Your NSFW headcanons for ikerev guys were amazing! Can I request some for Arthur, Le Comte and Issac? Thank you!
Thank you! And yes, you can have them, Nonny. I hope you like them!
Arthur Conan Doyle
Being the creative mind behind the infamous detective Sherlock Holmes, Arthur is, understandably, somewhat of a sleuth himself. He takes note of and picks up all clues and intimations provided to him, makes use of his skilled prowess and impressive brain power at solving mysteries to puzzle out any and all conundrums that come his way, including you.
Arthur has been taken with you from the very start. You’re a quandary he’s willing and eager to explore all over. His virtuosity of the art of perception comes out keener in bed. He’s watching every movement, every flicker – the litany of emotions blossoming across your face in rapid succession – and you bet he’s taking mental notes.
Your brows slant downward as if in a frown when you’re aroused, as if you’re trying to concentrate through the haze of pleasure he’s assaulting your body with. When Arthur’s fingers dip into you, hit you in that one right spot, oh the glorious way you moan has him shuddering just at the sight of it. The way your body seems to chase after his fingers, the way it seems to want to mould itself to his digits…
Your hands are reaching for your parted mouth, fisting themselves to secure your muffled screams, trap them within your throat, even as moans spill out, regardless of your best efforts.
Your usual perfectly disposed hair (he knows how you like to keep yourself in order and he loves that about you), a scattered crown of tangled locks splayed onto pastel sheets, the blush high on your cheeks as you trap him with your come-hither looks and by Jove, if he isn’t coming undone at just the sight, groaning out your name, even as he’s pushing your legs apart to plunge himself deep inside of you.
“Truly, you’re one fascinating study, my dear.”
Speaking of not so surreptitious surveys of your partner’s body, you know, for a fact, that Arthur is sensitive to licks at the back of his fangs, right where tooth meets gum. Slide your tongue against those canines, which almost always slip out when your favorite detective is aroused. He’s letting out small low groans into your mouth, a full body shudder taking him at times, before he’s kissing you harder to try and distract you away from his weakness.
He positively loves being exposed by you but he’s also a sore loser, so –
Sex has more than once been initiated from harmless draft-readings and/or helping this author out with a new book plot. You’re almost convinced he calls you over to ‘help’, only to have his wicked ways with you.
“Ah Monsieur, I beg you not to do this,” you plead softly, pinned between the settee and Arthur. The ghost of fangs slipping across your neck has you shivering involuntarily in his grasp, tilting your head just a bit even as you struggle to remain in character.
“You were the one who put them up to this, were you not, sweet bird?” His voice is tight, low, in restraint of his feigned anger but the sound still sends a rush of heat to your core.
“Not going to deny it?” Amused intonations; rough hands slide across your body and underneath your shirt to test bare skin and you let that moan, held back long, escape.
Arthur’s face moves to sit against your ear, mouth moving over the delicate skin. “Then, perhaps, sweetheart, I shall try scrounging these answers from your body,” he whispers, fingers skirting in between your legs.
He continues to extract all relevant information for a long sweet time.
Arthur is was a well-known skirt-chaser. You the whole damn mansion know that. What is not common information, however, is that Arthur is a soft-hearted man beneath the layers and layers of flirting and debauchery he likes to drape himself in.
Despite coming across as a cool headed, well put together womanizer, Arthur is anything but that. He’s a fucking mess inside and hence, heavily relies on you during the earlier stages of your relationship to get him through his very serious shit. He doesn’t believe he’s worthy and he’s afraid to grasp on too tight, lest you slip away through his fingers like the sands of time did all those human years ago.
So, cuddles. Bring your arms around him from behind as you both lie in bed when you hear those soft hitched noises catching in his throat with still plaguing nightmares. Best for a lonely, broken man. Best to put all of his pieces together, one little shard by little shard at a time. Be patient, he’s a good man.
These emotional sessions often lead to even more emotional love-making/worshiping. He’s turning around in your embrace, hands blindly reaching for your face, lips dropping a desperate flurry of kisses across your mouth, hot and achingly passionate; it hurts your heart but also makes its’ beats flutter around in its cage, alternately.
“I love you, you know,” his voice is raspy, broken; his hands a fire trekking across your aching flesh.
“I love you too, Arthur – mm…”
“… Say it again. Call me by name, tell me you love the man you call Arthur so lovingly it breaks his heart but oh, darling, it also mends it so well.”
