#tickle fic catalogue

[yallmakemyassitch]

Hey! You are amazing (also your right Cesar totally to ticklish for his own good)

Yeah, church boy needs to be humbled immediately and I think I know just how :)

Laughter is always worth the risk

Summary: Cesar hasn't been his usual self and Mark quickly picks this up. Learning that he purposely hid his troubles from him, Mark resorts to an unbearable yet fitting punishment for his friend.

Word count: 903

Characters: 5157

Tobi talks: Yes I did write a whole quick fic and sit on my ass for 7 hours because of those drawings. Yes I have no self control, thanks for asking (please help my thighs hurt so much)

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“Mahahahahark nohohoho!” Cesar howled, his cheeks burning red, embarrassed as his best friend relentlessly teased him. He couldn’t get away, his wrists were firmly bound together by rope, preventing him from fighting back.

“Mark yes~” he teased, digging his fingertips deeper into the sides of his ribcage. The poor teen had been stuck here for a while now, making the huge mistake of hiding his feelings from Mark. His best friend was optimistic and bubbly, so seeing someone he cared about so deeply so upset saddened the teen.

So naturally, he asked him of his troubles and was met with a lie. A bold faced lie that even an idiot would see. Cesar insisted that there was no problem yet Mark continued to prod until he broke down. Mark had to hold himself together as his dear friend was held close in his arms as he cried, venting about how worried sick he was for his mother and their own safety.

Knowing him for so many years, he knew just what to say to soothe the church boy. It wasn’t long after that Cesar felt better and thanked his friend for the support. However, Mark wasn’t satisfied that he hid something so important away from him. So as a bit of revenge and to cheer up the last parts of his sorrowful self, he tickled him.

“Plehehease Mahahark, I’hihim hahahppy, seeheehee?!” He cried, rolling onto his side to escape the wiggling fingers.

“C’mon Cesar, you can take it.” Mark taunted, racking his nails into his now exposed side, whilst also keeping a hand on his ribs.

“NAHAHAHAHA!” He screamed, his body sending waves of ticklish shocks throughout his body. The church boy kicked his legs in mirth, unable to stand the relentless torment. Mark’s grin widened at his explosive reaction.

“What’s wrong, Torres? Too ticklish?” His hand on his ribs wiggled up to the crevice of his underarm, causing a screech to erupt from the teen below him. Cesar rolled onto his stomach in an attempt to protect his armpits, giggling uncontrollably with ruby red cheeks.

His friend snickered, “I knew you would do that~” and traced a finger down his back teasingly.

He didn’t however expect the teenager to arch his back so harshly, along with the flurry of giggles to spill his lips, “Nohohoho nahahat thehehere…” he whined, hiding his face somewhere in his arms.

Mark chuckled at this and traced a finger down his back again, getting the same adorable reaction with not as much resistance. “What, here?” Mark cooed, tracing all over his back.

Cesar giggled uncontrollably and didn’t try to hold back all the silly noises he was making. He didn’t know his back was so sensitive but he couldn’t deny Mark’s hands on his back felt amazing. The gentle tracing from all the way from his lower back to his shoulder blades, caused the black-haired teen to snort and curl up.

Mark noticed he was getting a little too relaxed and reminded himself this was a punishment.

While still tracing his lower spine, getting it to shutter at the soft touch is when the elder teen took a deep breath and blew a raspberry right at the arch of his back. Cesar squealed and was thrown back into a flurry of thrashing and high-pitched laughter as raspberries were planted all over his back. He was still donning his suit and could somehow feel a pair of lips make contact with his clothed skin and still get it to tickle like hell.

“PLeHehehEase naHaHat ThahAhAT!” His laughter was littered with snorts and squeaks. Mark moved back up with a laugh, amused at how ruthless he’d been and how much he ruined his friend. Cesar was letting out residual giggles, covering his mouth with his hands with how much he was giggling.

Yet even he knew he wasn’t done yet. Cesar was still on his stomach, so that gave Mark just enough time to burrow his hands into his armpits. He violently flinched but resigned to his fate when he realized he had just trapped the hands in his most sensitive spot.

“Plehehease Mahark, I’m sensitihihive…” he hopes instilling a little bit of pity into his friend would work. Mark just laughed, “Yeah I can tell, super ticklish too.” And began to relentlessly dig, wiggle and knead the inner flesh of his underarms. His reaction was immediate, belting out precious yet hysterical cackles, practically melting the teenager’s heart.

“PLEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOH!” He screamed, lightly banging his head on the ground to cope with the insane amount of tingling in his armpits. His face was covered by his jet black hair yet Mark could imagine the joy filled smile underneath the layers and kept at it. He instantly knew he was reaching his limit when Cesar began to wheeze.

Mark immediately let go of him, unbinding his wrists as his friend gasped for air. “S-shihit, that was tohohorture…” he sighed. Nonetheless, Cesar was smiling and his friend couldn’t be happier to see him happier.

“You had fun, don’t lie~” he poked his side playfully, getting him to flinch. Now free from his grasp, he just flopped onto the floor and stared into the ceiling, euphoric and relaxed. Mark joined him and together they just laid on the ground. Soon enough, the both of them fell asleep in each other’s arms, comfortable in one another’s presence.

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Fin~

[cringemesstickles]

Cat? What cat?

Summary: Jonah and Adam left the house, but Adam is frustrated about not knowing what’s in the basement.

Pairing: none

Word Count: 1,241

A/N: Finally finished one of my tmc fics!!! There are two or three little jokes in this one because I’m hilarious. Anyway, Adam totally didn’t go into the basement and I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Also, I did write the ridiculous line I was talking about… so have fun looking for it lmao

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Adam and Jonah stepped into their shared apartment after a long drive from the supposedly haunted house.

It took a lot of convincing to get Adam to come back to the car, but when he did come back, Jonah was more than relieved, even if Adam did pout for nearly the whole car ride.

The blonde flopped down on the couch with a huff, pout still glued to his expression.

Jonah, with hair more silver than silver, sat down next to him.

"I'm really happy you decided to come back with me, man." He said sincerely, patting Adam on the back. “I don't know what I would've done with myself if I had left you there."

The blonde nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, I know… but I still wanna know what was in that damn basement… you should’ve heard it, dude, it’s like it was calling out to me!…" He groaned and buried his face in his hands, his frustration more prominent the longer he dwelled.

"I get it, man... but you can't mope about it forever."

Adam turned to glare at him.

"I can and I will, thank you very much.” He declared stubbornly with crossed arms. "Nothing can stop my pity party."

This gave Jonah an idea…

"Oh really? Are you sure? You know… I bet I can make you smile.” He said with a cheeky grin, one that typically spelled trouble.

The blue eyed boy furrowed his brows with confusion before scoffing, trying to appear unfazed.

“No fucking shot, Jonah. I’m gonna be pissed for as long as I want.”

This only made Jonah’s grin widen, a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes “That's a pretty bold claim for someone as ticklish as you." He smirked and watched Adam's eyes widen.

"D-Don't you fucking dare...” Adam warned, narrowing his icy blue eyes.

Jonah chuckled and swiftly leaped at the blonde, pinning him to the couch.

"Okay Adam… give me one good reason not to tickle you right now." He grinned and wiggled his fingers in the air, knowing that always got to Adam.

Adam's eyes widened and he crawled to the other end of the couch to get away from his mischievous friend.

“B-Because if you do, I’ll k-kill you!”

Jonah knew that was an empty threat, and he gave an amused snicker.

“Yeah, right! If you killed me, who would pull your dumbass out of stupid situations?!”

The blonde growled, though it wasn’t very threatening.

“S-Shut up! Get away!”

But it was no use.

Jonah knew what he wanted and he wasn’t gonna stop until he got it… and what he wanted was for Adam to forget all about that stupid basement!

And smile, of course.

With no further hesitation, Jonah struck, going straight for his friend’s ribs, wiggling his fingers sporadically across the tender spot.

This resulted in a girlish squeal that Adam would frankly like to forget ever happened.

“EEK- J-JONAH, YOU AHAHASS! STOP IHIHIHIT!” Yelled Adam, squirming helplessly under his friend’s playful assault.

The pleasant sounds only encouraged the sly attacker and he let out a snicker of his own.

“Nope! I’m gonna tickle you until you’re laughing so hard, you won’t even remember what a cat is!”

Adam tried to produce a threatening growl, but his vocal chords wouldn’t allow it, too busy producing the mirthful, boisterous laughter.

He moved like a worm on a hook, wiggling every which way; but no matter where he went, Jonah’s skilled fingers followed, merciless in their pursuit.

Said skilled fingers skittered up and down Adam’s sides, making him shriek and guffaw.

“NOHOHO, N-NOT THERE- GAHAHAH!”

The silver haired boy ignored his friend’s pleas, giggling and adding a couple playful pinches.

“Why not? Does it tickleeee?~”

Adam’s cheeks carried a rosy red hue, Jonah’s teasing tone flustering him to his core.

“S-SHUT UP! YOU FUCKING SUHUHUHUCK!”

Jonah gasped, pulling his hands away to place them dramatically on his chest.

“I suck?! I saved your ass, thank you very much!” He poked his friend in the stomach, causing him to squeak.

Both boys took this squeak very differently.

Adam, eyes as wide as dinner plates, slapped his hands over his mouth, his already flushed face taking on a whole new shade of red.

As for Jonah… his eyes were just as wide, his hand freezing in its place as he processed the girly noise his best friend had just made.

This bewildered expression was quickly replaced with a devilish smirk and he gave Adam’s stomach another poke, eliciting another childish squeak, much to Adam’s embarrassment…

“Adam… what was that?” Jonah asked, already knowing the answer.

Adam’s response was a hardly one at all.

“Uh- well- um…”

Jonah was heavily amused… he’d never seen Adam look so flustered.

“Adaaaam~” he sang, letting his hands hover just above the blonde’s stomach, watching for his reaction.

Adam’s squirming ramped up, flailing to try and avoid the attack.

“Jonah, d-don’t you fucking dare!”

“Oh, I think I will!”

With that, he snuck his hands under the fabric of Adam’s hoodie, digging into the soft flesh underneath.

Adam burst into shrill, boyish laughter, squealing and kicking his legs.

“NAHAHAH- JONAHAHAH!” He squawked, weakly shoving at the offending hands.

Jonah giggled with delight, finding the frantic reactions quite adorable.

“What’s wrong? Too ticklish? Hehe~”

Adam was, indeed, too ticklish.

He bucked his hips and shook his head, his messy blonde hair becoming even messier.

“J-JONAH, PLEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAN’T!”

Jonah slowed his fingers, giving his friend some momentary reprieve.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Adam… answer this question and I might let you go.” He smirked. “what’s a cat?”

Adam, still catching his breath, blinked with bewilderment.

“What?”

“You heard me! What’s a cat?”

Jonah slowly lifted Adam’s hoodie to reveal the pale skin, causing Adam to squirm more frantically.

“I-It’s an annoying animal with pointy ears that says meow!!!”

The silver haired boy gave a teasing smile.

“You still remember what a cat is?! I guess I have to tickle you even more!”

Before Adam could respond, Jonah bent over and blew a messy raspberry on his friend’s tummy, making him shriek and buck his hips.

After a few playful raspberries, Adam’s laughter was reduced to gasps and wheezes, his cheeks flushed and stained with mirthful tears.

Seeing his best friend couldn’t take anymore, Jonah relented, getting off of Adam and chuckling.

Adam wrapped his arms around his midriff, panting and giggling still, a big, goofy smile on his face.

For a few moments, the room was mostly silent, the only sounds being Adam’s breathy leftover giggles as he tried to catch his breath.

Finally, Jonah spoke up.

“So? How are you feeling?” He asked, an amused smile on his face.

The blonde initially wanted to glare and say something snarky, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Actually… much better.” He admitted, sheepishly looking away.

Jonah’s heart filled with pride, glad he was able to cure his friend of his grumpiness.

“I’m glad… now, why don’t we go do something that doesn’t have anything to do with stupid cat alternates?” He laughs, nudging Adam in the shoulder.

Adam laughed back, sitting up and swatting Jonah’s hand away.

“Sounds good to me.”

And so, the rest of their night was full of laughter, ridiculous conversations, and snacks.

And although Adam never figured out what was in that basement, he decided to get over it and move on, because Jonah was right…

He wasn’t invincible.

[bywons]

ꔫ GO AHEAD AND CRY, LITTLE GIRL ( enhypen )

⌕ where you cry in their arms

pairing. bf!enhypen x f!reader w.c. 1.05k tw/cw. none really genre. fluff sru's note. requested! help i don't think i did a good job with this one ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated, PLS REBLOG if u like the fic !

