#Message from Blitz

[justaghouletteintheclergy]

THESE HAVE ME IN TEARS Y'ALL

[blitzbuckz]

never have I ever in my life desired to angry fuck anyone more than this fancy privileged feathered ass cunt

[romeowho]

will never not be hurt about blitz having an acid trip where his insecurities are taunted by moxxie, fizz, verosika, stolas, and striker, then in the very next episode being embarrassed by fizz and verosika in front of m&m and stolas for those very insecurities, and then having his date immediately hide his face as if embarrassed of him all because he's doing what he promised and standing up for moxxie more often????

it hurts so bad, I can't stop watching.

[paranoidpandora]

Chembaron Viktor 👀

Vanco baby chembaron Viktor AU:

A short plot idea for this AU, I am not a writer, but I am a plotter, so if anyone finds inspiration here, feel free to write something based on it and use my art in your fics (with credit, of course).

In this AU Viktor was adopted by Silco and Vander shortly after he left Singed and that was also around the time VI was born (Vander and Silco being in their mid 20s). 

Silco and Vander did all they could for Viktor, went to Pilotover to have a brace built for him (not sure yet, but maybe it was mama Talish who built the brace for baby Viktor) and pulled everything they could to get him into the Academy. Vander and Silco pulled every last coin they had for Viktor's brace and school supplies. But he was only there for a short time before the riots started raising the tension between Zaun and Piltover so Vander and Silco pulled Viktor out of the academy worried about his safety. 

Viktor was in his mid-teens when the riot happened. He, Vi and Powder weren't supposed to be there, but of course they didn't listen and went after their parents. And that's where Viktor saw his aunt and uncle dead and Vander almost killing Silco. He went after Silco as he ran away and was the one to drag his father to Singed to heal him. Viktor still resented Singed for what he did, but he knew if anyone could save Silco, it was him. 

Silco recovery was long, and as they both stayed with Singed Viktor befriended a murk wolf puppy Singed had in a cage intended to sell as he killed her pack, not knowing there were puppies; only one survived. As a way to make up to Viktor, Singed says he can keep the murk wolf. 

After Silco got better, he tried to convince Viktor to go back to the academy, but Viktor refused. Silco wasn't the only one left with PTSD from that day; Viktor witnessed his aunt and uncle die at the hands of enforcers, and then he saw his parent trying to kill his other parent. It left him with a deep fear and sense of needing to protect his loved ones. He couldn't handle leaving his father, and hurt, after almost losing him. 

Viktor helped and was a vital part of building Silco's criminal empire, working with Singed to perfect shimmer as well as working on his own strain that would help his own illness.

Silco told him to stay away from Vander, and while Viktor had no intention to see the man who destroyed his family, he did want to see his sisters Vi and Powder. He would sneak away when they were out of The Last Drop to spend time with them; it was Powder who named his puppy (one head Pixi (my reference to Rio) and the other head Blitz (again my reference to Blitzkrank)).

One time Vander caught them together (Viktor told them not to say anything about him to Vander because he didn't know where he went after the riot, but they are little kids and it slipped). He followed the girls, and they seemed extra excited to go out. 

Viktor went to leave right away, but Vander begged him to send a message to Silco, asked if he found the letter he left for him in the mines. Viktor, weak to the person he once called a father, confesses everything to Silco, that he has been seeing his sisters (Silco knew, of course) and what Vander had said. 

Silco did go back to the mines (first thinking it was a set up, but Vander isn't smart enough for that) and finds the letter, and he and Vander slowly work on their relationship and eventually get back together.

Short time skip to maybe a year or two before season 1 act 1 time. 

Vander and Silco convince Viktor he should go back to the Academy. Things are calmer and the business is going steady Viktor would have the time to attend the academy. Viktor agrees, but only under the condition that he doesn't move to Pilotver, he goes to his classes and comes back under the excuse that he needs to keep up with his own chembaron duties, but really, even though his parents are back together and he's with them and his sisters and new brothers back, he didn't deal with his PTSD and thinks he needs to be there to keep them safe.

So this would be the starting point of the story; all this before is backstory that can be told in flashbacks, just how I would construct the story, IMO that's all. At the core it's a JayVik story.