Let me break it up here before this turns more sob than spice.
Le Comte De Saint-Germain
Literal embodiment of: “Gentleman in the streets, scoundrel in the sheets.” Do not be fooled by that congenial smile. Seriously, ask Leonardo about it.
That is not to say he’s putting up a genteel front. The current Comte is a good man, who genuinely cares for you and for all his residents. The perfect gentleman, he offers you a hand to help you get off those carriages you’re not used to every single time without fail, walks on the busier side of the road so as to prevent people from bumping into you, lends you his coat will not listen to any protests when he sees you’re cold, patiently listens to and helps you out with any and all of your problems.
Indeed, in true respectable fashion, he’ll wait for you both to exit that extravagant affair you were invited to, before he’s pinning your body, gentle in his grip though he is, you know the look in his eyes is no joke, you’re already trapped and frozen in place, mesmerized against the wall of an out-of-way alley.
“Pardon me for my uncivil conduct; I could simply not ignore your longing looks anymore, ma belle.” His breath is warm, voice an inferno seeking to make you fall deeper into its embrace. He’s nuzzling his nose against your cheek, toying dangerously with your emotions and your heart is beating out of sync, hearing him murmur so close to your ear. You did not think he noticed your pining gaze on him while he was being swarmed by all those high society ladies, vying for his attention, despite him being spoken for.
“It was not my intention to make you sad, won’t you consider forgiving me?”
You’re breathing - gasping really - your forgiveness into his mouth, hot tongues sliding out to meet halfway. He’s moving to crowd you further against the wall, cold stone digging into your back but you don’t care. Nothing matters when the Count’s mouth is on yours, making your thoughts turn to cotton, even as his hands are moving away from their grip on your wrists to ghost across your body in slow stimulating motions.
You can hardly contain your lust for him, protesting weakly when he finally pulls away to suggest you both make way towards home now.
How can he leave you hanging like this?
As mentioned above, the Count was not always the proper man he is now. He used to be a much wilder thing, a part of his unending life he doesn’t wish to speak of much. You refuse to believe Le Comte is anything but good-natured the first time Leonardo brings up the subject with you, albeit jokingly. You think Leonardo’s statements might have some modicum of truth to them, now that you’ve had a few cough romps with Saint. Germain of your own.
Mild breath play in bed. Him on you that is.
The Count hasn’t drunk from humans in well over a century. You’re his first in a long, long while.* The hedonism he derives from sinking his fangs into your temptingly soft flesh, the burst of blood in his mouth, your arousal mixing in with the scent of your blood, your moans as you arch yourself into him, desperate hands clawing at his back to pull him closer: this man drives you wild.
During such pleasurable instances, he’s sometimes reaching a hand out to trace along your wind pipe, touch light and exploratory, eliciting such erotic sounds from you, it’s as if he’s fingering your pussy instead of just harmless touches to your person.
Fangs within you, he feels you peak, wrapping a hand around your throat, lightly pressing in; the thrum of your carotid, well and loud against his palm. It’s incredibly stimulating for him and he’s harder for you than ever.
Encourages you being vocal in bed.
“Does it feel good? How does it feel when I touch… here.” You’re shaking in his arms, voice suppressed by the overwhelming pleasure, fingers touching you this way and that. His mouth is trailing along the vertical canvas of your body, kissing and nipping at the skin underneath, lovingly, speaking his pleasure against your hot skin. His lips halt at a spot just above your pelvic bone, peppering kisses at the side of your abdomen, open mouth feeling for the pulse that runs deep within, before sinking his fangs into you. You’re throwing your head back to let out a low keening moan, followed closely on heels by a raw guttural chuckle from the man.
“Your cries are music to my ears. Mm… scream for me once more, mon mignon. Just like that…”
Have I mentioned how he loves the taste of your blood and your pleasure as you come profusely into his mouth as he eats you out? Yeah.
Le Comte de Saint-Germain, father figure of this mansion full of unruly kids historical figures, loves to be bossed around by you.
“Wanting me to kneel at your feet while you look down at me with such naughty eyes…. Ah… forgive me for speaking out of turn, Mistress.” He’s looking up at you, feigned regret over his handsome features but you catch that glow of mischief in his aureate eyes, sending a hot wave of arousal straight to your groin. He’s the one at your mercy, body bound as it is, and yet –
“Why do you look at me that way?” His lips are curving into a smile as he says so. “Do you wish to scold me for my bad ways, Mistress?”
