#he gets to be a typical brother and mess with what hiccup’s doing

[neztune]

My cat was getting in the way of me doodling for the nth time… so I feel like Toothless would do the same thing as her if he was fun sized XD

[frenchfrywrites]

And Is Three A Party Or A Crowd?

MINORS DNI

Thank you to AstellaArrival on AO3 for this commission!!

Warnings: amab top reader (who's referred to as a man), Yandere power (?) bottom Simeon, voyeur Asmo, (non-consensual) voyeurism, dubious consent, jealousy, possessiveness, make-up sex, dacryphilia, cock cages

erm a little note before the fic bc this is a bit darker than what i typically write.. there are heavy themes of voyeurism, dubious consent (on readers behalf), and outrageously unhealthy relationships in this fic. I left it ambiguous as to whether this is a scene between the characters or not. If it helps your mind rest easy, Simeon is aware of everything, and everyone discussed this earlier <3 And if you're more turned on by the fact that Simeon isn't aware, then you can read the fic that way <3

As soon as you finish your sentence you regret saying it, as Asmodeus nearly falls over from laughing so hard. 

Glancing at the folks around you, you hope that none overheard you.

“You said what to him?” he hiccups, then screws his eyes shut as he focuses on breathing and composing himself. Asmo, along with all his brothers (you’re impressed that someone was able to convince Levi and Belphie to show up), and your mutual friends, are currently at the ball that Diavolo– Lord Diavolo, the Lucifer in your head corrects– is hosting. As soon as you showed up alone, which is an unusual thing now that you’re dating Simeon, Asmo was glued to your side. 

He had barely greeted you before he began to question you like a detective, nosing his way into your business to figure out why you and your boyfriend showed up separately. He’d gone so far to accuse you of getting divorced, which you explained would be impossible considering you’re not married; though the correction did not stop Asmo’s questioning over who would get custody of Luke. 

The fight you had with Simeon was not even very major, you should really stop using the word fight if you’re honest. What happened between the two of you was hardly even an argument. No matter what you called it, you knew if you didn’t tell Asmo it would become an even bigger mess. You’re lucky he had not yet given up on you, and ran to question Simeon instead. 

You cave fairly easily and tell Asmo about how you had asked Simeon for a little space within the day, and he’d taken offense. There’d been some not-so-loving words exchanged in the heat of the moment, but nothing that could not be forgiven and forgotten. You remember the immediate regret that hit you during the argument when he had smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and promised with tight lips that he would give you space. He had made a noticeable space between you and him when you’d gone to bed, and recommended that you should go to the ball separately. 

Now you’re here. 

“I’m not repeating myself,” you huff, suddenly embarrassed by the situation. It was, however, a relief to tell someone about the incident. You feel a little better already after getting it off your chest. Asmo tuts,

“It’s really not that bad darling, I’m sure he’ll forgive you, or you’ll forgive him” he pauses, thinking over the information you’d relayed, “sorry, are you even mad at him? I’m a little lost.”

“I’m not mad,” you insist, sighing wistfully as you (not-so-subtly) turn to look at where Simeon is. He looks so pretty in his white suit and blue tie (the one you told him matches his eyes), talking to Solomon and Luke. You want to go over to him and somehow fix the situation you’re in, but you doubt a party is the best place to do it. Asmo coos, 

“Oh you pathetic, desperate, sad man,” you turn to look at him, frowning. Opening your mouth you attempt to complain about him kicking you while you’re already down, but Asmo’s giggle stops you, “c’mon let's dance or something, we’ll get your mind off it,” he lightheartedly suggests. There’s a pause as you think about it for a second, and then you let him drag you to the dance floor. A smile works its way to your face as you think about how you’re grateful you have a friend like him, who always knows how to cheer you up. 

Asmodeus situates the two of you in such a way that your back is to Simeon and Solomon. His hope is that you stop trying to sneak peaks of them. This also prevents you from seeing the bone chilling look on Simeon’s face once he notices you dancing together. He’s staring the two of you down, smiling as he talks to Solomon and Luke, but gripping his drink with such force that Asmo wonders how the glass hasn’t broken yet. Thank god Solomon and Luke haven’t picked up on Simeon’s sour mood.

A few songs pass, with the two of you making small talk as you dance, before Asmo’s eyes widen as an “uh oh,” falls from his lips. “Here comes your man,” he informs you, and then you feel the hand on your arm. Turning, you find Simeon staring you down. You feel like you’ve been caught, even though you haven’t done anything.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he doesn’t look or sound sorry at all, “it’s just the two of you looked to be having such a good time, I couldn’t help but wonder what you could possibly be talking about?” he asks, smiling innocently. He doesn’t even spare Asmo a glance. You could cut the evident tension radiating off Simeon with a knife. Asmo seems largely unaffected.

“Oh nothing interesting,” he waves his hand dismissively, “just the results of Beel’s latest Fangol game, he did really well, but he always does, so there’s nothing new there,” he rambles, sounding bored as he recounts the last few minutes. Looking at Simeon, you don’t think he’s listening to a word that Asmo’s saying.

“Yeah, did you want to join in?” you ask, hoping that you don’t sound too eager. 

“Oh no, I recall you saying that you wanted space,” Simeon mentions offhandedly, like it’s not the thing the two of you have been obsessing over for the last 24 hours. Asmo opens his mouth, likely to point out how Simeon was the one to infringe on your space in the first place, but thankfully stops himself. Instead, he amuses himself by watching you fumble with your words,

“Simeon– I– that was– it was really stupid– I– what I should have said– I mean what I meant– I mean I didn’t mean it, is what I mean,” Simeon looks at you with an unreadable expression. There’s a second of uncomfortable, awkward silence between the three of you before Simeon takes you by your arm without a word.

You let him pull you out of the grandiose ballroom, giving a weak wave to your friend, hearing Asmo cackle as you disappear into the crowd. 

“Hey,” you start to slow down, tugging on Simeon’s arm once he pulls you into a mostly empty hallway. He turns to you, and wraps his arms around your neck, tugging you into a kiss. You smile, pleased that he’s back to clinging to you. You didn’t know how much you would miss him until there was space between the two of you.

“Try that again,” he says as he pulls back, referring to your mess of words that hardly formed a sentence or coherent thought at all. You’re relieved that he sounds a lot less upset and passive-aggressive now that you’re out of the ballroom.

“I’m sorry for what I said, and how I said it. There was a lot that I said and I didn’t mean. I missed you,” you admit, wrapping your arms around his waist. Simeon steps further into your space until he’s pressed flush against you.

“I forgive you. I missed you too,” he confesses, leaning in for another kiss. You kiss back happily until you feel his tongue press against your lips, a signal that he wants more.

“Simeon,” you breathe as you pull from him, but he crashes his lips against yours once more, preventing you from stressing to him that you are very much in a public place right now and any number of people could walk in on the two of you making out.

Tonguing the inside of your mouth, he steps back slowly, dragging you along with him, until his back is pressed against the wall. 

A tingle of arousal sparks in your loins when you feel his hands start to wander. While sucking on your tongue, Simeon lets his hands slip from around your neck down to your chest. He feels you up for a second, then goes to undo your tie, and slips his fingers under your shirt to touch your skin. The coolness of his fingers against your flushed skin shocks you awake, and you tear yourself from him. 

“Not here,” you murmur, taking Simeon’s hands in yours to stop them from groping you. You then look behind you anxiously, only to find you’re alone in the hallway. You breathe a sigh of relief, and turn back to find Simeon looking disheveled and wanton– his hair out of place, his lips wet and parted, his blue eyes shining brightly as he stares you down. 

“Follow me,” he grins, not giving you a choice as he yanks you by your hand and leads you further away from the ballroom. Suddenly, he takes a right, opening a door to reveal an empty bedroom. Simeon hauls you inside, shutting the door behind you. You feel flushed all over, thankful that the dark blue of the twilight hour is seeping from the window and masking your facial expressions for the time being.

Simeon lets go of your hand in favor of rushing around the room. You sit on the side of the bed, slipping off your shoes as he lights a candle on the bedside table. When he turns to face you, his features now illuminated by the warm flickering candlelight, you feel your heart throb. 

“That suit makes you look so pretty,” you tell him what you’ve been wanting to say all night long. Simeon kicks off his shoes, and smiles, the first genuine smile you’ve seen on him for the last couple of hours. 

“Don’t you think I would look prettier with it off?” he suggests, plopping himself down comfortably in your lap. You steady him by holding onto his hips, letting out a soft noise at his forward flirting.

“What has you all worked up tonight?” Simeon hums at your question, and instead of answering he tugs off your tie, tossing it elsewhere, and takes your face in his hands, leaning to kiss your jaw. He kisses his way around your face, not leaving a single feature untouched by his lips, until finally pressing his soft lips against yours. 

“Maybe I just missed you, is all,” he whispers against your mouth. You’re about to lean in for another kiss, but Simeon pulls back before you can. “Or maybe I don’t like seeing you dancing with other men,” his grip on your face tightens a bit, and his expression shifts to one you’ve encountered only a few times before, usually when he thinks you’re not looking at him. It’s one that makes your gut drop, and sets worry deep in your bones about what he’ll do next.

“Simeon, it wasn’t like that,” you assure, rubbing soft circles into his hips. You hope your words are comforting him, because you can see now how it might have looked. 

“Oh really? You didn’t want more time to yourself just so you could spend it with him ?” he questions you, breathing just a bit heavier as he stares you down with unblinking eyes. 

“No, no, I was wrong about that,” you’re quick to amend. You try your best to nuzzle into his touch, acting like this is a normal response and a normal reaction. “I said I missed you, I meant it. I was wrong to want more space, I missed you so much baby,” you tell him honestly. Simeon’s wild gaze softens, just a bit.

He doesn’t say anything, just pets the side of your face gently, touching and tracing all over your face as he studies you. 

“You’re mine, you know,” he whispers, “say it, I need to hear it,” he nearly begs. 

“I’m yours Simeon, I promise,” 

“Yes,” his hands leave your face, moving to hold onto yours. He pushes your hands from his hips down towards his groin. “You wouldn’t touch Asmo– anyone else like this, would you?” Simeon asks, making you touch the slight bulge in his suit pants. 

You shake your head, “only you Simeon,” he grinds into your touch. You can feel the cage he’s wearing under his clothing press against your flesh, and you shudder at the memory of putting it on him.

“You want to see me, don’t you?” Simeon asks, and his words make it sound like he’s trying to come off as cocky, but he just sounds desperate.

He takes your nodding head as permission and shucks off his suit jacket, rips his tie over his head, then nearly tears off his button down shirt. All that’s left are his pants. 

Simeon gets off your lap, and begins stripping his bottoms off, and you’re very consumed by the sight before you, but loud laughter coming right from outside the door sends chills all over your body. 

“Wait, wait,” you whisper-yell at Simeon, fearful at the thought of someone coming in while Simeon undresses for you.

Your lover is unperturbed by the people who’ve decided to have a loud conversation right outside the room you’re hidden in. Simeon steps out of his underwear, and your eyes immediately shoot to Simeon’s caged cock between his soft, plush thighs. 

“Simeon,” you whisper, scared to make any noise louder than that. He plops himself on your lap, but you’re having trouble focusing on him with the knowledge that there are others who could listen or walk in at any moment. A violently nagging thought racks your brain as you try to remember whether Simeon locked the door behind the two of you. You’re nearly certain he didn’t. 

“No, wait,” you protest as his hands reach for your belt. Simeon frowns, popping his lower lip out in a pout,

“You said you were mine?” he says at a normal volume, causing your gaze to shoot to the doorway in fear,

“Shhh,” you warn, but the guests outside didn’t seem to hear or notice the sound of Simeon speaking. “No, wait a second,” you urge as he ignores you and begins to unbuckle your belt. The metal clanking against itself sets an obscene amount of anxiety within you. Your hands grasp weakly at his thighs. You can’t remember a time when you felt this nervous. “Wait just a second Simeon, please, we have to be quiet, there’s people outside, anyone could come in and see,” you ramble nervously as Simeon tosses your belt onto the bed carelessly. 

“Ah,” he grins– and how can he be so frivolous with all this?!– “I can be quiet,” he flirts, finally softening his voice towards a whisper. You know that’s a damn lie, but Simeon continues, huffing quietly, “I bet Asmo could not be quiet,” and you’re not sure if that’s supposed to be an insult or not. “I bet,” he reaches into your front right pocket, where you always keep the key to his cage, “everyone at this ball would hear his noises if you penetrated him,” he feels up your half hard cock from within the pocket before taking the key out. 

“Simeon, that’s kinda mean,” you feel very conflicted with what he’s saying. It’s like Simeon is bashing and praising Asmo at the same time. You've also not spent much time imagining your friend getting fucked, and certainly have not imagined you being the one fucking him, but it seems like Simeon has spent some time thinking about it. Defending Asmo was not the right move to make, you realize as Simeon’s gaze hardens.

“Well, maybe he should not have been dancing so close to you. I wouldn’t find myself so frustrated with him if he had just backed up a bit,” he huffs. “Help me get these off,” he demands, tugging on your waistband. There’s an awkward readjusting period where you undress yourself fully. 

You notice that it’s gone quiet in the hallway, meaning the guests have moved. You’re still anxious about being found out, especially if you’re gone too long, but at least you can semi-refocus your attention onto Simeon while knowing you’re secluded for now.

“It’s obvious he wants to take what’s mine,” Simeon says softly, resettling himself on your lap. He spits into his hand and reaches down to stroke you to full hardness. You’d lost a bit of your erection from fear, but it doesn’t take long for him to get you worked up again. You return your hands to his hips, holding him steady, and you notice the slight tremor they have from the adrenaline lingering. “But there’s a reason you hold a key to my cage,” he mumbles, rubbing the tip of your cock and distracting you. You try to stifle the moan that leaves your lips at the sensation. “You’re mine and I’m yours. You holding the key is proof of it. I wear it because I’m yours,” he rambles possessively, his breathing labored. There’s some underlying guilt, but you’re undeniably turned on by how possessive Simeon is getting over you. 

He suddenly stops stroking you, and reminds you that he’s been holding onto the key to his cage when he forcefully presses it into the palm of one of your slightly shaking hands.  

“Unlock me,” you look at him, dazed and confused as you slowly process his words, your head too muddled with lust to think straight. It takes you some time to do so with the state you’re in, but eventually you press the key into the lock, and remove the cage from him. Being able to focus on a task grounded you, and you’re grateful that Simeon didn’t rush you through it. 

He gasps at the relief, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “Thank you, oh thank you,” he murmurs, kissing your skin. Your heart swells at being able to please your lover, and the anxiety you’d had is nearly nonexistent now. You place the cage and key next to you on the mattress, and run your fingers through his hair. 

The moment of tenderness ends when you feel Simeon’s swollen, needy, leaking cock rut against yours,

“I want you inside me,” he moans. 

“We need a condom,” you tell him breathlessly, impressed with yourself for even thinking of it. Because even though imagining your cum seeping from his hole makes you salivate and leak pre, you know the aftermath of Simeon being all messy while you have to attend the rest of the ball would not be fun. Simeon slips off from your lap, just as easily as he plopped himself down in the first place. It gives you whiplash. 

He rummages through his suit pants, only settling in your lap again when he has a condom and mini vial of lube in his hands.

“Did you plan for this?” you ask, taking the lube from him. Simeon smiles,

“Maybe,” and you laugh at that, leaning in to kiss him lovingly. He pulls back after a second, eager for you to start stretching him out. “I want to ride you,” Simeon tells you as you coat your fingers with lube. “I have to see you, and I want to feel you in my stomach, I want to remember- ah ,” he’s cut off momentarily when you reach around his body and press against his hole. Simeon rocks himself back against your fingers, “I want to remember that I’m the only one who will get your dick inside of me.”

You groan at his words, spreading the lube along his rim then slipping a finger inside of him easily. Simeon lets out a pleasured hum, clinging to you as you being to prep him for your cock. You work in one finger, intentionally avoiding his prostate, only focusing on stretching him open for another. It takes a good moment until he feels ready, and then you press in another, scissoring his hole open, and only barely fucking your fingers into him. To your surprise, he is fairly quiet through this, only kicking up the volume and frequency of his moans when you finally add a third finger alongside the others. 

“I’m ready,” he gasps as you begin to scissor your fingers, “please, I want- I need your cock, now, I-” he moans, scratching your skin desperately. 

You slowly ease your fingers out of him, wiping off your lubed fingers on the bedsheets and mentally sending Barbatos an apology for it. Simeon, lost in his desperation and need, sloppily lubes up your cock, and you let out a stuttered moan at the stimulation. Within the blink of an eye he’s shakily raised his hips and popped the head of your cock into his entrance.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your eyes flickering to the door while he squeezes and sinks himself onto you. Your heart catches in your throat when your gaze catches a pair of amber eyes peaking through the doorway. Asmo- your brain quickly provides an identity after putting together all the pieces- is staring at the two of you through a crack in the door, and when he notices you’ve caught him he winks, bringing a finger to his lip in a “shhh” gesture.

“Simeon-” you choke, fumbling at his skin. Your skin feels itchy and hot, “wait,” he sinks lower on your cock and you try to silence your moan, “ ah - stop, stop, we can’t, someone could cuh- oh -come in,” you whisper. 

Simeon drops himself further onto your cock, “ oh , I can’t stop now,” he whines, “I need you inside of me, I need it.” From the sound of his voice alone, you believe him. You think if you pulled him off of you now, he’d be inconsolable.

You glance over to the door once again and see that Asmo has his cock pulled out of his suit pants and has his hand wrapped around it. Though you can only faintly see him with the help of the candlelight and light from the hallway, the sight of him still makes your hips jerk, and Simeon’s breath catches. He turns his head to look, but you stop him by tugging on his hair pulling him into a wet and messy kiss. On one hand, you want Simeon to know someone’s there, but on the other hand, the fear of what would happen if Simeon knew it was Asmo watching stops you from letting him look. 

Successfully distracted, he lets you lick into his mouth until he’s gasping for breath. When Simeon pulls back- a string of saliva connecting your lips- his pupils are dilated and his lips are puffy, spit-slicked, and still looking much too kissable. 

Leaning in, you try to capture his lips again, but he slides down the rest of your length, and releases a shuddered sigh when he’s seated fully on your lap. Your head knocks back slightly as your cock is fully engulfed by his hot, tight, twitching hole. Simeon’s lashes flutter shut, and being filled with you makes his expression melt into one of pure content. Then he starts to move.

You let out a startled moan as he fucks himself on your cock, starting with a fervored pace, letting out soft, erratic moans in your ear. Tucking your face into his chest you try your best to hide how knowing that you’re being watched makes your cock twitch and your balls ache. 

You would have never guessed that being watched while you fuck would turn you on so much, but the fact that Asmo is getting off on you fucking Simeon has undeniable effects on you. You almost wish he’d come into the room, so you could better see how he jerks himself off while he watches the two of you. Part of you wonders if Simeon is right; if he weren’t hiding, would Asmo be loud and open with his sounds?

You wonder what Asmo's point of view is. How much can he really see with just the candlelight and light seeping in from the hall? Would he be able to see Simeon's gorgeous arched back, and his perfect ass bouncing as he works himself off on your cock. Would he be able to see hints of your cock– disappearing and reappearing every time Simeon hauls himself up and drops down on you? He could maybe see bits of you and your face peaking out from behind your lover to catch glimpses of him. 

Maybe, you think, the sound of Simeon riding you, his sticky thighs colliding with yours on each thrust, both of your heavy breaths, the faint squelching from your cock fucking his wet hole, is enough to get him off? 

Maybe, all he needed was to know what you were doing to have his imagination fill in the rest.

“Feels so good,” Simeon whines, bouncing on your lap, redirecting your attention to him, “you-you feel good too? I fuh -feel good?” his voice cracks, his eyes glossing over. 

“Ah - yes god Simeon, you always feel so good,” you groan, glancing down and finding yourself entranced by the way his cock bobs against his stomach, leaving a glistening wet spot from where his pre is leaking. If you had more time and space to do so, you’d really like to suck him off. 

“Hngh- oh , I’m the one that makes you feel good, oh -only me,” he babbles, leaning into your body, pressing himself flush against you. In the candlelight you can see how Simeon’s eyes shimmer, welling with tears. 

