away with a mere gust of wind.

He says nothing, but he does bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe you in.  After some time, you manage to tug him in the direction of the bathroom.  All you wanted was to snuggle him and feel safe while you drift off to sleep, but you wouldn’t dare let him end his day stained in the remains of those who’d wronged you.

The water no longer stings as it runs over your mostly healed wound.  A few stitches that hadn’t quite dissolved yet stick out in sporadic patterns, but it isn’t too terribly unsightly. Not that you think your sweet Albert would mind, knowing all that he’s seen in his line of work.  The cascade dribbles off his body and swirls pink at your feet, slithering down the drain.

He’s reluctant to let you wash him at first, but you swat his hands away from the shampoo bottle before he can even graze it.  This, of course, earns you a smirk and a chuckle.

“Really now?” 

Ever the gentleman, he leans down just enough for you to run your fingers through his hair without straining your injury.  The occasional patch of dried blood colors the suds the same shade as the rest had run.  You decide he needs another pass.  You can’t be too thorough, after all.

In return, he does all the same for you.  While he glides a washcloth over your body, his other hand ghosts the edges of your wound.  Wesker swallows, parts his lips as if to speak, but stumbles over his words.

“They… I made sure–” He pauses, jaw flexing.  “They suffered.” 

You know it’s killing him.  You knew it all along, but seeing it… Seeing it breaks your heart.  

“So did you…” You murmur, thumb stroking the edge of his jaw.  Wesker averts his eyes, hiding whatever reaction your words stir up, be it tears or simply the glow of his eyes dimming with sorrow.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart…”  If you’d only been stronger, faster, smarter, anything, the hurt on his face wouldn't be there.

There is precious little in this world he cares for.  Before you met him, Wesker seemed the type of man to disregard anyone and anything if it meant furthering his goals.  By some odd miracle, you became the exemption.  As you found yourself growing closer to him, a fondness the likes of which you’d never seen him express to anything appeared seemingly out of thin air.  One minute you were just another subordinate that he was, admittedly, strangely kind to, and the next you were the apple of his eye.

It doesn’t make the woe in his gaze any less painful.  Knowing what you mean to him makes it worse, actually.  That your life means that much, that your very existence is worth unmaking another’s…

“M’sorry I let you down…”

No sooner than the words leave your mouth is there a finger curled under your chin to redirect your gaze to his. “Impossible,” he rasps.  He leans down to press your foreheads together, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before releasing a shuddering breath.  “And you never will…”

For now, you two will bask in each other’s presence.  You’ll curl up together and revel in the momentary calm before your next inevitable storm. Such is the price you pay for the heart you call home.

[solacefish]

✎ File contents - Sebastian solace, Solo work. ( 500 )

⎙ Examination Results - Sebastian has always repeated advice to himself from a very young age, after all, he never thought there'd be a time it didn't stick to him. Unfortunately, time and a sense of yearning doesn't feed a growing hunger.

⌕ Research Gathered - Angst, Mentions of drink spiking, Vague suggestions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, Sebastian has some insecurities ( Not explicitly mentioned ), Claws cause blood, Loss of identity, Eating corpses mention, Probably dissociation.

sebastian had never been popular, familiar eyes had never racked along his own flesh in a mirror of his bedroom mirror and perceived as somebody to be liked. it wasn't that he hadn't done anything deserving of, he could solve a rubix cube in 7.3 minutes approximately, cut time off when his brother asked for help with his homework. he could judge a person's character within a moment of knowing them, if you hadn't counted the group of guys he once trusted too much with his drink.

he couldn't view himself as somebody people would glance at for more then a moment, he didn't wish to be normal - he didn't ever want to blend in. though it was safer, it had always been safer to stick with a crowd of people that will not even remember your name. save face, knock wood.

don't draw attention to yourself, sebastian. don't walk the wrong way in a hallway, sebastian. stay out of trouble, sebastian.

to keep his head down low, hands pressed firm against the surface of his desk when the night had gotten difficult. to figure to study would be an appropriate coping over the drawer beside his bed. to turn to writing for his future instead of letting frustrations of appearance and presentation out.

don't look at yourself in the mirror, sebastian. don't listen to your own voice for too long, sebastian. always keep a steady distraction, sebastian.

to pace back and forth about clothing that could make him blend, a closet of stuffed away outfits that he once adored. never show to the public eye, sebastian. don't let them know what you enjoy, sebastian. to chip the dark paint off his fingernails and to break a rule to look back at his own reflection, moon high in the sky and scissors in his hand to cut locks short.

you can't look unique, sebastian. you can't be yourself, sebastian. do not let them perceive you as your own person, sebastian. be them.