As Viktor comes back to the Academy, he has a few years to catch up on. Heimer is happy to have him back, he knows how brilliant he is and helps him create a schedule where he can do catch-up work alongside contemporary classes. This is where he meets Jayce and other Pilotver classmates. Harassment started right away as it was clear how intelligent Viktor was and it started out of jealousy and hatred of him being from Zaun, even Jayce joins in on the bullying, even though a small crush is starting to form right away. But it doesn't take long for rumours to spread that Viktor is, in fact, a powerful chembaron, son of the two men who have zaun under their rule. His classmates don't believe this cripple is a powerful crime boss and this rumour only serves to make the harassment worse. Viktor doesn't do anything about it because he promised his dads he won't do anything that would make him a target of the enforcers; they can't risk giving them any excuse. 

Some of the things they call him is; puppy (this is mostly Jayce tho), bitch or mutt (based on his dad Vander being called the Hound), and of couse cripple, drugie (his shimmer violet eyes) ect.

Note about his health, I imagine Viktor's health to be better then in the show because Vander and Silco got him better care when he was a small kid and the shimmer strain he developed with Singed, I had him having some chornic lung issues an he uses the mask in the artwork, it both filters the dirty air that makes his lungs worse and it defuses the shimmer in small amounts to heal his lungs, he used his shimmer to heal himself for years now, why his eyes turned violet, and might have a slight dependency on it, if it can serve some plot purpose.

How his classmates find out about him being a crime lord, I have two theories; it could be one of them or it could be both:

1. The parents of his rich kids classmates know about Silco and Vander so they know who he is and his own influence in the undercity and tell their kids (so they keep away from him but they don't believe he's some dangerous mobster and use it to mack Viktor).

2. Sky is one of his classmates and knows about who he is and how dangerous he is and tells everyone to be careful around him and who he is (but again they don't believe it and mock Viktor).

Oh and also whenever Viktor goes to Piltover his murk wolf waits for him by the Zaun side of the bridge, where Viktor tells her she can't go further and to wait for him, he tried leaving her at home, but she refused to let him leave without her. So Pixi and Blitz always wait for Viktor to come back. Sometimes Powder also comes to play with her and wait for big brother. 

Time comes around where the students need to make a big project (for a class or a competition), and Jayce has an idea for something, but he will need something he can't find in Pilotver, he ventures into Zaun and in a pawnshop he asks about what he needs and is told by Benzo of he really wants it he needs to see "the kid", a chembaron that deals in that sort of thing (it can be the gems or a special type of shimmer or something else, not that important). He gets a meeting with the chembaron after paying Benzo a pretty penny for the privilege. 

It's at a bar called The Last Drop an what do you know, he enters and sees Viktor at a bar with a huge murk wolf at his feet (this is the moment of the art, how Jayce sees chembaron Viktor for the first time). Jayce can't believe the rumours are true and is in shock. 

They sit down (Vander from the bar is staring daggers at Jayces lol, if you see a faint shadow in the background of the work that Vander). 

Jayce tells Viktor about his project, and Viktor agrees to get him what he needs if they work on the project together (Viktor is also crushing on Jayce, and them trading insults at class is really like flirting, but not completely; sometimes Jayce crosses the line because he's an idiot). 

The vibe I was going for is them.

These idiots are crushing on each other hard but them being stupid is keeping them apart. Jayce is dealing with his views on zaunites, his jealousy of Viktor's intellect, and his own sexuality. Viktor is a walking sack of trauma and PTSD, Jayce reminds him of Vander, which means he's projecting all his unresolved issues and trauma about Vander on Jayce, trust issues being vulnerable with someone who isn't his siblings or Silco (Vander used to be on that list before the incident).

They gravitate to each other, but when they get close, they clash, very angsty, very hurt/comfort, and little bit of silly because they are such idiots.

Anyway that's as far as I got, I beg if anyone wants to write this, despite this block of text I am very much not a writer, so it would be awesome to actually read a fic like this :)

Bonus the art in b/w cause it looks rad :)

[pipsqueakparker]

helluva boss au where it’s all the same except blitz spends the month after apology tour learning a new language on duolingo just to get daily messages from an owl (it’s not his owl but he can pretend)

[tocomplainfriend]

Vivziepop is still Transphobic 10 years later!