“I love you so much,” he chokes, “I just want you,” he hiccups wetly, “I want you to only look at me, and talk to me, and think about me ,” he whines, the dam breaking as the tears flood down his cheeks. You kiss him tenderly, trying not to focus on how the same possessiveness that had worked you up and turned you on also causes a shiver to rush along your skin. 

“Yeah, I love you so much angel,” you say, indulging and sedating him instead of challenging his statements. Simeon keens at your words, his thighs shaking as he raises himself with the next thrust.

“Say it again,” he cries, panting through his sobs. 

“I love you, Simeon, I love you so- oh much,” you groan. Pre gushes from his cock as Simeon moans your name. 

“I think I’m going to cum,” he squeezes around you to prove his point. You drop your hand down towards his cock, wrapping around its base, preventing him from getting there. Simeon lets out a surprised gasping moan, his eyes going wide, and his eyebrows scrunching together, so clearly conveying his bewilderment.

“I just-” don’t want the show to end, your brain fills as your eyes flicker back to the doorway, “I need you for a second longer , ngh, wanna cum inside,” is what you say instead. It’s a strange request, considering you’re weaning a condom and Simeon wouldn’t receive the orgasmic feeling that comes with being filled, but it affects him all the same. 

He nods his head so fast you worry for a moment about his neck, and breaths your name, falling in for a kiss. 

When he pulls away so he can catch his breath, Simeon’s gaze flickers down to where your hand is circled around his weeping cock. He stares, wide eyed and hungry, fucking himself even faster. 

“Please cum,” Simeon whines, all high and pretty and needy. Your hips jerk up into him as he slides down your cock, causing an obscene slapping noise. The sound of it would be a cause of concern if you didn’t currently have someone prying in. 

“ Shit ,” you gasp, feeling your orgasm quickly creeping up on you, “just- ah - a little faster, m’ almost there,” Simeon obeys, picking up the pace. 

Wanting Simeon to cum with you, you go from holding his base to stroking his cock in time with your thrusts. The action makes his hips shake, and his fingers clutch for a grasp on your skin. 

“Please,” he moans your name, and it tumbles you over the edge. You fill the condom, fucking Simeon roughly on your lap. Within the period of a second your eyes drift over to the doorway, and even just seeing the little of Asmo’s orgasm that you can with the candlelight has your cock throbbing. 

Simeon reaches his high somewhere between you fucking him like a fleshlight, and you falling slowly back against the bed, taking him down with you. To be honest you couldn’t say you’d given Simeon your full attention. When you look back to the doorway you see that the door is fully closed, and any sign of Asmo being there is gone. Part of you distantly wonders if he’d ever been there at all. 

“I think we should get back out there before someone comes looking for us,” you muse, not making a single move to get up and follow through with your thoughts.

“I think you’re right,” Simeon hums, “but promise you’ll only dance with me, okay?” he looks at you with his big blue eyes, pleading. You laugh softly,

“Of course,” you take his pinky in yours, sealing the promise you’ve made. Simeon giggles at the action, and you both lay together for a little while longer before you seriously refocus on cleaning up.

“Will you put the cage on me again?” Simeon asks so sweetly and softly after you’ve tossed your condom in the trash. Gently you help him into it, taking in the sight before you. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly, tracing the cage possessively.

From there you both hurry through redressing. You’d say, considering that the materials you were working with were a couple of tissues, one wet wipe, and some spit, the two of you look almost back to normal. If anyone were looking they’d notice the dishevelment, but you’re hoping- as you have been for most of the night– that no one will spare you a second glance.

You open the door just a crack, to let in the hallway light, as Simeon blows out the candle. Reaching out into the darkness of the room, Simeon’s hand reaches back to intertwine with yours. Hand-in-hand you guide him out of the room and towards the party. You pray Simeon didn’t notice the clear evidence of Asmo’s orgasm making a mess on the floor as you both scurried back to the ballroom. You mentally send Barbatos another apology.

[black-cat-charm]

Merricup//Off On The Wrong Foot

Merida sat at the counter, her fifth drink in her hand as the bartender, a young man named Hiccup, watched her carefully. He always made sure to keep a close eye on his customers, especially new customers though. As Merida chugged down the last bit of her drink, she gave Hiccup a look that simply asked for another drink without her saying a word. As Hiccup turned to make her drink once again, Merida heard someone walk up to her. She gave a sigh and turned her head, annoyance/anger from her shitty day and tension from the drinks already high enough as is. A tall man who was dressed in the typical office worker uniform looked at her with a grin, leaning on the counter beside her. "Isn't that a bit strong for a lady like you?" His eyebrow raised as Merida grumbled quietly. "Not in the mood..so kindly, fuck off" she mumbled, eyes glaring up at him. The man scoffed and sat up straight. "Im just trying to be nice, you don't have to be such a fucking bitch-!" Merida's fists clenched as she stood up, slightly stumbling at first. "Listen, I don't want nice right now! I've had a shit day and I just want to enjoy my night, so please fuck off!" she snapped, the guy reaching over and grabbing her left wrist. "How fucked up are you right now? Any other girl-..." Yeah Merida's tolerance for dumbasses that night was reached so everything he was saying was going in one ear and out the other. She tugged her arm away and swung! Though unfortunately, she didn't see Hiccup kicking the guy out and as he moved- well Hiccup was still standing there-. She felt her fist hit Hiccup's face and her eyes widened, quickly holding both her hands up. "Holy sh- are you okay?! I'm so sorry-!" Hiccup groaned in pain and held his cheek as he leaned on the counter. "I'm- I'm fine, don't worry about it-. Are you okay-?" Merida paused for a second. "I just punched you in the face and you're concerned about ME?!" Hiccup sat up slowly and shrugged. "uh yeah-" Merida sighed and grabbed the cup of ice she had been keeping by her for her drinks, holding it to Hiccup's cheek. "I'm fine. Thank you for kicking that douche bag out" she mumbled some more not so nice names under her breath but Hiccup couldn't quite make out what she said. He smiled a bit and felt his cheeks warm, and not just from the pain of the punch. "No worries, I've been getting complaints about him all night. Im glad he didn't hurt your wrist-" Merida scoffed lightly and grinned. "Please, I have three younger brothers and a dad who loves wrestling, that jerk couldn't have really hurt me if he wanted" Hiccup laughed and looked at her. "Do you still want that other drink-? It's on me" Merida shook her head and sat down. "Nah, you can have it. Consider it my apology." Hiccup hummed and smiled. "Thank you..uh-" "Merida" "Thanks, Merida" The ginger girl nodded and leaned on the counter. "No problem. I'll go ahead and close my tab for the night, I'd rather be only slightly messed up if I'm gonna hang out with you until closing" Hiccup's eyes widened a bit and his cheeks darkened, dorky smile resting on his face. "I can do that for you-"

///////

This was meant to be posted last week, I'm so sorry:'))

[sergeantlesbian]

The clash of swords

[ Kaeya + Diluc x Sibling!GN! Reader ]

Genre: Angst (No comfort)

Summary: You witness the moment Diluc and Kaeya first fight with intentions of killing. Just so happens to be each other.

Pronouns used: You

Relationship status: Platonic, siblings

Word count: 744

Warnings: Blood, described injuries, fighting, spoilers for the Genshin Impact manga.

DNI IF YOU ARE A KAELUC SHIPPER OR READ THIS WITH INCESTUOUS INTENT.

Being related to the Ragnvindr family held you to the highest standards. This meant being sent to an academy for training with your brothers. Of course, they made it worthwhile. Once graduating, you three began your training at the Knights of Favonius.

Although, being the youngest set you back to a degree. Being doted on by your brothers was a common occurrence. Especially during combat, the two would go too easy on you and yet taunt you for things like tripping and letting your weapon loose!

-

Diluc swiftly dodged your hit to him and parried your upcoming blow, successfully knocking your weapon out of your hand.

"Oh Diluc, don't go too hard on them! Barbatos knows what father would do." Kaeya said with sarcasm on the sidelines. He had been watching you fail over and over again without lending a hand to help.

"My, I hadn't realized! My apologies [F/N]." Diluc said while taking a bow to rub more salt into your wounds.

"Keep talking like that and I'll tell Grandmaster Varka." You smiled smugly while retrieving your weapon from the gravel.

"You wouldn't." They said in unison.

"I would."

It was the day of Diluc's 18th birthday, he had been anticipating this day for as long as he remembered.

So why was he looking upon the horrific sight of his father's lifeless eyes instead of looking at the most beautiful birthday cake he had ever seen? Shouldn't he be blowing out candles like a child and unwrapping presents excitedly like he had always wanted?

He was broken out of thought at the sound of your voice. You had let out the most heartbreaking scream he had ever heard, in an instant you were by his side. Exploding with questions and wrenching sobs but all he could focus on was the dead weight in his hands. Surely this was something Kaeya and you put yourselves up to? You two would always find your way to get back at his own pranks.

So why weren't you laughing?

Why wasn't Kaeya here to grin and make a sarcastic comment on how he fell for it?

Where was his father?

Who was this stranger staring at him?

This is not his father.

-

They watched as a large white cloth was draped onto the stranger's corpse. The occasional hiccup comes from your mouth to break the penetrating silence.

Kaeya takes the initiative and breathes in deeply.

"We should talk."

Typically, the rain brought you tranquility. It had been something to look forward to when you were a child, the three of you would always go out and play in puddles despite the mess it left afterward.

"DAAAAAAAAD!" Diluc drawled out, he had ended up slipping in a puddle, Kaeya and you giggling at the sight.

-

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE A SPY?" No longer a babe slipping in the mud. But a monster screaming angrily at his brother. A monster bellowing out insults and degrading words. The monster under the bed that would eat you whole.

"Diluc if you would listen to me I would be able to explain." He spat, irritated as well yet ever the cautious knight, trying not to infuriate the monster under the bed even more. For who knows what the monster would do.

"Diluc listen to him!" You pleaded with the monster who did not hear, who only responded with a series of swings to the face.

"YOU. YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS AND YET YOU NEVER TOLD ME?" No, this wasn't a monster. This was Diluc, and Diluc was charging toward you and Kaeya. Diluc was the one who swung his claymore with too much ease. Diluc was the one tackling you and glaring at you with murderous intent.

For the first time, you were afraid terrified of Diluc.

There was no arguing as your older brother pushed you out of the way and fought back. Protecting you under the pressure as you pathetically watched. You, the coward, who screamed pitifully at the two, falling to deaf ears. The coward who spectated the breaking of a truly special bond. The coward who felt a sudden chill in the atmosphere followed by a blazing heat.

The gods surely found this amusing.

Two visions now lay in the grass, as if handing themselves to their rightful owners.

But this sudden peacefulness was short-lived as the clash of swords soon turned into the roaring heat and frigid cold.

They were trying to kill each other.

AUTHORS NOTE: craving an elote rn bro

masterlist

[duskholland]

Y/n has a disagreement with frat!tom, she drowns her sorrows and then frat!tom takes care of drunk y/n

ah...a classic. cw: alcohol + angst w a happy end. pls don’t do this irl--communication is key in any balanced relationship! don’t drown your sorrows <3

frat!tom night !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom: I’m sorry Tom: I didn’t mean to upset you Tom: can you just text me back Tom: please

You drag your index finger over the lock-screen of your phone, giggling slightly as you watch Tom’s texts wobble. Your eyes are tired and unfocused, your head spinning, and your objective of getting absolutely hammered has been well and truly achieved. You’d surpassed your limits an hour ago, if you’re being honest with yourself, but your bottle of tequila had been calling your name, and now you’re out of your mind. You’re just glad that your roommate is at her boyfriend’s for the night so she doesn’t have to witness your heartbroken breakdown.

Another two texts bumps up to the top of the screen, startling you.

Tom: I’m worried about you Tom: can you just let me know that you’re okay?

You sigh loudly, then begrudgingly pick up your phone. You open the texts sent from Tom, your boyfriend — or, ex-boyfriend…? — and read over them again, eyes hazy. You decide not to reply, and to instead leave him on read, because what else are you supposed to do?

With a heavy sigh, you lie back on the floor and stare at the ceiling of your dorm. You groan as you think over the events of the day again, your mind heavy and lethargic.

It’d been a stupid argument with Tom, about god knows what. Spring break, you think. He’d changed his mind last minute, and instead of going to Mexico with you and a few friends, he now wants to go back to London to spend time with his family. He also wants you to go back with him, to meet his parents and his brothers, and, in typical Tom fashion, had failed to mention that he’d changed your flights on your behalf.

It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is you’d spent a very unpleasant thirty minutes at the frat house earlier, exchanging sour words of disapproval with your boyfriend, who couldn’t be bothered to hear your side of the story. You’d ran away when you’d realised you were just going in circles, and now you’re here: red-eyed, drunk, and alone. The realisation makes you hiccup, and you feel your eyes well up again.

There’s a loud knock at the door, and you startle.

“Fuck,” you mutter, quickly standing up. You toss the bottle of alcohol under a blanket and wipe at your eyes, cursing yourself for looking like such a mess. You hope it’s just a neighbour, concerned about the breakup song playlists and the loud volume of your crying, and not an RA about to bust you for possession of alcohol in a college dorm.

It turns out to be neither, and you scowl as you open the door just to see Tom standing beyond it. His eyes snap up, his expression springing into one of surprise as if he hadn’t expected you to open the door. There’s a light blue beanie sitting on his head, but he whips it off and holds it between his hands as he rocks back on his feet and swallows

“Y/N…. Look, I’m so sorry.” He looks so small, with his figure covered in grey sweats and a white t-shirt. He has a red jacket shrugged over the top too, but his posture is slumped and diminished. His eyes are pink. “I was such a twat. I don’t want us to break up over this, and I don’t want you to hate me, either. I’m sorry.” His gaze narrows as his eyes twist over your figure. “Wait, are you drunk?”

Your eyes bulge, and you instinctively reach out to grab his arm. You jerk him into your room, chastising him in a loud whisper about the presence of your pesky RAs, and then you lean back against the door, facing the main body of the room where Tom’s now pacing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you manage, tongue feeling thick in your mouth.

Tom finds the bottle of tequila you’d thrown in your bed as he straightens up the duvet, turning on you with a frown on your face.

“You shouldn’t be drinking on a Tuesday night,” he mutters. “Is this my fault?”

You shrug. “No,” you say. “Pretty sure I’m the one who did the drinking.”

Tom winces, then slowly takes off his jacket. He approaches you gently, extending two hands towards you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice exhausted. You hate how heartbroken he looks, so you reach out and join together your fingers, pulling him a little closer. Tom walks all the way to you, folding into you until he’s squeezing your hands and has his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m sorry for being a dick, and not speaking to you about spring break first.” His thumbs run over the backs of your hands. “And I’m also sorry for being a twat and not listening to you properly.”

You have to close your eyes, finding it too hard to focus on his face when it’s pushed so near to you.

“I’m too drunk to have this conversation with you,” you mutter. You drop one of his hands and feel him freeze before you shift it up to his hair. You’re quiet as you play around with his brown curls, finding comfort in the familiar softness. “I’m sorry too, though. I feel like shit. I shouldn’t have been so angry about it all…” You break off, feeling your eyes water as your voice thickens. It’s just a whisper as you add, softer, “I don’t want to lose you over this, Tom.”

He pulls back, and you’re able to meet his eyes as he reaches up to cup your warm cheeks in his hands. You aren’t angry anymore—now that he’s here, looking at you so softly, you just want to move on and fall straight back into his arms.

“You’re not losing me, darling. You could never lose me,” he murmurs. He leans in and kisses your forehead softly, letting his lips linger there for a moment. “Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You nod. “Okay,” you agree, suddenly feeling very attached to the idea of curling up beneath the covers and sleeping.

“Wait, wait.” Tom’s gentle hold on your waist makes you stop. “Bathroom first. You’ve still got makeup on.”

You pout as you coo, nodding. “Can you take it off for me?”

“Of course, love.”

You’re glad for the en-suite in your room. Despite it being a tight fit, Tom’s able to come in with you. He sits you on the closed toilet seat and tenderly dabs at your face, stripping back the smudged makeup as he cracks a few light jokes and murmurs soft words of praise. He watches as you brush your teeth, standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your front, lips brushing over your neck in featherlight kisses as he meets your eyes in the mirror and your heart flutters in your chest. Despite your complaints, he even convinces you to down two glasses of water.

“Aren’t you getting in too?” You whine. He’s standing beside your single bed, hands on the top of the duvet as he finishes tucking you in. You do your best to look innocent and fragile, blinking up at him through wide eyes. “It’s cold…”

Tom hesitates.

“Do you want me to?” He asks. When you nod your head enthusiastically, he smiles softly. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning and realise that it’s not what you wanted.”

You shake your head. “I won’t,” you say, knowing it to be true. “Just… if you’re worried about overstepping, don’t kiss me or anything. I won’t be mad if you sleep here.”

He smiles as if he finds the compromise agreeable, then kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt. You try to wolf whistle, only for the sound to come out flat and failed, and he laughs loudly.

“Did you just try to whistle at me?” He teases.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Maybe.”

Tom slips into bed beside you. It’s a tight fit, but you’ve spent enough nights together on your single mattress to know exactly what you have to do. You don’t hesitate to curl into his side, throwing a leg over his body as you rest your face against his arm and press your hand to his chest. Tom reaches over and flicks off the lamp before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

“I love you,” he says, the moment it’s dark and you’re both settled. “I love you so much, baby.”

You coo, unable to control the unruly smile that tugs at your lips.

“Love you too, Tom,” you murmur. “You’re so warm.”

He chuckles, light fingers rubbing circles over the top of your arm. “And you’re just lovely.”

You melt, burrowing your head further into his side. Beneath your palm, you can feel his heartbeat, pulsing gently.

“You know, the only reason I was so mad earlier was because I was scared of meeting your parents,” you admit, voice soft. “It’s not because I don’t want to spend time with you, Tommy. I do. All the time. But it’s scary to think about how I could do something to fuck this up. It’s scary sometimes... to think about how much I love you.”

You feel his lips touch the top of your head.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m scared too. That’s why I changed the flights without speaking to you. I was scared you wouldn’t want to come with me and take the next step with me.” Tom breaks off, sighing. “I’m a fucking idiot, though. Still should’ve spoken to you about it.”

You hum gently. “As long as you look after me, and make sure I’m okay, then I’d love to come and meet your family.” You tilt your face up and lean closer until you’re able to deposit a clumsy kiss to his sharp jaw.

“Of course I’d look after you,” Tom assures. “But you don’t need to be scared. They’ll love you, because I love you, and I think you’re the most wonderful person in the world, Y/N.”

You curl in closer, stifling a yawn. “Love you too.”

“Precious,” he mumbles. You feel him urge you nearer, warm kisses falling over your head again and again. “Go to sleep, babe,” he urges. “I’ve got you.”

You sigh contentedly. “Will you still be here in the morning?” You whisper, relaxing fully into his hold.

“‘Course. I’ll even get you breakfast.”

You smile against his chest. “Fuck yeah,” you murmur. “G’night.”

“Night, princess.” Tom rests a hand on your arm, and you sink into it. “Sweet dreams.”

[zonerobotnik]

Allright, let's make this a bit of a game.

What would you see, and under which circumstances, in the following Varian ships.

As long, detailed and honestly explained as you can.

Rapunzel

Cassandra

Eugene

Andrew

Juniper

Hugo

Nuru

Yong

Faith

Vex

Willow

Arianna

Gothel

Zhan Tiri

The four sisters with red hair who like to braid

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III

Dipper Pines

Mabel Pines

Hiro Hamada

Uhh…so, this is going to take some thinking. Mostly because I am confused by what you mean, exactly. Uhh…

Rapunzel:

Well, obviously, I love to fall back on the whole "Destined Sun and Moon" thing with them, but when that's not an option, I like having her recognize he has a crush and growing closer to him.

Or, even better, them meeting in a way different from canon and falling in love by chance.

Then there's the case of "The Love Doctor", where it's purely sexual and otherwise they're friends.

Varian flirting with her while he's being a villain is also really fun, with her trying to convince herself she hates him for what he's doing but slowly falling in love.

Or, in the case of "The Secret of the Black Rocks", they're both trying to deny catching feelings while stuck together for long periods of time while on their way to the Dark Kingdom.

Cassandra:

Honestly, I prefer AUs where Varian is nineteen so it's not as questionable to be with her, a 23 year old woman. While the concept of "teenager" didn't actually exist until the 1900s, apparently, it's just better for them to be closer to the same age.