One subby precious boy you love to dote and tease on.
You’re Isaac’s first proper romantic partner. All his life, nothing except the world’s great mysteries and apples have caught his interest.
It’s not that he actively avoids romantic entanglements or anything; it’s just that he has never really stopped to think of intangible concepts like love. His complex intriguing world of equations and calculations keep him happy and content, not to mention he’s an awkward mess around you.
You send all his mental and bodily functions into chaos just by being near, his brain and dick go haywire, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. You’ve got to be the teacher and guide in this relationship and bring out his true potential.
Too shy to ask you for it but Isaac loves the taste of you. The first time you gave him a proper kiss, the man’s mind was blown. He was letting out small low groans into your mouth, tongue eager and sloppy against yours, hands almost spasmodic as they rushed to feel you, your body underneath his fingertips. You are truly an exciting phenomenon for him.
You finally moved away from him, only to find him a flushed disaster.
He loves the taste of you and I do mean taste, folks. Always up for face fucking, your dripping pussy on his mouth. Even better if you rock your hips a bit as his tongue delves into you, his cautious hands curving to the shape of your hips as he holds you down on him. You taste almost as good, or perhaps even better, than his apples!
Really into pegging. Not gonna lie, boy was terrified of the idea the very first time you introduced him to this whole new world.
“Wha- you mean to tell me, you i-inside my… ah… like- like that?!” His voice is low and hushed as he continues. “How does that work…?” Oh, Gravity Boy is curious alright.
Likes doing it when you’re both lying on your sides. Him spooning you, face red and buried into the intoxicating scent of your hair as he slips into your wetness, moaning at the heady rush of pleasure that shoots up his cock to spread throughout the rest of his body.
Isaac is snapping his hips ruthlessly fast and haphazard as he nears orgasm, hand reaching around to thumb at your clit, wanting to come together with you. He loves the feeling of you going overwhelmingly tight around his dick, sending him hurtling to his end. Make your little astronomer see actual stars.
He despises Arthur’s and Dazai’s nick names for him “Don’t call me, Ai-chan!” but when you called him Ai-chan once teasingly, Isaac stopped dead in his tracks, turning towards you as if worked by cogwheel, his eyes going almost comically wide before his cheeks flared up like twin apples. He muttered something under his breath while you watched on amused. Suffice to say, he doesn’t mind you calling him by pet names, especially in bed. (Newt, Zack, baby, call him anything and enjoy his adorable reactions)
“Are you feeling a little lonely down here, Isaac?”
“Mmph…” Mute nod, his fist stuffed into his mouth as he tries to keep quiet for you, your finger circling his weeping tip.
“Be a good boy for me Zak and keep quiet, will you?” you croon lovingly, moving to take him into your mouth. He’s jerking and thrusting his hips into you, moans muffled at your request.
You’re a fool if you undermine the wolf within Isaac Newton, just because he’s a tame quiet man most of the time.
Isaac has a bad habit of getting lost in books and knowledge (once he finds texts to his liking), burying himself in some forgotten corner of the library for hours on end, and if he cannot find the library empty enough, he’s boarding himself up in his room to soak up all of that scientific wisdom.
Concentration disturbed only by the slow burning at the back of his parched throat, he realizes he hasn’t eaten… in a while. His eyes drift toward the Rouge you left him earlier… when was that?
He’s getting to his feet, tunnel vision taking him, as he rushes out of the room in search of you.
Once he finds you out there somewhere, dusting at the windows of the long hallway - your face lighting up in greeting before you register his expression – he’s grabbing you by the arm to drag you into one of the nearby rooms, or if his thirst is positively red-hot, he’s pushing you against the window pane then and there, looking up to meet your eyes, long enough to obtain your understanding and consent, before his hands are curling around you neck, pushing your hair to the side. Fangs greedily sinking into the flesh at your shoulder, he thirstily takes in huge mouthfuls of blood, you taste so good to him, all of you, you’re his philtre.
Even in his depraved state, his thoughts are coherent enough to not take too much from you, although the same can’t be said for your body. He’s slamming it back against the window, grip unrelenting as he drinks from you, the pleasure and ecstasy of having him inside so overwhelming, you’re left gasping breathlessly against his hard frame.
Pray, Arthur doesn’t catch a glimpse of you two on his way out of the mansion. Isaac’s never going to hear the end of it then. Arthur will tease the poor apple to within an inch of his life.