(I'm writing this as a trans non-binary person btw)

Basically: "Transmen are only depressed females who are ashamed of being women" In other screenshots, she has another pfp, which people already knew she had a Blitz pfp, people thought it was fake cause of the moe pfp. But right here there was proved it was her. Dates match up and all. This is all in 2023!

This is directly from Ken btw, who they were friends with- and worked on Hazbin. Also wrote a most of the fucking pilot and got ""additional writing" credits... plus the Cherry bomb thing too!

"I honestly believe it's incredibly rare, VALID as hell, but rare"

Based on this few messages alone, you should realize her ""acceptance"" of trans-people is selective as fuck. She also NEEDED to state the trans people are rare, so bad here too. I as a trans person, I have always considered this a BIG red flag! Because people who say that are ready to invalidate others on the idea of "trans people are rare, you must not be trans because you don't fit my standard!"

Here she is using She/Her on Ken who uses only They/Them. She already knew Ken as a friend, so the misgendering here is just rotten.

All of this is recent as fuck! Since Hazbin was getting made until 2023! This one below, of Salem, shows xe experienced the same thing during the start of Helluva Boss. (Below there is a link to a threat talking about Viv being terrible to xem!)

Here also seems to be another trans character, from millie's siblings! Designed to be transmasc?

Oh fuck me, never mind! They changed his design to be a cis male imp.

I have already talked about how I personally feel about how Sallie may is treated! Viv treats all trans characters and people terrible, and she has something against transmasc people specially. -And for someone so selectively transphobic, with all of her comments-she is transphobic against Non-binary people! I mean, she already didn't respect the usage of them/they pronouns, so... She can not go around saying this shit of telling queer stories and people who critique me are being homophobic WHEN SHE IS LIKE THIS.

This is older, too! Viv has being transphobic back then and still is! Drawing a caricature of a transman you don't like -like this!?

This is a meme video that Vivziepop did too. This is rotten. People sure can change, but this woman has being transphobic over 10 years, like... I don't know how old is this character but- you can search fan art of this character since 2015...

Again please read:

[tinycoffeeroom]

miami heat | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

a/n: this is SO late but it took me forever to move past the writers block of a text only fic </3 still thinking about lando's race win...

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You and Lando had been inevitable. Your dad was a long time racing fan, often attending karting events around the country and dragging you along. As time passed, you learned to love it too, often waiting for your dad at the door when he got back from work so the two of you could quickly throw some clothes into an overnight bag and travel off to whichever race track you’d be camping in that weekend.

It helped that your cousin was a kart racer, both you and your dad using him as an excuse for attending so many races. Your mum would sigh, pull out the premade lunches from the fridge and stuff them into a small blue cooler before seeing the two of you off at the door. 

When your cousin got the call up to F4, you’d been overjoyed for him. Being able to watch his dreams come true filled you with so much pride. It also gave you and your dad another excuse to attend more F4 races, now offering to pick your cousin up and take him from race track to race track every weekend as well as your dad offering to be his race engineer, using his background as a mechanic to work on the car’s engine. Your aunt and uncle agreed happily, knowing how much the two of you enjoyed watching your cousin race. 

The first live F4 race felt electrifying. You weren’t used to seeing actual cars racing in person, only ever watching the Formula 1 races on the small portable TV your dad had invested in during the first year of your kart watching adventures. You and your cousin would always cheer for your favourite racers, him still sweaty and suited up from his own race but pumped up on adrenaline. 

You watched as he fist bumped other drivers after the race, coming a respectable 4th in his first ever F4 race. This part was your least favourite, having to wait for your cousin to talk to all these sweaty teenage boys was not your idea of fun. Spread out comfortably on the moon chairs your dad had bought for the races, you opened your 3DS to play Pokemon Sun. Too enveloped in the battle between your Incineroar and the NPC’s Crabominable, you missed the sound of someone dropping into the chair next to you. 

“What level is he?”

You jumped at the sound, looking up quickly to lock eyes with a random boy. 

He was obviously a racer, still suited up. Using one hand to push back sweat soaked curly hair, he curiously eyed your 3DS before looking back up at you. 