Though, I do enjoy writing fics where Cassandra has to contend with Varian's overprotective dad and the age difference, haha. So much drama!

They make a cute couple, when she's not being a cold-hearted wench that uses him for her own ends.

Eugene:

Varian is his stalker. Literally his stalker. At some point, I will write a modern AU where he is actually being as creepy towards him as Marinette is to Adrien in "Miraculous Ladybug", because he is a massive fanboy and stalker. Why did he have some of his hair from a ponytail that got cut off years ago? Why did he have his broken knives, his boot, his old, damaged satchels? Why did he have such perfect Wanted posters when the old guy that makes Wanted posters couldn't get any of them right?

Varian's stalker tendencies towards Eugene aside, I could see them actually being a cute couple, once Varian was older or in an AU where he's nineteen and not fourteen. I really like exploring his fanboy side about Eugene, even in "Untouchable", where he was stalking him by watching him through the rocks with his powers for years.

Andrew:

Typically, I prefer them to be platonic. But, in situations where they aren't platonic, if anything happens before he's an adult, then I fall back on Asshole Andrew, who is the abusive asshole that features in a lot of my old V&7K fics, though I have yet to actually have him do anything to him during their time together taking over, usually having Andrew get revenge on him after Varian is on his journey. But, generally, I prefer to keep it platonic. He needs an older brother-figure he can count on.

In an AU where they aren't platonic but he's still not an asshole, I can see Andrew being a complete gentleman and starting off by flirting with Varian by complimenting his works and then he'd show off his own and they'd gradually fall in love over time while spending time together.

And then there's their messed-up relationship in "Your Biggest Fan", where Andrew is basically his prisoner/sex-slave/guinea pig for all his crazy sex gadgets.

Juniper:

Gonne be honest…never even once. I just can't really see them as a couple, so I have no idea for how it could go.

Hugo:

Hugo is Varian's fan, whether he admits it or not. It's just hard for him not to admire someone that brought a royal family to their knees before magic intervened. No self-respecting criminal wouldn't admire that kind of accomplishment.

Going by concept Hugo, Varian and Hugo make jabs back and forth while Hugo is blatently obvious about his criminal acts and Varian is trying to hide who he used to be. They don't even admit they like each other until the very end of their journey, and so they don't do much until they're settled into Corona. Hugo and Varian trade off on who is the dominant one in the bedroom and the kitchen, because Hugo is too determined to prove he's better than Varian to admit that Varian's cooking is way better. Varian humors his burning scrambled eggs because he loves him too much to tell him they taste bad.

Going by my own lore, Hugo and Varian are friends-with-benefits while Varian explores things in the bedroom with other people and Hugo internally screams about wanting him for himself and cursing convincing him that it was normal for scientists to have open relationship and free love.

In an AU where Hugo meets Varian while he's a villain, maybe got caught trying to steal from the castle when Varian was in charge, he would probably start off strip-searching him to make sure he didn't take anything and then interrogate him with truth serum and then convince him to "stick around" to try to get Hugo's boss "Donella" to "come for a visit". He would flirt with him and, if he's an adult in this AU, totally seduce him into banging.

Nuru:

Honestly, I have never actually thought of them being together in any way but platonically. Maybe that will change, eventually, but right now I don't have any ideas.

Yong:

Not a single shippy idea for these two. Absolutely none. I ship Yong with Kiera and that's it. No one else.

Faith:

Varian and Faith first met when Varian was working on chores for Cassandra and they bonded over frustrating adults and living up to the expectations and dealing with disappointments from their family. During Varian's criminal stint, Faith spoke in his defense until her mother told her to stop, for her family's sake, and later helped Varian with the takeover.

When Varian is Royal Engineer, she supports him by bringing him snacks so he doesn't have to leave his important work to get food and they grow closer and he asks her out one day, which she is flustered about but agrees. Rapunzel catches wind of it, "helps" makes the day "special" and while Rapunzel is cleaning up the mess, they sneak off to have an actual private first date.

They go on several dates for a year before Varian asks her to marry him and she accepts.

As a married couple, they're both doting parents and Varian is a doting husband both in and out of the bedroom.

Vex:

Aside from them meeting briefly in TREL, I haven't thought of how things might go for them as a couple.

Willow:

No. Absolutely not.

Arianna:

Canon-wise, I could see him getting together with her after Frederic passed away to spite his grave. I don't see him actually having romantic feelings for her, especially if he's a villain.

For other situations, see "It's a Deal, Then" and there's mention of them being in bed together in "The Love Doctor" but, again, not romantic.

Gothel:

No. No, I'm sorry, I can't, I just can't. I try, all I see is her in a mother-figure role to him. It's not happening.

Zhan Tiri:

Zhan Tiri would approach him in disguise to try to take advantage of him, either for his alchemy or the Moonstone.

The four sisters with red hair who like to braid:

I have not and will never ship them with Varian. Ever.

Oh, we've got some crossover stuff here.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III:

…No. I don't ship it. At all. Aside from daddy issues and inventing, I don't see them actually finding anything in common. But, then, it's been a while since I watched the movies/series.

Dipper Pines:

Dipper and Varian would absolutely nerd out and get into trouble together and spend time together, and then Dipper starts catching feelings and chewing his shirt and Rapunzel gets it out of him and bullies him into confessing to Varian.

Once dating, they pretty much do the same stuff as before, but there's kissing involved and some screwing.

Mabel Pines:

Mabel would start off picking Varian as her new Crush-of-the-Week but realizes after a while that it's not a crush, and he likes her back, and she starts to panic because she has commitment issues and she starts hiding from him and Dipper talks sense into her and she starts actually dating Varian, but she wants to "take it slow" because commitment is scary to her.

Hiro Hamada:

Weird to put this here and not Gideon, since I have never, not once, written anything with Hiro or Hiccup, but okay.

I think they'd be cute friends, but I don't really see Hiro being into romance. Maybe it's just me, but he's always seemed to be disinterested in that kind of thing. But then, I've never seen the series. Maybe he falls in love with someone. Dunno. Honestly, I don't know enough about Hiro to think of anything.

Did that answer your questions well enough?

[shivada-jade]

magical mischief (2)

hogwarts!au

character(s): diluc ➡ mentions: kaeya, sucrose, childe, venti, baal, diona warning(s): swearing <3

notes: it was supposed to be diluc, zhongli, and thoma but diluc's unexpectedly got longer than i hoped oOPS so i made a separate one for zhongli and thoma

part 1: kaeya, childe, albedo

gryffindor!

diluc

everyone knows of the gryffindor prefect. some people would mistake him as ravenclaw for being so studious; some people would mistake him for slytherin for being so closed off. in his first year of hogwarts, people often mistook him as hufflepuff for being friendly, overly polite, and outgoing. the hufflepuff mistake changed when he turned sixteen.

no one knows what happened to his sudden change of personality. no one but kaeya and a strange, childhood, ravenclaw friend that works with another even stranger ravenclaw.

sucrose pushes her glasses up, watching you create another explosion in her room.

you cough, wiping off the ashes from your face. the black smudges on your face don't go away. sucrose hands you a handkerchief and you gratefully accept it, finally getting the grime off.

"project sixty-two oh-eight is unsuccessful." the mint haired girl notes in a journal. "moving on to..."

you tilt your head, giving her a nod to go on but she stares at the space behind you. you turn and see kaeya, cracking open the door with a quiet knock. you frown, his uncharacteristic actions feel so weird. he usually just blasts open the door with a flick of his wand and sashays inside.

"kaeya?" you ask after apologizing to sucrose for interrupting her. "what's up?"

the slytherin clears his throat, opening the door more widely. "may i have a moment of your time? preferably not here, though."

he's so... formal. unlike himself.

you wave goodbye to sucrose and promise her to do another experiment next time then direct your attention back to the boy in front of you. "sure, outside?"

he nods. with a swish of his robes, he walks out. you note his posture is so unlike him. his strides are more rigid, less carefree. it's like a comparison from a beauty model to an uptight CEO.

he leads you right in a place where you can see the black lake. it's awfully farther than you expected. you thought he was going to lead to to the court yard, or at least the slytherin common room.

"kaeya, you're not acting like yourself." you comment.

"haha!" an airy laugh escapes from someone. you jolt, surprised from the unexpected guest. you feel two hands clamp your shoulders. "you're absolutely right, my dear."

you knit your brows, walking away from kaeya and... diluc. you slap a hand over your mouth. "wait, diluc- did you just laugh?!" did he just call you 'my dear' with a peppy tone

kaeya grumbles in displeasure. his arms cross while his brother leans on him with a carefree attitude.

you make an 'o' shape with your lips, piecing the clues together. "oh.. oh." you try to remain stoic and serious about the situation, seeing how uncomfy kaeya- no- how uncomfy diluc is.

you gasp out laughing, clutching your stomach. you crouch on the ground unable to control your laughs and look up to the brothers with tears in your eyes, "oh- please! you've switched bodies! how?!"

no wonder the slytherin had been acting all curt and polite. diluc in kaeya's body pinches the bridge of his nose. "the new first year did this," he starts to explain. "took one look at me and said, 'i will destroy the wine industry!' i don't even know how the kid knows of my family's business in the muggle world."

"placed a spell on us with weird words while having a quidditch practice match," kaeya finishes. "but really, who doesn't know of the winery? even the purest of purebloods know of it."

kaeya (still in diluc's body) looks at the red portion of his robes with a scrunched up nose. you're unable to tell if he hates how the robe feels on him. or if he hates wearing gryffindor's colours.

you hum, scratching your head. "you want me to undo the spell, right?"

"if it isn't a problem," diluc presses his lips together. with one glance at your unsure face, his shoulders droop. "you don't know how, do you..."

you smile sympathetically. "i'll try my best to undo it, but just in case, we need to find that first year, to the source itself"

kaeya raises his arms behind his now red hair, "great! it feels so weird to be seeing with both my eyes. or well, with both diluc eyes. the kid's name is diona. she's also in slytherin like me. diluc will lead you to her."

"what? why me," diluc asks.

"because you're the one who looks like me, duh! i cant go in the slytherin common room if i look like gryffindor prefect. just bring [y/n] with you. childe can also help-"

diluc glowers, "you still hang around that scum?"

"you still keep that vase?" kaeya throws sweet poison to diluc.

you chuckle nervously when you see them bring their wands out. "so, diona? let's find her."

kaeya raises a brow, and smirks. "toodles~! i dont want to spend another minute in this grump's body. that donna girl keeps trying to give me a pie- i dont want seven different pies." he wriggles his fingers to show his goodbye.

you shiver. it's so weird to see diluc- when you know diluc isn't actually diluc in his body. but his face keeps smiling and showing emotions with kaeya's soul inside. it's weird to not see only little quirks of his mouth or his typical sighs.

but really though, you could stare at kaeya's new face. it's strange seeing diluc with a scheming face: the one kaeya typically wears

"please at least try to not get into any trouble..." diluc purses his lips. "i'll try to act like you- you try to act like me."

you stare at diluc with owlish eyes. diluc? acting like kaeya?

it seems kaeya has the same reaction, because he freezes. luckily for him, he's quick witted, "oh? act like you?" he musters the grouchiest face and crosses his arms. "hello, i am diluc ragnvindr. i am a grouchy gryffindor. i hate kaeya. i hate lots of slytherins, especially the beautiful, gorgeous asshole named kaeya," he praises himself.

diluc fights the urge to throw him into the black lake. you laugh, dragging diluc away and leading him to where the slytherin common room is.

"i've only been here once, but i am acquainted with childe, so he can show us around." you bump his side playfully and stand outside the slytherin common room.

"CHILDE." you yell with your hands amplifying the noise.

"WHADDUP SHAWTY," you hear a shout from behind you.

you nod to diluc, encouraging him to somehow find a way to get the slytherin password from childe. you know he hates him, but you want to see dilucs words come true. you want to see how he acts as kaeya.

he lets out a shaky sigh and smiles so casually. the smile is so pretty, it hurts. it's a shame he doesn't do that with his own face.

childe beams seeing the two of you, "hey comrades! what are you all standing around for?" he prods around, eying diluc then snaps his fingers as if realizing something.

you wait a bit for diluc to say something, or act more, but it seems he's done his acting gig and goes straight to the point. "what's the password?"

you deadpan. childe's gonna question him now and he'd have to say he's actually dilu-

"yeah sure no problem! it's 'reckoning'"

diluc says the word to a blank wall and enters through the door. you squint your eyes and make a face at childe. "you're up to something, i know."

he shrugs and pushes you in after diluc. "tell diona i said hi."

...

you sit at the lounge, waiting for diluc to show up with diona. your brows crease, because diluc is right. childe knows something others don't. you don't recall telling childe you were trying to find diona.

you doubletake, seeing a hufflepuff drinking an absurd amount of butterbeer from who knows where. they hang their arms around a slender, purple haired slytherin who tries to push him off with disgust.

what is venti doing hanging out with the slytherin queen. he'll die-

"venti," you hiss, reaching out to try and let him live a bit longer.

he hiccups and waves you over. he 'whispers' to the slytherin next to him. oh he's in trouble now. "psst, baal. is that the one all the slytherins are talking about?" his whispers are shouts at this point.

the slytherins at the lounge freeze, hoping you havent caught on yet.

baal hits venti's head with a hand, "shut up. you're ruining the plan."

you snort seeing venti spill his drink on his clothes.

"but baal," venti downs what's left in his mug. "if that grumpy gryffindor wont confess to [y/n] then how on earth is the plan even going to work? he barely even talks to [y/n] these days because hee likes [y/n] too much." he says as if you're not in the room. he continues babbling even after baal kicks his shins, "kaeya's plan won't work if diona-"

oh shit so it's kaeya's plan and every slytherin is on it

baal drags venti out of the common room and throws him out and all the other slytherins hastily leave to their own rooms.

diluc coughs from behind you, now transformed to his normal self and with who you assume is diona. pink peppers his face while he tried to cover his face with his fiery hair. "um, i found diona. she swapped me back."

diona sticks her tongue out. "that ugly kaeya made a deal with me on something and i had to oblige! it's honestly so pathetic how you can't confess so deal or no deal: i had to do it, but the uglier bard ruined the whole plan so i turned you back."

diluc dusts imaginary dust off his cloak and grasps your hands. he looks down to his feet, still unsure of whether to do this or not. "well, you heard it all. it's a shame it couldn't be from me but-" he rambles. with other's he's confident, but with you he's a mess. "i hope you can accept my feelings. if not i understand, i'll go on with my day and you'll never have to see me."

he holds his breath, silently quivering with the lack of response you give. a hand lifts his chin up and he stares at your eyes, nervous.

you didn't say anything, but you smile and give his the warmest hug.

he knows the answer now.

he wraps his arms back, silently thanking kaeya for his idiotic plan. it's stupid, but it worked in the end.

BONUS!:

"KAEYA I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS"

kaeya swirls a gold goblet with sparkling grape juice inside. he wolfishly grins and holds his cup up with a hand. "a toast for master diluc! for finally confessing, if people can even call it that."

he lowers it, placing it on his lips but never drinking it. he grins under the cup seeing diluc's wand in his hand flaming red.

"it's not even my fault." kaeya starts to explain his bullshit to diluc, "you can blame yourself. honestly, it gets tiring seeing you pine for so long and avoiding them like you weren't childhood friends with them."

the tips of diluc's ears turn red, not wanting to agree with his brother, but it was true. he was hopeless in the romantic department by himself. he can reject thousands and millions of people. he can have who ever he wants, but you aren't "whoever." you're the most special someone to him and that made him scared.

kaeya hands his drink to diluc, "do i get a thank you?"

diluc scoffs, yet accepts the drink. "thank you," he quietly mutters.

part 3: thoma, zhongli

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 10 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: major character death, mental breakdowns, graphic descriptions of blood/gore/violence, canon-typical violence, manipulation, suicide/self harm mention but not actually done

Word Count: 2626

Neither Bo nor Vincent knew what you were going to do. How this was going to play out. But it was a test that both of them needed to see. Would you fall prey to him? Let him draw you back in? Or would you defy him? Choose them? Yourself? 

They needed to see it with their own eyes, so they'd both stepped back. Letting him bait you and letting him get close, even if Vincent was gripping his knives at the thought of your ex lashing out. Even if some of his words made him want Bo to step in. Or want to step in himself.

But both of the twins knew that, until it was completely necessary, neither of them could step in. They wouldn't be able to explain away murdering him right in front of you, and they hadn't had much of a plan when Vincent had refused to leave you alone at the house. Bo knew they'd needed to do something before you were able to get to a phone, and he was silently relieved that your ex was up and about. Whatever move was made, your ex had to go first. Or so they thought.

Vincent could hardly stand the way he was taunting you. He drew out his knife, even when Bo shot him a glare. Bo was supposed to be the impulsive one out of the two of them. But Vincent could help the way his grip tightened when he talked to you, correctly guessed that you were with him. Sort of.

The pair of you had just had your first kiss, but it wasn't like you were together like Vincent wanted you to be. He pushed those thoughts away, thinking that it wasn't the time to be debating about where you would stand after everything. Even if how you would react to the town was a constant presence in the front of his mind.

Part of him thought you would never understand. That you'd never accept Ambrose when you found out what really went on in there. What he and his brothers did. But that changed when he saw you step forward.

***

You hadn't even realized how close he'd gotten to you. It only took you a few steps for you to be within swinging distance, and you knocked him right back on his ass.

"Don't talk about her!" You shrieked, and you were swinging again just as the words left his mouth,

"Wait, look-" You felt almost outside your body, out of your own control as you hit him over the head with the bat. You were crying, you could feel the warmth down your cheeks. Or maybe that was the splatters of his blood when you hit him again.

"You don't get to talk about her! You killed her!" You screamed, repeating those last three words over and over like a mantra. You hit him again and again and again. Until his face no longer resembled the one he'd had before. Until his confident smile was gone. Until he'd never be able to say her name again, never be able to say yours again. Until the only thing staring up at you was a mess of blood and broken flesh. "She was gonna go back to school! She was going to make something of herself, you asshole ." You didn't stop until the bat broke, snapping from the force of your blow and the blunt contact with his skull. 

Part of you hadn't even realized what you'd been doing. It was too easy. A few swings, a repeated motion. That was all it took. You thought it would be harder, would be some moral instinct that would stop you. You were panting, and your arms ached. You stared at the unrecognizable face of your ex. You took deep breaths as you stared, watching the blood pool behind his head. It hit you then as you watched him lay there. Silent and unmoving. You'd killed him .

You dropped the broken bat, letting it clatter to the floor. Your stomach lurched at the smell, at the sight. You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to swallow down the urge to vomit as you forced yourself to look away. The images of blood, of a broken, battered body brought up images you wished you could forget. Your own sister lifeless and limp. 

You nearly fell to your knees, but someone was grabbing you from behind. Holding you. You knew it was Vincent before you even looked, and you turned to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He was lifting you up with ease, pulling you up so you wrapped your legs around him and carrying you away from the body. He set you down on the stairs, and sat next to you as he pulled your face into his hands.

You were crying. You were shaking. You hadn't meant to do it, even if you'd carried through on every swing. You'd just been so angry . You'd wanted him gone, wanted to stop being afraid. You hadn't realized that you'd been babbling, telling him all of this. You were begging him to believe you, but Vincent didn't speak. He didn't even sign. He simply tried to wipe the tears from your face and calm you down. You were hyperventilating, and you'd end up passing out if he didn't get you to breathe. You hadn't even noticed how your ex had been pointing towards the broken body of one of Vincent's wax figures, his finger unmoving as it pointed at the arm he'd broken off of it. The arm that had blood and bone inside of it.

You held Vincent's mask, before your arms were wrapping tight around his shoulders. You hugged him, crying into his neck as he did his best attempt to soothe you. His hands ran over your back, but it couldn't change anything. It couldn't change what you'd done. And it couldn't change that, despite everything, it wasn't him that you felt bad for. You were scared and shocked of what you'd done, by the fact that you'd taken another human life. By the fact that you didn't feel an ounce of regret, and, rather, felt a heaviness lift off your shoulders. You were crying because you would probably go for jail for this, crying for the life you'd had ahead of you. Crying over what you were going to lose. 

"What are we-" You hiccuped, pulling back slightly. "What are we gonna do?" You asked. You were scared of the answer you'd receive. But Bo was the one that answered, and you watched as he kicked your ex's foot. Just to make sure.