LEE HEESEUNG can feel his heart breaking at the sight, his one and only love, his pretty girl sobbing into her hands in front of him, the cause still unknown. but he doesn't waste any time and pulls you into his embrace, your soft plump cheeks strained with tears pressed to his broad and snug chest, salty tears dampening his beige sweatshirt but that's the last thing that he cares about right now. he shushes you, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other softly stroking your back, in the utmost hope that you'll eventually stop crying. cause every tear that spills out of those pretty eyes of yours, it hammers lee heeseung's heart. would press soft kisses on top of your head until you calm down, along with his hug around you closing in tighter. when you calm down, he'll wipe away all the tears and make you a comforting hot bowl of ramen <3

PARK JONGSEONG drops whatever task he's doing, no matter how trivial or significant, and rushes to you the second he hears something as slight as a sniffle from you. and even when he's not close enough to be seen or called for, jay is one call away. has the biggest “and i crumble completely when you cry” energy. literally pulls you into his lap the second he sees the smallest drop of tears on your face. rocks both your bodies back and forth while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his hand simultaneously working and massaging your scalp. he literally doesn't even stop for a second until your sobs have completely died down, and even then he rocks you both back and forth while whispering about your problems, while you rest in his lap with your hands and cheeks pressed against his warm chest. jay still doesn't return to his aborted work and don't you dare ask him about it, cause you're way more important.

SIM JAEYUN puts on the saddest face with the biggest pout, literally becoming a puppy face. caresses your face and cradles it between his hands, eventually wrapping his arms around your waist. gets so worried when he sees you sobbing, at one point he gets insecure of being a bad boyfriend, always thinks he did something wrong. jake would press soft feathery kisses all over your face and right when you give the smallest upward twitch of lips, he'll literally attack you with tickles! jake just wants to hear you laugh and wants joy to stick to you forever. brings layla to you too <//3 so that all three of you can cuddle together while he just rambles random things to your now sleeping figure.

PARK SUNGHOON takes a bit of time to process the scene in front of him when you break into sobs, don't get him wrong but he's just disheartened at the sight of your tear stricken cheeks and red puffy eyes. if he's still foreign to it, it would take him some time to approach you in your sobbing fit but if not he's quick to act. but eventually picks you up and makes you sit in front of him at the edge of the bed. if you don't want to talk it out then he'll pull you closer until your heads’ on his shoulders, his hands creeping up beneath your shirt to draw random doodles on your back while you calm down in his embrace <3 sunghoon definitely kisses your cheeks a lot, until you're giggling from his kisses, and then and only then is he relieved. makes sure to ask what was wrong after.

KIM SEONWOO almost cries along with you, the soft and choked sounds of your sobs and your salty damp cheeks overwhelms him. immediately wraps you in his embrace, practically burying you in it. with glossy eyes, he tries to shush you up with an accompanied series of kisses to your cheeks, forehead and lips. when you're crying away in his arms, he'll play with your hair, braiding them only to untangle them and braid them again. gives you all the comfort in the world; he even brings your favourite plushies— that he won for you at the arcade— to you and wraps you in the warm, thick duvet. he giggles at the cute scenario in front of him, before tackling you in his arms and bombarding your face with soft kisses. definitely eats mint choco with you later.

YANG JUNGWON being the reserved and calm man(leader too) he is, he would hand you a glass of water immediately when he sees streams of tears flow down your cheeks. doesn't waste a second after that, wiping away your tears from your cheeks and pulling you into his embrace, stroking your back in a soft rhythm which makes your eyes flutter close. the smell of his cologne is mellow, which drives your nerves slowly and calms you down in his embrace. jungwon hugs you tighter and presses occasional kisses to your shoulders and forehead, just to let you know he's still here, all ears to listen to whatever's wrong. lays down with you, his head resting still upon his chest, listening to the soft thumps of his heartbeat through his grey sweatshirt while he asks you what's wrong. his caresses don't stop even for a second while he lays with you, listening to your heart.

NISHIKURA RIKI ‘s heart melts when you break down like that, #2 at the “and I crumble completely when you cry” energy, don't ask me why. but our boys’ not nervous at all! he loves his girlfriend dearly and always has a trick up his sleeve whenever the smallest inconvenience comes across. rushes to you and hugs you so tight that at one point you swore you couldn't breathe. that is when riki thankfully lets you off his grip and pulls you closer, until your back is pressed to his chest. now it's time for nishimura riki to pull his trick out! girlfriend 101: when y/n's crying, show her cute cat videos. your have died down soon enough after riki holds his phone before your eyes, a random cat compilation video playing. he doesn't forget his cuddles though, literally becomes plush to you while you both stream cat videos that whole day.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @fleumiu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @lilacnini nets! @/k-labels

[thegnomelord]

Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.

The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.

So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.

Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?

I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!

It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"

Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.

CW:NSFW

But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—

Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.

It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.

Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.

Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?

You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.

When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.

It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.

You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).

You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.

Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.

You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.

Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.

Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.

You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."

Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"

"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."

"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."

"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.

When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.

He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.

"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.

"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.

But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.

You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.

You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.

Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.

His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.

"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"

One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.

"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"

"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."

You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.

"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.

"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.

Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.

[possessedbyforcesunknown]

My Favourite Jooster Fics

Bertie's Blog (ongoing series)

The writing is so charming and whimsical. I've never read a Wodehouse story but I assume that if he wrote Bertie as a modern-day blogger he would write exactly like this. It gave me some Bridget Jones' Diary vibes if Bridget Jones was a gay man in his twenties with a career in blogging (influencing?). I just love picturing a cute blond Bertie and his tall, clever, solicitor boyfriend. They even have a meet-cute!

2. Refused Entry (probably abandoned)

(TW: sexual assault) Begging the author to release chapter 5 because this is just one of the best stories I have ever read. So much potential. Bertie catches the eye of a perverted male OC and Jeeves' protective side comes out. POV alternates between the OC and Bertie—their inner monologues are great. I just love reading about Jeeves from another character's perspective.

3. The Pianist (last updated Feb 2023)

Long fic about Bertie and Jeeves' paths crossing in different circumstances starting from childhood. Slow burn. Literally 'invisible string' coded.

4. My Man Wooster (ongoing series)

I can't wait to read the fourth fic!! Literally everything you want for a role swap, featuring Bertie as England's worst valet and Jeeves as the Olivia Pope of 1930s London. I need them to get together so badly!! There are also hints as to why Bertie has fallen so far from high society and my boy is going THROUGH it.

5. Something of Vengeance (15/15 chapters, Sherlock Holmes crossover)

The romance isn't very direct but it's still one of my favourite stories. Interesting plot and seeing old Johnlock react to oftentimes air-headed but always kind-hearted Bertie is so cute. I need to reread this soon!!

6. All's Well That Ends Well (4/4 chapters, Completed)

I'm a sucker for anything ABO. A classic 'Bertie gets himself into trouble and Jeeves saves the day' story. Jeeves really is a saint for having so much self-control because there are quite a few romance tropes like accidental lap-sitting. It just tickles my brain.

7. The Yaxley Affair (one-shot)

I was hesitant to read this because it's a crossover with The Man from UNCLE but I'm so glad I did. It's quite a long story at 57k words (novella-length) but very worth the read. The older, 'established relationship' version of Bertie (now Lord Yaxley) and Jeeves are perfectly-written. It's like Ilya and Napoleon are stuck in a generic spy thriller but they're constantly in disbelief at how Jooster don't follow the 'norm' and still survive. (Do you know what I mean?) The author (Mice) has also written a number of great fics in this fandom.

8. Jeeves and the Best Laid Schemes (6/6 chapters)

I haven't read a lot of stories from Jeeves' perspective. In this fic, Jeeves is trying to make Bertie take a hint about his true feelings but he keeps getting sidelined by other characters. I love it when Jeeves is the one who falls first.

9. Jeeves in the Shower (one-shot, E)

Short and sweet. I just love it when Character A finds Character B taking a shower and they proceed to have sex.

10. Jeeves and the Gadsby Filly (one-shot)

Bertie in drag meets Jeeves in a night club and are drawn together. Don't know how else to describe it but fluffy and cute.

11. Totleigh Academy (3/3 chapters)

I'm a reader of simple tastes. I will always click on a high school AU (which are hit or miss). This is a hit!! Teenage Jooster dynamic is just lovely.

Final Note: There are probably more fics out there because the writers in this fandom are so good at writing in this sort of Wodehousian style. They capture Bertie's voice so well and the dialogue in some stories is just sparkling!! I would recommend the entire catalogue of fics on AO3 tbh.

[novoaa1writes]

house-training

pairing(s): dark!poison ivy x f!reader x dark!harley quinn

summary:

For a beat (or two), Ivy says nothing. Dimly, you can’t help but find her ability to maintain a stoic front in the face of Harley’s, shall we say, Harley-ness rather impressive. 

And then, finally: “Harley, dear,” she begins, words tinged with exasperation. “What did I say about getting a pet?”

word count: ~1,000

rating: explicit (18+)

warnings: this is a dark!fic. that means non-consensual dynamics, non-consensual touching, etc. etc. all of it, non-consensual! dead dove: do not eat. bad BDSM etiquette, humiliation, implications of pet play (harley calls reader ‘puppy’), brief mommy kink, profanity, condescension, uneven power dynamics, un-negotiated three-person play, references to past non-consensual physical punishments, ivy’s vines. no minors; don’t like, don’t read! 

notes: bro i do not know. i am literally just sitting here

— —

You awaken to the scent of fresh greens tickling your nose. Unusual. You nuzzle your face further into the pillow, inhaling deeply. Fresh, clean, grassy. Nothing like the gunpowder and bubblegum aroma that infuses every inch of Harley’s cluttered apartment. 

Reluctantly, you crack open an eyelid—

And promptly snap the other one open, too. 

Shit. 

A tall, green-skinned woman looms over you, cataloguing you silently with a contemplative—but decidedly critical—expression. Springy, corkscrew curls tease her bare shoulders, each strand a startling shade of red. Lean, green arms are crossed against her chest, and a single green vine taps out an impatient rhythm on her hip.

For a long moment, neither of you say anything. 

You know who she is. You know that she knows you know who she is.   

Her gaze is calm and measured as it sweeps over the state of you: the lipstick smeared across your chin, the pinkish handprints across swollen cheeks... the collar around your neck. The blanket does little to preserve any pretense of modesty.  

Shame heats your cheeks.

The woman—Poison Ivy—just rolls her eyes. As you watch, another vine snakes up her back to perch on her shoulder. She murmurs something unintelligible to it, though you can make out the word ‘Harley.’

The plant is quick to dismiss itself, and you… well. You don’t dare look away from her, even as the vine slithers over your waist to where Harley is sprawled face-down beside you. There’s a puff of… something behind you, then a sweet pollen-like scent infusing the air. 

A grumble tickles your shoulder. “Wha—Wha’ happen’d?” Harley slurs out as she rouses, voice rough with sleep. “Whaddaya—” You can tell the moment she blinks herself awake, the moment she spots the… visitor in the bedroom, because— “PAM-A-LAMB!”

Her excited screech fills your ears. Both you and Ivy wince.

“When’d’ya get back? Did’ya see the Venus flytrap? It’s pretty cool, right? I named him ‘Red’ ‘cause I missed you!”

Harley’s sitting bolt upright in bed now, practically bouncing on her haunches, the sheets bunched around her waist. You whine when the blanket goes with her, cool air ghosting across your naked back in its absence.

For a beat (or two), Ivy says nothing. Dimly, you can’t help but find her ability to maintain a stoic front in the face of Harley’s, shall we say, Harley-ness rather impressive. 

And then, finally: “Harley, dear,” she begins, words tinged with exasperation. “What did I say about getting a pet?”

— —  

“Aw, Red, don’t be like that,” Harley pouts, only mildly chagrined. “She’s cute as a button! C’mon, puppy, up,” she urges, shaking your shoulder and poking you with both hands. 

You bite back a sigh but do as she says, hoisting yourself up on shaky arms. 

A pale arm curls around your waist, pulling you back against a warm and very naked Harley. “Good girl,” she coos in a voice that’s all honey and sweetness, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. A shudder runs down your spine, and you feel her smirk against your skin. “I know ya said no pets, Ive, but just look at her.” It takes all your willpower not to cover your bare chest—littered with swollen-pink bite marks and streaks of dried spit —as Ivy’s unimpressed gaze falls on you. “I couldn’t help myself!”

“Clearly.” Ivy’s tone is droll even as a glint of… something ignites itself in her darkened gaze. Interest, perhaps. “I guess she does, admittedly, hold a certain… appeal.” The vines at her feet shudder in kind. 

A renewed flush heats your cheeks. It’s agony to keep still as her eyes sink lower, lower… And Harley—like she knows exactly what Ivy’s thinking, damn her—is quick to reposition herself to reach more of you, her hands creeping down your thighs.

“C’mon, puppy girl, spread ‘em,” she murmurs, tapping out an errant melody on the skin above your kneecaps. “You don’t wanna make me ask twice, do ya?”

Your spine stiffens. As threats of hers go, this one is somewhat thinly-veiled; already, your body bears a hundred hurts and bruises from days of calling her bluff. Suffice it all to say you’ve learned your lesson. 

You don’t resist as Harley urges your thighs apart with firm hands, your overworked muscles straining to accommodate the shift. Cool air ghosts over the slick, swollen mess between your thighs; your legs tremble with the effort to keep from closing them. 

God, it aches. 

“Oh, my,” Ivy remarks roughly, head tilted, her eyes glued to your most private parts. In the very same breath, a number of vines inch towards you, creeping up the bedframe. “Harley did quite the number on you, didn’t she?” Her gaze darts up to meet yours.