to flicked the light that rest just above his forehead, to clasp a hand with another to run them through grown out hair. to break rules, watch his reflection mist and wobble with the surface of tension that threatened to snap in his throat. to scribble on black to claws that did not belong to him, to yearn for the comfortable baggy clothing that used to be too big.

run, sebastian. help yourself, sebastian. let them view you as the human they stole from you, sebastian.

hand clutch a stomach tight enough for crimson on his palm. a lightheaded type hunger that threatened his entire body and form to split. the voice that didn't sound like his to emit from his throat, consistantly echoing back at him through vast concrete and glass walls. had it been making fun of him this whole time? was the unfamiliarity what made everything seem two in his eyes?

fight, sebastian. eat, sebastian. smell the blood in the air and the corpse outside your door, sebastian. close your eyes, sebastian. show who they made you into, sebastian.

[betweendyingstars]

Marylily with baby Harry

[peachixd]

~ 𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑰𝑫 18 𝑮𝑰𝑭𝑺𝑬𝑻 ~

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘺: @tsundere-queen

---------------------------------------------------

[pddngchi-artblog]

Quick drawing I did for Ande (tiny.sunshin.melon on IG!) with his sona and Ais from TOUCHSTARVED! You could never go wrong with “Love Like You” o7

Added commentary in the tags

[mono-socke]

part 2 to the trans fips story, this time ft. zeke and rhun

Zeke starrte perplex auf deren Fund, welchen dey gerade gemacht hat, im Bad des jüngsten der Brüder. Warum hatte er…?

Nachdem Klaus dey über mehrere Tagen hinweg so gut wie stündlich genervt hatte, dey sollte doch bitte mal nach Fips schauen, da dieser ihm seit einiger Zeit nicht mehr auf jegliche Art geantwortet hat, hatte Zeke schlussendlich nachgegeben.

Zwar hatte dey absolut keinerlei Interesse, was denn schon wieder für ein Streit zwischen deren Brüdern abging, da es dey auch nicht wirklich etwas anging, und hatte erst versucht Klaus zu überzeugen doch selber vorbeizuschauen, jedoch war dieser, laut eigener Aussage, zu sehr im Weihnachtsstress um sich Zeit dafür zu nehmen, und Rhun war ebenfalls zu beschäftigt, weshalb Zeke nun dazu verdonnert wurde.

Fauler Sack. So besorgt war er dann wieder auch nicht, was?

Eigentlich hätte Zeke auch nie zugestimmt, da dey normalerweise Besseres zu tun hatte, aber nach einer unnötig langen Diskussion gab dey schließlich nach. Warum auch die Zeit mit Klaus’ Dickköpfigkeit verschwenden? Es brachte doch eh nichts.

Genervt machte Zeke sich also spät in der Nacht auf den Weg zu dem jüngsten der Brüder. Wonach sollte dey überhaupt schauen? Ob Fips noch lebt? Bock darauf, ihn auszuquetschen, warum er sich nicht meldet, hatte Zeke jetzt nicht unbedingt. War schließlich auch nicht deren Angelegenheit. Dey selbst hatte sich in all den Jahren vielleicht ein oder zwei Mal bei Fips gemeldet, ihr Kontakt miteinander war schon immer etwas brüchig.

Dass Klaus sich regelmäßig bei ihm meldete, war für Zeke keine wirklich große Überraschung. Immerhin bekam dey selbst öfters Nachrichten von den Älteren. Und, ganz ehrlich, wenn Fips einfach aus Genervtheit nicht mehr antwortete, hätte Zeke ihn auch gut verstehen können.

Als dey bei Fips ankamen, lag dieser schon im Bett am Schlafen. Wenig verwunderlich, da es schon extrem spät in der Nacht war. Zeke beobachtete ihn eine kurze Zeit lang beim Schlafen, fragte sich erneut wonach dey überhaupt suchte, bevor dey mit den Schultern zuckte und den Raum verließ.

Jep. Lebt noch. Job erledigt.

Da Zeke ohnehin den langen Weg schon für sinnlos fand, dachte dey sich, dey könnte sich zumindest noch etwas zu essen mitnehmen. Jetzt, wo Zeke schon hier war. Damit es sich zumindest etwas lohnen würde.

Zu deren Enttäuschung, jedoch nicht Überraschung, war der Großteil, den dey fand einfach nur Karotten. Karotten und Instant Ramen. Was auch sonst? Wenig begeistert von den ganzen Möhren, begann Zeke die Regale nach etwas brauchbarem zu durchsuchen, passte dabei jedoch nicht ganz auf wo dey hingriff und ließ versehentlich ein paar Eier auf den Küchenboden fallen. Scheiße.

Das war jetzt nicht so geplant.