"Don't worry, darlin', we'll take care of it." He said, and you sniffled as you stared at him as confusion took your focus.

***

You stared at the wall, hugging Vincent's pillow to your chest. It had been three days. You knew that the boys had gotten rid of the body. You knew that Lester had been the one to dump it. And you knew what happened inside the town. 

They'd told you after you'd stopped crying, when Vincent had finally gotten you to calm down completely and had been petting your hair while you leaned against him on the stairs. With the twins on either side of you, Bo told you what their plan for the town was. You stared at him, realizing that he was just as insane as your ex. If not more. But you didn't say anything as he continued,

"So, we won't tell. Don't worry about that at all." He said, reaching out to play with the ends of your hair. You'd leaned away, and masked it by nuzzling further into Vincent. You looked up at him, eyes wide as you hoped he would realize just how insane this sounded. Turning people into wax to fulfill a wish of their dead mother's? It was cracked, plain and simple. But, Bo didn't stop there. He let out a little laugh. "Too bad you bashed his face in. Vincent could've made something real nice outta him." And you froze. You stared at him, his one blue eye staring back. You hadn't connected the dots, at least not completely. 

Vincent killed just like Bo did. Worse. He made art out of their corpses. Suddenly, you could feel the urge to vomit come back. You'd touched the wax figures. Examined them. How had you never noticed? You looked away from Vincent, and tried to focus on something that wasn't the body in the center of the room. 

"Honestly, didn't think you were gonna do something like that. Didn't think you had it in you. Bet it felt good, huh?" And you didn't want to admit that it did. That, if anything, you were relieved. But, after glancing at him, you knew he would wait for your response. There was a pause before you finally gave him a nod. 

You reached for Vincent's hand, holding it tight. Even if you knew what he'd done, that the very hands you were holding sculpted people . That those people were dead and frozen in wax all over town. But, you needed something to ground you. Something to build a foundation on. And Bo was too unstable of a choice.

"Now, don't get any ideas. Vincent's sweet on you, so we won't do nothing, but," He paused, a small grin on his face. "Don't forget, sweetheart. In the eyes of the law, you're just as guilty as we are."

In the eyes of the law, you're just as guilty as we are. You'd frozen at those words. They'd been stuck in your mind for days, and they were the ones that were stuck inside your head as you stared at the pipes that ran under the Sinclair house. You hadn't talked to any of them much, with Vincent checking in and bringing you breakfast. You left the dirty dishes on his bedside table, but you found that you hadn't been picking at your food much. Lester came down every so often, usually when he was done work. You could tell that he wasn't used to being in Vincent's workshop, but it was just to say hello, ask how you were. You gave him the same answers, even if they felt hollow on your tongue.

You'd asked him once if he knew what his brothers did, and he'd hesitated to reply. It'd told you all you needed to know, but you waited for him to admit it. He did, and you'd looked away. A town full of murderers and accomplices , you thought numbly to yourself. Well, it wasn't like the town was that full anyways , you added. You almost smiled at that thought, but immediately felt bad for making jokes about it. 

It explained a lot. Why Bo and Vincent hadn't wanted you to explore. Why they hadn't wanted to go to the police. Hell, part of you wondered what had happened if you had found out. Would you be a wax figure stuck somewhere? Forever frozen in whatever position Vincent put you in?

But what could you say? What could you do? You hadn't killed your ex out of self defense. Sure, he'd been antagonizing you, but that didn't mean he deserved to get murdered . And the Sinclair's killed anyone that came to their town. Well, almost everyone. If you went to the police, one thing was for sure. All of you would end up behind bars.

It didn't help that your knife had disappeared, the one you always carried inside your boot. You'd fallen asleep and it was gone, and you didn't truly care to ask. You knew what had happened to it, or you could imagine. They didn't want you to do anything rash, whether that involved yourself or them. Vincent didn't leave you alone either. He was at your beck and call, barely a few steps away for the entirety of the day. You appreciated it to some degree, but that didn't mean you would listen to him when he tried to coax you out of bed. You knew what they thought would happen. Leave you alone for too long and you might make a run for it. Or end it all. For awhile, those had seemed like the only two options.

You brought the blanket up closer to your face. It was a difficult situation. You weren't truly a prisoner here. It was moreso that you didn't really have the option to leave anymore. They weren't denying you it, it just wasn't a choice at all. Where could you go? Who could you talk to? You were sure if you went outside Ambrose, the confession would just spill out of your mouth. And, as much as you hated to admit it, the only people who understood were the Sinclair's. They were probably the only three people in the world that wouldn't judge you for what you'd done. And you couldn't kill yourself. You wouldn't give your ex the satisfaction. So, for three days, you'd pondered what else you could do. 

You sighed. You couldn't stare at the pipes anymore. If you did, you were sure you'd go insane. And, just like always, Vincent ended up always being your perfect distraction.

He was working on something you knew was for you. It was something to add to your collection up at the house, but you had only been up there a few times since what had happened in the House of Wax. Hell, you'd barely left the basement. You laid in Vincent's bed, trying to hold onto whatever string of sanity was left. You couldn't stand to be alone with Bo, at least now that you knew just how psychotic he really was. Vincent- Well, you knew he wasn't much better. But, you liked to imagine he was. It was the only way you could justify your continued attraction to him. 

You watched him for a moment, watching how he moved. His actions were sure and precise, practiced. He knew his craft and he knew how to make whatever he imagined inside his head. His hands were gentle too. They'd been treating you like you were made out of glass. And Vincent himself was patient. He didn't rush you or try to force you to be happy, tell you to cheer up like Bo did. He didn't expect you to put on a smile and be fine. He let you be upset, and let you take the time you needed. As you continued to stare, you realized a third option. You supposed it should've been obvious to you before.

You could stay.

No matter how crazy the Sinclair's were or how utterly insane what they did was, was there really a better option? You couldn't think of one. So, you lifted yourself to sit up, calling to the man that was sitting in front of his work table with sculpting tools in hand,

"Vincent?" You asked. Your voice was rough from underuse, and you cleared it when he looked over at you. He paused, holding the tool as he stared over at you. You motioned for him to come closer, and he was quick to abandon whatever he'd been working on. He crept over, stopping at the side of the bed until you motioned again. He climbed into the bed with you, curling up with you and letting you rest your head on his chest. You wrapped your arms around him, burying into his warmth. Finally, after a minute, you could feel yourself breaking. It became harder and harder to keep the pieces of yourself glued together, and when Vincent started petting your head you completely let go. Leaving your pieces for Vincent to fix.

[zozophoenixxx]

Serotonin Booster :D 🐉

How to train your dragon edition

Here are some things I had forgotten or little details I just noticed on my rewatch, maybe even Unpopular Opinions 🤭👀

✨Race to the Edge ✨

SEASON 4

Tuffnut choked on a stun dart- I think I've seen it all regarding the twins HAHDHSHHA

Fishlegs really had Meatlug opening its mouth WIDE JUST TO SAY ABORT THE VERY LAST SECONDHAHSHGSGG

I love how Hiccup and Astrid can communicate without actually talking 🥺

I love how all dragons are a reflection of each of their owners like even tho Barf and Belch aren't the smartest they can be whenever they actually try

- Snotlout and Hookfang are both hotheaded and never really listen

- Fishlegs and Meatlug both are sweet, smart, resourceful and jealous sometimes hehe

- The twins and Barf and Belch are crazy and dumb but can be smart and strong whenever they need to be

- Astrid and Stormfly are both authoritative and badasses but also caring

- Hiccup and Toothless are both natural born leaders

Astrid built the ballista

Fun fact: Mala means bad in Spanish and it makes sense if you think about it cause Mala is BADASS HAHDHSHAHA😂 sorry I make bad jokes like that

Hiccup referring to Tuffnut as one of his best friends is adorable 🥺

"Flattery has no effect on me, mainly because I never hear any" dudeee ruff that's so saddd🥺😭

JAJDHHSJSJS TUFFNUT REALLY SAID "IT'S TIME FOR BALLISTA-NUT" AND JUMPED RIGHT OFF OF TOOTHLESS

And then him actually fighting Gruffnut is pretty badass I mean they threw actual punches and kicks and everything 😳

Why was Hiccup so cold towards Astrid? When she was just trying to help with his bounty problem

The way Toothless prevented Stoick from killing Savage 🥺🥺🥺

Now that I think abt it Hiccup got kidnapped so many times

Stoick punching Ryker and threatening him is one of the best things I've seen 🤩

Dude poor Snotlout was just insecure in ep4 And I love how Hiccup tried to help him and even then Snotlout still tried his best to show that he can be a leader

- i really loved how he learned that he couldn't just stop covering someone, I mean even when Astrid told him to "peel off and help Hiccup" he was like "no way I'm not leaving your wing" 🥺🥺🥺

Submaripper - tidal class, super powerful, prefer deeper open water and typically very reclusive. Extremely territorial and dangerous.

I LOVE HOW THE SUBMARIPPER SAVED HICCUP, and Toothless's face whenever he couldn't get Hiccup out and Barf and Belch breaking the pod to get him 🥺🥺🥺I can't

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕪𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕤

- multifaceted disorder

Uncontrollable euphoria - Astrid

Lack of coordination - Heather

Mood swings - Snotlout

Complete catatonia

Cold ankles

Rash

Paranoia - Fishlegs

I CAN'T LOOKING AT THEM LIKE THIS IS JUST TOO FUNNY. NO ISTG EPISODE 7 IS GOLDDDD AND WHEN THE DRAGONS TOOK OVER 😂

Stoick is so fine 🤩

JAHDHAHSHA HICCUP REALLY OUT HERE FAT-SHAMING HIS DAD when poor Stoick is just trying to tell him that going after Viggo only for revenge is neither safe nor the right thing to do

- "What? What do you mean? You love revenge. Revenge is your thing. Weren't they gonna name you Stoick the Vindictive before... Well you know." *signals to Stoick*

Shadow wings - ep7 they follow, herd and shadow. Big one isn't as fast or maneuverable. Small ones are smart and quick. The big one looks like the submaripper.

AND THE WAY TOOTHLESS DEALT WITH THE LAST OF THEM. It was amazingggg he dived down towards a lil pond but he couldn't see cause of the dust and so HE USED THAT ONE SHOT THAT LETS HIM SEE TO KNOW WHEN TO GO BACK UP AND ALLOW THE BIG SHADOW WING TO CRASH AGAINST THE WATER.

The Flying Shatter-Scatter move with Shattermaster and Windshear was so cool and it's also basically the only thing that has pierced through dragon-proof ships

Bro I really wanted to see Astrid saving Toothless when she saw he was in danger in ep8

I DONT WANT HEATHER TO LEAVE UGHHHH 🥺

HEATHER AND FISHLEGS ARE SO GOALS I CANT 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭 I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH

Everyone's shocked faces whenever Hiccup and Fishlegs weren't thinking the same thing HAHDHSHABA

Toothless's facial expressions whenever he saw Astrid was in danger and the way he grabbed Snotlout and went down the volcano just to try and save her- I love their relationship 🥺

And how Hiccup was so worried when he saw Astrid in the lava and the way he grabbed her 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Dude I shipped Throk and Mala so harddd

And the red night terrors ufff we love them

Tuffnut just killed Macey

Ruffnut is so badass bro I love her she really had a sword to her neck and was like "take your best shot pal"

Project Shellfire: a weaponized dragon, Shellfire - tidal class, Titanwing, bigger than a submaripper, long range firing capabilities.

Hiccup just saved Astrid from falling to the water and the way he looked at her right after he put her down- he seemed so concerned I can't 🥺😭

BLINDSIDED ALSO LOVE THIS EPISODE 🤩🥺

First name Astrid calls out is Hiccup's 🥺

Her eyes omg

The way she started hyperventilating and the way he held her hand with both of his and the way he kneeled down next to her and made sure she knew that he was still there and the way Toothless's facial expression went 🥺😔 and the way he put his wing on her legs to try and cover her or protect her 🥺🥺🥺I can't

I mean Imagine how Astrid must've felt I just can't I'd be so stressed out and desperate and the next day she was just like I'm going to look for my dragon idc

No dude because the way Hiccup grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from falling off of Toothless and how both of their expressions softened whenever he told her not to apologize and whenever she hugged him 🥺

I love how the twins are trying to learn how Astrid feels but Ruffnut takes advantage of "blind" Tuffnut and has him run off of a cliff

AND HOW HE CAUGHT HER AND GOT SO NERVOUS WHEN THEY BOTH FELL DOWN 🥺 wait now that I'm watching it again he actually prevented her from getting hit in the head omg

"Of course she's not gonna hide. What was I thinking? She's Astrid."

MISTAKE whenever Astrid took the dragons out of their pens they weren't wearing their saddles and now that they've found them they have them on.

Them spending time with each other's dragons is so funny

Nonono I can't this is the beginning of it all! The beginning of Hiccstrid dating is HERE!!!! and that scene whenever he tells her that she's strong and they'll get through it and he holds her arm and then slowly moves down to her hand 🥺 I love them too much I can't- I want what they have. HE WAS GOING IN FOR THE KISS TOO I CANTTTTT OK THIS IS TOO MUCH

"There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid. Always."

TOOTHLESS'S FACE 😳

I love how Meatlug got so serious after she heard Toothless's distress call

ASTRID IS SO BADASS I CAN'T SHE'S JUST SUCH A NATURAL AND AUTHORTITAVE I LOVE HER

THE HAND THING WITH ASTRID AND THE TRIPLE STRYKE 😩

Fishlegs riding Hookfang is HILARIOUS

That final scene is gold bro I just can they're too perfect I mean we get Toothless and Stormfly messing around in the background and then we get Hiccup scooting towards Astrid so that their shoulders were touching and also Hiccup asking Astrid if she's really ok and then him telling her that he never stops worrying about her and her saying that she feels the same way AND HER ASKING HIM ABOUT THE ALMOST-TO-BE-FIRST-KISS IN THE FOREST and him getting all nervous and being like "no it wasn't perfect" and telling her that he thinks abt kissing her a lot AND HER BEING LIKE "this seems pretty perfect to me" AND THEN BAMM THE KISS UGHHH IM NOT CRYING OK... yes I am😭

Hiccstrid kiss count: 2😘

I love how Astrid comforts Hiccup and puts her hand on his chest

Wait shit I completely forgot That Snotlout is actually the one that came up with ~Hiccstrid~ hehehehe -> also the first one to notice that they were acting kinda sus (nvm he thought one of them had a gambling problem)

Ruffnut's impression of Viggo is actually pretty accurate

Heather knowing about Hiccup and Astrid and just getting the gang away so that they can have a few seconds alone

OMG THE SUBMARIPPER I LOVE IT!! It is the natural and hated enemy of the Shellfire

The Triple Stryke let Dagur ride him

HICCUP CALLED DAGUR BROTHER I CANT

No and when they kissed IN FRONT OF THE GANG AND THEY WERE ALL LIKE 😳😦 AND "This. Changes. Everything." Iconic

I can't imagine watching this season by season and having to deal with that cliffhanger LIKE WHUT- the whole volcano just exploded and ur telling me that's IT!! Nope nope nope

[littledrummeraussie]

Omg you’re doing requests with the prompts 🥺 if so, could it be Angst 24 & 36. Fluff 50 & 40 . If not feel free to ignore this! I’m just curious to see what you’ll do with them! ❤️

Thank you sweetie for the prompts! I hope you don’t mind me making this into a part of my on-going mini series! And since many of you wanted to see what is the relationship between these two - well, here’s a little taste. ❤️ 

Warnings: mentions of abuse in a past relationship. angst.

Also, you can still drop me prompts if you feel like it.

- - - - -

glitter & crimson masterlist | story tag | part 1 | part 2

- - - - -

ANGST – 24. “Let me go.”

ANGST – 36. “They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.”

FLUFF – 40. “Why are you scared of loving?”

FLUFF – 50. “Stay.”

- - - - -

“Stay.”

Ashton’s eyes were still closed as he mumbled against the pillow, but his arm around you tightened just a little, letting you know that he did wake when you wanted to get out of his embrace. He fell asleep once the painkillers kicked in, but not before he curled a tattooed arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body while keeping some space between the two of you. Your sleep was fitful, dreams and memories keeping you awake while he slumbered next to you, and after a few hours you couldn’t stay in bed, wanting to find something else to focus on until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” you sighed, settling back against your pillow and lightly brushing a stray curl away from his forehead.

“You’re a terrible sleeper,” Ashton finally opened his eyes, sleepy gaze finding yours in the grey of the room.

“It’s just… my head is full. Can’t switch it off.”

“What’s keeping you awake?” he mirrored your movements, slowly stroking the hair behind your ear, fingers cupping your cheek.

“They warned me about this,” you whispered, hand covering his bruised one on your face.

“About what?” Ashton furrowed his eyebrows and you let out another quiet sigh.

“You.”

*

The last hour had been a blur as you pulled clothes out of drawers and closets, throwing everything you could fit into the bags on the bed. You didn’t dare look into the mirror, not after what happened in the kitchen with your boyfriend. The loud banging of the closing door let you know that he left the house and that’s when you found yourself in your shared bedroom, packing everything that belonged to you. Tonight was the last straw and you couldn’t stay for another minute if you didn’t have to.

You let your eyes wander over the place one last time as you shut the front door, throwing the key into the mailbox – you knew you’re never coming back again. You hauled up your bags and started to walk down the street, the tears freely running down your cheeks as you left everything behind. You had nowhere to go; all your friends lived on the other side of the country, and you kicked the curb as you scolded yourself – your own foolish choices made you end up in this situation, and now you had nothing.

“Hey, you’re okay there?”

The guy you just passed stopped in his track and turned after you, his voice soft but questioning as you picked up the pace. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You didn’t want anyone to see the mess you were now. A mumbled ‘I’m fine’ left your lips, pulling your jacket tighter, hoping he will get your message loud and clear.

A moment passed then you heard footstep coming after you, the heavy boots thumping on the pavement as he quickly caught up with you, fingers curling around your arm and pulling you back to him.

“Let me go,” your voice sounded more panicked than protesting, and at that he finally pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I just– what happened to your face?”

You felt fresh tears streaming down your face as he tilted your chin up towards him, examining you in the light of the streetlamp. He looked handsome and dangerous but soft around the edges as he took in the purpling bruise on your cheek and the split on your bottom lip, gaze turning concerned as his eyes finally found yours.

“Who did this to you?” he let go of you when he saw how disturbed you are and you wrapped your arms around your chest, hiccupping and brushing away your tears.

“Boyfriend… I mean, ex boyfr– I don’t know who he is, not anymore.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay? I could drop you off, I see you packed everything,” he nodded towards your bags, but you quickly shook your head.

“Thanks, but… I’m sure you have better things to do. And I don’t want to be rude, but you’re a stranger – who knows what you’re capable of…” you took a step back and he let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good point. But you look like someone who needs a bit of a company and a place to stay, away from that asshole. I have a friend who could take you in for a little time, even though you are just as much a stranger as I am.”

“And why would you do that? There’s no way you don’t want something in return,” you winced as you bit into your bottom lip.

“I don’t know, I just can’t let you stay out like this in this state,” he groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s my conscious or something. Like if I go away now and you spend the night on the streets and something happens…”

“God, you’re so weird,” you sighed, hauling up your bag on your shoulder. “I’m gonna regret saying yes to you.”

“You won’t, I promise,” he reached for your other bag to sling it over his back, holding his hand out for you. “By the way, I’m Ashton.”

“Y/N,” you let him shake your hand before he nodded down the road.

“Nice to meet you. My car is parked just there, if you would be so kind and follow me.”

“And where are you taking me?” you trailed after him, still not sure if you were doing the right thing.

“Somewhere safe,” Ashton gave you an encouraging smile, and you felt your lips pull at the corners when he threw you a wink.

*

“What stray did you bring here again?” the girl was gorgeous and definitely pissed as Ashton ushered you into the apartment.

“Come on Mali, be nice,” he scoffed, putting your bag down in the hallway. “She needs a place to stay, just for a little while.”

“What about your place?” she quirked an eyebrow at Ashton, hands on her hips. “Or did you forget your latest one there and you don’t want them to meet each other?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… gonna take a minute,” he gave you an apologetic look before he pulled Mali into another room and started to ramble in a hushed voice.

You could barely make out his words, but you caught a few of them anyway – ex-boyfriend, bruises, abuse. Mali kept mostly quiet, hissing whenever Ashton’s voice got louder. They were going back and forth for a few minutes before finally they came back, and he curled an arm around your shoulder.