You’re quick to look away, cheeks aflame. “Answer her, sweetness,” Harley prompts, nails skating up your thighs—a warning. 

“Y—” You flinch when the first vine touches you, its budded green tip grazing along the fleshy skin of your inner thigh. “Yes.”

Harley hums. “Poor baby,” she coos, planting a feather-light kiss beneath your ear that sends a tingle down your spine. “Puppy girl isn’t quite house-trained, yet, is she?”

Tears burning in your eyes, you shake your head. “N-No.”

“Mommy had to use the hairbrush, didn’t she?” Harley adds, a hand ghosting across your battered cunt—but stopping just short. 

Your chest feels tight; your sore, overworked cunt throbbing in time with your rapidly beating heart. “Y-Yes,” you whisper, every muscle tensed—bracing yourself for the inevitable. 

You choke back a sob when Harley’s fingers slide down, down, down to your glistening outer lips, spreading them apart with ease. “Sh-shh,” Harley shushes you, like you’re an unruly child throwing a tantrum. “You’re okay, puppy girl. I know it hurts, I know.” Her fingers pull up and back until all of you is exposed, open to Ivy’s attentive gaze.

You nearly faint on the spot.

“Messy thing,” Ivy muses, more to herself than anyone else. 

You wish the ground would swallow you whole. 

“You wanna play with her, don’t’cha?” Harley teases in a sing-song tone, your nether lips kept mercilessly spread between her fingers. “Admit it.”

Ivy rolls her eyes but nods, irises dark with intention. “You’re incorrigible, my love.” A vine curls its way around your ankle. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Fuck. 

— —

end notes: hehe haha. me when i. me when. me .....

link to masterlist

[666anxiety666]

Distraction

A mandela catalogue tickle fic!

Lee: Jonah | Ler: Adam

TW: none

Art by @tired-jonah :]

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

It had been a long, rainy, boring day. It had rained from the moment the sun came up. Adam hadn't moved much from the couch at all that day. He had been working since 9am that morning, it was now currently 4:30pm.

Jonah, on the other hand, stayed in his room playing video games all day. But you could only keep Jonah entertained for so long.

Jonah left his room looking bored and walked into the living room, sitting next to Adam.

"Dude, I'm so bored!"

Jonah complained with a sigh, crossing his arms as he looked at the blank TV in front of him.

"You almost done with those reports? You've been at them all day!"

Jonah complained again. Adam rolled his eyes.

"If you're so bored, just go play your dang video games again..!"

Adam said, looking at Jonah from the corner of his eye for a moment before looking back at his computer. Jonah huffed, rolling his eyes.

"I'm bored of them now..."

Jonah whined, Adam scoffed.

"Not my problem..."

Adam replied, his eyes never leaving the laptop screen as he typed away at the keyboard. Jonah groaned, resting his head against the couch for a moment. It was all quiet, peaceful even with the sound of rain outside.

But just as Adam was about to sigh to himself in peace. Jonah lay across his lap, almost knocking the laptop off it.

"What the fuck are you doing??"

Adam stammered, lifting his laptop away to prevent Jonah crushing it.

"What? I'm comfy!"

Jonah said with his signature shit eating grin on his face. Adam huffed in annoyance, shaking his head.

"Well, just be quiet down there..."

Adam grumbled, moving his laptop to the arm of the couch to continue his work. Again, the room fell into silence aside from Adams persistent typing on his laptop. Jonah sighed, his brain trying to wrack up ideas to cure his boredom. Then, he got an idea.

Jonah grinned, silently sneaking a hand up and poking Adams side. Adam squeaked, his body jumping. Adam looked down at Jonah with a glare.

"What?"

Jonah asked, pretending as if he were innocent.

"You know what! Quit it!"

Adam grumbled before slowly going back to his work. Jonah grinned, still laying across Adams lap. Jonah left it a few moments before doing the same action, this time poking Adams ribs. This earned a louder squeak from Adam and his body reacted more.

"Jonah!"

Adam snapped again, glaring down at the boy in his lap. Jonah grinned.

"What? I'm not doing anything!"

Jonah chuckled, holding his hands up in defence.

"I swear to god, you better quit that! Im trying to work! One more time and i swear..!"

Adam grumbled, glaring at Jonah one last time before his eyes left Jonahs for the screen in front of him. Jonah grinned. He was eager to push Adam. So, for one last time, Jonah reached over and squeezed Adams hip.

Adam squealed his hands, coming down from his laptop to defend his sensitive hips. Jonah laughed, finally getting what he wanted from Adam.

"Ha! You should have seen your face! I didn't know you could make that... sound..."

Jonahs laughter slowed when he opened his eyes to see a very "angry" looking Adam glaring down at him in his lap. Jonah thought he may have taken things too far.

"S-sorry dude... i-i didn--"

Jonahs apology was cut sort by Adam quickly grabbing a hold of Jonah, instantly digging into Jonahs sides. Jonah squeaked, instantly trying to defend his sides as he giggled.

"H-Hey! Hehe Adahaham! Hahaha I'm sohohorry!"

Jonah giggled. Adam rolled his eyes.

"Are you?"

Adam said in a blunt tone. But it quickly became clear he wasn't actually mad at Jonah. Just giving him a taste of his own medicine. Adams tickling fingers soon moved to Jonahs tummy, going under the shirt.

It was now Jonahs turn to squeal, trying to roll out of Adams lap and push the assaulting fingers away, but to no avail.

"nahHAHA! ADAM! HAHA PLEHEHEASE! HAHAHA STAHAHAP!"

Jonah pleaded. But Adam held Jonah firmly in his lap. Not letting the boy escape him. Jonah continues to squeal and giggle, his face slowly starting to turn red.

"What? You said you where board? Isn't this what you wanted?"

Adam asked, a small visible smug smile appearing on his face. Jonahs face, if it could, got even more red at Adams statement.

"S-SHUHUHUT UP! IHI DID NOHOHOT!"

Jonah protested. Adam simply rolled his eyes.

"Really? Then why would you tickle me, huh? Unless you wanted something? Unless you wanted this?"

Adam taunted, trying to keep up the blank look but failing miserably. A grin etched onto his face. Jonahs face, however, was now bright red.

"SHUHUT UHUHUP! HAHA PLEHEHEASE! THIHIS IHIHISNT FAIR!"

Jonah protested. Desperately trying to push Adams hands away as he kicked his legs.

"Not fair?"

Adam grinned.

"I'll show you not fair..."

Jonah didn't even have time to prepare himself as Adam lifted his shirt, took a breath, and started to blow raspberries on Jonahs poor tummy. Jonah squealed, he sqealed so loud the neighbours could probably hear him.

Jonah was in hysterics, tears of laughter forming in his eyes. His arms growing weak as he tried to push Adam away.

"ADAM! HAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE! HAHA I-I CAHAHANT!"

Jonah finally begged. After a few more short raspberries, Adam let up. Jonah panted heavily, his body weak as it lay across Adams lap.

"You okay?"

Adam asked with a small chuckle, ruffling Jonahs hair lightly. Jonah took a few more breaths.

"Y-Yeah... i-i thihink so"

Jonah replied, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. Jonah sat up, moving off of Adams lap and sitting beside him. He rested his head on Adams shoulder, his breathing slowly starting to calm.

Adam chuckled, patting Jonahs back and rubbing his shoulder.

"Now shut up, I'll hang with you in a bit..."

Adam said playfully, ruffling Jonahs hair once more before turning to his laptop again. Jonah sighed, his head still on Adams shoulder. Adam had tired him out for sure.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

When Adam was finally done, he looked over at Jonah, whose head still rested on his shoulder. To Adams surprise, Jonah was asleep. Adam chuckled, wrapping an arm around Jonah gently as he sighed and closed his eyes as well.

Adam soon fell asleep as well, the two best friends were asleep together on the couch the rest of the evening.

And that's it! Took a bit for this one as I've had so many essays to write for collage :[ but I really like this one so I hope you guys enjoy! 💙

[soft--dragon]

Bedtime Stories

This is a branching, alternate timeline where Crosshair went back with the others at the end of Season 1 after Kamino falls. He's settled back in well enough, he's having to adjust to a child running around on the Marauder with them now

This is all written to be PLATONIC. Shipping any of these characters together is disgusting as they're siblings, please don't interact if you're a shipper >:(

Word Count: 4,115

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Crosshair was starting to develop a distaste for nine o’clock at night. It was slowly becoming more and more of a headache and for good reason. Nine o’clock; Omega’s bedtime. 

He was sitting in the cockpit, hoping to escape any shenanigans the small clone played to try and stay up later. Hunter had put the curfew in place after Omega had almost been shot on a job - her reflexes dampened by exhaustion - and practically gave the sergeant a heart attack in the process. So, he’d put the new rule in place, and he planned to stick to it. Omega hadn't been very accepting of the new rule, trying to find more creative ways to avoid her room and the bed in it. 

Usually, it was pretty easy to put her to bed despite her excuses, one of them able to herd her to the gunner mount at some point during the evening. She managed to really confuse them once, they’d spent fifteen minutes trying to find her, only to discover her in the air vents. She was a crafty little womp rat, Crosshair would give her that. 

Crosshair’s musings were interrupted abruptly as the kid skidded into the cockpit and hit the button behind her to close the door. She swung around and almost yelped in alarm at the sight of Crosshair sitting there. 

“Evening,” Crosshair greeted dryly, looking back to his book to try and make it clear he was not dealing with this. 

“Hi Cross,” Omega grinned nervously. “Could you do me a favour?” 

“No.”

“But you don’t even know what it is-”

“I am not telling Hunter to let you stay up. You’re a child. Go to bed.”

Omega put her hands on her hips and puffed out her cheeks indignantly. “I’m older than you. Why don’t you go to bed?” 

Crosshair had to bite his tongue not to smirk at the kid’s snarkiness. She was getting bolder with her sass, something that Tech, Echo and himself had been influencing shamelessly, but he’d rather be shot than say he was proud. Instead, he scowled deeper at her comment to save face and swivelled in his chair to face the doorway. 

“Hunter! She’s in here!” He called snidely, smirking at the look of betrayal on Omega’s face. 

“Crosshair!” she exclaimed. 

Crosshair flipped the page of his book. “Don’t sass me then, kid.” 

The door slid open, freezing Omega in place. Tech and Hunter stood in the threshold, the latter’s arms crossed and brow firmly set. “Omega, bed.” Hunter stated. 

“But-”

Hunter held up a hand before she could protest, his tone leaving no room for argument as he spoke. “I’ve set the curfew, you need to follow it. I’m not having a repeat of last time.”

Tech cleared his throat as he slipped by Hunter to enter the cockpit. “Might I add, sleep deficiency causes more than just a lower reflex rate, Omega. It also risks the chance of heart disease, kidney disease, high blood pressure, stroke and depression.” 

“Thank you, Tech,” Hunter sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

“Of course.” Tech walked to the control panel and crouched beside it, taking out his tools to repair the wiring. “Someone has to catalogue the side effects of bad habits, considering how much you are all intent on picking up habits that damage your bodies, and in turn damage our efficiency on jobs. 

"For instance, Hunter’s inability to speak about his migraines, Echo’s lack of sleep from nightmares, Wrecker’s desire to hide injuries not to worry us, and Crosshair-”

“Yeah yeah, you badgered me so much about smoking that I had to quit just to shut you up.” Crosshair hissed, lifting his book higher to his face just to block out the other occupants of the room. He came in here for an escape from his family at night, not to be stuck in the middle of this. 

Hunter then cleared his throat, giving Omega a pointed look. Omega, who had been slowly sneaking towards the door to dart away while Tech was talking, whined slightly. “Come on, Hunter, ten more minutes-” 

“You said ‘ten more minutes’ fifteen minutes ago,” the sergeant countered - Tech muttering; “Technically, it has been sixteen minutes now.” from the control panel - and making Hunter wave a hand in his direction in agreement. “There, you see? Now come on, you’re gonna be exhausted tomorrow if you don’t get some rest.”

The blonde clone crossed her arms stubbornly. “I’ll be fine.”

Hunter’s frown deepened, then his gaze slid over to the other occupant of the room who looked completely done with the pair of them. He smirked, and crossed his arms too. “If you don’t go now, I’ll get Crosshair to put you to bed.”

Crosshair, who was sitting quietly on his chair, scowled and hid his face further behind the book. He did not ask to be dragged into this, thank you very much.

Obviously catching the sniper’s resistance to being pulled into the fray, Omega’s grin widened and she looked up at Hunter with a shit-eating grin. “He won’t do it.” She claimed boldly. 

Big mistake. 

“I will for some damn peace and quiet.” 

Omega yelped as she was suddenly lifted into the air and tossed ungraciously over a shoulder. She gripped onto the civilian shirt, eyes wide as she registered how far off the ground she was. It wasn’t as high as when she was picked up by Wrecker, but it was still jarring. Then they were moving, and she was passing by Hunter who was looking at her far too smugly. 

“Told you.” He grinned. 

Omega glared then raised a finger up at him.

Tech looked up from his data pad at Hunter’s loud noise of indignation and gave a small hum. “Well, I certainly recognize that hand signal.”