Fips hatte einiges an Chaos in seinem Haus, zumindest in letzter Zeit, da er noch nie unbedingt Meister der Ordnung war, und Zeke bezweifelte, es würde groß auffallen, wenn dey einfach wieder gegangen wären, jedoch wollte dey mal kein komplett rücksichtsloser Idiot sein. Zudem war es ja deren eigener Müll, und wenigsten den könnte Zeke schon wegräumen. Ausnahmsweise.

Also sah dey sich um, diesmal auf der Suche nach Tüchern zum aufwischen, doch etwas wie eine Küchenrolle fand dey nicht. Leicht genervt ging Zeke ins Bad, um dort die Suche nach Papiertüchern fortzusetzen. Doch erneut, Fehlanzeige.

Hatte der Typ denn ernsthaft nichts da? Kann doch nicht sein.

Auf die Idee, einfach Toilettenpapier zu nutzen, kam Zeke in dem Moment nicht, weshalb dey begann, jegliche Schubladen im Bad zu öffnen. Wirklich viel war in ihnen nicht, und der meiste Krimskrams weckte auch kein großes Interesse in deren. An einem anderen Tag hätte Zeke vielleicht aus Neugier sich alles genauer angeschaut, um möglicherweise etwas zum drüber lustig machen zu finden. Aber momentan war Zeke nur danach, einfach wieder zu verschwinden.

Eine Sache weckte jedoch schlussendlich doch deren Aufmerksamkeit. In einer der untersten Schubladen war nämlich im Grunde genommen nichts, außer einer Sache. Verbände. Und zwar einige.

Was? Wofür zum Teufel würde Fips denn Verbände brauchen? Geschweige denn, gleich so viele?

Wenn er sich irgendwie verletzt, konnte er sich doch wieder heilen? Komisch.

Sollte dey aber erstmal nicht weiter kümmern. War, immernoch, nicht deren Angelegenheit, weshalb Zeke extrem froh war, endlich Taschentücher zu finden, die Eier vom Boden zu wischen und abzuhauen.

----

Im Nachhinein schienen die ganzen Verbände Zeke doch etwas mehr zu verunsichern, als dey gerne zugegeben hätte. Denn gerade mal am nächsten Tag fing dey erneut an, den Sinn dieser zu hinterfragen.

Waren sie nur aus Prinzip da? Als Vorsichtsmaßnahme? Falls doch mal etwas passieren sollte?

Aber warum dann gleich so viele, als würde Fips sie regelrecht lagern. Als würde er sie regelmäßig brauchen und benutzen. Aber wofür?

Hatte er Verletzungen? Woher denn? Dey bezweifelte, dass es etwas in Fips’ Leben gab, von dem dieser lang anhaltende Verletzungen davontrug. Noch mal, wenn er verletzt war, konnte er sich doch selbst heilen.

Natürlich machte Zeke sich keine Sorgen oder so. Warum sollte dey auch? Vorallem nicht um Fips. Als ob. Und selbst wenn, was natürlich niemals der Fall sein wird, würde Zeke es nicht laut aussprechen.

Dass dey in der darauffolgenden Woche ab und zu nachts vorbeikam, war selbstverständlich ebenfalls rein zufällig. Nur um sicherzugehen, dass Fips gescheit schläft, und um deren Job zu erledigen. Reine Routine. Nicht um nach offensichtlichen, potenziellen Verletzungen oder Wunden zu schauen, die Fips möglicherweise haben könnte.

Welche er übrigens nicht hatte. Und das, obwohl der Verband trotzdem von Besuch zu Besuch weniger zu werden schien.

Was Zeke natürlich auch nur rein zufällig aufgefallen ist. Und nicht, weil dey jedes mal absichtlich nachsah. Das wäre ja absurd. Warum sollte es dey auch interessieren? Sorgen machte sich Zeke sicher nicht. Mm. Absolut nicht.

Das dey wenige Tage später Rhun einen Besuch abstatteten hatte ebenfalls nichts damit zu tun. Zeke wollte einfach nur mal wieder mit xier plaudern, wie es denn so bei Rhun läuft und wie es xier geht und so. Dass Fips dabei als Thema aufkam war zwar wirklich nicht geplant gewesen, doch lehnte Zeke es auch nicht ab.

Neben den üblichen kleinen Sticheleien und Witzen, erwähnte dey ganz nebenbei etwas über die Verbände die dey gefunden hatte, was von Rhun jedoch nicht ganz so lässig abgewunken wurde.

“Bandagen? Für welchen Zweck denn?”

Zeke zuckte nur mit den Schultern.

“Seh ich aus, als hätte ich ‘ne Ahnung? Was weiß ich denn, was der Hase wieder anstellt.”