“You can stay with Mali as long as you need it,” he lightly squeezed your arm, giving a pointed look to the blonde who just rolled her eyes. “And I will stop by tomorrow to check on you. How does that sound?”

“Like something she’s not excited about,” you nodded towards the girl who at that started laughing.

“Get out of here, Irwin,” he shooed Ashton away from you and out of the door. “I’ll take care of her. You go and fuck up someone else’s life now, okay?”

“Love you Mali, you’re the best!” he threw her a kiss and Mali pointed a finger gun at him, shooting him and closing the door, but not before he could wave at you one last time. “Bye, Y/N! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

Mali turned out to be an angel. She made up the guestroom for you and sent you away to take a shower, during which she made you some dinner. Before you could turn in for the night, tired from all the things that happened in the last few hours, she came in to tend to the bruises on your face, checking them before applying some antiseptics on your lips and the small cuts you didn’t see before.

“So… how do you know Ashton?” you finally asked, and she chuckled, shaking her head.

“He’s my brother’s best friend. Annoying little shit, but he grows on you. Can’t say no to a pretty girl in distress. Or well, girls in general.”

“I really didn’t want to disturb you, I’m sorry,” you mumbled but she just shook her head again.

“We’ve all been there,” she squeezed your hand, giving you a smile. “And none of us deserved it. If you needed do get out of there, well… then you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. And just so you know, Ashton is very protective of his own. You’ll probably become one of them if you stick around long enough. Just– don’t fall for him.”

“I don’t think that’s on the plate,” you pointed at your own cheek. “Kinda not in the mood for guys now.”

“It’s just a friendly warning,” Mali patted you knee before standing up. “He’s a nice guy. But it’s better to be his friend than anything else. You’ll never see him with the same girl twice. That’s his style: charming, but dangerous.”

*

Ashton sighed but didn’t pull back, hand still cupping your cheek as he lay beside you. A year has passed since the night he found you on the street, broken and bruised after the way your ex-boyfriend treated you. And while the two of you became close friends, you always made sure not to catch feelings for the guy who was only referred to as a womanizer around the neighbourhood. Or so you’ve told yourself.

“That’s typical Mali,” he scoffed lightly, running his fingers through his hair.

“It doesn’t really matter,” you shrugged, sitting up on the bed and pulling your knees to your chest.

“It does to me,” he pushed himself up and sat cross-legged in front of you. “Y/N… hey, look at me.”

“Don’t tell me again, please,” you whispered, trying to be as small as possible. “Please just… don’t.”

“Tell you what? That I love you?” he squeezed your knee, a slight hurt in his voice. “I’m not gonna take it back – I love you. I just don’t know why are you scared of loving me?”

“You know, Ashton. You know why I can’t.”

- - - - -

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[imagine-turtles]

2014 boys practicing confessing to their crush and the crush walks in to hear them! What happens now? Do they try to deny everything and pretend nothing happened or do they tell the crush about their feelings even if it wasn't how they planned on doing it?

Leonardo’s confession was supposed to be perfect.  This?  The words are all wrong and he’s hardly started editing his “feelings” monologue, he’s trying to backpedal but he’s just making things unbearably awkward.  He was supposed to have a relaxing evening alone, mood lighting, segue topics to lead into his big reveal, and backup plans upon backup plans to catch any unfortunate mishaps.

He did not make a plan for this particular nightmare scenario.

To Leonardo’s credit, he keeps a straight face... right up until his voice cracks, and he has to sit down.  It’s only after his crush might insist that no, they’d rather not forget about what happened--and perhaps they’d like to discuss it further over a respectable dinner--that he removes his head from his hands.

Leonardo’s post-mishap crusade to find out who sent in his crush in the first place gets him nowhere, as his brothers have closed ranks and refuse to admit any involvement whatsoever.  He’d almost be impressed by how coordinated their defense is, if he weren’t still bent out of shape over his plans getting steamrolled.  One of them will crack eventually.

(It was Splinter.)

~~~

If humiliation could kill, Raphael would be stone-cold dead on the floor.  Nothing has ever made him want to crawl in a trash compacter more than his crush hearing him spill his guts with the verbal eloquence of a middle school drama instructor.  He’s seriously considering tucking himself into his shell and ignoring them until they go away.  Then it’s off to Oregon to kill Bigfoot and take his place in the PNW wilderness.

But Raphael ends up frozen in place, so his first instinct is to deny.  Deny until he’s blue in the face.  He didn’t say anything, they must’ve been hearing things, and even if he did say something it definitely wasn’t about them.  He’ll only admit to his feelings when his crush takes the opportunity to confess right back; without some kind of positive reinforcement, he won’t have the confidence or the self-esteem to be so vulnerable otherwise.  Who is he to ask his crush to bear his duty, his temper, his... well, everything?  What if he bares his keratin-plated heart and they crack it wide open, only to decide they don’t like the gooey mess they find inside?

Regardless of how things turn out, he’s still going to throttle whoever set him up on principle.

~~~

Donatello mentally runs through every plan he’s just ruined by running his mouth like a moron.  What is it he’s always telling his brothers?  If you want to keep a secret, shut the hell up.  And now that he’s broken his own cardinal rule, he’s got no choice but to own it and hope for the best.

So he pulls out the pro/con chart before they can say anything.  Just so that they’re on the same page.  Yes, Donnie knows he probably sounds like a maniac--might as well pin up the newspaper clippings and red string at this point--but cliché as it is he operates on the scientific method.  If he can’t quantifiably prove that he and his crush would benefit from a relationship, what would be the point of trying to pursue one?  Just loving them isn’t enough.  Key variables have to align for anything to work out long-term.  And he desperately wants things to work out long-term.