Once the red haze has washed away, however, he’s apologizing for being too rough even though you assure him you’re alright. He’s taking extra care to be gentle with you over the next few days. Whenever he reaches out to kiss your mouth, or when you’re making love, he’s moving to caress the sides of your neck where light crescents still remain due to his earlier ‘mishandling’. Expect him to drop kisses all over your body in worship and remorse.
*Since Le Comte’s a pure-blood and we all love some good ‘vampiric foreplay’ as Arthot so correctly puts it, I went with the idea of a human requiring more than a bite from a Greater Vampire to turn. We don’t have any specific details to draw from, in canon either, so this is my version of it.
[A/N: Longer than my last HCs. I got so thirsty over Comte and Arthur RIP me.I hope I didn’t end up comprising the apple cheeked little physicist for those two suave men.
ALSO, I want you to know I’m working on your request @psychobitch18. I’m halfway through Ray and hope to have it finished, ideally within the next 24-48 hours; longer if I end up stuck with some extra pediatric classes.]
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ikevamp reaction to seeing mc cry
hello its me how are u and u better say good and u better mean it >:(
napoleon: leon, like a child watching it's mother cry when she thought he wasn't looking, would have no idea what to do. of course, he didn't want to embarrass her further, but he couldn't stand to leave her alone, so he crept into the room that was silent aside from her gentle whimpers, sniffles and gasps and crept his arms around her waist, resting his chin atop her shoulder. he was silent for a long while, gently nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck before he mumbled, "nunuche, i'll keep you safe so stop crying. when i made my promise to protect you, it included protecting your heart."
mozart: mozart would awkwardly stare at her for a few moments before carefully grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and reaching to cup her cheek in one hand, dabbing her tears away with the other. "there's no need to cry, meine liebe, not with me beside you." he'd try to help, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb after drying her tears. "whatever's making you cry... i'll make it better. now hush yourself and get some rest. i'm right here." he'd be silent a few long moments before deciding to hum quietly, a gentle song he'd composed himself to put her to sleep with.
leonardo: Leonardo would be somehow prepared, unsurprised, immediately jumping into action by swooping her into his arms and carrying her back to his room to lay her on his bed and wrap himself around her. "let it out, cara mia." he'd hum, stroking her hair gently. "i'm right here. get all those tears out so you can tell me what's bothering you." he'd say and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. his main priority would be to figure out why she was crying so he could brainstorm a way to fix it. he hated seeing her cry.
arthur: Arthur would react in an instant, coddling her cheeks and ducking to press a few quick pecks to her lips, one after another. "mm, i'm here, y/n." he'd coo. "right here. don't cry." he'd raise his head to peck her forehead, and then pull back with a small, calming smile. "look at me. instead of crying, let's talk, hm? i promise i'll make it better." there would be something suggestive in his tone, turning it into a bit of a teasing remark, but the familiarity of his personality would make her feel safe until enough to melt into his arms and slow her tears. "now tell me what's on that pretty mind."
vincent: the majority of vincent's comfort would be silent, instantly tucking her into his chest when he caught sight of her tears and brushing her hair down with his palms, pressing occasional kisses to her forehead/hair. his touches would be warm, comforting, and her tears would dry on his sweater until she was calmer, and he'd ask if she was hungry or tired, his main concern being to make sure she was physically okay before he'd say, "i don't like seeing you cry. next time just tell me what's bothering you, okay?" with a small, warm smile.
theo: theo would sigh, raising one eyebrow in surprise before he swooped her up into his arms. "dogs shouldn't cry." he muttered. "all the other dogs are happy creatures, you're ruining their reputation." he'd like the feeling of having her in his arms, wrapped up and unable to escape, because he'd know he was the only one who could get to her and therefore nothing could hurt her except him, should he choose to. (he never would.) "how silly to cry when you're perfectly safe. go to sleep and wake up when you're calm enough to speak to me."
isaac: "are you crying?" would be the first thing he'd say, eyes widening in disbelief before he cleared his throat and opened his arms, gently placing his hand on the back of her head to awkwardly pull her against his chest. "come here. if i hold you like this, will you stop crying?" he'd wrap his other arm around her waist, keeping her against him in silence until her tears finally stopped. "seeing you like that is uncomfortable, i ask that you don't cry anymore."