“She’s level 57. I need to beat this Crabominable to make her 58 so she can learn Flare Blitz.”

He hummed, a soft smile spread across his face as he flits his eyes over you. You took note of your appearance, hair pulled back into two braids to keep it out of your face in the windy English weather, your dads bomber jacket engulfing your figure as you fought the cold. 

“Female Incineroar, rare.” He sounded impressed. “Don’t let me stop you.” Gesturing to the console in your hands, he leant back and focused on your hands. 

Unsure of how to respond, you looked back down at your game. The Crabominable had about half HP but this was a nasty NPC, whipping out potion after potion to heal the Pokemon. You and the unnamed boy sat side by side as you chipped away, bit by bit, at the Crabominable’s HP until the victory message appeared on your screen. A mere 2000 pokedollars given for your troubles.

You watched as your Incineroar, lovingly nicknamed Kitty from when you started the game, levelled up to 58 and finally, she could learn Flame Blitz. 

Saving the game and shutting down the console, you looked back at the boy beside you. He smiled back in response. 

“So… no offence, but who are you?” The second the sentence left your lips, you wanted to smack the 3DS into your face, tone not unkind but wary. You could only hope he wouldn’t take offence to the question. 

“Oh, sorry!” He reaches across to offer you his hand. You shake it gingerly, his hand warm in your wind chilled one. 

“I’m Lando. Lando Norris. Soon to be F4 champion if all goes well. And you are?”

He was still smiling, the curve unnerving you a little. “Y/N. My cousin’s just joined F4, he’s over there.” Reaching out, you pointed towards the boy in question who was high fiving another racer, the two of them laughing loudly over the sound of car engines. 

“Oh, Y/C/N? He’s cool. I met his dad earlier.”

You glanced over at the man mentioned, head bowed as he conversed with the other adults about race tactics and the boys’ performances. “That’s my dad, his uncle. He’s a mechanic so it made sense that he would be Y/C/N��s race engineer.”

“What about you? Are you a big karting fan?” 

From the sound of his voice, you could tell he was facing you. Too nervous to look into his eyes again, you focused on your dad, watching as he pulled your cousin aside to talk about the race. “I am. Me and my dad have been going to karting events most weekends for years.” 

His eyes burned into the side of your face, gaze unwavering. “How about Formula 1? That’s my dream, I want to race against Lewis Hamilton and one day beat him.”

The mention of your favourite driver dragged your attention back to the boy beside you. You smiled softly, pulling your iPhone 6 out of your pocket to show him the 44 sticker on the back of the case. “I love Formula 1. Me and Y/C/N are gonna watch the race in the van while my dad makes some adjustments to the car. Do you…” You hesitated for a moment.

Were you really going to invite a boy you’d just met to come sit with you and your cousin to watch a race? It was harmless, the three of you would fit in the back seats, but you weren’t sure if Y/C/N would want him to join. 

Lando beat you to it. “Aw, I would ask to join but me and my dad have to get back home as soon as possible, it’s my sister's birthday this weekend!” Pulling his own phone out of his pocket, he showed you his lockscreen, a picture of him and who you guessed was his family. 

You nod, turning your own phone in circles in your hands. “Happy birthday to your sister.” 

He grins, the smile seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Thanks, Y/N!” 

You hear a man call for him, presumably his dad. Lando sighed as he nodded towards the man, turning back towards you. “Gotta run! Could I maybe get your number? I think we’re going to be good friends.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

He was right. The two of you would text every moment you could. In between classes, before and after dinner, even facetiming until the early hours of the morning on weekends. 

Every weekend, you’d pull up to the race track and there Lando would be, permanent wide smile and open arms as you hugged briefly. Before each race, he’d run over to you, head bowed so you could knock on his helmet. You weren’t sure when the tradition had started but ever since it began, it was cemented in his pre-race routine. 

After every race, it would go one of two ways. If it was a good race, he’d run over and hug you, spinning you round as you laughed brightly at him. If it was a not so good race, you’d be the one to approach him, the two of you sitting on the lip of his dad’s van in comfortable silence as you let him work through his emotions in his own time. He’d soon come around, chatting to you about any and everything. 