His crush may or may not find the color-coded presentation endearing, but he hopes the glow of their cheeks is a happy one, even if he’s now managed to embarrass both of them at once.

~~~

Michelangelo is a little bummed, but ends up far less rattled than his brothers.  The point of rehearsing is so his crush doesn’t hear him workshopping his confession, or tripping over his words, or falling victim to a hiccup fit halfway through, but at least he doesn’t have to repeat himself.  Or figure out how to go about bringing it up.  Or spend the 24 hours prior to bringing it up stressing about bringing it up.  And he gets so, so sweaty when he’s stressin’.  Sweatier than usual.  Is he still talking?

God forbid his crush is also a nervous laugher, or they’ll hardly be able to talk through each others’ giggle fits.  Not for a solid five minutes.

But once Michelangelo has a chance to talk again, he’ll want to know what they think now that they’ve got him pegged.  Sure, he’s got all the typical “mutant reptile living in the sewers of New York” problems, but still!  He loves them!  That’s the most important part!  If he can keep NYC from burning to the ground on the nightly, he can definitely make a relationship work one way or another.

And if his crush wants to spend their first date picnicking on the illuminated tile roof of the Kogod Courtyard, well, how could he say no?  He’s now their all-access pass to the best rooftops in the city.

[fluffomatic]

Danganronpa Tickle Headcanons

Makoto Naegi

Lee:

. Literally the most ticklish person in the group!

. Has the cutest, squeakiest laugh ever. If tickled for long enough eventually he'll start hiccupping.

.Veeeery squirmy! Tries to hold back tho because he's accidentally kicked his sister when she was tickling him whoops!

.This boy cannot hold his laughter in. Just saying you're going to tickle him will start him giggling, and after u start? Boy is he a giggling FOOL!

.Teasing causes his brain to shut down. Like he gets flustered easily when teased even if it's not about tickling. Someone calls him cute? Face is red af

.Worst spots are his belly, knees and the arch of his feet

Ler:

.This little guy LOVES tickling people as much as he loves getting tickled.

.He is quick and nimble and can luckily find peoples worst spots very fast

.Will tickle pretty much anyone at anytime but mainly targets Byakuya and Kyoko because of their attitudes.

.Despite not being able to take teases himself he can still dish em out! Tends to lean towards more cute softer teases like calling their laugh cute, commenting on how ticklish they are or just giggling along side them

.Though he is average in build and strength he is able to pin people down! Well most people at least. Or the lee just fears if they try to get unpinned they'd hurt Makoto and no one wants that

.Typically goes for a softer tickling approach

Byakuya Togami

Lee:

.You may not think the Ultimate Afluent Progeny is ticklish but you'd be DEAD wrong! This guy is crazy ticklish. Because of his childhood and lack of positive contact from his family he didn't even know he was ticklish for a long time. In fact he didn't know what if felt like. So the first time he was tickled in the academy he was so confused lol

.He tries to hold his laughter in but is trash at it. Since he's not used to the feeling he breaks in less than a second.

.His laugh is wild and frantic but still has a sense of poise to it. When tickled he just can't control himself!

.Squirms quite a bit tho not as much as Makoto.

.Tickling is the only way to get this man to beg. His egotistical nature goes out the window!

.His worst spots are his ribs, hips and spine

Ler:

.This boy can tickle y'all. After his many encounters with people tickling him he eventually picked up on what to do!

.He is ruthless! He likes the control he can have over people. He starts slowly with torturous slow tickling to ready his lee for the absolute wrecking that is coming their way.

.He won't stop until he gets what he wants from his lee which is usually either them begging or paying him a compliment lmao

.His teasing is more stern. He likes to make his lee admit to their own ticklishness or comment on how dumb they are for not seeing this coming

.Typically goes for a soft to hard tickling approach

Kyoko Kirigiri

Lee:

.She is moderately ticklish. Kyoko isn't normally peoples go to target but when she is they go all out! Hearing her laugh is so uncommon that people just tickle her to hear it.

.Her laugh is soft and elegant but jumps in pitch and pace when tickling her worst spot

.Doesn't squirm much because she sees it as giving in and will try her best not to move

.She is very weak to surprise tickles! They catch her off guard always and it's the only time you will get her to jump!

.Her worst spot is her lower back

Ler:

.Doesn't tickle people that often but when she does she goes all out!

.Her main targets are Makoto, Celestia and occasionally Byakuya

.When she's bored she'll sit next to her lee and trace shapes and words on their back, belly or palm. It surprisingly helps her concentrate. Usually it's Byakuya because he has the most ticklish back out of the group and he hates it but let's her since it helps in the case

.Since her hands are covered in scars she likes not to use them that often so she uses a lot of tools. She likes using feathers and paintbrushes the most

.Her teasing method is what you'd expect from a detective. Likes to ask questions and can easily tell when someone is enjoying being tickled, which she quickly points out

.Typically goes for a softer tickling approach

Aoi Asahina

Lee:

.Extremely ticklish! This girl is the second most ticklish person in the group

.Will kick and squirm when tickled and doesn't hold back like Makoto so her ler better watch out!

.Her laugh is full of cackling and snorting and is very cute! (Tho she doesn't like it)

.She likes being tickled as a form of exercise and/or motivation! If she feels she hasn't preformed well enough she will ask someone to tickle her as punish (usually Sakura)

.Her ler cannot touch her knees. With how many sports she does her knees are a little messed up so even if their careful it'll still hurt her

.Her worst spots are her hips, belly and armpits

Ler:

.Run

.She is the group tickle monster! She is so ruthless and gets into ler moods constantly. Tends not to stop until her ler mood is satisfied

.Will target anybody at anytime but especially during vulnerable moments. If she sees someone reaching up, stretching, stuck somewhere or holding something breakable she will tickle them

.Is the only one who knows Sakura is ticklish

.She is strong and can easily pin her lee down. The only people she cannot pin are Sakura and Mondo

.Despite how ruthless she is she can give softer sweeter tickles! (I headcanon that she acts like a big sis to Makoto and if they're hanging out she'll gently tickle him but tracing his back or scribbling over his belly)

.Master teaser! Even can make Sakura flustered. She uses the classics a lot "tickle tickle tickle!" or "coochie coochie coo!!" But can also pick up on what teases work the best on each person

.Typically goes for a mean and aggressive tickle style

Sakura Ogami

Lee:

.Barely ticklish but most of the group doesn't know she is at all. She does have a few spots that'll get her giggling tho!

.Her laugh is rough and low

.She's only tickled by Aoi so she usually just takes the onslaught. Despite that she does tend to squirm if her ler finds the right spot!

.Her worst spot is her lower back

Ler:

.Another ruthless ler

.When her and Aoi are together and in ler moods the others have to watch out. They're unbeatable together!

.She is likes to tickle people to get them up and moving, sees it as another way to exercise like Aoi does.

.If she sees someone misbehaving she will take it upon herself to punish them with tickles!

.It's no suprise she can pin everyone down. Even Mondo isn't strong enough to stop her. She likes to pin her lees hands above their head with one hand and use the other to tickle all over!

.Her main target is Aoi obviously. She loves hearing her laugh and thinks her laugh is adorable

.Not a teaser and tends to just watch her lee the whole time

.Typically goes for pinning her target and hard tickles

Yasuhiro Hagakure

Lee:

.Weeeeeak to tickling!

.He's pretty ticklish and laughs almost immediately. His laugh is loud and wild! He also tends to snort a lot!

.A kicker but he tries his best not to. When being tickled he will bang his hands against things and pull at his hair

.If the others plan to tickle him they either have to pin him down or tickle in groups because he is fast and will grab at his lers wrists to get them to stop

.Claims he gets visited by tickling ghosts

.His worst spots are his inner thighs, belly button and right underneath his toes

Ler:

.Not a very active ler due to his lazy nature

.Tho when he is in a ler mood he's very playful!Likes to play tickle games a lot. Like pop quizzes where if his lee gets the answer wrong he'll tickle them or he'll test to see how long they can last

.Basically the big brother of the whole group and will tickle the others to embarrass them

.He teases occasionally. Goes for a lot of "oh woah man! You're like, craaazy ticklish!!"

.Typically goes for a laid back kinda tickling style

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

Lee:

.Oh ho boy he's a ticklish little guy!

.Thinks it's super embarrassing being tickled

. His laugh is so loud, he has no filter on it and tends to lose control when tickled

.Is really good at holding his laughter back

.When he's being tickled he tends to bounce and shake a lot. Tends to hide his face in his hands to muffle his laughter and hide his blushing

.Mondo targets him the most and loves to give him tickly kisses. This only flusters him more.

.Weak to teasing

.His worst spot are his ears

Ler:

.Loves tickling people as a motivator!

.Sees it as a good way to bond with his friends despite him being embarrassed by it

.He's very no nonsense however so he tends to only tickle people when he sees it's appropriate

.He's the most merciful ler out of the group and stops immediately when asked. People actually like to go to Taka for tickles because of this

.If he's tickling for long enough he will ask how his lee is doing and of they need a break

.He also is an accidental teaser. Tends to ask his lee of their enjoying themself, not to tease them but he's genuinely curious

.His main targets are Mondo and Chihiro

.Typically goes for a softer tickling approach

Mondo Owada

Lee:

.Holy crap this guy is a scary lee

.Sounds weird right but he is so ticklish it's dangerous. Super strong so he tends to throw people of of him

.He punches to. He accidentally punched Taka once and felt horrible for the longest time. Which is why Taka and Chihiro are the only two who are safe when tickling him. He will try his best to stay still when they tickle him so he doesn't hurt them

.Will NEVER admit it to the others but he really enjoys softer tickles. When cuddling with Taka he (very nervously) asks him to lightly tickle him cause it helps him relax after a hard day

.Taka thinks this is adorable which flusters Mondo more

.His worst spots are his armpits and feet

Ler:

.Just like he's a scary lee he is also a scary ler

.Because Taka yelled at him for using violence to solve everything he switched over to tickling

.If someone pisses him off he will knock them down and destroy them with tickles

.Once he starts it's impossible to stop him. He's too strong to knock off and too stubborn to just give up

.His main targets are Taka, Chihiro and Byakuya (he's only on here cause he pisses Mondo off the most)

.If Taka is being too strict he will lift him from behind and tickle his sides until he promises to relax. If Chihiro is being hard on herself he and Taka will tickle her until she promises to give herself a break

.His teasing is very aggressive like "Hey punk you want me to tickle you more huh? Better watch your mouth then!" "Come on! You can't be that weak, or are you just gonna sit there and take it?"

.Typically goes for a aggressive and hard tickling style

Chihiro Fujisaki

Lee:

.Somft girl. Very ticklish.She squirms and giggles so much. Doesn't kick at people but does kick her legs when tickled

.Ger laugh is so tiny and soft. Its the sweetest thing you'll ever hear. Covers he face when tickled and sometime bites on her knuckle to stop her giggling

.it doesn't help her

.Despite her squirming she doesn't need to be pinned down since she never fights her tickler

.Too soft for teases! Gets flustered so quickly

.Her worst spots are her toes, arches and belly. Surprisingly her hands are also super ticklish

Ler:

.Not a great ler but when she does tickle people she's very sweet about it

.Most of the group knows she doesn't get into ler moods often so when she does they just let her do her thing

.She likes to tickle bellies a lot! She loves tickling Makoto, Aoi and Leon because of their very ticklish tummies. But her prime targets are Taka and Mondo

.She love hearing them laugh! Especially Mondo because of his normally crass and hardass nature

.She can't tease for shit tho. She tries but ends up fluttering herself!

.Typically goes for a soft tickling approach

Leon Kuwata

Lee:

.Fairly ticklish dude!

.His laughter is pretty average but it jumps octaves alot based one where he's being tickled.

.He is also a grabber so group tickles are a must or he needs to be pinned

.He's decent at holding his laughter in but once he breaks he goes down hard. This dude erupts with laughter it's almost startling

.The others like to target him when he's singing! Hiro likes to see how good he can sing or how long he can sing when he's being tickled

.He can not take teasing well and will yell at his ler the whole time to shut up

.His worst spots are his hips and belly

Ler:

.Tho not as bad as some of the others he is still a rather mean ler

.His go to move is to sit on his lees legs or hips and poke all over their torso. Will also lean down into his lees neck and nuzzle, using his goatee as a tickle tool. He loves giving raspberries funnily enough, he thinks the sound and reaction it gets is funny

.He likes to target Sayaka, Makoto, Kyoko and Byakuya the most

.He doesn't tease very often but if he does he goes for basic teases "ooo someone's ticklish!" "Tickle tickle ya big softie!!" "Can't get away from me!"

.Typically uses a mix of softish and harder tickling and also raspberries

Celestia Ludenberg

Lee:

.Tickling Celeste is hard. She is moderately ticklish but had everyone convinced she wasn't for the longest time

.Is so good at holding in her laughter and fooling the others it took them forever to get her to crack. And the person to do that was Aoi! She refused to give up and eventually she broke. (Aoi was so proud of herself). After that she decided there was no point in holding back much anymore unless it was a competition

.Her laugh is elegant and smooth. Unless you tickle her bad spot! Than it gets higher and squeaky

.She's able to sit still for the most part but her ler can tell when she starts to break if they see her playing with her hair

.She's practically unaffected by teasing. The only ones who were able to fluster her were Aoi and Kyoko

.Her worst spot is between her shoulder blades

Ler:

.Wicked ler but doesn't tickle often

.She mainly only targets Kyoko cause she loves her laugh

.Likes to use her pointed finger ring as a tickle tool

.Uses slow but hard tickling on her lees

.Is a very teasy ler! "Oh dear what I'm Into do? I can't just not tickle you now can I?" "Please someone as sensitive as you are deserves this! Now just sit still and let me have my fun dear!"

.Typically uses a slow and torturous tickle method

Toko Fukawa

Lee:

.Have mercy on this girl. Not as ticklish as Makoto or Aoi but she cannot handle it

.She's a giggling fool right away. Her laugh is full of snorts, squeaks and screaming and she absolutely hates it

.Will try desperately to get away, squirms and is not afraid to slap

.The others like to tickle her when she starts getting annoying or too self depreciating. They have to be careful tho cause if she switches personalities when being tickled the ler could lose their fingers. The more she learns to control Jack the more the others tickle her

.She wants Byakuya to tickle her but he refuses

.Komaru however tickles her all the time. (I know she's not in the first game and not on my list but I love these two very much)

.She's weak to teasing

.Her worst spots are her armpits and the backs of her knees

Ler:

.Not a great ler since she struggles with social situations

.When she does tickle people it's soft and quick. Unless it's Komaru since she's very close to her

.She gets over Byakuya and develops feelings for Komaru instead. She thinks her laugh is adorable and loves being close to her

.Only when she stops obsessing over and creeping out Byakuya she was able to get close enough to tickle him. Tho he didn't let her do it for long but it was a way of showing her he's beginning to trust her more now that's she's not being a creep

.She doesn't tease. She thinks its childish

.Typically she uses a softer fast tickling method

Sayaka Maizono

Lee:

.Fairly ticklish!

.She thinks tickling is fun, likes being on the receiving end of it

.Squeals and laughs loudly when tickled. Has a surprisingly loud and chaotic laugh when tickled

.Is the only one in the group not even remotely embarrassed by tickling

.The others like to sneak up on her when she's cooking and poke her sides

.Squirms a bit but mostly just let's her ler have fun

.When she's had enough she'll lightly swat at their hands

.She likes being teased! She likes the attention and being told she's cute

.Her worst spots are the back of her knees and the sides and back of her neck

Ler:

.She loves tickling people as well!

.She has long nails she likes to keep painted which make for nasty ticklers! She loves using them to scrape and scribble

.Usually when she's in a ler mood she'll just walk up to someone and be like "I need to tickle you! I know you want me to! I'm psychic". If she's set on tickling that specific person and they put up a fight she will either whine until they let her or just knock them over and pin them down

.She can be a mean ler but is fairly merciful

.Her teases are sweet and she loves to pepper her lee in compliments

.Typically goes for a moderately mean tickling method and uses her nails a lot

Junko Enoshima

Lee:

.Crazy lee! No like she's crazy. Will trash and scream when tickled and threaten her ler

.If she's not pinned your screwed cause she will hurt you

.Out of everyone in the group she hated being tickled the most. Hates the lack of control but likes the despair the lack of control brings

.Her laugh is loud and crazy. She screams, snorts and swears a lot

.She hates being teased

.Her worst spot is her hips

Ler:

.The most vicious ler

.Loves to tickle people until they vmbeg for mercy

.She doesn't always give it to them

.Uses tickling as a punishment and/or torture

.The others are frightened of her when she's in a ler mood

.She's also referred to as a tickle monster but she's more of a monster than Aoi is. She's ruthless and merciless

.She also wears long stiletto nails which tickle like crazy

.She targets everyone. If one of them piss her off the others won't see them for hours because she is absolutely wrecking them

.Typically goes for an evil torturous tickling method

Mukuro Ikusaba

Lee:

.Isn't really that ticklish

.Trained her body to fight against the feeling for the military

.There is only a couple places she's ticklish but only Junko knows of them

.If she's tickled there she'll release soft bubbly laughter!

.Covers her mouth when laughing

.Kicks a lot but can control it for the most part

.The only teases she can't handle are compliments

.Her worst spot is her jawline

Ler:

.Not as mean as Junko but tends to be her sidekick

.Will mainly pin down lees for Junko but will occasionally join in

.She's not that good at tickling so she mainly focuses on her lees death spots because no matter what it'll usually tickle

.Doesn't tease because she thinks it's foolish and dumb

.She sometimes laughs along tho cause she thinks it's funny

.Typically tries to go for a rougher tickling method

This took like 2 and a half hours oml

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

6: I’ll be home for Christmas....you can count on me...

AO3 link

@asilcorner

(also recorded myself singing the song in this chapter, listen here!)

Their first Christmas in the tower is on the horizon, and while they try to remain optimistic about it all, it’s hard to be happy when you’re living in a prison.

Yakko, as usual, is shoving down his own sadness with ease.  Wakko watches, with sharp eyes behind the veneer of dull suspicion, as Yakko cheerfully pulls out a Christmas tree from nowhere, has them all put up the ornaments one by one, instead of just throwing stuff on there.  To elongate the process, perhaps, to force them to focus on the action rather than the lack of an escape.

Wakko sees, sometimes, Yakko’s eyes dart to the water tower door.  He hears, at night, Yakko, going to the door and trying to wrench it open.  Some nights Yakko spends hours, sometimes minutes, and sometimes Wakko hears Yakko stop, sit, and cry into his knees.  He’s very quiet, but so is the tower, at night, and they have terribly good hearing for toons.

Yakko’s always smiling in the morning, with breakfast.  Wakko worries.

The first few months after they’d figured out them being locked up wasn’t some prank, they’d thrown anything they could at the door to try and get out.  After they’d ran out of ideas and materials, they’d quit, because it was more depressing to try, hope, be constantly disappointed than just to forget.

Or try to forget.  Wakko guesses that Yakko can’t.

And Dot isn’t exactly thrilled, either.  Wakko thinks she misses the outside more than she lets on.  He vaguely remembers her, on days they felt like wreaking havoc would be boring, taking them on a picnic.  The stock market hadn’t crashed yet, and then it did, so they didn’t have a lot of money.  They did have the ability to steal, but even then they didn’t do it much because it wasn’t fun or right to steal from people who were already going bankrupt.

They’re mischievous, not cruel.  Wakko wonders if the people who locked them in here knew that difference.

“What are we gonna do for Christmas?” he asks one afternoon, during lunch.  “Do you think Santa can get in here with the door locked?”

The question has Dot suck in a sharp breath.  She looks away, upset, and Yakko gives him a look, the one he gives whenever Wakko says something tactless.

Wakko doesn’t have a lot of tact.  He thinks he might’ve eaten it, whatever it is.

“Santa can get in anywhere,” Yakko replies, hands on his hips, confident.  “And we’ve been pretty good, despite the circumstances, so I think we’ll be getting plenty of presents from him.

That’s something that Wakko worries about.  Presents.  What is he even supposed to give his sibs that they can’t just create with toon powers?  Making cards seems lazy, even if he would put all his effort into them.

Yakko, he’s sure, already has an idea.  Because Yakko is smart.  Dot probably has them figured out too.

“I thought you were off Santa’s nice list,” Dot says with a grin.  “You know, for being a hypocrite?”

“I think he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me this year,” Yakko shoots back, hand on his chest, before standing up to put his plate in the sink.  Wakko will lick them clean with his tongue, and Dot will put them in the dishwasher, and one of them will put them away when they’re done depending on when it finishes.  They’re efficient, kind of.

“Should we decorate?” he asks, because so far they only have the tree, and the tower looks a little barren.

Dot’s eyes sparkle at the idea, and Wakko knows he is going to regret asking.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the end of the next day, the whole tower is put together, tinsel and twinkling lights that flicker hanging from the walls and ceiling.  Dot puts mistletoe over every doorway they’ve made, and every time they happen to be beneath it, she makes sure they either give her a kiss on the cheek or she gives them one.

Yakko thinks it’s cute, if silly, and Wakko just shrugs it off.

They make a fireplace, with a chimney that they aren’t sure goes all the way through.  Wakko tried climbing it, but halfway up he found himself shot back down, rolling across the floor covered in soot.

He couldn’t even try and argue to not take a bath that day.  Yakko had dunked him in and hadn’t let him out until the black stopped coming off on Yakko’s gloves.

His hopes for Santa visiting are dashed, and he can see Dot deflate too.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko mutter, and Wakko wonders.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is very, very sure that this Christmas is going to be great.  She knows it is, despite the fact that they don’t even know if Santa can come see them, despite the fact that they won’t be able to go anywhere to see snow, despite how the world around her wants to tell her it won’t be.

She will spite that because she refuses to let anyone take this season from her.  She and Yakko and Wakko start a food fight in the kitchen when making cookies, and cookie batter splatters all over the wall.  Wakko ducks behind the kitchen island, with her, and holds out his hand.

“Truce?” He’s wearing an army hat, comically large on his head, with the straps hanging down past his shoulders.

If she wasn’t astronomically cute herself, Wakko might give her a run for her money.

“Let’s give our brother a wet new coat,” she agrees, and Yakko becomes the color of cookie batter in seconds.

“Betrayal!  By my own siblings no less!  Is nothing sacred?!” Yakko cries, leaning heavily against the stove with the back of his hand placed dramatically against his forehead.  Dot and Wakko giggle, coming around to face him.

“I don’t know, I think this is a good look for you,” Dot gives him a once over and hides a laugh behind her hand.  Wakko reaches out a finger and swipes a bit of the batter off of Yakko, sticking it in his mouth to taste.

“Mmmm,” he grins, and Yakko gets a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“You know, you’re right Dot!  I ought to share my new looks with you, don’t you think?” he reaches out and sweeps them into a goopy hug before either of them can escape, and all three of them share the wealth of the batter that was supposed to go in the oven.

Dot takes a bath, then Yakko does, and Wakko licks himself and the kitchen clean.  He’d offered to lick them clean, but they politely declined.

“Slobber just isn’t a good look on me,” she’d told him, and Wakko had shrugged and eaten the demolished mixing bowl.

After that, they actually make cookies, because as tasty as the batter was to Wakko, they might want some warm, chocolatey goodness.

They make milk-free ones, too, even though Yakko says they don’t have to, because they want him to have a good time too.

Besides, the cookies taste fine without milk.  Who needs lactose?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night, Dot is sitting at her vanity, and she looks in the mirror and is ever aware of the background of cold metal.  The decorations look gorgeous, she put them up, she did everything she could to make the Tower become the season she loves.  

(Well, she technically loves the spring the most, with its gorgeous flowers and sunny days for picnics, but still.  Who doesn’t love winter?  It has Christmas!  And, now, it has Yakko’s birthday!)

But, even with all the decorations and fun, even with the mistletoe and the letters to Santa she can’t send, she feels...

Miserable.

She wants to go outside.  She wants to play in the snow.  She wants to harass street carolers by messing with the lyrics of their songs.  She wants to be out there, with people, in the world, instead of sequestered away.

She sighs, remembering a tune from their previous Christmas.

I’ll be home for Christmas.

You can count on me.

Please have snow, and mistletoe,

And presents under the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me,

Where the love light gleams...

She trails off and sighs again, resting her arms on the vanity, and then her head on her arms.

She doesn’t notice the figure peeking from the third floor, frowning down at her in concern.  Doesn’t notice the lightbulb appear over his head, before he ducks back upstairs.

She just sits there, thinking of the last time she saw a single snowflake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko locks up the third floor, a week and a half before Christmas.

When they ask, he tells them it’s a surprise.  Because it will be.  He finally knows what his gift for them, for Christmas, will be, and he can’t let them ruin it, because he really wants to see the pure surprise on their faces when they witness it.