Rhun rollte mit den Augen und schwieg für einen Moment, doch an xiers Gesichtsausdruck konnte Zeke erkennen, dass xier gerade ungefähr hundert mögliche Antworten durchging.

“Hat er irgendwelche Verletzungen?” fragte Minty plötzlich, und erst dann realisierten die beiden Brüder, dass sie scheinbar schon länger bei ihnen stand und mitgehört hat. Rhun starrte sie kurz grimmig an, als wollte xier ihr mitteilen, dass sie sich nicht einmischen sollte, schüttelte danach aber leicht den Kopf.

Minty ließ sich nicht von dem Blick abschrecken, sondern blieb weiter standhaft neben den beiden Wächtern stehen und überlegte wohl ebenfalls.

“Ist er trans?”

Zeke und Rhun tauschten beide sofort einen raschen, verwirrten Blick aus.

Ja, war er. Aber Minty konnte nichts davon wissen. Woher denn? Es war eins der Themen, die so gut wie nie thematisiert wurden, geschweige denn, vor anderen Leuten. Und die paar Male, die Fips sie getroffen hat, war es unwahrscheinlich, dass sie es von ihm weiß. Fips hatte es noch nie jemandem von sich aus erzählt, außer seinen Brüdern. Damals, im Kloster noch.

Und vorallem, warum spricht sie das ausgerechnet jetzt an? Weiß sie etwas darüber? Hatte sie eine Vermutung?

“Warum fragst du?” hakte Rhun nach und blickte sie an mit reiner Kuriosität und Neugier, allerdings auch mit leichtem Zögern. Misstrauen schon fast.

“Naja, viele Transmänner benutzen Verbände, um sie sich um die Brust zu wickeln. Damit diese flach wirkt. Ist aber extrem gefährlich,” erklärte Minty, ignorierte Rhuns Augen die sie immer noch durchbohrten und entweder tat sie nur so als bemerkte sie die Reaktionen der anderen nicht, oder sie bekam die ernsthafte Verwirrung wirklich nicht mit.

“Was weißt du darüber?” fragte Rhun erneut, diesmal schon etwas drängender. Als hätte das Wort ‘gefährlich’ etwas in xier ausgelöst, eine ganz neue Stufe der Neugier, allerdings war auch kaum merklich Sorge in xiers Blick. Zumindest soweit Zeke es beurteilen konnte.

Minty wirkte ein wenig perplex, woher denn dieses plötzliche Interesse von der Zahnfee kam, gab ihre Antwort jedoch relativ schnell. “Äh, also, wenn die Verbände zu eng sind, können sie einem das Atem erschweren oder sogar blockieren. Und die Haut an sich wird anfälliger für blaue Flecken oder Infektionen im schlimmsten Fall. Außerdem kann es sein, dass-”

Zu diesem Zeitpunkt hörte Zeke ihr schon nicht mehr zu. Dieses rücksichtslose Verhalten klang extrem nach Fips. Einfach zu handeln, ohne sich groß Gedanken über die Konsequenzen zu machen. Typisch.

Und obwohl Zeke gerne so getan hätte, als wäre es dey egal und einfach das Thema zu wechseln, konnte dey nicht leugnen, dass irgendein merkwürdiges Gefühl in deren aufkam. Warum würde Fips so etwas machen? Dass er häufiger unüberlegte und spontane Entscheidungen traf, die im Nachhinein extrem rücksichtslos waren, war nichts Neues.

Aber das war nicht unüberlegt. Wenn man den regelrechten Vorrat an Verbänden bedenkt, könnte man meinen, dass Fips das geplant haben muss, dass er das voll und ganz absichtlich tat.

Aber wieso? Warum würde er denn freiwillig seinen Körper so beschädigen? Und das auch noch wissentlich?

Zeke schüttelte den Kopf. Sollte Gedanken wollte dey gar nicht haben. Sollte Fips doch machen, was er will. Wird schon sehen, was er davon hat. Rhun schien ebenfalls in Gedanken versunken zu sein, da xier mehrfach von Minty gerufen werden musste, um auf sie zu reagieren.

“Zahnfee? Alles okay bei dir?”

Xier starrte sie für wenige Augenblicke wieder intensiv an, bevor Minty aufgefordert wurde, sich wieder um ihre Aufgaben zu kümmern, wobei sie natürlich schnell gehorchte und verschwand. Sobald sie wieder allein standen, beziehungsweise saßen in Zekes Fall, murmelte Rhun, “Ich muss mit ihm sprechen.”

Obwohl Zeke sich relativ sicher war, dass xier mehr mit sich selbst geredet hat, antwortete dey trotzdem. “Ach was. Um den Hasen musste dir doch keine Sorgen machen. Wer sagt denn, dass das was deine Helferin gesagt hat, überhaupt eintrifft?”