Hunter looked close to a panic attack as he called out after his brother. “Crosshair! What have you been teaching her?!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, putting a child to bed.” Crosshair said over his shoulder and let the cockpit doors slide close behind him. He then hefted Omega off his shoulder to settle her on his hip, giving her a flat look. “I thought we agreed not to show Hunter what I’ve taught you.”

Omega giggled, gripping onto him firmly though she knew she wouldn’t be dropped. “Well I guess I just didn’t listen.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, though there was a slight amused gleam to them. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

They passed by the bunks where Wrecker and Echo were sleeping, the demolition expert’s snores rumbling through the room. How it didn’t wake Echo was a mystery, Crosshair admired the man’s ability to somehow block out Wrecker’s noise without earplugs. Keeping Omega balanced on his hip, he hefted himself up the gunner mount ladder and dropped Omega unceremoniously on the blankets and pillows clustered on the floor like a nest. 

“There. Bed. Sleep.” He grumbled, moving to get back down the ladder.

“Crosshair wait!” 

Crosshair paused on the rails, looking at her flatly. “What?” He asked, “if you’re expecting me to tuck you in then you’re gravely mistaken.”

Omega shook her head, eyes bright as she asked, “Can you tell me a story?” Well then. That was an unusual request. Deciding to humour her, Crosshair leant against the ladder with a raised brow. “...What kind of story?”

“Anything you want.”

“Alright. Once upon a time there was a galaxy, it exploded, the end.”

The kid groaned, tipping her head back and rolling her eyes so hard Crosshair was surprised they didn’t roll right out of her head. “I meant a good story.”

“That was a good story.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Crosshair huffed, slipping his toothpick from his teeth. “Tough crowd.”

Omega sat forward in her blankets more, a hard set in her brow and… oh gods, she was pouting wasn’t she? Damnit. Wrecker had obviously taught her that one to manipulate Hunter. “C’mon, surely you’ve got some good stories? 

“I lived on the battlefield and survived a war. Not many good stories from that.”

Not deterred slightly, Omega persisted. “What about outside of the battles? When you were with the others? There has to be some good moments, right?”

Crosshair sighed heavily. Unless he wanted an earful from Hunter about Omega not being asleep, he was gonna have to indulge this little devil. She was stubborn, he’d give her that. “...I suppose there was the one time we visited a snow planet and Wrecker got his tongue stuck on Echo’s scomp link.”

Omega’s mouth dropped open in an excited grin. “He what?!”

“Did no one tell you this one?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “No. They barely tell me any embarrassing stories about themselves.”

Crosshair’s smile became downright wicked. “Oh? Is that so?” He hefted himself up onto the gunner mount floor, pressing his back to the wall and hiking a boot up on the rungs. “Well then, what a terrible thing it is for them to have a brother who remembers many embarrassing moments.”

Omega’s eyes were sparkling with mischief. The blankets fell around her lap as she sat up, an eager gleam to her brown eyes. “Tell me all of them!”

Crosshair, being the sweet and caring person that he is, placed a hand on her face and pushed her back down into the cushions. “Lie down and listen, womp rat,” he scoffed. “Or I’ll throw you out the airlock.”

Omega grinned, peeking through his fingers as she shoved off his palm. “No you won’t.”

“Really want to test that theory?” He asked, reaching out a hand only for her to it smack away with a bright giggle. 

“No! I’m meant to be going to sleep!”

“Shocking how you only use that excuse when it benefits you.”

“I picked it up from you.”

Somehow, dumbly, that comment made Crosshair’s chest swell with pride. The knowledge that he’d passed down some of his skill sets down to this little sponge of a clone was a weirdly good feeling. 

He settled back against the wall, crossing his arms and swivelling the toothpick in his mouth. “So, are you going to cooperate and let me tell my story?”

Omega grinned and snuggled down into the blankets, assured that the tall clone wasn’t going to throw her out the airlock of the Havoc Marauder. “Ready!” She chirped, cuddling Lula to her chest.

She was the picture of childish innocence. It made something protective rear up in Crosshair’s heart. Stupid feelings. Damn kid making him go soft. “Alright,” Crosshair sighed, and then somewhat awkwardly, he began to retell the visit to the planet.

His words were choppy to start with, not used to telling stories of their life outside of the war, especially not to a child. He’d given mission reports - though not willingly - and those were easier, they were facts of an operation. This was more like crafting a book in his head and telling it to someone that was very easy to influence. Crosshair wisely left out the bits and pieces that Omega might find concerning, and for the record, the avalanche was entirely Wrecker’s fault, not his. 

As the story went on, Crosshair found the words leaving him easily. His raspy voice was edged with mirth as he described the life or death snowball fight and attempts of skating on the frozen lake. It caused an assortment of ridiculous pictures - courtesy of Tech - of their very shaky forms on the slick surface. 

“Like new-born Tauntauns' they were,” Crosshair smirked. “Staggering around and falling over themselves constantly. I’ll have to ask Tech where he put the holos, there are some good ones of Hunter flat on his face”

“Are there any of you?” Omega asked with a grin. 

“Have you ever seen me slip and fall? I was fine.” Crosshair scoffed, looking half offended she’d even suggested such a thing. “I’m used to getting around sloped terrain by sliding down it, the ice was no different.” 

Omega giggled softly, hugging Lula closer to her chest and looking over the toy with her big brown eyes. “Do you think we could visit a snow planet sometime? I’ve never had the chance to really explore one before. We went to one a while back, but I didn’t get to look around properly, we were too busy being attacked by ice dragons.”

Crosshair blinked down at her. It was sometimes easy to forget that Omega had spent most of her life beneath the oceans of Kamino, stuck in a lab with Nala Se with no opportunity to explore the galaxy. 

“...I’m sure Hunter could be persuaded," he found himself saying. "And if he isn’t-”

“Then we ask Echo,” Omega finished with a knowing smirk. 

Crosshair hummed in agreement, turning his head to look out of the window of the gunner's mount, the stars blinking back at him softly. He took in a breath, not minding the staleness of the recycled air. It was peaceful and homely on the ship, that's all that mattered to him. It was far better than the suffocatingly cold and sterile air of the Empire’s ships. Crosshair repressed a shudder.

It was after staring at the stars for a moment too long that he realised it was too peaceful. He flicked his eyes to the kid, expecting to see her finally asleep in the nest of blankets, but instead, she was watching him closely. 

He narrowed his gaze. “What?” he snipped, though it was a far cry from his usual harsh snap. 

He always tried to soften his tone while speaking to Omega, not wanting to give her the wrong idea of him being annoyed with her. He just sounded grumpy most of the time, but thankfully she seemed to know his true emotions were hidden under the grouch.

Omega smiled in response to his question. “I’m just happy you’re here,” she answered genuinely. “Even if I didn’t know you all too well when we first met, something was missing without you on the squad.”

Crosshair stubbornly looked out the window again, refusing to acknowledge the warmth flickering in his chest. “How touching,” he grumbled. 

A tiny foot hit his knee, diverting his attention back to Omega. She was frowning slightly, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "Did you just kick me?" He asked dubiously. 

Omega ignored his accusation. “Would it kill you to be sentimental just once?”

“Yes. I would die immediately,” Crosshair replied dryly. 

“No you wouldn’t.”

“I’m not about to risk death just to appease your need for emotional reassurance.”

“Come on,” Omega sat up, Lula falling to her side. “It’s not that hard-”

“No, lay back down and sleep,” Crosshair leaned over to push her head back against the pillows. An annoyed noise weaselled out from Omega, muffled slightly by his palm. 

“Not until you say something nice!” Omega argued, her own hands came up to try and shove at Crosshair’s wrist.

Crosshair grumbled, and with his spare hand, he dragged his fingers over his face and scowled. “Aren’t you ever tired?”

“Nope.” Omega popped the ‘p’ for good measure, grinning at her brother smugly. “Now say something nice or I’ll never sleep!”

It was like making a deal with Satan.

“You’re a terrible child.”

Omega rolled her eyes. “You’re really bad at this.”

“Niceties aren’t my profession.”

“Clearly.”

Crosshair glowered at the kid. After a moment he inquired, "Are you always this infuriating?"

"We share the same DNA, I had to get some traits from you." 

Crosshair gave Omega precisely seven seconds to take back that statement. When no such words were spoken, he glared darkly. 

"Alright you little shit," he hissed, paying no mind to the small voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Wrecker telling him he shouldn’t be cursing around a child. "It's about time someone taught you to respect your elders." 

"I'm older than yo-"

"Nope, you're not allowed to use that argument anymore." Crosshair promptly scooped up Omega, blankets and all, and dumped her on his lap. Ensnared by the tangles of fabric, Omega laughed and struggled against the arm cage Crosshair had put her in. 

"Cross!" 

“Can’t hear you kid, you’re pretty muffled.” Giving into the more playful side of himself, Crosshair’s fingers delved into the blanket to prod around Omega’s torso, hearing her squeak and giggle wildly at the ticklish sparks of electricity jolting through her. He smirked at her reactions and continued with his snarky teasing. “Maybe if you didn’t have a blanket over your head I could hear you better. Oh well, maybe next time.”

Omega suddenly squealed when Crosshair’s fingers pinched up her ribs, her wiggling increasing as bubbly laughter spilled from under the blanket. “Nohoho! Crohohosshahair!”

He scoffed loudly. “Really Omega, didn’t I just say I couldn’t hear you very well? Maybe we should get Tech to check your ears.” Crosshair was fighting for his life not to break out a grin, but he couldn’t contain the mischievous note in his tone as he messed with the kid. 

Omega smacked him in the chest with a swaddled hand and hiccupped in laughter. “Yohou suhuck!” In a bid for freedom, Omega twisted in her blanket cocoon and pushed her own fingers into Crosshair’s stomach through the thick material. 

The strangled noise that burst from the sniper was high pitched and wildly out of character. He half curled up, arms tightening against himself in reflex. Omega gasped like she'd discovered the answer for Clone Rights. 

"You're ticklish!" 

Immediately, a series of rapid fire pokes sent shock waves through Crosshair's sides and stomach, causing another badly restrained yelp to pull free, followed by breathy titters that kept tumbling free despite the man's best efforts to keep them down. 

"Awww! You can laugh, Cross!" Omega's excited cooing made an embarrassed warmth flush in the sniper's ears. This wasn't the plan. How the hell did it go this awry? 

"S-Shut up-" he spluttered. He could've pushed her away easily of course, but with how close they were to the gunner mount edge, he didn't want to risk the nightmare scenario playing out in his head of Omega tumbling from the height and hurting herself. Though, with how much he was embarrassing himself with these dignity destroying snickers, he might have to let the child drop. 

"I've never heard you laugh like this." Omega carried on, never shy of speaking her mind regardless of how embarrassed it made her brothers. "It's really nice actually, you should do it more often." 

What the fuck. 

Crosshair would deny to his goddamn grave that Omega's genuine words were having any effect on his cold, dead heart. He was a soldier bred for battle, why was he getting overwhelmed by a kid complimenting his laugh? He couldn't even think of a proper reply with how much his brain had short circuited. 

"Yohou- goddahahamn-" 

Omega giggled at his sputtering attempts. "Huh, you're just like Hunter when he laughs too much to talk," she commented with a grin. 

Crosshair opened his mouth to argue against that, but Omega had begun prodding up and down his sides and getting lower the longer she did so and only making Crosshair's titters increase. When she got too close to his overly sensitive hip bones, Crosshair decided enough was enough. Both of his hands scratched and skittered all around Omega's shoulder blades and back upper ribs - a soft spot for Crosshair himself. 

Omega instantly ripped her hands away from him and burst into a fit of unrestrained squeaks, torn between pressing against Crosshair to evade the tickling or attempting to attack him again. 

"That was a bad move, kid," Crosshair grumbled, his soft laughter faded but his smile had started to finally crack out through his mask. "Don't start a fight you can't finish."

Omega tried to reach out to tickle him again, but Crosshair swiftly intercepted the move and poked rapidly under her arm, smirking at the surprised squeal that leapt from the blonde clone. She really needed to learn that he was the champion of tickle fights - his losses were few and far between, and there was little chance he was losing to her. He gave a grazing swipe at her neck with his fingernails just cause he could, and because it made her squeal endearingly. Huh, just like Tech. He pocketed that thought for a later time. 

“Ahem.” 

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat made the two freeze. Turning around in sync, the pair were greeted by the sight of Echo standing close to the gunner mount, arms crossed and blearily glaring at them.

“Crosshair, Omega is meant to be asleep.” His voice was deeper than normal having just woken up, and it only made his stern tone more intimidating. 

Omega pressed herself back into Crosshair, as if to hide behind him, with a meek, guilty grin. “Sohorry Echo,” she apologised, giggles lingering in her speech. “we didn’t mehean to wake you.”

Echo’s stern expression wavered a tad at her giggly state, something Crosshair internally rolled his eyes at. Did this kid seriously have everyone wrapped around her finger? Unbelievable. He’d have to ask her to use that so they could win every argument against their brothers. Omega was going to flourish under his teachings. 

“Yeah, what she said. Go back to bed, Echo,” Crosshair waved off his brother. “I’ll put her to sleep.”