dazai: he would laugh a bit, fondly, and press his hands to your cheeks, pulling their faces close so he could peck a kiss on the tip of her nose. "what's this? you're not crying, are you? apologies, y/n-san, but you can't." he'd warn before his hands would fall to her sides and he'd tickle her until her tears were no-longer sad and she begged him to stop through giggles. he’d try to keep her distracted until later that night when he'd go to her room to ask about whatever made her cry so she could get past it.
jean: jean would look around, searching for anyone else who could comfort her but when he found none, he'd offer her his hand and if she took it, he'd carefully wrap an arm around her and hold her silently until she stopped crying. "you shouldn't cry into the chests of men... it's hard to control oneself when you look so vulnerable and in need of such comfort." he'd scold softly, wiping her tears with the pad of his thumbs before stepping back respectfully. "you should rest. it will make you feel better."
will: "with what circumstances have come the lady's tears?" he'd ask quietly, leaning forward to kiss her tears away and lick the salt from his lips, stroking her chin with his thumb. "to make a creature such as yourself cry such beautiful, crystalline tears is nothing short of criminal, and i shall take it upon myself to punish those who have committed said crimes." he'd hum, smiling calmly the whole time. "and in the meantime, i expect you to allow yourself to stop crying and rest. i will stay by your side the entire time."
comte: "ah," he'd coo, gently taking her chin in one hand to force her to look at him as his other hand fell to her hip, keeping her close to him. "what's wrong, little one? has someone hurt you?" his words would be kind, tone coaxing her to reply, but even through her tears she could see just a hint of anger in his eyes at the idea of someone hurting you. "tell me what's wrong, ma cherie, and then allow me to make it better." he'd lean down and kiss her forehead, using the hand previously on her chin to wipe away her tears.
sebastian: Sebastian would frown, grabbing a handkerchief to dry her cheeks with. "there's no need to cry." he'd say. "but for now, take this and let all of your tears out. we don't need them interrupting your work, hm?" he'd pull her into his arms when she took the handkerchief from him and press a firm kiss to her temple. one of his hands would press firmly to her lower back while the other flattened against the back of her head, gently stroking her hair. "i hope you don't cry in front of the others like this," he'd mumble, kissing her head again. "i want to be the only one who comforts you like this. please allow me just that."
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Imagine if the suitors went to the beach for a whole day in the modern world...what crazy crap do you think will happen
Here are a handful of crazy and/or cute headcanons that came to mind! :D
-Mozart swatting away seagulls because HE IS TRYING TO EAT IN PEACE
-Jeanne watching him, MC offering him two water guns with a silent nod (sunglasses on, we’re going full meme)
-Jeanne then proceeds to shoot at them (no gulls were harmed in making of this promotional video) and his aim is impeccable it would be disturbing if the thwarted squawking wasn’t so funny
-Little kids start swarming around Jeanne asking how he’s so amazing and wanting to play team battles, inviting him to join
-Napoleon encourages him, and even Mozart joins in despite not liking getting wet very much (he wants Jeanne to have some positive fun times bc he BIIIIIIIG depressy)
-In the end they both admit to having fun, and one of the kids even teaches Jeanne a special ten step handshake (Jeanne has no idea what that was but the kiddo was smiling so he figured he’d go with it)
-HE AND MOZART STILL SECRETLY USE THE HANDSHAKE FOR FUNSIES BUT TELL NO ONE BECAUSE THEY DON’T LIKE F U N DON’T LOOK AT THEM
-Dazai, alternatively, gathers the fallen gull army and becomes their god with a singular cylinder of Pringles. No I will not elaborate--THE SEA GULLS GOT HER!!!!!!!!