Before you’d leave, he’d pull you into another hug, swaying the two of you from side to side. 

Of course, your cousin teased you. Singing silly childish songs, “Y/N and Lando sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. You’d bat him across the head, willing the blush in your cheeks to go down. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Since the two of you were now 16, whilst Lando had allowances for his GCSE’s, you still had to knuckle down and work hard. Hours were spent sitting at your desk, eyes scanning across textbook after textbook. It was only after Lando called you in tears after he struggled to understand the poems needed for his English exams and explained he had dyslexia that the two of you would facetime every night. You’d read out the poems to him as he took it all in and made notes in a way that made sense to him. You told him about these coloured overlays that were meant to help people with dyslexia read, and you’d watch him cry as pink acetate covered the poems and he could finally, finally, understand. The two of you still facetimed every night, he claimed your voice helped him understand so much more. 

Since you had to revise, you often had to forfeit your racing weekends. You’d see your dad and cousin off at the door, much like your mum had done for years, and return to your room, wiping the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. 

The routine never changed though. Lando would call you before every race, telling you that you had to knock on the screen and he’d hold his helmet clad head to the camera. After every race, you’d either celebrate over the phone or sit in silence, watching him through the screen as he let himself digest what went wrong in the race. 

Your last GCSE exam fell on a Friday, the freedom of your weekends returning. You didn’t tell Lando, wanting to surprise him at the race track. As you sat in the back seat of your dad’s van, you kept up the pretence for Lando, texting him as if you had a normal weekend of revising ahead. 

When the three of you pulled up to the race track, you ducked down so you weren’t visible through the windows. Your dad got out of the car first, greeting Lando’s dad. The two of them had formed a good friendship through the race weekends, often sitting together to watch the boys go round the track. Next up was Y/C/N, jumping out the van and fist bumping a waiting Lando. 

The two boys went to leave, already play fighting about who would win. It was only then that you snuck out the back seat, hands on your hips as you called out to the boys ahead. 

“Forgetting something?”

Lando’s head whipped around so fast, you feared he’d give himself whiplash. You barely had time to laugh at his dumbstruck expression before he’d launched himself at you, strong arms wrapped tight around your waist as he lifted you in the air. 

He pressed his face deeply into your neck, the feel of his smile present against your skin. 

Linking your arms around the back of his neck, you played with the unruly curls tickling your chin. “Missed me?”

He nodded, head still firmly placed between your neck and shoulder. The two of you stood there for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence until your cousin piped up. 

“We do still have a race to get to.” Locking eyes with him, you could already tell he was going to tease you relentlessly when you’re back in the van. 

Lando finally released you, hands still holding firm on the sides of your waist. Warm smile directed at you, eyes glistening a little with unshed tears. 

Lando’s dad bumped his helmet against his shoulder, Lando taking it and pulling on his balaclava and the helmet. He bowed his head, allowing you to knock on it once. This time however, he knocked on your own head once, hand uncurling to cup the side of your face before he walks away to join your cousin. 

In that moment, you knew you were in love with Lando Norris. 

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The two of you stayed close throughout the years. You still attended as many races as possible, celebrating his wins and commiserating through his lows. Soon you were watching him in Formula 3, then Formula 2 and finally, after all his hard work, you stood in the paddock of Albert Park watching as Lando was flanked by engineers. 

His debut Formula 1 race. 

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The day you got the call that he’d been contracted by McLaren was one of the best days of your life. It took him 5 minutes to calm down enough to explain to you what had happened, the two of you sobbing violently over the phone as you realised his dream had come true. 

As you collected yourself once you’d gotten off the phone, your mum had come upstairs with a packed lunch and a flask of fresh, warm coffee. Looking at her questioningly, she smiled softly at you. 

“Go. You need to celebrate with him in person.”

You grabbed the box and flask from her hands, arms thrown wide around her. Packing a quick overnight bag, you jumped in your car, haring down the motorway to Lando’s parents house. 

The look on his face when he opened the door made the possible speeding tickets worth it, eyes wide and glossy as they flit up and down your body. “You’re here?”

You grinned at him, wide and unabashed. “I’m here.”