“To bed. You’re going to put her to bed.” Echo emphasised. “Don’t kill our sister.”

Crosshair planted a hand on Omega’s face and ignoring her indigent squark, he pushed her down on the bed roll. Gently of course, he wasn’t a total dick. “Yeah yeah, I got it, now go. Your night watch shift is in two hours.” 

Echo hummed and gave a small salute, turning back to the bunks with a tired slouch to his posture. “Night you two.”

“Goodnight Echo.”

“Night.”

When Crosshair heard Echo’s bunk creak and settle once more, he turned back to Omega who was rubbing at her eyes. “Finally tired, yet?” He inquired. 

“No.” Omega replied, ever the stubborn one, immediately dropping her fist. She clearly was exhausted, her rapid blinking and wavering form displayed that, but she was insistent on resisting. 

Crosshair pinched the skin between his eyes, mentally reminding himself it would be wrong to stun a child. “If I tell you one more story, you go to sleep immediately afterwards. Deal?”

Omega studied him with pursed lips as she thought over the offer. Then she smiled, and bundled up her blankets in her arms. “Deal.”

Crosshair didn’t get a moment to protest when she stood up and threw herself down in his lap, curling into his chest and snuggling close. All air left the man as he openly gaped, watching Omega cuddle into his scrawny form and nudge her head into his collarbone. “Ready,” she mumbled, eyes slipping closed and completely missing Crosshair’s rare moment of speechless floundering. 

It took approximately ten seconds for Crosshair to scrape up some semblance of his usual demeanour and pretend that this wasn’t melting his stone cold heart into a fond puddle. Eugh, this kid was going to be the death of him one day. The thought didn’t bother him as much as he assumed it would. 

Wrapping a cautiously gentle arm around the small bundle curled into his chest, Crosshair turned his attention back to the stars and began softly telling another story. Omega tried to stay awake by murmuring questions about the planet, but they became nonsensical and slurred the more she tried to speak. Crosshair wasn’t even halfway through his retelling when Omega had slumped into him fully and her breathing had evened out. Crosshair trailed off, and after a moment of consideration, wrapped both arms around her, securing her against him. He smiled softly at the tiny snores emitting from the girl. She really was Hunter’s kid, they had matching snore tones and everything.

Realistically, he should deposit her back onto her bedroll and go to his own bunk, but he couldn’t bring himself to put down the precious cargo in his arms. Instead, he shuffled down the wall, did a quick prayer for his neck in the morning, and dropped his head onto her mop of golden hair - letting his own eyes slide closed. 

The soft glow of the fairylights and steady weight of Omega against him soothed Crosshair into a deep sleep, his dreams circling around the memory of a frozen lake. He was with his brothers on the ice, but this time, Omega was with them, her laughter intertwining with theirs and sounding out across the cold planet. 

Unbeknownst to the sniper, he smiled in his sleep.

[top-tier-tickles]

Make the Spider Sing

This is a FNAF: SECURITY BREACH tickle fic requested by an anonymous user. I hope you enjoy it!

______________________________________

"GAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

That melodious laughter erupted from the dance floor of the west arcade. It was loud, the sound only amplified by the echo the walls provided.

"D-DEEHEEHEEHEEHEE JAHAHAHAY! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!" Glamrock Freddy cackled, squirming in the giant animatronic's grasp.

"Not until you dance!" DJ Music Man said, using two of his six hands to poke and tickle the bear.

Earlier, Freddy had decided to pay dj a visit, as Gregory was hanging out with Monty. The Gator had wanted to show him a new obstacle in his golf course.

After thar disastrous night, the virus was eradicated from everyone, along with new upgrades. One of the few upgrades was that Freddy could now control whether or not he dances on the West Arcade dance floor. An upgrade he- and everyone else - was rather thankful for.

Well, maybe not everyone...

DJ Music Man had always enjoyed the bear's company, he hadn't visited in a long while due to the bug being quite embarrassing to him. But DJ always liked it, it was amusing to see Freddy dance and groove along with him.

Now on this particular visit, the spider begun practically BEGGING Freddy to dance. Of course the bear refused over and over again, which of course lead to-

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!"

-this.

The DJ chuckled, continuing his ticklish assault. "You gotta dance at some point, fred."

"FIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHINE JUST PUHUHUHUHUT ME DOWN!"

DJ Music Man laughed triumphantly, gingerly putting Freddy back on the floor, letting him compose himself, eagerly waiting for him to bust a move.

Of course, Freddy did, he danced every dance that could possibly fit within his catalogue. The floor shook from the heavy pounds of metal stomping around, by the time Freddy stopped dancing, both animatronics burst out in laughter, clearly amused by the silliness of the situation.

Pretty soon, their laughter died down, and the pair sat together, calmly talking as DJ idly played with a record.

"I still cannot believe you managed to make me dance..." Freddy sighed.

"Hey, it's a dance floor, you gotta dance."

"I suppose..." An idea popped into the bear's head.

"Actually, DJ, I'd like to ask you a question..."

"Shoot."

"Are YOU ticklish? If so, where?"

"Ah...Honesty, I have no clue. Heh, I've never really felt anything like that."

"Oh, really? C'mon, my friend, there's gotta be somewhere you're sensitive."

"Nah man, You don't gotta do that... You and I both know I'm too big for anythin' like that."

"Thats not true!"

"Yeah, it is. Plus, I don't wanna end up hurtin' ya."

"I promise I'll be careful, no one will get hurt."

The giant spider thought for a moment, then sighed, lying down so Freddy could reach him easier.

"Go for it, man." He confirmed.

And so, the glamrock bear did, he tried every possible spot that could be vulnerable to tickles, even some not-so common places, only to get nothing but silence the entire time.

"Wow, I suppose you really aren't ticklish..."

"Yeah, I guess they thought since I'm so big that I didn't need that feature..." honestly, DJ Music Man was a bit saddened by this, he'd observed the others tickle each other, and it honestly looked a bit fun!

DJ sighed, resting his head on the floor, one of his massive hands next to it, giving Freddy an idea.

He turned the hand so the palm was facing up, and began gently running his claws along the palm.

DJ let out a rather loud squeak, quickly pulling his hand away and rubbing it.

"What was THAT!?" the spider asked.

"Hehehe! I believe we've just found your ticklish spot, my friend!" Freddy chuckled.

Freddy pulled the hand close again, scribbling his fingers on the palm.

"Ahehihihihihi! Thahat feels wieheheherd! Hihihihi!"

"Yes, that sensation is called tickling!"

"Ihihihi know whahahat it's cahahahalled!"

"I don't believe presenting sass is the best option right now." Freddy chuckled under his breath, digging his claws into DJ's palm.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHAHAIT! WAHAHAHAHAIT! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" DJ's laughter had a slight autotuned sound to it, like he was singing without actually singing.

"It sounds like music!"

His laugh went in waves, high notes and low notes bounced about the walls, until finally, Freddy let up.

The spider's hand went limp, he panted despite not requiring oxygen.

DJ collected himself, and he and Freddy sat calmly for a few minutes.

"Heh, thanks, I needed that laugh..." DJ said.

"Anytime, my friend..." The bear replied.

______________________________________

THE END.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @ajna-eye-cogitations, thank you!!

[A note that when I picked the last 10 published, I skipped over all my short one-shot collection fics that I've been posting for years now, since those are cases where each chapter is its own individual story. So I just stuck to stuff outside of that!]

where the real road lies

Grief doesn’t feel like anything. Or— well, it feels like a lot of things, but nothing you can pin down. Maybe it’s one of those human experiences that can only be talked about in metaphor. Like, it feels as if my heart’s being ripped out of my chest, or it feels as if someone’s scooped me out, left me hollow, plunged my very soul into darkness. It feels as if, as if, as if.

(can't) get back again

It’s not a decision either of them is actually making. That’s what Michael tells himself when it happens for the first time, that he didn’t decide and Alex didn’t decide and in fact fighting the inevitability of it would only be adding more pain into a world already saturated with suffering.

small town halloween night

Maria gets home before Rosa, on Halloween night. They’d both picked up shifts for their parents, Maria at the bar and Rosa at the diner. It’s not the worst shift Maria’s ever worked, but she can’t help but feel a little melancholy on her drive home. A whole night of watching people her age, people she went to school with, cluster together with their friends, doing cheap shots... A year ago, that had been her. A year ago, dressed up with her skin out, doing shots in her friends’ kitchen, laughing at the movies and getting rice in her hair.

tell me that we belong together

September 2011 Michael always gets a little nostalgic about Roswell right before leaving it behind for a while. School’s starting in just a couple days, and that means saying a temporary goodbye to mornings like this one, lounging in their favorite booth at the Crashdown, the sounds of Arturo making their breakfasts carrying through from the kitchen, jukebox playing some song Michael only recognizes because he’s heard it playing in this very diner countless times over the years. They have their local haunts in Albuquerque by now, but he’ll always be a hometown boy at heart, and for better or worse, this is his hometown.

a work of fine art

Quentin Coldwater has fuzzy arms. It’s one of the first things Eliot notices about him as his volunteer life model settles down on the couch, crossing said arms across his chest in a nervous, nearly defensive move. It’s like he’s trying to fold his body into an origami box so all the outside parts will be on the inside, safe from Eliot’s eyes. But looking at the man in front of him is rather the point, so Eliot looks his fill, careful to catalogue every detail, despite how he can practically feel the waves of energy coming off of Quentin’s body, the frozen full-body cringe as he attempts to deflect the attention. Eliot indulges in it, keeping his face carefully neutral instead of giving in to the smile building up inside of him at the rather lovely display. Squirmy, awkward, cute naked boy, and Eliot gets to stare at him for a full uninterrupted evening. It must be his birthday.

tales from a bookshop

The bookshop has always been something of a sacred space for Crowley. Scratch that— not sacred, certainly not sacred, who the hell said sacred, honestly. And no more is it Hell’s cosmic opposite, profane, it’s only that— well, blast it, it’s only that A.Z. Fell & Co. booksellers has always been an important place for Crowley. Significant. Precious, maybe, though even the taste of such a word makes him want to scream profanities at someone who doesn’t deserve it, just to get the tickle out the back of his throat.

Shelter

The first thing Quentin did most mornings was locate the most excitable, energy-filled dog he could find in the kennels, and take the little terror out for a brisk, damp jog. Damp, because the Seattle air always seemed to be damp no matter the temperature. Brisk, because Quentin was not a jogger and a solid twenty minutes was usually as much as the lucky canine in question was likely to get out of him. He did this because he was usually the first person to arrive at work and he didn’t feel like making awkward chit chat with the night shift people, and also because it seemed a kindness: by the time his bosses Margo and Fen had shown up after their leisurely morning coffee routine, the most excitable of their furry residents had already had some of their energy burned away by Quentin’s efforts.

under the desert sky

Beyond basic necessities, the items Alex brings with him on their trek to the Grand Canyon are a fully stocked iPod, car charger, and a stitch-bound notebook slipped into the front pocket of his backpack. Michael brings his restored Nikon FM 35mm and six rolls of film.

the lengths that i would go to

Summer 2010 It’s early, so early that the sun isn’t up, the air around him still and quiet. Alex is awake, and for a second he doesn’t quite know why. His body is conditioned to wake early each morning, but this is something different. There’s a strange awareness, where paranoia meets familiarity. Alex knows, as consciousness filters into his brain, that there’s someone else in the room with him. He also knows, without having to open his eyes, that there is no threat, because it’s Michael. The bed shifts, and Alex blinks into the dim light, looking down to see Michael crawling up the bed towards him.

it might change my memory

June 2022 It’s Bonnie, of all people, who calms everybody down. Not Isobel with her power to mentally soothe, or Dallas with his preacher training and inviting sensibility. Not Liz with her practical, scientific mindset, or Michael, the one person in this room who theoretically has all the pieces of the puzzle and actually has a chance of knowing what the fuck is going on. It’s Bonnie who cuts through the excited, confused, unintelligible babble and says, quite loudly for such a small woman: “Okay! Seems like we have a situation! Everyone should sit down. I’ll make tea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow, okay, this was really interesting to see! It looks like a very common approach for me is "short, catchy sentence" followed by longer paragraph expounding on it. Like -- "Grief doesn’t feel like anything." or "The bookshop has always been something of a sacred space for Crowley." or "Quentin Coldwater has fuzzy arms." This is true across all the fandoms I write in!

It's crazy that only one of these ten examples has any dialogue in it at all, because I tend to think my dialogue skills are really sharp! I should start more stories off with it lol.

Tagging whoever writes and wants to participate! @portraitofemmy, @prettyboysdontlookatexplosions, @awildwickedslip, @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier, @r-dtoblack

[yallmakemyassitch]

Sunsets ～⁠(⁠つ⁠ˆ⁠Д⁠ˆ⁠)⁠つ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Summary: After a rough breakup with Adam, Evelin seeks consolation from Evelin, a girl she hardly even knows. Sarah, while her methods are unconventional, seeks a smile on the poor girl's face

Word count: 1970

Characters: 10965

Tobi talks: So this took a little longer than expected, so sorry for the lateness but I hope you enjoy it! I'm opening my request to other quick fic ideas with the Mandela Catalogue so feel free to shoot me a request (although I ask you to be specific on your characters and the scenarios you want them in, don't just ask for a ler and lee, I need writing ideas! S'il te plaît and merci!)