-Spends most of the beach day wetting his feet in the tide pools and talking very earnestly to the gulls about this new thing he learned about called tax evasion while people pass by this fucker in full kimono at the beach and are convinced he’s lost it
-Dazai is very much not sane but we knew this already, offers sea shells to little kids that ask him what he’s doing and tells them to listen to the secrets bird friends can tell them
-If Dazai sounds like an Animal Crossing Villager, that was entirely by accident but remains no less true
-Surprising absolutely no one, Arthur suggests volley ball after watching people play and invites some pretty ladies to join him
-Arthur ends up needing two more people to play, so he invites Vincent and Theo (Vincent is so excited about trying something new that Theo can’t say no despite wanting to make a volleyball-shaped crater in Arthur’s face)
-The funniest part about the volleyball game is that not only is Arthur a shit player (CANON WEAK ARMS FOOL) Theo destroys with his spikes, and Vincent’s reach is insane--the two brothers end up becoming the talk of the beach
-I just laugh imagining Vincent sincerely complimenting people around him and the ladies swooning because he’s just so nice and pretty is he even real
-Men aren’t happy about that^TM but at the sight of Theo’s defensive glower they keep their malicious traps shut--which turn on whichever girls weren’t interested in Vincent jahkslgjh
-**Kaguyasama narrator voice** Today on Arthur Shenanigans: Arthur loses
-Poor Isaac is hiding under the umbrella clutching sunscreen bc HE IS A PASTY BOY HELP HIM
-MC brought a few of the newest Maths/Physics books in her time for him to read, and while he doesn’t enjoy the intensity of the sun--not like vamp weakness, it’s just the strain on his body (too many stimuli too many people too much noise) that makes him tired and ultimately thirsty bc aberrant. But the change of scenery's not so bad.......
-MC laughs when she gets out of the water and the salt dries visibly on her skin, Isaac’s eyes bug out and he asks if it hurts (startles when Leo flicks sea water at him and asks how on earth they got in the water when it’s so cold!!!)
-Leo chats with him and he likes being able to draw theorems and the like in the sand, it’s like one big chalkboard (until a kid tramples across them in the middle of writing, POPPYCOCK!). Isaac ultimately has fun but prefers to stay inside poor bub
-Leonardo, surprising no one, falls asleep in the sand the second he gets there HE IS HOME (Italian beaches, amirite)
-MC decides to, after a point, bury him fully in the sand for shits
-Comte notices and aids in her shenanigans from his beach chair, snickering the whole time
-When the two are satisfied they go for a swim together, trusting Leo to look after Isaac if need be (even if he’s a mummy rn)
-Comte is relieved to hear that she knows how to swim, but also watches carefully and doesn’t let her drift out too far by keeping closer to the shore himself (riptides!!!! can be!!!!!!! dangerous!!!!!!!!!!) if he had his way (he would never impose but he worries ;-;) she’d be wearing floaties SAFETY FIRST
-They splash at each other like maniacs and chat amiably until they start swimming away as fast as possible when Leo wakes up, laughing
-How do we know that Leo woke up?
-Because he sat up ramrod straight and a tower of sand fell. He then proceeded to jump up and sprint to the water despite Isaac’s startled cries about being careful, and swam after them like a shark to get his revenge (it was like something out of an anime s2g)
-Mostly just tugs on MC’s leg, picks her up in the water, and yeets her across in retaliation; really harmless, she’s cackling the whole time
-Dunks Comte’s head in the water while he’s being scolded, and MC has to de-escalate their increasingly dangerous shenanigans before the life guard comes after them LMFAO
-They concede only bc MC looks sad/worried abt being kicked out, and agree to keep things fun FIGHT TO THE DEATH LATER TONIGHT
-Napoleon goes for a nice long walk along the shoreline and climbs the rocks if he finds any til he gets to the top (he does not go to his happy place HE GOES TO HIS HIGH LONESOME PLACE) wishes that Jupiter could be here to enjoy the brine
-Our boy Napoleon is simply just vibin he loves the beach. A little further off the sound of people is p muted, it’s just the crashing waves and crisp smell of salt, the light breeze ruffling his hair
-Sebas is absolutely watching through binoculars and writing down how majestic Napoleon is while making sure no one gets lost/wrecked as he takes notes
Bonus: since volleyball games can often happen back to back on a sizable beach, the boys^TM were playing and Arthur called out “Theo duck!!!!” and just as Theo was saying “Are you fucking kidding me did you really think I’d--T H W A C K” Theo gets nailed in the back of the head (Arthur later died after being put in a headlock)
Shakespeare didn’t feel like playing volley ball and didn’t have much else to do (can’t swim and has no interest), so he just sat back and tried to throw Theo off his game as much as possible
Por ejemplo: Theo misses a serve and Shakespeare just “For never was there a story of more woe; O bard Alexa, verily, play us Despacito” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”
Jeanne also gets hit by a stray volley ball, but when Vincent said “Oh no, Jeanne, duck!” he has one of either two reactions: 1. Boulevard of Broken Dreams plays obnoxiously loud as he dodges inhumanly fast 2. he quacks, gets nailed, and doesn’t react because he doesn’t have any brain cells to damage
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