He spends the days up till Christmas Eve working on it, finishing it Christmas Eve morning after breakfast and before lunch.  He’ll have to double check it before showing it to them, but that’s fine.  It’ll be about ten minutes security and then he can show them the magic he has in store.

Dot has swapped out her typical character modeled dress for a long sleeved one, with white fuzz trim on the hem and where the sleeves end.  Yakko has a pair of deer antlers, and keeps calling himself Rudolph, whoever that is.  Yakko says it’s going to be a hit a few years from now.

Wakko just puts on a Santa hat on top of his baseball cap and calls it a day.  Dot calls him lazy, and he shrugs, cause that’s a fair assessment.

Christmas Eve is as fun as it is weird, because they don’t have anything anywhere to do to celebrate, but they cut out little paper snowflakes and angels to hang up and then watch and see how much eggnog Wakko can chug at once.

The answer is around 6 gallons, give or take, because Yakko capped him off there, worried.

“You’re such a mother hen,” Dot snickers, and Wakko tilts his head to the side with a hiccup.

“Isn’t a male chicken a cock?” 

Yakko laughs.

“Goodnight everybody!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They meant to stay up, but they’re kids, so they fall asleep eventually.  Wakko, kicking and squirming in bed, because even asleep he can’t stay still, wakes to the sound of frantic whispers.

“Please, just-just for tonight,” Yakko’s voice is quiet and pleading, and when Wakko blinks away the sleep from his eyes he turns into see Yakko, standing in front of Santa, hand gripping Santa’s coat.

And Wakko doesn’t have the time to process the fact that Santa is here, and real, because Yakko keeps talking.

“Please-just take them out, I’ll stay inside.  We-just for the night, just let them see the sky again, some snow, it’s been months, please,” Wakko can’t see Santa’s face, but he does see the shake of his head.  

Yakko’s voice cracks when he speaks.

“Just one ride?  They’ll be good-I-,” Yakko pauses. “Okay, maybe they won’t be, you know them, but I’ll make sure they are, okay?  They-they don’t deserve to be locked in here.  It’s Christmas, so just for tonight-please.”

There’s something so young about Yakko’s voice, then.  Yakko doesn’t sound like a kid, sometimes, and Wakko doesn’t always either, but for him it’s for laughs and for Yakko it’s because he’s tired.

Santa says something, puts a hand on Yakko’s shoulder, and Yakko deflates.  Wakko doesn’t even notice that there are new presents under the tree yet, because he’s too busy trying to be quiet enough to hear.

“Just go,” Yakko’s voice is hard, and quiet, and cold, and sad.  Santa pulls another present from his bag and sets it beneath the tree, and disappears up the chimney.

Wakko watches Yakko tremble in place, for a good two minutes.  He counts the seconds in his head, because it feels like they go so slow.  Yakko finally stops, takes in a deep breath, and sighs.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko repeat, and he pretends to snore as Yakko walks back to bed, and buries his face in the pillow.

It takes a long time for him to get back to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko wakes up on Christmas to the smell of peppermint hot cocoa at the crack of dawn-at the very least, it feels like the crack of dawn, because it’s earlier than he’s woken up in a while, but the elation of Christmas!!!! has him up in an instant.

There’s a large stack of presents beneath the tree, their names written in pretty cursive of the same handwriting.  Dot is all cheer, and he watches her skip towards the kitchen.  He shuffles over himself.  Yakko sets two cups of hot cocoa on the table, and swirls the top with a large helping of whipped cream, before sprinkling some peppermint on top.

“Merry Christmas, sibs,” he smiles down at them, and it almost makes Wakko forget about the night before.  “My gift to you is your menu of choice.  The whole day, a la carte menu.  Whatever you guys want, I’ll make.  So, what’s for breakfast?”

Wakko’s eyes are blown wide. Yakko has no idea the can of worms he’s opened with that open ended gift.  Or, maybe he does, because he puts on a chef’s coat and hat, and sets up the stove, and a grill, and the oven.

“Bring it on, little brother.  But, uh, let me make Dot’s first?  Something tells me hers will be a biiiiit quicker to make.” Wakko bites his tongue at that request, and Dot prattles off a normal order, because she’s boring.

By the time Yakko is done with Wakko’s order, he’s out of baloney in his slacks.

“I’ll put some more in there later.” He shrugs it off, and Wakko finishes off plate thirty seven with a grin. 

After that, they open up the presents under the tree.  Yakko gets some notebooks, a set of fancy pens, and a very expensive looking leather belt.  He also gets some books, and a perfect replica of a Shakespearian outfit.

He seems happy, but his smile is strained.  Wakko thinks he knows why.  Yakko is getting better at hiding it, though, because he almost didn’t notice Yakko was sad at all.  There’s still a trace, though.

Wakko wonders if he’ll start forgetting to look for that.

Dot gets the latest model of hair straightener and curler, and a wide breadth of makeup products, as well as a poetry book that she regards with half suspicion and half curiosity.  She gets a notebook and pen, too, one with a feather plume sticking out the end.  She uses it to brush underneath her chin, giggling.

Wakko gets some chew toys, some that he doesn’t see himself devouring just yet, and a necklace with a chew on too.  He puts it on and nibbles on it as he opens up the others.  He gets an engineering book, called “Building Without the Math,” and it sounds right up his alley.  He also gets a tool kit, which he places in his gag bag for safe keeping. 

The other items are mostly random toys they hadn’t known existed because they haven’t been outside.  Wakko uses the propeller of a toy plane as a fan, and then spits in it to see the drool droplets hover.

“Eugh,” Dot growls out, looking away, before she sighs and reaches into her dress pocket.  “This leads to my gift.” She hands both Yakko and Wakko a set of flash cards on a ring.

“Coupons?” Yakko flips through them, and then snickers.

“You two can do things that...,” Dot struggles for the world.  “Make me uncomfortable.  Cause you’re boys.” She rolls her eyes. “But you like to do them ‘cause they make you happy, not because they make me annoyed, so these are your passes for that.  Valid for a year.”

There are ones like “Can lick me” and “Allowed to not bathe for 2 weeks” that Wakko thinks are specifically targeted at him but hey, why not?  Baths are dumb, and he licks to show affection!  He sticks the cards in his cap.

Yakko rips one out, hands it to her.

“Thanks, Dottie,” he stresses her least favorite nickname, and she bares her teeth in a very strained smile, snatching the coupon from his hand.  But Yakko laughs, and soon enough, they all are.

“I’m also going to put away the decorations, no extra charge,” she waves a hand.  

“Sounds good to me,” Wakko hops up, fidgeting with his long sleeves.  “I...have to prepare my gift for you.  Can you guys wait on the second floor?”

Yakko and Dot share a look, and then nod.

Wakko vanishes up to the third floor, heart in his throat.

He hopes this works.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He makes them put blindfolds on, pulling them up the stairs.  Yakko holds Dot’s hand in one and Wakko’s in the other, helping Dot up as Wakko drags him along.

“What’s with the secrecy, Wakko?” He asks, and Wakko bounces in nervous excitement, tail curled around his leg.

“It’s a surprise,” he insists, and sets them up perfectly, on the mark he planned out.  He’d checked, double checked, triple checked.  If this doesn’t work he is going to lose it.

He turns off the lights, and pushes his contraption to the back of the room.

“Wakko, I would like to see sometime today,” Dot calls, and Wakko fidgets.

“Almost done!” The ice is in, okay, now just push the button.

There’s a series of clanks, and then a loud, grinding sound.  Dot and Yakko shiver, and Wakko is glad he used scarves for blindfolds.

There’s a loud FWUMP, and Wakko bounces on his toes.  His feet make indents in the ground.

“Okay, you can look now!”

Dot and Yakko pull down their blindfolds, and Dot gasps.

They’re surrounded by snow.

There’s a model of a crescent moon up by the ceiling, that acts like a lamp, and glow in the dark stars that glimmer pasted up on the ceiling, with constellations they find familiar.  From the machine in the back, snowflakes are shot out, drifting slowly to the ground.

“I, uh, I made snow,” Wakko shrugs, a little self conscious.  “Since we can’t go outside, I thought...,” What is there to say?

Dot takes one step into the snow, like she can’t believe it, and squeals when her feet crunches into it, jumping around.

Yakko is still dumbstruck, until Dot comes around and shoves snow down his pants.  He jumps up comically high with a shriek, ears brushing the ceiling, and when he falls into the snow it makes a perfect imprint of him.

“Oh, that’s it!” he picks up some snow and throws it at her.  Dot throws some back.  Wakko runs into the fray, nailing Dot in the face, and she takes her revenge with deadly precision, before sprinting over to him and tackling him into the ground.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” she shouts so loud that Wakko’s ears ring.

“Merry Christmas?” he tries, and she laughs.

“I knew you were my favorite brother!”

“Hey, I’m offended!” Yakko sprints over, but he’s laughing too, and he drops on top of them, wrapping his arms around them and rolling over in the snow, so they’re on top of him.

He nuzzles Wakko’s nose with his own.

“Nice job, little brother.  Think you got us beat with this gift.” Wakko blushes, looking away.

“Wanna make a snowman?” he responds, because you’re welcome seems too formal.  

“Heck yeah!” Dot jumps up and runs over to a large pile of snow.

��Watch your fucking language!” Yakko barks without heat.

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Wakko giggles, and Yakko sits up.

“C’mon, let’s not let her have all the fun,” Yakko picks him up and sets him off to the side, and Wakko is off like a shot the moment his feet touch the ground.

He thinks about the night before, of Yakko’s words.

Who needs the guy, anyway?

Beneath the fake moonlight, where the snow still sparkles like Wakko remembers, with Dot giggling up a storm as they make the largest snowman they can, with Yakko looking lighter than he has since they got stuck in here, Wakko can’t help but agree.

Who needs Santa anyway?

He can hear the tune from before, in his head, and hums it as they work, smile widening when Dot and Yakko join in.

I’ll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams!

[voiceless-terror]

Resignation (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Twenty Eight: Mugged

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathan Sims, Tim Stoker

Summary: 

Who was it this time? Plenty of avatars seemed to have a bone to pick with him these days. He closed his eyes, not even attempting to fight back. Just waited for the inevitable “Archivist” said with utter loathing. So the words he heard next surprised him.

“Empty your pockets. Now.”

Jon gets mugged. It’s surprising how little this bothers him.

He could almost laugh at the sheer mundanity of it. 

Stumbling towards the tube, soaked with rain and bone-tired, Jonathan Sims ran into some trouble. He’d been running into trouble a lot lately. Just last week he’d been burned, thrown through the sky, and hunted like a dog in the span of hours and now, here he was, being pulled into an alley and thrown against a brick wall with painful force.

Who was it this time? Plenty of avatars seemed to have a bone to pick with him these days. He closed his eyes, not even attempting to fight back. Just waited for the inevitable “Archivist” said with utter loathing. So the words he heard next surprised him.

“Empty your pockets. Now.” 

Jon opened his eyes, baffled. It was a human. A man with wild, desperate eyes and an unwashed smell. But human. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill robbery. He was getting mugged. He couldn’t help the delirious smile that made its way to his face. This of course didn’t please the man robbing him and he was promptly slammed back against the wall, his head bouncing off the brick with a painful thunk. Stars flooded his vision as shaking hands moved in his pockets, pulling out a phone and a mostly empty wallet.

“Here,” he whispered, holding his hands out beseechingly. “It’s all I have. Sorry.” Sorry was his default response, apparently. Even when getting assaulted. 

“Fuck’s sake,” the man murmured, flipping through the empty wallet and holding Jon against the wall with one fairly lax hand. He wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t even fighting. Jon was very, very tired of fighting. The man paused, seeming to consider his options.

“The jacket too, then,” he demanded, ripping it off one of Jon’s shoulders. He hastily complied, peeling the other arm off and handing it over. It was one of Georgie’s, oversized and warm. He would miss it, and she certainly wouldn’t be pleased. His legs started to shake as he watched the man grapple with his things- it had to be over now, Jon had nothing left. Except for perhaps his shoes, the one nice thing he had been wearing when he went on the run. The man was agitated, conflicted. Just leave, he pleaded, unable to get the words out. I don’t have anything else to give you.

“Stop lookin’, freak!” A hit to the face, another slam against the wall but this time the hands didn’t stay, letting him sink to the cold, wet ground. A kick to his ribs for good measure and finally the man was off, his footsteps echoing on the pavement as Jon keened in pain. 

Everything hurt, the pain throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His head was swimming and black spots were dancing in his vision. He couldn’t call anyone, not without his phone. Why not just cough and shiver for a few more minutes, perhaps someone would walk by and see? You left at midnight, idiot. No one’s out except for you. And robbers. He would have to handle this himself, then. So with great effort, he managed to raise himself with weak arms into a sitting position with his back resting on the wall behind him. Blood trickled down his cheek like a stray tear- that must be where the throbbing in his temple was coming from.

It was strange to think about how easily he let things happen to him. He was so shocked, so pleased that it wasn’t another supernatural being coming after him that he did nothing, acting like it was inevitable. He could still hurt, still feel pain, still experience things that normal humans did. It certainly wasn’t normal that he found this so comforting. He let out a bark of laughter that turned into a groan of pain- time to get out of the cold. The Institute wasn’t so far, he had only been walking for ten minutes. He could do ten minutes, if he leaned against a few walls and took a few breaks. Jon would manage. 

It was painstakingly slow and each move was torturous, but he eventually made it back, leaning against the front door with so much force that it slammed open and he stumbled to the floor on all fours. Nausea rose in his throat but he couldn’t throw up, not in the main hallway. It was bad enough that his palms left a bloody handprint that would surely spook the janitor; to leave him with vomit as well would be too much. Ed was always so nice to me, he thought, mind in a fog. Even when I didn’t deserve it.

On all fours was how he made his way over to the door to the Archives. Standing was no longer an option, not with his consciousness fading like it was. He had no time to feel embarrassed about scooting down the stairs like a child; by the time he collapsed in an office chair, he was already gone.

______

Another day in paradise.

Tim arrived unusually early to the Archives that day; he accidentally left his charger at the office and his phone was his main source of entertainment nowadays. He could always convince Martin or Melanie to take a long lunch break with him to make up for it. What the boss doesn’t know, the boss won’t mind!

There was a wet floor sign in the lobby, likely the result of last night’s rain, although the sidewalks had looked fairly dry as Tim walked in. He’d grabbed a coffee on the way, feeling unusually perky for another day in the hellscape they called the Magnus Institute. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad day after all-

No, it wouldn’t. It would be even worse.

The Archives were dark; not unusual since he was the first one in. On flicking the lights, however, he found his desk to be occupied by one sleeping boss.

Fucking Jon.

He groaned aloud but still the man didn’t wake. What the fuck was he playing at- the man had an entire office at his disposal and he decided to take a nap here, of all places? Was Jon trying to piss him off? Tim stomped towards the desk, ready to shake the man awake with a hand on his shoulder when he paused.

Jon’s shirt was oddly damp, like he’d been caught in the rain and never truly dried off. Tim could feel his shoulder blade through his shirt- this was typical for Jon, he’d always been bony, but this was verging on downright unhealthy. And he was shaking, small, trembling motions that Tim could feel even from his light hold on his back. 

Concern warred with anger in his chest. Jon had always inspired his big-brother instincts, small and nervous as he was. But now the over-protectiveness was unwanted, a burden to the rage he kindled in his heart. You don’t deserve my sympathy. Not anymore.

But he found himself pitching his voice low and shaking his shoulder as gently as possible. “Boss?” he whispered. “C’mon, time to get up.”

“Hnngh?” the voice that responded was nasally and barely audible from the pillow of Jon’s arms. Tim let go as he watched Jon come to, raising his head to reveal a grotesque crime scene of a face. It was bloody and bruised, even swollen in parts. His nose was coated with blood and his eyes blackened. 

“What the fuck?” he swore, grabbing at the bottom of his face and pulling it towards him, shock overriding his concern. Jon gasped in pain from the motion and his arms curled around his stomach as if shielding himself. He looked like he’d been beaten, and badly at that. Tim felt his ire rise- whether it was at whoever had done this to Jon, or at Jon himself for letting this happen, he couldn’t tell.

“Seriously, why are you here?” he asked severely, grabbing onto the man’s shoulders and ignoring his wince. “Go home, or the hospital or wherever the fuck you need to- not work, not my fucking desk.” He let go as the man seemed to shrink in on himself, looking so small and defenseless. Jon had no right to look like that. “Should I be calling an ambulance? It’s too early for this shit.” The anger kept spewing forth. It was easier to blame Jon than see him as a victim. It didn’t feel great- but then again, what did anymore? 

“I’m- m’ so sorry,” Jon croaked. His eyes refused to focus, staring somewhere left of Tim. “Took m’ phone, took-took everything.” Jon’s eyes were starting to water and Tim had to look away; he couldn’t face this pathetic, vulnerable display. He didn’t like what it made him feel. “Nowhere else t’go, not- not anymore.” The hiccup was the final straw and Tim found himself shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around Jon’s shoulders in an almost involuntary gesture.

“Only you would get in this mess,” he muttered, unwilling to match his words to his actions. He gingerly took a hand to Jon’s side, ready to help him up. “C’mon. You’ve got to go to a hospital. I’m not letting you bleed all over my desk.” Jon began his typical protests, mumbles of “I’m fine” and “Jus’ take me to my office” that Tim ignored in favor of gathering the man up in his arms as gently as possible. His head was already lolling against Tim’s chest, surely a bad sign. He went completely silent as Tim carried him out of the institute, only waking when Tim managed to buckle the seatbelt across his lap in his car.

“Wher’ we?” he swiveled his head around, trying to get his bearings. “Where we goin’?”

“The hospital, like I said,” his voice struggled to carry the irritation he wanted it to. “Like you should’ve done last night. What happened, anyway? Piss off another person trying to get a statement?” He pulled the car out of the parking lot in an unsafe maneuver and merged into traffic. 

“Nnnh,” Jon’s head dropped back to his chest and Tim sped up in response. Damn, damn. “Jus’ a guy, y’know?” And he laughed. It was an unhinged and painful sound; Jon grabbed at his sides again. “Jus- just got jumped. S’ kind of sad.”

Tim let the information sink in with a growing dread. Jon had been jumped, robbed, and beaten to shit and his first response was to go back to work. To laugh. To think a year and a half ago this would have horrified him- Jon would be inconsolable, embarrassed and angry. Jon wasn’t angry anymore. Tim had enough of that for the both of him. He wanted Jon to get angry, to be mad, to yell. At least then he would recognize him.

Jon went on, every word a dagger in his chest. “Y’know, this is the sec’nd time this happen’d in a week. S’weird.” He paused, his eyes squinting ahead in confusion. “I mean, if y’count Daisy. Took my stuff. Laughed. She gave it back, though. When- when Basira convince- convinced her not t’kill me. Dead-” Another hiccup and a laugh. “Dead men don’t need wallets.”

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice hardened. “Just stop. Stop talking.” No more reminders that Jon almost died. That the woman who did it still walked around the Archives and Jon said nothing. That if this were six months ago, Tim would have killed her for even touching a hair on Jon’s head with the intent to hurt.

“S’rry,” Jon mumbled. They didn’t speak for the rest of the way.

Tim waited at the A & E for more than a few hours, firing off a text or two to Martin, telling him not to worry if he saw any blood at his desk. This had the opposite effect, but Tim was too tired to deal with his fussing. He’d had enough excitement for the morning.

Jon was released surprisingly quickly, a nurse hurriedly pushing him into Tim’s arms with a rather false sounding “Feel better soon!” Jon had bandages all over his face and neck, and Tim could see through his thin button-up that he’d had his ribs wrapped up. He was listless as Tim wrapped him in his coat again, leaning heavily into his side as papers fell from his hand- a pamphlet on broken ribs, concussions, and a prescription for heavy painkillers. Tim balanced him with one arm, reaching down to pick up the paperwork with the other.

“That was quick. They ask a lot of questions? You look like a battered housewife. No offense.”

Jon laughed a bit at that- more loopy than unhinged. “Just tol�� em I worked at the Magnus Institute- didn’t ask questions after that. Wanted me in and out, I suppose.” Another horror of their job- nobody to run to when things got rough. Turned out hospitals were just as bad as the police. Fucking figures.

They continued to walk out to the car, Jon limping along in his hold. “This had nothing to do with whatever shit Elias has you doing, though,” he responded, slowing down as Jon winced in pain. “Shouldn’t you be reporting this? You lost your wallet, your phone. Gonna need that.”

“Oh, Tim,” Jon sounded so resigned, but gave him a soppy, unnerving smile. “S’not worth it. Who's gonna call me, anyway?” 

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just buckled him into the passenger seat and got in the car, sighing. “Where’s home?”

Jon gave him a surprised look. “Institute’s fine, really-”

“No,” Tim raised his voice, stern. “I’m not taking you back there. Just give me an address, and take one fucking day off. No arguments.”

Jon shrunk back at his tone; he’d forgotten how much he hated yelling. Never reacted well to it. Even when Tim was trying to be nice, he still fucked it all up. Jon rattled off an address about twenty minutes away and they drove there in silence, Jon’s hands fidgeting in his lap and Tim’s hands gripping the steering wheel with unnecessary force.

He didn’t help Jon to the door. He didn’t want to see how he was living. If he needed help getting around. When Jon tilted out of the car, trying to shrug off his coat, Tim stopped him with a hand to his arm.

“Just bring it back tomorrow. You look like you need it.”

And Jon nodded, so surprised and so thankful. It’s just a fucking jacket! He wanted to scream. Stop looking at me like that!

He watched as Jon stumbled up the stairway, knocking at a door. It opened and a hand reached out to steady him, Jon leaning into it gratefully. Tim drove off before he could get a better look.

Jon came in the next day. He limped and Martin fussed. He tried to smile at Tim. 

Tim did not smile back.

_______

Months later, Jon will wake up in his cot, curled around the jacket. It was Tim’s favorite- well-worn but expensive. Jon had tried to give it back but Tim just shook his head. A week later, he died. And then it didn’t matter anymore.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251512

[novantinuum]

Contact (Ch. 3/4)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (No TW this chapter, but keep in mind this involves major character injury)

Words: 3.0K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

Chapter Summary: Amethyst, Greg, and Pearl struggle to keep it together.

So this fic is Steven and Amethyst centric, set during the 2 year time skip. It’s also kinda in conversation with An Indirect Kiss, and explores the idea of what could happen to a hybrid with a cracked gem. This chapter has no specific trigger warnings. 

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

~

Chapter 3: The Fountain

Discounting extreme circumstances, (such as diamond mind control or flaws in incubation), Gems are designed to have perfect memory.

It’s one of the many aspects of their culture that surprises humans, and all too often one that makes them jealous. But Amethyst doesn’t understand why there’s anything to be jealous about. Sure, maybe it means she can learn a skill once and be done with it, or hold on to cherished moments in crystal clear recollection, but it also means that in some part she’ll always be haunted by everything boring, everything bad. It’s an unavoidable facet of her life: that every passing second of all those years she spent alone in the Kindergarten waiting for orders she’d never receive is forever etched into the baseline circuitry of her gem like ink on a human’s skin, that she can remember every rotten fight she and Pearl ever had with picture perfect clarity, each instance ending with her feeling like absolute garbage for days and days. That... no matter how hard she tries to escape the untimely reminders... deep down, all those selfish, immature versions of herself she wishes she could dump in the past forever are still a part of her coding.

In comparison, humanity has it lucky. In time, they forget. They move on. Even the most traumatizing memories seem to eventually fade by the end of a life, leaving behind only feelings... only scars... just whispering impressions of those experiences.

She desperately hopes Steven takes after his dad and not Rose in this aspect.

The four of them exit the ship in a hurry, Amethyst still helping Greg carry his son, and Pearl advancing ahead to check on the state of the water supply.

As always, Rose’s fountain is a time capsule. The shrubs and trees surrounding the inner pool are tame now, a stark difference from the first time she had the untimely pleasure of visiting, but the cold, staticky sensation rising within her as she steps off the boarding ramp of the Roaming Eye with Steven’s legs secure in her grasp is the same. Amethyst only barely holds back a shudder. She recalls the disorientation she felt in this place so vividly she may as well be cracked all over again.

The world glitches violently within her sights, ashen sky and charcoal stone phasing into each other. Left is right and up is down, hard light stretching out from her broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... forming and reforming, taut at one moment and pliable at the next, and her words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within she knows this with an intense clarity but she can’t help it, she can barely even think, she ca—

“Amethyst, no more roughhousing, you'll exacerbate your crack!”

“Doog m’I, gnihtyna ro yrrow t’nod.”

“This isn't right... the fountain isn’t running.”

“WHY CAN’T I CRY?!”

The thin little circuits of light running throughout her projected body jolt in remembrance of that afternoon, indelible phantom pangs of a sliver of time she can never forget for anything. With a dull huff and a grimace, she adjusts her hold on the boy she’s long come to see as her baby brother. Best to not become lost in the flood of the past when she’s got a mission to uphold. That’s... that’s all this is, ch’yeah? A mission. Just a mission. Retrace your steps, meet your goal, get it done. Easy-peasy. No problem.