✿⁠ 

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“That asshole…” Sarah thought, stopping at the red light. With a vice grip on the steering, she couldn’t help but bask in her fury at what he contacted her for.

Sarah had plenty on her plate, coupled with her studies and running her own club made it difficult to catch up with the times. Once she could actually do what she wanted, her day was ruined by a certain blonde.

She sometimes regrets accepting Adam into her club, the guy clearly knew his stuff and could bring good sustenance to their audience. He even brought a new member recently, Jonah, who would accompany him on their hijinks. All was good until Sarah was frantically called to play as their getaway driver when they were spotted by the cops.

Sarah knew they were wanted yet she accepted them anyway. It wasn’t bad all the time, they made a good team and even she had to admit they found cool things. But she had her boundaries and clearly, the pair didn’t take them much into consideration, although Jonah was much more apologetic. Adam was…

“‘I found some killer footage though.’” she mocked under her breath, turning into the driveway of Adam’s home.

The male would typically show up at her door but this time, he asked Sarah to come over.

Nothing was wrong but she was still annoyed, being interrupted in the middle of her studying and all. Either way, she complied.

Something was off however, she expected to be alone, hell maybe even Jonah would show up.

But someone else was there.

She recognized the girl; long black hair tied into a ponytail and pale skin. Evelin, his girlfriend. Had she been recruited by Adam? She groaned now that she had to potentially go through another member being a thorn in her side.

When Evelin turned around, Sarah furrowed her brows in concern. There were tears in her eyes. The noirette stormed down the steps to his home and ran off onto the path behind the run-down house. She quickly parked and jumped out of the car, jumpscared by Adam’s giddiness as he swung open his door.

“Sarah? Great, come inside. I have something to show you.” Adam beckoned, tufts of blonde hiding under his black jacket.

“What did you do?”

“Do what?”

“To Evelin, Adam.”

Adam huffed and looked away. “Look we just had a little disagreement, alright? She’ll be fine.”

“She was crying! What did you say to her?” Sarah said, annoyed.

Adam rolled his eyes. “It's none of your business alright. l didn’t have you come over for her.”

It was Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes, “I’m already here, so it is my business.” by then the brunette turned on her heel. The blonde didn’t try to stop her and grunted before loudly slamming the door, making her subtly cringe. She made her way around the house and down the path she went.

The woods were filled by trees and greenery yet the sand path provided a way into a small clearing. As she approached, she could pick up the muffled hiccups and weak little sobs coming from a woman.

There, in the middle of the grass, sunlight cascading through the trees onto a curled-up body sat Evelin. She was facing away.

“Hey,” Sarah spoke.

Evelin whipped around, eyes panged with anguish as tears gushed down.

“H-hi.” she greeted back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

Sarah slowly walked up and sat down on the grass next to her.

“What happened?”

That question set her off and she broke down.

“I-I broke up with him!” she sobbed.

Sarah didn’t hesitate to embrace her, letting the noirette sob into her arms as she continued to cry. “He’s been so awful and I don’t know why!”

She stayed quiet and listened to her tale, staring at her with a soft sisterly gaze. Finally, Evelin seemed to calm down, although her speech was still littered with stammers and small gasps of air. Sarah took her hands into her own and looked into her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Eve,” she began, rubbing the hands into her palms, “Personally, I think you’re better off without him.”

Evelin stayed silent for a few moments, “I just don’t get it…” she said with a meek voice before hiding her face into her knees.

The brunette just rubbed her shoulder and shushed her. “It’ll be alright, you’ll get through this.”

They stayed like this for a few more moments, the quiet sway of the grass and the golden shine of the descending star being their only company. Sarah looked at the pale woman again, glad to see that she was no longer crying but instead was looking thoughtfully out into the distance.

Her deep brown eyes and soft skin made Sarah realize just how stunning this woman was. How someone like her could like Adam of all people was baffling.

Sarah smiled at her this time. “Hey, why don’t we get out of here? I heard there’s a new ice shop around her-”

“No.”

Sarah was stunned. But she wasn’t going to give up just yet.

“It’s not healthy to just stay here. Let’s just leave.”

This time, Evelin shook her head.

Sarah furrowed her eyebrows in speculation. It was already beginning to get dark, the sky a conglomerate of hues. She thought, the woman was upset and she wanted to cheer her up.

There were plenty of options but one stood out…she choked up.

Why’d Sarah have to get reminded of her brother of all people? She didn’t want to think about it

but she already felt her lip begin to quiver. Sarah is not a cheerful person, what did Mark do to get her smiling?

“Sarah, I’m gonna getcha…” she could hear his purrs when they were younger and how much they laughed during their tickle fights.

The brunette remembers very fondly him tickling her little sister until she was red in the face.

Sarah bit her lip and felt her eyes go misty and blinked her tears away. His memory would not be in vain. Now determined, she turned to Evelin with a stern expression.

“Hey, Eve?”

“Hm?”

Mischief ran in the Heathcliff family after all. Sarah now smirked deviously and wiggled her fingers at the woman. “Let’s leave, or else…”

She felt silly, imagining how stupid her face looked right now made her internally cringe. When she saw Eve’s eyes go wide as saucers, she kept up the facade.

“W-what?!” Evelin cried, already beginning to back away.

“You either come with me to that new ice cream shop or I force you. Which one is it going to be?” her voice lowered to a mischievous tone. Evelin began to bubble out anticipated giggles when Sarah’s painted nails wiggled at her before jumping at her.

“It would be better for you if you had just answered my question.” Sarah teased, latching onto her sides and squeezing up and down. Evelin shrieked before collapsing onto the grass and exploding with laughter as Sarah followed her. Unluckily enough, Eve had chosen to wear a long-sleeved crop top, showing just a bit of her bare skin.

Her red nails traveled up to her ribs, pressing her fingertips between the bone to the patch of tummy skin, and began to claw lightly at the flesh.

Evelin erupted into joyous laughter, her legs pedaling in the air. She wrapped her arms around her torso to hopefully protect herself, but that did nothing.

“Sarahahah! C-cuhut ithit ohohout!” Evelin cried, genuine laughter flowed as the hands didn’t cease contact, seeming to encourage Sarah as she scribbled even faster.

“You didn’t answer my question, so I’m not listening to you,” she exclaimed with a gentle smirk across her red lips.

Even with the barely exposed skin, Sarah managed to burrow her hands under her protective arms, now able to skitter her nails all over her stomach. Eve shrieked and threw her head back, eyes scrunched up with a wide smile that belted out loud, happy laughter.

She now began to try and grab the wrists, but Sarah persisted.

“SHIHIHIT STAHAHAP!” her face burning hot.

She obeyed her request and removed her hands. “Now will you leave with me?”

Evelin panted and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. “I-I just want closure?”

“Eve,” Sarah sighed, “You don’t need closure. You just want him,” she said the last part quietly.

Her face fell. The words pierced through her chest. She was right, Evelin wanted Adam, badly.

Their relationship was healthy and happy, but now that had gone downhill. She frowned and looked away from her.

“Hey, cheer up,” Sarah said softly, wrapping the girl in a backward hug. They stayed like this for a while longer, the sun now at the horizon and fireflies slowly beginning to appear.

Her chest began to shake, the brunette looked over her shoulder to see that Eve had begun to cry again.

She huffed.

Sarah curled her fingers and kneaded her sides. Evelin let out a surprised yelp before laughing all over again. She kicked her legs, grass and stray leaves flying into the air.

“You know how to stop this, Eve.” her tone was completely serious, yet she had the hint of a sly smile across her face. Eve threw her head against her shoulder and leaned back as far as she could and just laughed. She couldn’t speak anymore, the thumbs now drilling into the dips of her hips.

“SAHahARah Ihit’s SO BAHAHD! NOHOHOHO MOHORE!” she cried, tears of mirth now streaming down her eyes.

Sarah shook her head. “No.”

She moved up to scribble her blunt nails all over her stomach again, causing the petite woman to snort. Sarah made sure to keep her pinned to her, bringing her back every time she tried to escape her clutches.

Sarah smiled to herself, now remembering how her brother would end it.

She had never given anybody raspberries before, knowing from personal experience how bad it felt. But there’s a first to everything, isn’t there?

She released her and scooted back as Eve lay on the ground, panting with residual giggles. The noirette’s hair was messy and still hosted a goofy smile. The brunette waited a few moments for Evelin to collect herself before she spoke again.

“Oooookay, well since you like this so bad…” she started with a slight roll of her eyes. “I’ll have to push you a little harder.”

Eve didn’t have any time to react before Sarah connected her lips to her stomach and blasting a gush of air onto the skin.

The skin rippled at its sheer strength but was even more surprised at the scream that left Evelin’s lips. She tried desperately to push her head off but to no avail, she was a clinger.

“OKAY IHIHI’LL LEHEHEAVE JUHUST STAHAP!” her body fell limp with hysteria when Sarah blew another raspberry above her navel.

She lifted her head up, meanwhile, Eve struggled to regain her breath as the ghost sensation from the raspberry still lingered and tingled. “Now then, will I have to do this again or not?”

“I’m going!” Eve shrieked, getting up on her two feet. Sarah giggled softly and went up to her side. She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out lipstick, reapplying the red makeup before smiling at her. The sun was nearly gone now, the sky a deep blue now.

“C’mon, let me show you that new ice cream place I was talking about.” Sarah started, reaching out a hand for Eve to grab. She hesitated for a moment before taking her hand.

As they went down the trail together to Sarah’s car, Evelin began to smile. Their proper introduction to each other was bizarre.

Still, Eve could confidently say she made a new friend that day.

✿⁠ 

✿⁠ 

✿⁠ 

✿⁠ 

Fin~

[cringemesstickles]

Can I please have Cesar tickle Mark? If yes, then thanks a lot. I fucking miss those two, especially Mark...

Books And Boredom

Summary: Cesar is bored. What better way to entertain yourself than to bother your friend?

Pairings: None

A/N: here you go my friend! I had lots of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy. :)

Word Count: 457

———————————————————

“Mark, I’m bored.. pay attention to meee!” Cesar groaned with theatrical boredom, thoroughly irritating his friend who was trying to read.

“Okay? What do you want me to do about it?” Mark asked in an exasperated tone.

“You’re not a toddler, you can entertain yourself.”

With that, he focused his attention back on the text filled pages.

Cesar let out an obnoxious sigh before an idea hit him, making him grin mischievously.

He quickly sat up and snatched the book from Marks hands.

“Cesar, what the-” but before he could finish his sentence, Cesar tossed the book aside and jumped on Mark, pinning him to the couch and promptly scribbling his fingers all over his friends sides.

“Hehey! Stop thahahahat!!" he laughed and pushed at Cesar's hands, only fueling the shorter boy’s enthusiasm.

“Ha! This is what you get for ignoring me!” Cesar moved his hands towards Mark’s stomach, earning a loud guffaw.

“DUHUHUDE, I WAS REHEHEADING!” He yelled through his laughter as though his defense was reasonable in Cesar’s mischievous eyes when in reality, it was far from it.

“Oh I see.” Cesar briefly stopped, feigning hurt. “So books are more important than our friendship? Is that what you’re saying, Mark?”

Mark rolled his eyes while he tried to catch his breath.

“Man, you’re so dramatic.”

Cesar gasped and placed a hand over his heart.

“Dramatic?! Well, excuse me for valuing our friendship more than stupid books!”

As if it was a punishment, he dug his fingers into Mark’s ribs, knowing it was a hot spot for tickles.

Mark shrieked and grabbed at the offending hands in a futile attempt at defending himself.

“SHIHIHIHIT! STOP IT YOU AHAHASS!”

Cesar started laughing along by this point, enjoying the playful activity way more than sitting on the couch trapped in boredom.

“Why would I stop? I’m having too much fun!” He grinned, fingers picking up the pace.

Mark was too lost in laughter to come up with a response. The sensation wasn’t all bad, but it was hardly bearable and he needed to do something.

Seeing that Cesar was somewhat distracted in his own amused laughter, Mark shot a hand towards the shorter boy’s stomach, earning a surprised yelp.

Cesar toppled over and curled up, defensively wrapping his arms around his stomach and looking at Mark as if it was some grand betrayal.

“That’s so not fair! I wasn’t paying attention!”

Mark smirked at the childish complaint.

“Don’t dish out what you can’t handle, my friend.”

Having seemingly recovered from the tickle attack, Mark picked up his book again and sat back down.

Before he continued his reading, he looked down at his best friend and spoke.

“For the record, I am so getting you back for that.”

[letpaimonbitepeople]

Childe headcanons pt 2

they're yoinked from my fic, so they're written a certain way

featuring PTSD, selective self-awareness mixed with self-contradiction, mild alcohol use, referenced underage drinking, guesses about Snezhnaya based on Russian culture, and shippy simping for the Traveler (I unspecified which Traveler, so you can imagine it's Lumine or Aether)

(btw I'm not about to donutsteel any of this lol, by all means use the ideas if you like them!)

————————————

He has no hangups about being naked in front of [people], provided they don't have an issue with it. Nudity is relatively normalized in Snezhnaya thanks to ice swimming and the banya.