“Ob es der Fall ist oder nicht, die Möglichkeit besteht dennoch. Und wenn da wirklich etwas dran ist, bedeutet das nichts Gutes.”

Zeke rollte nur mit den Augen und ließ sich etwas weiter im Sessel zurücklehnen, was von deren Bruder mit einem weiteren, grimmigen Blick kommentiert wurde.

“Selbst wenn, der kann sich doch selbst heilen. Wo ist das Problem?”

“Das Problem, mein lieber Bruder, ist warum Fips das überhaupt macht. Es muss ja einen Grund geben. Nicht mal er ist so rücksichtslos.”

Den Witz der Zeke auf der Zunge lag, dass er vielleicht heimlich Masochist geworden ist, brachte dey lieber nicht. Einen Streit mit Rhun wollte dey jetzt nicht unbedingt erreichen.

“Ugh… Okayyyy. Was hast du vor?”

----

Als Fips aufwachte mitten in der Nacht, war es um ihn herum noch dunkel, bis auf das leichte Mondlicht, das durch eins der Fenster schien. Warum genau war er aufgewacht? Ausgeschlafen war er sicher nicht, da er sich vor gerade mal zwei oder drei Stunden hingelegt hatte. Es war auch nicht so, als hätte er einen Alptraum gehabt, der ihn vom Schlafen abhielt.

Es fühlte sich an, als hätte ihn etwas, oder jemand, absichtlich aus dem Schlaf gerissen.

Zwar wollte Fips einfach nur sich umdrehen und weiterschlafen, doch als er leise Geräusche, die wie Schritte klangen, knapp neben ihm hörte, öffnete er vorsichtig die Augen. Es war gerade so hell, dass seine Augen sich so gut wie direkt an die Helligkeit gewöhnten.

Das Erste was er sah, war das Gesicht eines seiner Brüder.

Zeke?!

“Was zum Fick?!”

Fips rutschte schnell weg von deren, und wäre Zeke nicht von sich aus direkt weg gesprungen, hätte Fips dey wahrscheinlich aus Reflex geschlagen.

“Dir auch guten Morgen,” meinte Zeke gelassen, wartete nicht einmal auf die Reaktion des Anderen bevor dey die Türklinke unterdrückte um die Tür zu öffnen.

“Was zum Teufel machst du hier?!” schrie Fips ihn fast an, immer noch verdattert und verwirrt. Seine Frage wurde gekonnt ignoriert, als Zeke sich schon bereit machte zu gehen. “Bin nur der Weck-Service. Viel Spaß euch,” antwortete dey, wobei der letzte Satz wohl an jemanden gerichtet war, der sich noch außerhalb von Fips' Sichtfeld befand.

Bevor er etwas erwidern konnte, war Zeke bereits verschwunden, und um die ganze Situation noch komischer zu machen, tauchte Rhun an deren Stelle auf.

“Und was machst du jetzt hier? Wollt ihr mich verarschen?” Langsam wurde Fips genervt. War das alles ein Traum? Schlief er noch? Was wollten die beiden denn jetzt von ihm? Dass Klaus ab und zu mal vorbeikam, ohne jeglichen Grund oder Ankündigung, war er schon gewohnt. Aber die zwei? Die meldeten sich doch sonst nie bei ihm.

“Auch schön dich wieder zu sehen,” sagte Rhun in kompletter Gelassenheit, und stellte sich neben das Bett, um den Anderen besser betrachten zu können.

Fips rollte nur mit den Augen. “Wenn das irgend ‘ne blöde Verarsche sein soll, hab ich da jetzt echt keinen Bock drauf.”

“Keine Verarsche. Keine Tricks. Ich wollte mit dir reden,” stellte Rhun fest, und bevor Fips widersprechen konnte holte xier etwas hinter xiers Rücken hervor. Verbände.

Wo zum Teufel hatte xier die her?? War xier seine Sachen durchgegangen? Was wollte xier damit? Oh fuck. Hatte Rhun etwas mitbekommen? Bitte nicht. Xier konnte doch eh nicht wissen, wofür er sie brauchte. Dann wiederum, was sollte er xier denn sagen? Wenn Rhun den Vorrat gesehen hat, wird xier ihm definitiv Fragen stellen. Oh Gott, nein.

Auch wenn Fips nichts sagte, um sein Erstaunen und seine Überraschung so gut es geht zu verbergen, konnte Rhun trotzdem die Bedeutung seiner geweiteten Augen deuten. Etwas so gut für seinen Geschmack. Rhun gab ihm einige Momente, um selbst ein Gespräch anzufangen oder eine Erklärung abzuliefern, an welchen Fips jedoch offensichtlich kein Interesse hatte.