Ignore the stakes. Ignore everything that isn’t right here and right now. Ignore the sharp cries of pain that escape his lips intermittently, that stab at you so deep you feel like you should be poofing.

“Amethyst?” a voice comes to her softly. “You okay?”

But don’t ignore Greg. Whatever you do, don’t ignore the people around you, don’t lose yourself to that awful disorientation again, don’t make everything worse, don’t push, don’t roughhouse, don’t—

“She’s been cracked like this before,” Pearl explains as she walks in a frantic pace ahead of them. “And we Gems, well... we remember things vividly, shall we say.”

She scoffs, still inwardly cradling her gem in response to what happened in the Roaming Eye. Sheesh. It’s so typical of her to launch headfirst into other people’s business before she can open her own dumb mouth to explain on her own, huh?

“Wow,” she bites back on jerk instinct, “thanks for the announcement, Pearl. ‘S not like I could’ve said it better myself, or anything.”

The slender Gem snaps upon her bait with a piercing, annoyance-filled gaze, and frankly, Amethyst would’ve doled out another snide comment in return had Steven’s hoarse voice not chosen that moment to hitch in panic, derailing all other thoughts in an instant. Her arms grow just as stiff and locked as the muscles in his calves, be it from sympathy or as a mirror into the bitter past, to a time where she suffered just as much as he is now.

The weight of this realization settles like lead at her core. Her favorite guy in the whole galaxy is in earth-shattering pain, and she’s wasting precious seconds of his life taking cheep shots at Pearl?

Not the time, she growls at herself, shedding her petty feud to the wind. Focus!

“Uh, y’guys? I-I think it’s happening again!” his father says, exhausted arms quivering under the strain of carrying the boy for so long.

“Damnit,” she hisses, and follows Greg’s lead on easing his body closer to the ground before the worst of his fits arrive. This time, Steven lacks the energy to mask his broken sobs, split between desperate gasps for breath. Nothing, not gentle whispers or even his father’s calloused hand delicately brushing through his curls, seems to soothe his anguish now. She doesn’t consider herself much of a crier, but she’s close to tears herself just watching him. As she glances up to check how far they are from their destination, she catches a flash of ivory and blue disappearing between the shrubbery. “Pearl!” she bellows, her shout echoing across the entire garden. “Slow down, would ‘ya? He’s seizing again!”

Her features contort as she whirls around to glance back, unmaskable stress now nearly tearing her apart at the seems. She jabs her finger at the narrow path between the shrubs. “But we’re almost—“

“Fine, fine, never mind! You’re right!” Amethyst blurts, waving her off. “You go run ahead. Just...”

Her voice grows thick as she roughly wipes away the moisture accumulating at the corner of her eyes. She forces herself to drink in the stark reality of their immediate situation, taking note of the injured teen’s hiccuping cries as he recovers from his latest seizing episode, as he continues to ride through the unimaginable torment of a cracked gem left too long without healing... his dad, kneeling amongst dirt and stone, no doubt pressing harsh indents into his knees as he freely offers his lap as a headrest, panting with exhaustion, absolutely wrecked with anxiety and terror despite doing everything within his power to mask it for his son’s sake... and her. Her. Amethyst, Facet-5 Cut-8XM, a Gem who’s become downright traumatized by this place, by this precise scenario, barely able to retain a handle on her own emotions and eidetic recollections to where she actually feels she can be of reliable help.

“I don’t think we can’t follow you anymore, ‘kay?” she says, hoarse. “Greg’s tired, Steven’s flat-up in tears, and... an’ this place is startin’ to really mess me up, y’know? S-so...”

She tugs at thick clumps of her hair as the thought trails off, fingers fruitlessly searching for a clue that might direct her out of these darkened, murky waters and back to shore.

But as always, if you put in the work to look for them, there’s leading lights scattered amongst the mist in places you’d never expect.

“Bring the fountain to you,” Pearl completes, gaze softening within that moment. She nods in wholehearted acceptance of her duty. “I’m on it.”

Thank you, she mouths in earnest, the dull buzzing running throughout her form dropping to a blessed minimum as she— lips parted— watches her longtime friend disappear between the shrubs and vibes, every arc of her movement accentuated by unerring grace. Amethyst flushes, and mentally pushes such sentimental distraction away.

Right. Okay. One problem solved. Back to Steven.

The hybrid in question is cradled in Greg’s care, his head laying in the man’s lap and his limbs twitching without repose. She hasn’t checked the state of his gemstone recently, but given the minutes ticking away since his injury and his steadily deteriorating state, she’s almost too scared to look. Greg continues to whisper thin reassurances to him, wiping the sweat off his dampened forehead.

“He’s getting really warm,” he comments, stress coating his tone, and damn does she wish she could do something, anything, to help, but there’s simply nothing they can do without that healing water.

As the trio waits for word from Pearl, inevitable waves of dread collapsing upon them heavier and heavier with each uneven heartbeat that passes, Steven’s wobbly gaze falls upon her.

“Ah... Amethyst,” he gasps, barely able to attain a full breath.

She snaps to attention, clasping his hand tight in hers. “Yeah? I’m here, buddy, I’m here! Whatever you need.”

“I’m- I’m s-suh—“

Sorry, she realizes he’s trying to say, remembering how he struggled earlier trying not to stumble over the ‘s.’ She swallows hard.

“You don’t gotta be sorry for anything, ‘kay?” she says, rhythmically rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb. “It’s my fault, this is just- I should’ve been looking out for you, I should’ve protected you and I failed. All this is on me.”

“B-but I—“

To her utter horror, his next words are so slurred in his disorientation they’re all but unintelligible. All attempts on his part to communicate are then broken as he gnashes his teeth together and writhes in his father’s arms. Greg’s brokenly calling his name as he loosens his hold, vying with every slice of will he has left to help him not hurt himself further, help him find any shred of relief, but it’s of little use. The boy is all but unresponsive right now. She tries her best not to internalize the sound of his broken wails, least they be carved upon on her gem forever. Her form flickers in the height of her distress, hard light veins pulsing with unparalleled intensity.

The memories are impossible to dodge now. Those fragments strike like barbed arrows.

The cliffside. The fall. The rock. The audible crack as her fate is sealed. The immediate static rising in her mind as she stands up, only halfway alert, feigning casual indifference as her body quite literally begins to fall apart. I’m fine. I’m fine. The worry, the brambles, the panic, the fountain, the strained tears, c-can’t think can’t feel, can’t —

“It’s empty!” Pearl cries from the distance, voice shrill and laced with panic.

Her eyes split wide as she snaps her head towards the ivory Gem’s call, dread clasping ahold of her like a physical hand to her gem. “What??”

She emerges from between the shrubbery to enter the clearing again, emphasizing her doom-spelling news with a sharp flourish:

“I said, the main fountain is empty!”

“Empty?" Greg repeats, all the blood draining from his face. He squeezes his injured son’s hand with the grip of a man lost at sea, clutching to a life preserver.

But while he freezes upon processing this information, Pearl can’t seem to stop pacing. Her lithe fingers twitch rapid fire as she passes back and forth in front of them, brimming with an infinite supply of nervous energy that’s befitting of their perilous situation.

“Stars, the water we left behind after healing all those corrupted Gems must have completely evaporated...” she mutters to herself, clutching at the lapels of her jacket as if this garment is the last tangible thing holding her form together. “I knew we shouldn’t have left it open to the elements!”

“But then- what the hell are we supposed to do now?!” he says, voice breaking in all his fearful anguish. His gaze snaps from her to Steven laying prone in his lap. “My only son is in agonizing pain! He’s- he’s got a high fever! We can’t just give up! There has to be something!”

“I- I’ll check in the inner chambers!” Pearl says with dawning realization, one last ray of hope penetrating the glossy surface of her gemstone as she jabs her index finger into the air. “Surely there has to be some remnant of Rose’s healing magic left, right?”

Steven shudders in his dad’s arms, sloppy tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“Tluaf ym lla si siht...” he blubbers, and for whatever reason something about his unintelligible speech seems... different from before. Her brow creases as she searches the infinite wilds of her stored memory for answers, for patterns, anything that might provide the slightest hint of clarity in this fraught situation, and sure enough...

Dawning truth stings like a fist to the jaw as she recalls her own experience and realizes his slurred words are far more than unintelligible; this injury has scrambled his mental processes to such a degree that his speech has slipped backwards. And that can only mean... Lip quivering, Amethyst pushes through the dread tugging at her soul and yanks up the hem of the teen’s shirt. The deep gouge running diagonal across his gemstone has lengthened— edging ever closer to the edges of the pentagon— and threatens to partition it in half. Pearl’s soft “oh no” and Greg’s strained sob tell her everything she needs to know. The consensus is clear: time is not their ally anymore.

“Pearl, HURRY!” she yells, pointing towards the fountain’s heart.

Her fellow Crystal Gem doesn’t even pause to comment on the matter, and instead, water brimming at the corner of her eyes as she spends her last second in their company lovingly gazing upon the boy as only a surrogate mother could, hurriedly disappears between the shrubs to seek out Steven’s last chance of salvation. Left alone in the throes of their mutual panic, Amethyst and Greg place comforting hands upon his head as— huddled together on the cold stone of the fountain’s doorstep— they’re assailed by the terrifying possibility that his life may very well slip between their fingers before Pearl can ever hope to return. Gone, in an instant.

Shattered.

Her shapeshifted stomach churns at the mere thought, like she’s finally eaten something her hard light system refuses to break down. She clutches tight at her own gem, gasping as she rides the sharp wave of distress. In all these years, though every fight and struggle... she’s never seen someone shatter before. Fresh, hopeless tears cut a raw path across her cheeks as her hand trails across his overheated forehead.

Stars, not today. Not him, please not him.

The teen barely restrains a hiccuping sob as he cries out again. “Thgir gnihtyna... od t’nac I, syug yrros m’I!”

Greg’s breath hitches, gaze briefly trailing from his son’s strained face to his still-exposed gem. Whirling to face her, he roughly grabs ahold of her shoulders, his expression downright pleading now. “Pearl... Amethyst, if she doesn’t find anything, if the fountain’s empty, please tell me there’s somewhere else we can go, something else we can do...!”

She frantically shakes her head. “I- I don’t know, we—“

Desperately, she wishes she could give him reassurance. Desperately, she wishes Rose had thought ahead, secured a sum of her essence in another location for redundancy’s sake, but the truth is a bitter pill: they’re all but useless in this place, stripped of their agency and forced to rely on the mercy of the dead. If they can’t find any remnants of Rose’s healing tears here, then Steven’s gem will splinter into shards and he will die. She clenches her teeth together, once again feeling those phantom pains rip through her form, faint impressions of a near-tragedy long abandoned to the past, it’s over, it’s over, get a hold of yourself, keep it together, keep it together, keep it to—

“Yaw siht leef annaw t’nod I- I, deracs os, os m’I, Dad, deracs os m’I... I!”

The boy’s father clutches his hand in his, arm trembling just like Steven’s frail body as— after his long, valiant attempt to mask it for everyone else’s sake— he finally crumbles, failing to swallow his fear.

“Oh- oh god,” he chokes over his words, eyes puffy and red, “I’m... I’m gonna lose him, aren't I? He’s gonna—“

“Eid annaw t’nod I—!”

And then, at the apex of the storm, Amethyst finds what she’s always been searching for: their leading light, burning faithfully through the dark.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!!” Pearl cries from the near distance, voice growing louder with each and every syllable. “I’m coming!”

She emerges from between the shrubbery like the first ray of light breaking an eclipse's totality, clutching a thin vial in her grasp. At first glimpse the vial almost looks empty, but after the ivory Gem drops to her knees beside them in the clearing and pops the cork stopper out, sure enough— it holds a few pink-tinged drops of fluid, Rose’s coveted magic. And all they need is one.

They all watch expectantly, blood and hard light alike pulsing through their forms at a unified pace as Pearl tips the vial, allowing the tears to careen downward towards its mouth.

When the single droplet finally slips from the edge of the glass, it hangs in the air right above his cracked gem for what feels like hours, scattering the ambient sunlight across their tear-stained, expectant faces like the dizzying patterns of a kaleidoscope. In an intentional echo of all the once-alien experiences she’s long come to cherish and genuinely respect, Amethyst— despite having no lungs of her own— takes a deep, anticipating breath, her mind running through every what-if as she waits. The futures where he dies. The futures where he lives. The futures where... where she still has a chance to tell him how much he means to her. Where she’s not too late. Not a failure. Futures where they can laugh again, where they can finally begin to move on.

Time creeps forward. The healing tear plummets downward, directly towards his center facet. She exhales.

Contact.

[ticklishpeter]

bro time (diego/ben/klaus)

ANOTHER FIC!!! and yes it’s very self-indulgent but GOD i had so much fun writing it so ofc i gotta share!!!! enjoy, babies!!

summary:  diego’s a grump (yes, again), klaus is determined to fix that, even if only for a little while. and who better to drag along then sweet benjamin, right?

word count: 2,430

Diego had always been a total downer. It was never out of the ordinary to see a scowl on his face or to hear an annoyed sigh or two, typically pointed at Klaus. Sure, Diego had gotten a bit softer since they got back from the 1960s, but his siblings’ antics never quite changed, and therefore, neither did his frequent bad mood. 

It was a lazy, uneventful day around the mansion. Klaus had plans though; plans to daydrink himself into a coma in the living room. When he made his way to the room, though, he noticed a frowning Diego laying on the couch and throwing his knife up and down in the air. Immediately, running away from the doorway, he pressed his back to the wall next to it, before spotting Ben in the kitchen.

“Pst, hey,” he hissed as he threw a crumpled up receipt from his pocket towards the bar, where his dead brother stood, reading some book that Klaus definitely didn’t care about.

Ben rolled his eyes with a sigh and looked up from his book, “What?” He already sounded annoyed with whatever Klaus was planning.

“Dontcha think Diego’s been…” Klaus leaned against the bar next to him, “I dunno, kinda super grumpy lately?”

Ben’s eyes pointed to the living room, leaning slightly to catch a glimpse of the brother in question, “I mean, yeah but he always is. It’s Diego.”

“I know, I know, but hey, ‘nother question for ya. Remember how crazy ticklish he was when we were kids?” Klaus couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Ben being the designated pinner while the rest of the siblings tormented their knife-wielding brother to hysteria with tickles. He also decided to disregard Ben’s noticeable reaction to the dreaded t-word. 

Ben squinted up at him from his book, a small smirk on his face. And that was enough for Klaus to know that he was in, “Okay, yes. I’ll help you, but only because this story’s getting boring.” Not because he missed having fun with his siblings; definitely not that.

The ghost made his way into the room first, and sat across Diego’s knees with a sigh, but an unmistakably playful glint in his eye. 

“Hey, broskidoodle!” Klaus exclaimed, seemingly out of nowhere, “You're still ticklish, right?”

Immediately upon hearing the words and seeing the look on Klaus’ face, Diego tried to get up but only his upper half left the couch. “What - hey! What the hell, man?” 

“Oh, yeah! Ben’s here, he says hello!” The former cult-leader gestured towards the invisible figure that had been holding Diego down. “Anyway, you’ve been a total grump for like, ever. And I just wanna see you smile for once, DiDi!” Without hesitation, Klaus experimentally grabbed at one of his thighs, giggling at the yelp and twitch that followed. 

Diego was already frantically struggling to escape, “No — fuck off!” His eyes stayed glued on the hands that hovered now, over his sides, as he sucked in his stomach as far away as he could get it.

“Of course you’re still ticklish. What was I thinking? There’s no way you could’ve outgrown that, right? As ticklish as you were, whew,” Klaus whistled, “You were such a little wiggleworm… and a giggleworm, wasn’t he, Benny?” 

Ben nodded with a small laugh. He loved having a positive memory that he could share with all of his siblings. It was nice to reminisce every now and then.

Diego then smacked Ben’s back (or where he thought Ben’s back was) and attempted to slap Klaus’ face, ultimately missing and making a fool of himself, “Sh-Shut up.” An accidental giggle slipped through his lips as he watched Klaus’ fingers wiggle teasingly a few inches above his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, which ended up being a terrible idea, as he couldn’t see when Klaus decided to attack. 

He screamed at the feeling of Klaus’ blunt nails scribbling around his ribs, and practically jumped out of his skin when another hand poked at his thigh. Opening one eye, he flinched when his brother teasingly shot the hand towards an armpit, only to move back down to his thigh, and then back up to skitter his fingers on his neck. Twitching and jerking away at every little touch, Diego felt his face get warm, “Fucking — quit it, you little shits!” 

Much to Diego’s relief, Klaus actually… stopped? Before he started really giggling too, which Diego praised every God and Goddess in existence for.

“Now if I remember correctly, you always used to hate it when we tickled you right about…” Klaus tapped his chin. “Was it here?” A knowing poke to Diego’s stomach was all it took to draw a squeal out of Diego’s mouth.

“No,” he yelled, sounding more like a a squeak than he hoped it would, “Fuck!”

Lifting his hands above Diego again, Klaus teasingly jerked his arms forward, absolutely relishing in how violently Diego flinched. He did his little trick again. A squeak. And again. A yelp. And again. A giggle, “Ihi’ll - I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ah,” Klaus clapped his hands, his voice high-pitched and teasy, “there’s those cute little sounds I remember! I’m not even touching you, silly!” He couldn’t help but laugh as his brother flinched and snorted when he wiggled his fingers again. 

“Shut up, Klaus, I swear to God -”

Ignoring him, Klaus grinned, “Yeah? Tell him I say hi. — Do you have a ticklish tummy, Diego? Does wittle Diego have a tickwish tummy?”

“Sh-sh-shut up!” Diego grunted again through another giggle, shaking his head. The giggles were starting to get overwhelming. 

“Uh, oh! Number Two’s got a case of the giggles!” His obnoxiously teasy brother cooed as he began to place maddening pinches all over his stomach, “What an unfortunate combo; a case of the giggles, and a ticklish tummy?” 

His flailing arms were torn between covering his face or guarding his midsection as he twisted his body as much as he could. The teasing made things ten times worse for the ticklish vigilante. “I-I don’t! Ihi don’t!” 

“Yes you do! I know it.” He was endlessly amused at the other’s frantic reactions to a few mere pokes and squeezes. “All you have to do,” Klaus laughed along with his screaming brother, “is tell me you have a ticklish tummy, Mr. Giggles, and then I'll stop!” 

Was that all he had to do? The other’s continuous teasing tone in his voice made Diego’s face heat up as he grunted, “Okay, I do! Now let me go!” Anything to make it stop.

“You do, what?” Klaus raised his eyebrows, digging his fingers into the sweet spot right below his ribs, on the side of his stomach. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Youhou know what, asshole! Fucking stop!” Attempting to kick Ben off of him, Diego turned his head away, his long hair already totally messed up. 

Shaking his head, Klaus hummed in the most obnoxiously nonchalant manner, “Mm-mm, nope, you gotta tell me what you've got right here!” 

“J-Jesus,” he snorted before covering his face in embarrassment with his arm, his other hand weakly attempting to push Klaus’ goddamn fingers away. Said goddamn fingers moved quickly up to his armpit, though, causing his arm to shoot back downwards. The giggles that left his mouth were practically uncontrollable at this point as he turned his head into his shoulder, “S-s-s-sensitive! I- fuck,” he squealed. “Okay, okay, my stomach is s-sensitive, goddammit! Ben! Get off of me!” Falling back into his giggle fit, Diego covered his face with both arms now, squirming and twisting as much as he could.

Ben laughed amusedly, wishing he could join in on the teasing, but settled for fluttering his ghostly fingers around Diego’s sides.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Klaus clicked his tongue, giving his brother’s lower tummy some rhythmic pokes, resulting in both arms coming down again, “That doesn't sound like what I told you to say, Blushy McBlusherson!” Klaus squeezed a quickly moving clawed hand right over Diego’s bellybutton. “Say it! Say you have a ticklish tummy, and I'll set you free! It’s not that difficult, I know you can do it!” he cooed as if Diego was a small child, and he was the tickle monster.

Diego yelped at the teases and threw two consecutive punches at Klaus’ shoulder before his hands flew down to grab the hand in the middle of his stomach, “God! Fuck, you're such a DICK! I h-h-hate - ugh!” he whined at his stutter mixed with the giggles. He hated how much power Klaus - fucking Klaus - had over him right now. The growl that left his grinning mouth turned quickly into a strangled choking noise, and then a downpour of giggles when he felt Klaus’ finger make his way into his bellybutton. Thrashing around, Diego gasped. “Klaus! Don’t you fucking - FUCK! Not there! - ACK, Jesus!” He had way too much pride to say the words that Klaus wanted him to, but said pride was quickly fleeting as he squirmed, immediately tensing up, and instinctually trying to curl in on himself.

“Oh nooo, I think Mr. Pointer Finger’s stuck in there! ‘Help, help!’” Klaus cried in a higher pitched voice as he moved his stupid finger-character around. He couldn't help but aim a poke at Ben’s back, remembering how much he'd performed the same act with him when they were young.

Diego couldn't do anything but cackle and cover his face. Ben bucked, almost losing his balance as Diego kicked furiously. “Stop it! Fucking - God,” he squealed and gasped, a hiccup escaping somewhere in the midst of all of his desperate sounds. “Ihi - SHIT! FUCK! I -” Another snort was muffled slightly by both of his hands covering his face, a full 5 seconds of laughter passed before he managed to ramble, “Ihavea-EEP-t-t-ticklishtummy! ACK! FUHUCK! F-F-...Fucking stop it!” He attempted a growl or two to sound more adult than he currently felt and sounded. Just saying the words, however fast and rambly, was absolutely unbearable for Diego. 

Klaus’ silly voice drowned in the volume of Number Two’s laughter as he continued to wiggle his finger in his bellybutton, giving a few pinches to his waistline. 

“STOP! STOP, KLAUS, PLEASE!” Diego shrieked and shook his head before falling into silent frantic laughter. A hiccup, and a weak “Please!” were the only audible things to leave his mouth as he smacked at the floor next to him. 

Klaus, feeling particularly ruthless today, decided to mess with not just the one, but two of his brothers, who both just happened to be astoundingly ticklish. A squeeze to Ben’s side was all it took to get him to squeak and fall off of Diego's shaking legs.

“Aww, look at my two ticklish little brothers!” Klaus cooed at the two squirming men with a laugh, as one hand stayed put, still tormenting Diego’s ‘tickle-button’ (as Grace once called it when they were kids, and no one let him live it down) another wandering hand spidered its way up and down Ben’s hypersensitive ribs.

“Hey, Diego!” Calling over the laughter from the two of them, Klaus leaned over a squirmy Diego, “Diego, how many tickles does it take to make Ben laugh?” No answer, obviously. He wasn’t even sure that Diego could hear him. But Ben could.

“Klaus! God, shut up!” he curled up, knowing exactly what was coming. “Ten-tickles! Hahahahaha!” Klaus laughed in a mocking manner as he grinned and spidered five fingers on his side, “A-one,” he moved to his other side, “A-two,” a poke to the bellybutton made Ben squeal, “A-three,” Klaus continued alternating between different spots as he counted up to ten, laughing at Ben’s squirms and strangled sounds between helpless laughter. 

He also continued tickling in and around Diego’s bellybutton, occasionally poking around his upper stomach. “How’s it going over there, pillsbury knife boy?”

A hiccup came before a frustrated noise, before Diego switched back into silent laughter, “I’m -” he gasped for whatever air he could get, “I’m dying, Klaus, fucking st - hic - stooop! P-PLEASE I’ll do anything! Hic - I’ll - I’ll do anything, just — stohohop.” 

Klaus finally let up once he noticed a few tears falling from his closed eyes, which meant he’d succeeded in getting Diego to laugh. Like, … really, really laugh. And that meant his job was done. He took advantage of the time taken with Diego’s residual giggles to squeeze Ben’s ribs one last time.  “Aww, move your hands, Benerino, you know I love your little blushy face!” 

“Okay, okay, Klaus, plehease!” He moved both of his hands down to try and stop the tickling ones, only to be caught off-guard by Klaus squeaking and twitching dramatically. Whatever had happened caused him to lose his balance. Wait. Ben noticed his hand next to Klaus’ left hip before smiling, and squeezing at it before Klaus could get back up.

“BEN!” Klaus screeched, rolling onto his stomach. Bad idea, because Ben sat across his legs now, and now he had full access to not only his hips and armpits, but also his back. His three worst spots. 

“What an inconvenience, Klaus,” Ben teased, poking at both of his hips with both free hands. He couldn’t help but notice Diego lean up on an elbow, still panting, but smiling at the opportunity for revenge.  “A case of the giggles, and a pair of ticklish… hips, … armpits,” his hands flew to Klaus’ underarms digging into the bare skin, “and a super ticklish back, if I remember correctly.” 

Klaus yelped, choking out a loud cackle when he felt the terribly light scribbles around his upper back. Arching his back, Klaus batted at the floor beneath him, acting almost as if he was trying to claw his way out from under Ben. “Stop it, you sh- shiteater!” He squealed loudly when he felt another pair of hands scribble under his arms. Upon pressing his cheek to the floor to see what was happening, it was Diego with, coincidentally, the most shit-eating grin he’d seen in awhile.

“GUHUYS!” He cackled, the sound akin to that of a witch, even louder when Ben’s far-too-tangible hands made his way back to his hips, “OHOKAY, OKAY! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. — I promise!”

His two ticklish brothers let up, likely due to weakness from all the laughter they were doing beforehand, but also because they knew Klaus didn’t mind the tickling so they’d be here forever if they didn’t stop. 

“But you gotta admit it was kinda fun, right?” Klaus shrugged with a smile. He could tell that Ben and Diego were smiling too.

Hmm, maybe being there forever wouldn’t be too bad.