————————————

Smiling, he drops a sashimi slice and crouches slowly so as not to startle the cat. Not that the cat was at all hesitant about sitting on his shoe this morning! He just feels, again, like his presence should intimidate the cat as much as it intimidates Fatui subordinates. Again, he reminds himself that animals just don't know any better. For that, he counts himself lucky.

[The cat] eats the second piece of sashimi from his hand. The third, too, and when he ventures to pet the bony arch of its back, it doesn't even flinch.

Why am I bothering with this?... This has nothing to do with getting stronger. I have this precious time away from the bank to do whatever I want, and this is how I'm spending it?

He searches for an excuse. He tries to glue together some prattle about an obligation for a warrior to respect the natural hunters of the world and learn from their primal pursuit of survival. It doesn't sound convincing even in his head.

The unavoidable truth is that this is what he wants to be doing right now.

It's hard to accept that. (Never mind that he often does things that have nothing to do with his ultimate goal.) It somehow makes him aware of how much he's checking that his guard is up: listening to the sounds around him, watching the shadows in his peripheral vision in case a new shadow looms in the lanternlight behind him, holding in mind the fastest ways out of this area, inventorying the advantages and disadvantages he currently has... That's reassuring on the one hand but on the other hand it reminds him why he ought to be more vigilant. He's not the strongest warrior in the world yet, and the necessity of his own lies today was proof that that weakness remains a liability despite how far he's already risen.

What he would call situational awareness submerges him gradually, then all at once. He gladly sinks.

He examines every sound and everything he can see, one by one, cataloguing what is normal so that he'll notice if anything changes. Rehearses in his mind his best options for responding to an attack if one came right now. He breathes slow and shallow to be silent—something he's more practiced at than anyone would expect—and stills his body, so that he might go unnoticed, be overlooked, and gain the element of surprise.

He measures some of the information around him by his heartbeats. They're accelerated but steady. Now that nearly all possibilities of being caught off guard have been prepared for, he feels a meditative serenity. His heart is only beating fast because it, too, has to be ready.

Something changes. All of his attention instantly focuses on it. Threat? No, it was already there and it's just a cat. It could be eliminated in no more than one second with minimal risk. Safe either way. Soft fuzz nuzzling his hand, whiskers tickling, sandpaper tongue. Safe.

Childe emerges from the familiar state. He's always more tired after than before, yet girded with clarity and reassured. Sometimes it's like a reset. Like turning over a snowglobe: the fake snow whirls, falls, and then settles once more. Usually it lasts much longer when he's alone, though. He looks down at the cat licking his hand.

————————————

He visits the Amenoma bladesmithy and, merely via open interest and enthusiasm, obtains a long talk from the forge master on Inazuman styles of making, testing, and wielding blades. He doesn't mention to the old smith that he once made a Hydro copy of a katana shown to him by another Fatuus, and that he can now guess the origins of that katana.

————————————

His next stop is Yae Publishing. In his search for books to send home, he takes his time browsing and skimming, making sure his younger siblings won't receive any unpleasant surprises. No stories where the dog dies. Who does that in a book for children? Probably someone like Arlecchino, he grouses.

Finding perfect gifts for his family is a point of principle and pride. Nothing ill-considered can be allowed to reach their hands. As long as he has any agency in the matter, he will not disappoint the last three people he hasn't yet. Someday he will, of course: someday his younger brothers and sister will learn he's been lying to them. Following that day, their love and their joyful greetings will wither, replaced by yet more wary glances and awkward silences whenever he visits. But until then...

————————————

I just want to...get my hands on [the Traveler]. If I attained the level of competence that would allow me to disarm [them], and the fight was reduced to its simplest form, testing the training of our bodies and minds against one another directly by just wrestling and grappling... That would be quite something, wouldn't it. Though [they]'d have to disarm me as well and I'm not sure that's even possible. Ohh but if anyone could do it it'd be [them]. [They]'d have to get my Vision and my Delusion. [They]'d have to get through every form of defense I have.

Eagerly he tries to imagine how it could be done. Anticipating his own weaknesses (in combat) and the possible exploitations of them (in combat) is so important that both meanings of 'anticipating' are applicable.

But he keeps getting sidetracked by an image of [the Traveler] pinning him to the ground. Weaponless, Visionless, Delusionless, too spent to risk transforming. Helpless. Maybe [the Traveler] would use Geo to pin him. There is nothing Childe can snatch away from [the Traveler] that would prevent [them] from using the elements.

————————————

The Traveler never introduced [themself] to Childe, nor [were they] introduced by Paimon. When Childe intercepted [them] fleeing the Millelith, he already knew [their] name from intel and he used it without hesitation. There was no time for the Traveler and Paimon to question it. Later, on a boat to Snezhnaya to report back after all was said and done, he decided he would never again address [them] by name unless and until he earned that right by surpassing [them].

He'd slipped up once, sort of, when thanking the Traveler for seeing Teucer safely through Liyue. But it was, as he said, his sincerest thanks, so it didn't feel right to avoid [their] name like usual.

————————————

Maybe how Xinyan called him 'brother' and he instantly started thinking of her like a sister? Hey, he lied to her just like he lies to his real siblings. His feeling of verisimilitude on that point isn't lessened by the fact Paimon started the lie this time. He went along with it and never really corrected it. Xinyan still thinks he's an adventurer from Mondstadt who had nothing whatsoever to do with her home city nearly getting destroyed.

Let it never be said, by me, that battle is the only thing I'm great at. I'm also great at going along with other people's plans, heh. And that's fine. It gets me into the center of chaos. Whether I'm a pawn in a game, an actor in a play, or simply a weapon, it all serves my goals in the end. That's the truth and it always puts him at ease.

————————————

Ahh, who do I think I'm kidding here. I've always preached a far greater clarity of purpose than I've practiced... If any of this is owed to the Onmyou Chamber, it's that the bliss of those six days of uncommon purity allowed me to forget that. To forget one's own fallibility is...the kind of indulgence I really can't afford.

————————————

He's very pleased with himself for setting up this surprise dinner. But more than that, in the brief moment between hearing the Traveler's voice and seeing [them], he's filled with a joy the likes of which he rarely finds outside of battle. Returning was the right idea, his heart assures him, and any possible objection from any other quarter is drowned in the flood of that joy.

[...]

And there's that feeling Childe got before when the Traveler smiled at him and because of him. He'd all but forgotten what it felt like. With this warmth swelling in his chest, he can't understand how he could ever forget. Only a few days and he could no longer recall it the way it really was? That doesn't seem right. But here it is, and there [they are]. "Of course!" he replies, performing confidence without even trying. It comes naturally—more so than usual—with his mood being so elevated and his doubts vanishing into the distance.

————————————

[...] and Xingqiu's name is ringing a bell. Cogs rotate in Childe's mind while he checks the bread and speaks over his shoulder.

[...]

Intel reports? No, business papers... Childe is content to take a rain check on sparring. "It wasn't necessarily tomorrow I had in mind anyway, and certainly not tonight," he says cheerfully. ...Ah! The Feiyun Commerce Guild. Xingqiu is...one of the heirs in the clan that heads it? Yes. Inevitably they've had interactions with the Bank. Hmm.

————————————

Having Ekaterina listen in on the Traveler's conversation at the Bubu Pharmacy wasn't something he enjoyed; he's not about to go out of his way to repeat that sort of thing.

Though, if someone happened to have an interesting conversation too near wherever he might happen to be, he wouldn't hurry to leave.

————————————

Dinner goes smoothly enough with everyone having food and combat to talk about. [The Traveler] vigilantly steers their discussions of the latter into benign technicalities and away from murder. It's easy to spark long debates over things like the finer points of how a specific weapon should be maintained, or how much the smithing methods really matter, or whether prototype ultra-mechanized crossbows coming out of Fontaine are any good. But even in those discussions [they have] to be on guard against Childe's tendency to digress into dangerous territory.

[They resort] to trying to signal at Childe to change the subject. Eyebrow shenanigans prove ineffective, but lightly kicking Childe's boot with [their] shoe works. The length of Childe's legs makes up for the shortness of [theirs]; [they don't] even have to slouch down to reach.

[...]

The first time the Traveler kicked him under the table—if that tap he barely felt through his boot could be called a kick—Childe didn't know why [they] did it, but it made him forget what he was talking about. The second time, he realized the Traveler was trying to change the subject. It wasn't until the fourth time that he saw the commonality between the subjects the Traveler was trying to avoid. He kept getting those nudges throughout dinner though, because again and again he dove into the deep end of his favorite subjects without thinking. Rather than shoot the Traveler any kind of look in response, whether they'd have been sulky or apologetic or otherwise, he did [them] the favor of his best efforts to make the interruptions seem natural.

————————————

Childe flicks his hands and the water flies off into suspended droplets before falling neatly into the sink.

————————————

"Well, have you ever been to the Chasm in Liyue?"

"Oh yes, I've snuck in a couple of times for work. I've even been underground, albeit not far."

"How'd you get down there with the seal still active?"

Childe winks. "Fatui secrets."

————————————

[They carefully pick] up the jacket to have a rarefied closer inspection, studying its various metal accessories and dangling decorations. [They] can't quite tell whether any of them are 'decorations' in the military sense. Altogether, it's rather heavy, at least compared to the light-weight attire [they prefer for themself]. The fabric isn't as stiff as it looked, though. The only part of it that seems to denote Childe's status as a Harbinger is not part of it: Signora had a cape or cloak with the same colors and ornamentation as Childe's sash, and Scaramouche had something similar attached to his belt that [the Traveler] never got a good look at.

Childe leans against the other end of the counter with his hands resting on its edge, watching the Traveler examine his jacket. He hasn't taken the time or acquired the supplies to sew up the rips yet. He should, or else they might get bigger. Then again, he can just have it replaced. It's pretty typical of the two very different lives he's lived to recommend polar-opposite actions to him.

————————————

The Traveler had thought he might not come back? Did [they] believe anything Childe said? Ever?

Will [they] ever take me at my word? Hah, why should [they]. [They know] how I lie to the people I love the most.

————————————

Childe laughs. It's a strong and pure sound, unlike his last one. It's the opposite of the type of laugh [the Traveler] has heard most often from him: the slightly manic one that ends sounding like he's dying or about to cry.

————————————

Being around the Traveler is a bucking horseride of highs and lows, but at least it's never boring. And, despite Childe being far more inclined to dwell on lows than he'd ever admit to anyone, the highs are convincing him it's all worth it. All of it, all the way back to the original events that set him on the path where he'd meet the Traveler. He started thinking that way at such an early point in their friendship that even he himself looks back on it as somewhat irrational.

————————————

His way of being a middle child, with three older siblings and three younger, was to compete with the older ones on responsibility. It got him some attention and praise, and if his help was taken for granted more often than not, he still got to monopolize his father's attention for long hours when they went ice fishing, and that wasn't always unrelated. He'd had a very comfortable niche in his family, in hindsight, and because of his timid nature back then, he was never a rebellious teenager. Until he was.

————————————

The surface [of his mask] is the slightest bit glossy, resembling metal. But fire is commonplace in combat, whether against element-touched monsters, Vision wielders, or just a normal human with a torch. Ceramic can be highly temperature-resistant, whereas having metal against one's bare skin is a liability when fire enters the equation.

The mask's design was left up to him. He went with something that evokes his Foul Legacy form. Of course, there typically weren't mirrors sitting around on a battlefield, and when there were, it was inside a building where transforming would only cause him problems. But, he wields Hydro. He's seen himself in water's reflections. He saw the Devouring Deep reflected in pools of blood the first time he succeeded in transforming.

The mask's craftsmanship was masterful. Light weight, fine edges, flawless glaze. Anything custom-made for a Harbinger had to be the best.

————————————

The reason that Fatui wielders of Delusions must all wear masks isn't one he understands well, but it's supposed to reduce the side effects. It doesn't cost him any fun to wear it, so he never had any objection. It limits his field of view, yes, but that just adds a small margin of challenge. As he retested a few days ago, even fighting with his eyes closed isn't what he'd call difficult; people make all kinds of noise as they move.

————————————

Back home, shoes are always taken off and slippers put on, but he's seen no slippers here. It makes sense: Snezhnaya's floors are cold and these aren't. There's something to be said for the role of culture in such things, of course. As he discovered in Liyue's traditions, it's not just about necessity.

————————————

It's time for blini. To save time he'll have to use unyeasted batter. That's fine. First, he browses the few bottles of alcohol the Traveler has on hand. He doesn't expect to find vodka, simply because it's not as popular outside of Snezhnaya as within, but there it is: one bottle, previously opened but almost full. Probably used for cooking. That's what he's going to use it for, too—just not in the same way.

The only way to cook authentic Snezhnayan food is while tipsy on vodka. That's what his babushka used to say, and who is he to argue?

He pours himself a glass of vodka and a glass of water. As he takes his time getting the ingredients and dishes together, he sips liberally from both.

Among the Fatui he was always presumed to be a lightweight, and they weren't wrong in the beginning. He arrived as a scrawny kid to work and fight alongside some of the biggest men in the world, the most hulking specimens of Snezhnayan hardiness, insulated by so much muscle and fat they claimed they didn't feel the cold. Those men could've thrown him halfway to Fontaine...if only they could ever catch him without losing body parts.