“Wofür brauchst du die Bandagen?” fragte xier ruhig.

Fips gab seinem Brüder die erste Antwort die ihm einfiel, die auch einigermaßen logisch klang. “Wofür braucht man denn Bandagen? Schon mal was von Schnitten oder Prellungen gehört?”

“Ausgerechnet du brauchst doch dafür keine Verbände. Und wir wissen beide, dass du lieber Wunden durch Magie heilst, statt sie natürlich verheilen zu lassen.”

Shit. Hatte xier recht.

“Ja und? Ne Notation kann nie schaden,” versuchte Fips abzuwinken. Leider ohne großen Erfolg.

“Ich bezweifle, dass ein halbes Dutzend an Verbandsrollen als ‘Notration’ zählt.” Rhun hob leicht eine Augenbraue, wechselte aber schnell zurück zu einem neutralen Gesichtsausdruck. Fips beruhigen tat dies allerdings nicht.

“Warum juckt dich das überhaupt? Kümmer dich doch um deinen eigenen Kram,” kam von ihm zurück und er verschränkte die Arme, seinen Kopf lehnte er an die Wand hinter sich.

“Fips, ich frage dich das nicht, um dich zu ärgern. Ich möchte nur sichergehen, dass du keinen Mist anstellst. Sag mir bitte, warum du diese Bandagen brauchst.”

“Geht dich ‘n Scheißdreck an.”

Rhun starrte ihn nur böse an, was als Reaktion mehr als reichte.

Für eine Weile weigerte Fips sich zu antworten und saß nur stillschweigend da. Warum zum Teufel mussten seine Brüder ihn um diese Uhrzeit schon auf die Nerven gehen. Basierend auf Rhuns erwartungsvollen Blick, wusste xier doch eh schon, was xier hören wollte. Warum sollte Fips es dann noch aussprechen? Als wollte xier ihn foltern…

“Aus… privaten Gründen,” murmelte er irgendwann, und seine Augen wandte sich ab von Rhun, nicht mehr fähig xiers Blicks standzuhalten. Und erneut ein Zeichen, wie schwach er doch eigentlich war. Hatte er denn vor überhaupt irgendwas keine Angst?!

“Haben diese ‘privaten Gründe’ rein zufällig etwas mit dem Abflachen deiner Brust zu tun?” fragte xier nach und Fips hätte xier gerne geschlagen. Warum fragte Rhun ihn überhaupt?

“Wenn du's eh schon weißt, frag doch nicht nach.”

“Ich möchte deine Bestätigung hören, um keine unnötigen Vermutungen aufzustellen.”

Mit zusammen gebissenen Zähnen und eng gekreuzten Armen gab Fips eventuell nach. Wenn auch extrem widerwillig und nicht im gewünschten Wortlaut.

“Und wenn's so wäre? Warum interessiert's dich?”

Rhuns Blick wurde sofort sanfter, und hätte Fips hingeschaut, hätte er möglicherweise sogar Anzeichen von Sorge erkannt.

“Warum sollte es mich nicht interessieren? Du bist immer noch mein Bruder und ich möchte nicht, dass du dich selbst diesen Schmerzen unterziehst,” fing xier an zu erklären.

“Mir geht's gut, keine Sorge,” wies Fips xier schroff zurück und warf endlich mal die Decke von seinem Körper, da es langsam warm wurde. Ob wegen der Temperatur oder aus in ihm brennender Scham, konnte er nicht definieren.

Rhun setzte sich langsam ans Ende seines Bettes, um Fips genügend Platz zu lassen und ihm trotzdem vorsichtig näher zu kommen. “Hat dir schon mal jemand gesagt, dass du kein guter Lügner bist?”

Normalerweise hätte der leicht amüsierte Ton seines Bruders Fips ebenfalls zum Schmunzeln gebracht, aber in dem Moment war ihm einfach nicht danach. Er wollte über dieses Thema nicht reden. Weder mit Rhun, noch mit irgendwem anders. Und der Fakt, dass Rhun auch noch so interessiert tat, machte es nicht besser. Die hatten sich doch noch nie für ihn groß interessiert, warum jetzt auf einmal?

“Musst nicht einen auf möchtegern besorgt machen, mir geht's wirklich okay.”

Doch Rhun blieb standhaft, und je länger xier ihn so intensiv ansah, desto mehr kam Fips das Gefühl, dass Rhuns Sorge möglicherweise doch echt sein könnte.

“Geht es dir wirklich gut? Wenn alles in Ordnung wäre, würdest du nicht willentlich leiden,” stellte Rhun fest, und setzte xiers Erklärung fort, nachdem Fips’ Gesichtsausdruck leicht verwirrt wurde. “Deinen Rippen und Lungen geht es sicherlich nicht gut, mit wie viel Druck du auf sie ausübst.”