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The cycle continued. Every podium was met with you running into his arms when he was back in the garage and every DNF resulted in the two of you sitting in his driver’s room, your arms wrapped tight around him as the dream of a grand prix win slipped from his grasp again and again. 

Today, something was different however. Lando had knocked on your door bright and early, inviting you down for breakfast with the team. He told you about a dream he had last night where he won the Miami Grand Prix, how the champagne shower had felt so real. 

This unwavering optimism continued throughout the day. Him bouncing alongside you as you walked through the paddock, greeting the other drivers along your way. The optimism rubbed off on you, finding yourself pulling up old photos of Lando to save to a folder titled “Race Win”. 

When it came time to get in the car, you watched as his engineer secured the final straps before disappearing behind a screen to check the car’s stats. He looked up at you through the open visor, head soon bowing. Leaning down, you knocked once before dropping a quick kiss to the top of his helmet. Extra luck for the day. 

The entire race had you on the edge of your seat. You cheered as Oscar led the grand prix, winced as Max hit the bollard and nearly sobbed your eyes out as Lando overtook to lead. Kevin pushing Logan off the track meant a safety car and Lando ended up fortunate to join at the back but one lap ahead. A pit stop and fresh tires and away he went. Each second he gained on Max left spikes in your heart rate until it reached the 7 second mark and the last 4 laps and you knew. Deep down in your soul, even if everyone was still on tenterhooks, you knew this was his time. His win. 

The engineers ran to the fences, an army of papaya swarming the metal chain link as your eyes stayed glued to the camera. At the last second, you darted out to the fence, away from the chanting crowd so you’d have an unobstructed view of his win. 

The chequered flag waved and Lando crossed the finish line, now a grand prix winner. You couldn’t have stopped the tears even if you tried, knees buckling as you held onto the fence in front of you. 

The noise around you was near deafening, engineers dog piling on one another, a few strays leaving the group to wrap you in tight hugs. 

A hand landed on your shoulder, warm but soft pats pulling you from your stupor. Turning, you looked up at Zak, a fond smile on his face. “Let’s go see our boy.”

The two of you walked in near silence, Zak leaving his hand on your shoulder as he welcomed congratulations from other teams. The tears never stopped streaming down your face, vision swimming as you passed team after team. 

The breath was knocked out of you as arms wrapped around your waist from behind and swung you around. Looking down, you spotted the rose tattoo on a left hand and laughed as Daniel dropped you back softly onto the ground. Spinning around, you threw yourself into his arms properly, the two of you rocking back and forth happily. 

“He did it!” Daniel shouted as you pulled away, hands on your shoulders to shake you gently. 

“He did it!” You responded, a fresh wave of tears escaping your eyes. Daniel laughed at your tears, wiping them away haphazardly before letting you run back to Zak’s side. 

You watch as Lando ran towards his team, still fully suited up, launching himself into the air as the sea of papaya below caught him. The team held him aloft, jostling him through a mass of hands. 

Once he’s back on solid ground, Zak approached him first, the two of them sharing a warm hug. The visor of his helmet is lifted and without even seeing his face, you know he’s smiling, eyes scrunched up in joy. 

Those same eyes finally lock onto you, wide and sparkling. He runs at you as fast as he can, arms outstretched. You brace for impact, a laugh being pressed out of you as he crushes you in his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist as he lifts you up, warm eyes staring straight into yours. 

Before you even know what you’re doing, your lips press against the front of his helmet, right where his own mouth would be beneath the carbon fibre, a universal sign in racing of a lover’s kiss. 

Ignoring the roar of his team around you, you focus on Lando in front of you. His eyes crinkled under the force of his own happiness, shining bright even under the dark cover of the helmet. He lowers you down, arms wrapped firmly around your waist until your feet are planted safe on the floor. 

You watch as he unclasps the straps under his chin and rips the helmet off, his neck support following in haste. His eyes are still locked onto yours, unshed tears gleaming along his lash line. Through the balaclava, you can see his smile, warm and golden in the Miami sun. 

The balaclava comes off next and your heart stutters at the pure, unobstructed view of the man in front of you. Sweat clings to his upper lip, dripping down his thick neck, curls matted to his forehead under the American heat. You’re drawn back to his eyes, green as a hidden forest, full of glimpses of golden hour through the branches. You loved how you could always tell how he felt through his eyes, forever abundant with emotion. 