As in all things, that's what practice is for. Until he reached drinking age, he could only sneak a bottle once in a while, and he was always punished for it both by the hangover and disciplinary action from his superiors. By the time he learned how to avoid the former, the latter was no longer forthcoming.

He waits until he starts to feel the vodka before he mixes the dry ingredients, adds the wet ingredients, and whisks them together.

[...]

His dexterity is uncompromised, and it'd take quite a bit more alcohol before he'd have any problems on that front. His senses, however, have begun to dull ever so slightly, and the alcohol relaxes him just enough that the uncontrolled loss of acuity doesn't make him panic. It's a minor respite which he has never chased into an addiction. Indulging or perhaps overindulging now and again is one thing; blunting and hobbling himself with a dependency is another. Besides, he doesn't want to be like this all the time. It just makes a taste of home that much more enjoyable.

[dalkyeom]

pls pls pls do share some fic recs im still kinda new here on tumblr 🤲

Nonnie, I love you 😭 bc nothing gives me more joy than sharing fics. like when I'm not posting art I'm just here reading fics.

I recommend checking out networks (most fic blogs will have them listed on their navigation/somewhere on their blog) or their own fic rec tags. I found most fics that way but simply searching ‘fandom + genre’ yields really good results too!

I found lots of my fave fics through @ficscafe bc their themed masterlists make it easy for me to find a specific genre I want to read about (ex: ceo au or e2l) they're also multifandom so they have a good catalogue under their belt!

More fic recs under the cut!

I'm not sure what fandom you followed me for, nonnie, so I'll list something a bit more multi fandom. Atm, I'm reading tons of Seventeen fics bc that's my current obsession rn 💗

warning: most fics might containt angst! if that's not your cup of tea, still check out the writers' blogs bc they'll most likely have something that fits your reading mood 💗

@starlightxsvt ‘s storms and confessions. I love me a classic enemies to lovers office au fic and this one delivers! Especially bc I'm a bit too head over heels in love with one Joshua Hong. I remember kicking my feet into the air as I'm reading bc you can feel the progress they make in that short window and how one bad event can do an entire 180. Also the chemistry is good, you can feel it!

@viastro ’s memories that resemble you. I CRIED. This will punch you in the heart but 10x more lethal. You have to read it yourself bc I can only explain a fraction of what I felt reading it like I was full on sobbing whimpering probably cried myself to sleep with my eyes all puffed up. It's tragic but beautiful. warning: major character death

another viastro fic but what can I say, they're one of my fave writers on this site. In a span of three months. If that Chan fic I recommended above did not do it for you, this one literally broke me. I had to pause in between bc my heart was getting crushed! I think this was my first fic from them too and oh my god, was it a journey.

@solarwonux ‘s cherry and sunflower. This is a pair but read cherry first as it serves as a prequel to sunflower. On one hand you have angst, the other you have fluff. I read this when I was in the middle of sorting out feelings for my old bias and it lowkey hit so well 😭 you can never go wrong with soulmate aus too so—

@svtntntn ‘s breaking news. GRIPPING MY HEAD IN HANDS I STILL THINK ABOUT THIS FIC DAILY. I love love superhero au’s bc I had a really intense DC/Marvel/YJ phase back in the day. it's very superman homage but you know how usually superhero fics are kind of dark, this one is much lighter and has humor and it's cute and surprise, surprise! Guess who also had a big heart for Seokmin!!

@blossom-hwa ‘s breathe, and live. This is a certified classic in my recommendeds like you have to listen to me when I tell you to read this regardless if you're having a bad day or not bc this series will instantly make any day 10x brighter. You will thank me after your skin becomes healthier and you'll be glowing bc this fic saves lives! single dad!Chan is like my kryptonite and this was like super chef's kiss! and the interactions between the kids and the parents are so heartwarming like GRIPPING MY HANDS FROM THE CUTENESS!

@skzsauce01 ‘s 1000 roses. This made me so giddy aaaa hahaha thinking about it. I love dorky Chan so much. like re-reading this makes me giddy bc it's so cute 😂💗 tickles like first love but you're a theatre kid.

@crispy-chan ‘s maze of memories. one of the more longer reads but you will not regret it! Jas writes with the tension hot under your seat and I vividly remember holding my breath every update bc you'll never know what will happen next like experiencing this while it was incomplete was an absolute journey! esp bc I remember reading it over the summer and I was like 😨😰🫣 every time the maze changes also wolfgang!Chan vibes had me on a tight grip!

@decembermoonskz ‘s of letters and potions. Another fluffy Chan fic though Daffodils is one of my fave fics from Izzy's catalogue, but I recommended much angst I need to balance it with fluff. As a magic au enthusiast, this is one of my fave ones bc the letter confessions are absolutely adorable :((

last rec for this round (in case anyone asks me for recs), I'd like to round it off with @because-of-a-friend ‘s time travel series (I linked Joshua's to stay on brand jk// it has each member's part in the a/n section but no mini masterlist) I love bulleted fics a lot bc they're easy to digest and good for nights when I need something quick or something that doesn't make me think too much like oneshots or multi-chaptered fics do. and each time travel part has such a unique story behind them. Personally, Infind Seungkwan's the most interesting bc his s/o also time jumps.

and that's it for now!

[softlyblues]

minuet in hell (read on ao3)

a/n: writing a fic for every big finish audio i listen to. this one includes implied/referenced noncon and exploitation and amnesia. silly little eight

His head hurts. No - worse than that. His head aches, pounds, throbs, and now that he thinks of it so does the rest of him, drumming a percussive symphony of pain right the way through his body. 

His body. His? So he is a him. Who is he? When he tries to open his eyes he feels instead like he's peeling something. It hurts, but there's so many little aches and pains frissoning through him that it merely adds a little decorative piccolo to the extended metaphor here.

He gives up on that venture. His eyes will remain shut for now. His body. His eyes. Back to the question at hand - he? 

Slowly, or perhaps quickly, he catalogues his body with the pain as an identifier. Two hands, two arms, two legs. Pain at the base of his skull, so he owns a skull; similarly at the bottom of his back, and at his shoulders. When he reaches his face with his mind he feels a twinge in his nose and wetness. A nose, then, bleeding. Lips. Eyes, as evidenced by the peeling sensation. 

Hair? Fingers? Toes?

After interminable years lying on the hard floor, he realises there is a floor and it is hard. He drums his fingertips (fingertips!) against it and hears that it is solid all the way through. 

Solid! Solid! How does he know that? 

More years pass by. Occasionally, just to shake things up a little, he curls into a ball and whimpers into his knees, his mouth open against the fabric. He uses the feeling to soothe him. Fabric. He's clothed. He's - his tongue tests the air and the cloth - he's wearing a polyester-wool blend with (tongue) natural blue dyes. He licks inside his mouth. All his own teeth. His canines tickle his bottom lip. Canines - lips - teeth. 

The background noise to suffering is more suffering. As he becomes more aware of himself, his sphere spreads from just concern over his own pains to concern over everyone else's, and in here there is just so much pain to go around. Moaning and groaning and sobbing and whispering; crying and whimpering and whining and pleading. Someone is laughing two floors above (floors?) and someone else is singing one of those irritating advertising jingles that gets in your head and won't leave.

(Irritation!)

And then the sound of footsteps. Heels, modest heels but heels (he knows what heels are!) trotting along the concrete. They get louder and louder and he finds himself hoping they'll pass him by; they're accompanied by a heavier step, slower and more lurching, and the murmurs of conversation.

“We’re calling him Zebediah Doe,” says a female voice, low and businesslike, “Since he came hot on the heels of John last night.”

Zebediah? 

It doesn't sound right, but then, he doesn't know what will.

“Huhm,” the heavier step grunts, a man, “Weird getting two of them. He okay? He looks dead.”

The woman chuckles and there's the sound of rattling metal. Zebediah tries to open his eyes again and this time succeeds; the world he's greeted with is blurry and dark and awash with fresh, stabbing pain but at least he can see. He hasn't been blinded. He stares mutely out - he's behind bars, or else they are, but bars certainly separate them - at a woman in a white lab coat and a man in a tan suit with a red tie clutching his neck rather desperately. Both are wearing white latex gloves and rustly plastic aprons.

The woman is fiddling with a key in the lock of the door. 

The man is leering right at him, watery eyes, puce face. There's sweat on his brow.

Zebediah feels something other than pain, and catalogues and identifies it. It is fear.

When the woman has the door open she holds it for only a fraction of a second, enough for her and the man to get in before she shuts it again. Zebediah, who can only move enough to squash himself into the corner, can only think that they've vastly overestimated his current skill at - well. Thinking. Moving. Breathing. Seeing.

The man squats in front of him, like Zebediah is a particularly interesting product at market. “Where'd you say you got him, Dale?”

Dale, the woman, locks the door behind her and looks at a clipboard on her arm. “Last night. Brought in by law enforcement, apparently; I was talking to the girls at that time of night.”

“Mm,” the man reaches out and tugs something - hair. Zebediah's hair. It hurts at the roots and he winces, hisses; the man smiles and lets go. “Pretty thing, ain't he?”

Someone makes a whimpering noise. Zebediah realises it must be him only when the man in front of him widens his grin.

“I suppose,” Dale says absently, still looking at her papers. “And?”

“I'm thinkin’ we could have put him with the girls last night,” the man says. He shuffles no closer and his voice doesn't change, although Zebediah can hear him and he must know that, must he not? “We could have our votes then and there, right?”

Dale snorts. “You think the Scotsman would go for it?”

“Honey,” the man pulls Zebediah's hair again and then, when he gasps, shoves two latex-gloved fingers into his mouth, “You'd be blind not to go for it.”

Zebediah gags; he hadn't been expecting it; he panics; the weight of dry floury plastic on his tongue wets his mouth almost immediately; he cries out and the man presses harder, harder, harder, before pulling his fingers out and giving Zebediah's cheek a wet, condescending pat.

“Y'see?” He says to Dale, as Zebediah chokes, palms on the floor, “Now there's a biddable creature, hey? Some of those girls are hellions.”

“You want him in frills?”

Again a long pause. Again a long look. “Wouldn't be opposed,” the man says.

Dale scoffs. “Come off it. Whatever he got, he got it bad. We couldn't use him in the club.”

“The… club?” Zebediah rasps, pulling himself back to the wall, lifting his body as much as he can, “The club?”

“It speaketh,” the man says. 

Dale makes another derisive noise in the back of her throat. “He’s dumb as all hell. Has to be, to act like this after a little spell with us. You’re not putting him in the club, or else he’ll just fall asleep on someone. Or spit.”

“Or do whatever he’s asked,” the man sits back on his heels, and Zebediah feels like nothing more than a shelved, price-tagged thing, weighed up in the eyes of the buyer. “Say, honey, would you open your mouth?”

Zebediah opens his mouth. 

The man snorts and reaches out, pressing roughly under Zebediah’s chin to shut it again. “See, Dale? Stupid. Cute.”

“I still say no.”

The man stands; Zebediah, sitting up as he is, is now head-level with his belt. He can almost see his reflection in the golden metal. “Okay, well, here’s the dealio. You do his zappy-zap shit, you open him up and take a look inside, and if it don’t work the way you want, I’ll have him. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like you thinking with other parts of your anatomy than your head.”

The man smiles; Zebediah can hear it in his voice. “I’m a motivated man, Dale, but I’m still a man.” He takes one step closer to Zebediah and takes him by the hair, a healthy fistful. Zebediah shakes obediently to the movement of the hand, a low gasp of pain and shock running through him, before the man stops and presses Zebediah’s face to his inner thigh, just inches too short for - for - 

“You think about it, honey,” the man says, letting him go with a wipe of the latex glove against his plastic apron. “C’mon, Dale. Who’s next?”

[seventhfracture]

aaaaa i'm so glad you reblogged the get to know your fic writer because i'm *dying* to know 25, 45, 56, and 64 (and a bunch more! but this is already a lot)

Aaah thank you!! Please send as many as you want lol, it’ll make today go quicker <3

25 What fic do you wish you got more of a response on? Sometimes I feel like fics aren’t getting a great response but usually, when I look back 6 months later, I tend to think the numbers are pretty fair in hindsight. I do sometimes wish Gossip Merchant had made more of a splash.

45 Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh? I think making people laugh is way harder. I also think I’ve got a natural talent for ripping people’s hearts out and handing them back to them (See: The Last Suicide, Mortuary, basically any ‘L is dead’ stories lol). It would be a lie to say I’m not tickled pink when I really kick someone in the emotional gut. I don’t want to hurt people, no way, but in a safe, recreational, way I love making people feel things.

56 What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? Um…. I think I’m good at dialogue, and I really love that I come up with weird/unique premises. Like, yeah, my catalogue is odd, but you can’t say I lack imagination.

64 Something you love to see in smut. It’s absolutely unrealistic, pure porn logic, but when the dick is so big it distends the stomach of the sub/receiver that’s the shit. Also really unhealthy and unbalanced power dynamics. Yum. Make all my smut toxic waste <3