“Mir passiert schon nichts, ich trag schon keine heftigen Schäden davon.”

“Dass du dich selber heilen kannst, weiß ich. Was ich nicht weiß ist, warum du dass überhaupt machst.”

Fips rollte erneut mit den Augen, der Drang, sich diesem Gespräch zu entziehen, hatte ihn nicht verlassen, war aber nicht mehr ganz so präsent. Seine Priorität war gerade, Rhun abzuwimmeln, um seine Ruhe zu bekommen.

“Was glaubst du, warum ich als Mann meine Brüste verdecken will?" fragte er nach, eine Spur Ironie in seiner Stimme, als wäre die Beantwortung dieser Frage so oder so unnötig und offensichtlich.

“Deswegen musst du dich allerdings nicht rund um die Uhr mit diesen schädlichen Methoden quälen. Zu lange die Verbände zu tragen ist extrem schädlich, außerdem gibt es ohnehin bessere Optionen.”

Fips traute seiner Stimme nicht, nicht zu brechen, weshalb er erneut nur schwieg. Aus welchem Grund auch immer, schien der Gedanke an seinen Körper allein, ihm schon zuschaffen zu machen. War ja klar, dass Rhun da keinerlei Mitgefühl oder Empathie hat.

Verhätschelt oder bemitleidet zu werden, wollte Fips erst recht nicht, aber diese komplette Emotionslosigkeit und Ignoranz fühlte sich einfach nur nach Abweisung an. Als wäre es xier scheißegal. Dass xier mehr auf Logik als auf Gefühle fokussiert war, war ihm ja bekannt. Schließlich war das schon immer so. Und dennoch wirkte es in diesem Moment besonders kalt.

Entweder das, oder Fips selbst war zu emotional. Konnte natürlich auch gut möglich sein. Ein weiterer Aspekt, den Fips an sich nicht leiden konnte, war, dass er seine Gefühle oft nicht so unter Kontrolle hatte, wie er es gerne hätte. Aber auch dafür schien er zu schwach zu sein. Konnte er denn irgendwas?

Und obwohl er jegliche Andeutungen von Tränen direkt weg geblinzelt hat, in dem Moment, in dem seine Augen anfingen zu brennen, schien Rhun doch irgendwie etwas bemerkt zu haben. Xiers Stimme wurde sanfter als zuvor, fast vorsichtig.

“Fips, wenn dir das so zu schaffen macht, hättest du uns Bescheid sagen sollen.”

“Wieso? Damit ihr euch drüber lustig machen könnt? Ne danke,” blaffte er xier angespannt an.

“Das hätten wir nicht getan. Nicht bei so einem ernsten Thema.”

Natürlich wusste Rhun auch, dass dieses Gerede eher Wunschdenken als der Realität entsprach, da Zeke sich herzlich wenig kümmerte, wann Witze und Kommentare angebracht sind und wann nicht. Allerdings wusste Rhun auch, dass es zumindest von xiers Seite aus, ein ehrliches Geständnis war.

Nach ein paar weiteren Minuten, die in drückender Stille vergingen, forderte Rhun xiers jüngsten Bruder auf, “Komm. Nimm bitte die Verbände ab.”

“Wieso sollte ich?” kam von Fips zurück.

“Deine Rippen haben eine Pause verdient. Und wenn du sie nicht abnimmst, nehm ich sie dir eigenhändig ab.”

Allein, dass Rhun ihm diese ‘Drohung’ machte, zeigte, dass xier es ernst meinte. Und xier würde nicht davor zurückscheuen, die eben genannten Worten in die Tat umzusetzen, so viel war sicher.

Fips seufzte, gab sich aber geschlagen. Überraschend schnell, für seine Verhältnisse. Auf einen Streit hatte er keine Lust. Dafür war er dann doch noch zu müde.

“...Guck weg,” murmelte er nur, achtete genau darauf, dass Rhun auch ja wegsah, bevor er sich die Verbände langsam abnahm. Und Rhun hatte Recht, sein Brustkorb fühlte sich tatsächlich direkt besser an. Kam wohl davon, diesen unzählige Jahre am Stück durchgehend viel zu eng zusammen zu schnüren.

Rhun war mindestens genauso perplex wie Fips selbst, über die Geschwindigkeit seines Einverständnisses, war aber respektvoll und schaute mit nach unten gerichtetem Blick auf xiers eigene Schuhe, bis keinerlei Bewegung mehr von Fips bemerkbar war.

Und tatsächlich hatte er den Verband abgenommen. Der lag nämlich nun vor ihm auf der Decke und wurde mit Verachtung von ihm angestarrt. Wenn Blicke töten könnten, wäre der jetzt definitiv tot, obwohl es nur ein Gegenstand war. Fips Blick hätte alles und jeden umgebracht, so sicher war Rhun sich.

Bevor Fips auf dumme Ideen kommen konnte, nahm xier die Bandagen schnell an sich und stopfte sie in eine von xiers Taschen.

“Besser?”

“Mh.”

Körperlich war es eine Art Erleichterung, klar. Allein seine Atemwege waren freier und er konnte sich auch um einiges leichter bewegen. Aber gleichzeitig spürte Fips jetzt auch wieder dieses ätzende Gewicht an seiner Brust, das er seit Jahrhunderten verabscheut.

Rhun meinte es nur gut, und das wusste er auch. Aber das hieß nicht, dass er sich nicht unwohl fühlte. In seinen Augen wirkte seine Brust so viel bemerkbarer und Fips hätte sich am liebsten unter der Decke versteckt, um nicht von irgendwem gesehen zu werden.

“Falls es dich glücklich macht, in meinen Augen wirst du immer mein Bruder sein. Egal wie du aussiehst,” versuchte Rhun ihn aufzumuntern. Und dieses Mal schien es zu wirken, denn irgendwie schafften es diese Worte, ein Lächeln auf Fips’ Lippen zu bringen. Mehr als das Wort ‘Danke’ stumm zu formen, brachte sein Mund allerdings nicht heraus.

“Trotzdem bitte ich dich, mehr Rücksicht auf deinen Körper zu nehmen. Diese Verbände sind sowieso schädlich, den ganzen Tag damit herumzulaufen ist keine gute Idee. Wenn du reden willst, kannst du immer zu mir kommen. Wenn ich aber nochmal mitbekomme, dass du diese Dinger nicht rechtzeitig abnimmst, sorg ich persönlich dafür, dass du's bereust. Oder ich hetze Klaus auf dich.”

Kurzzeitig war Fips davon überzeugt gewesen, wenn Rhun und Zeke schon da sind, wäre Klaus auch keine Überraschung mehr. Allerdings war er nicht da, was Fips daraufhin deutete, dass ihm überhaupt nicht Bescheid gesagt wurde. Wahrscheinlich wollte Rhun in Ruhe mit ihm sprechen, und Klaus war jetzt nicht unbedingt die Ruhe in Person.

“Ich pass schon auf,” antwortete Fips, und obwohl seine Stimmlage nach wie vor leicht genervt klang, verriet seine Körpersprache, dass er nicht mehr ernsthaft genervt war. Nur, dass er dieses Gespräch ungern weiterführen wollte, was Rhun jedoch einigermaßen verstehen konnte.

----

Als Zeke deren irgendwann zu ihnen ins Schlafzimmer gesellt und prompt auf Fips’ Bett fallen gelassen hatte, legte dey einen Arm um Fips’ Schultern um ihn zu deren zu ziehen und ihm grob die Haare zu verwuscheln. Zwar waren deren Handlungen nicht gerade sanft, aber ausnahmsweise auch mal nicht von Hass oder Sticheleien getrieben.

“Na, kleiner Bruder?”

Fips versuchte relativ schnell sich aus Zekes Griff zu befreien, welcher ihn aber nicht losließ und einfach näher zog.

“Was für ‘kleiner’? Ich bin größer als du,” gab er dey als Antwort.

“Ja und? Ich bin älter.”

Zeke war schon immer stolz gewesen, diese paar Minuten älter zu sein als Fips. Somit war dey nämlich nicht ganz der Jüngste. Der kleinste von allen fünf war dey trotzdem.

“Ne Nervensäge, das bist du.”

“Tja. Immerhin bin ich der Einzige von uns, der eine Frau hat.”

“Wie viel du der gezahlt hast, das die bei dir bleibt, ist mir immer noch rätselhaft…”

Als er das halb beleidigte Gesicht seines Bruders sah, konnte Fips nicht anders, als zu grinsen.

“Hey!”

[hakusins]

hakudean mini event! third rq: whit the faithful and eri (pc) by moosen! (@/shylittlemoosen and @/just-dol-headshots)

[jovialturtleface]

How exciting.

[brocktonbay]

can we get stills of the rose and blake bimbofication please i need to stare at them indefinitely

you got it, boss 🫡

[shopwitchvamp]

btw I haven't even gotten around to teasing them yet but I've got more designs on minis for the first time, ready to go up with the next two restocks this month 👀

[bandsandwristbands]

I finally have art coming this week, just setting some things up on patreon (free tier) so I can link my nsfw there instead of twitter because I hate twt