Hands wrap back around your waist, dragging you into him as he presses his lips unwaveringly against your own. It’s a little gross, the feeling of sweat transferring to your own lips, the damp curls at the bottom of his neck where your hands come to lie but you wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s worth it to feel his smile against your own, the kiss more teeth than lips and you breathe in the way he laughs against your mouth, molten gold dripping from his lips to yours. 

The two of you part slightly, cheeks aching at the way you’re still grinning. The kiss remains unspoken, Lando being dragged off by his team for interviews. You look at Zak who winks knowingly at you. This time, you let the blush rise, overtaking your cheeks and flushing down your neck. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Waiting for Lando in his driver's room seemed to never end. It had been an hour since you’d finally kissed him and your lips still tingle with the feeling. 

Your mind was a jumbled mess, thought after thought fighting to sit at the front of your mind. Tracing your finger across your lips, you allow yourself to remember that moment. To fall headfirst into how it felt to finally feel what it was like to kiss Lando. 

The sound of the driver’s room door banging against the wall shakes you out of your stupor, twirling around to face a sheepish Lando. 

“Um, sorry… I guess I was just eager to get back here.” He giggles softly, standing still in the threshold. 

Smiling back at him, you gesture him inwards, scoffing at the absurdity of you inviting him into his own driver’s room. He stumbles in, shutting the door behind him. One hand reaches out to run over the scuff mark on the wall, grimacing as he traces the black mark. 

He turns to face you, smile beaming as you stand two feet apart, eyes tracing over each other as you bask in the long awaited silence. You watch as his hand reaches out, the back of his fingers brushing against yours. The hand reaches around, clasping yours gently in his. You squeeze once, smiling shyly up at him. 

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is quiet, almost shaky as he keeps his eyes trained on your conjoined hands. 

You squeeze his hand again, humming your assent. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you since we were 15 years old and I saw you sitting on those moon chairs. I remember my heart was beating so, so fast and I thought it was just post race adrenaline but when I remember your shy smile and the braids you had in your hair and my heart feels the exact same way. It’s always been you.”

Even after the kiss, the admission makes your heart race wildly. He loves you. He loves you back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t love me the same way I love you.” He tries to come off nonchalant, but the way his hand trembles in yours betrays his true emotions. 

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his shaking hand, heart thumping erratically at both the situation and the sweetness of his nervous confession. “Lan, I was literally a 15 year old racing nerd and you were a boy willingly talking to me. Why do you think I was a nervous mess when you spoke to me? I had the biggest crush on you.”

“Having a crush and loving someone is different.” He leads you by your intertwined hands to the sofa, settling back into the corner as you sit close enough to keep your hands connected. “Back then, you knew me as Lando Norris, F4 driver, and then just Lando, your best friend who secretly stuffs his face with pizza and falls over his own feet more often than not.” He huffs out a laugh at the memory of the last time he’d tripped over thin air and fallen flat on his face when you’d gone to visit him in Monaco. 

Avoiding eye contact, he keeps his eyes trained on the way your fingers interlock almost perfectly. “I was worried you wouldn’t love me when we became close.” 

“You idiot,” using your free hand, you smack him lightly on the arm, giggling at the fact the two of you had been mutually pining for years, “that just made me love you more. Sure, I was 16 and the idea of dating a race car driver, even little Lando Norris,” his arm reaches out to return the smack, “was a dream, but then I wanted to date just Lando, the man who gives me piggybacks from clubs when my feet hurt and bites my arm when I’m not paying attention. I love you, just plain old Lando Norris.”

If you thought his smile when winning was bright, the one he shoots you now is almost overwhelming. Face pulled up so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if he complained of an ache in his cheeks later, eyes crinkling deeply at the corners and shining a bright seafoam green. 

Before you can return the grin, he reaches up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. The passion is the same but different, no longer adrenaline filled from a race win, but full of love and adoration and the secret he never thought he’d get the chance to say. 

He pulls back just enough for a whisper of air to pass between the two of you, eyes warm and locked onto yours. “I love you. So much. It’s me and you, plain old Lando and plain old Y/N.” 

You push him lightly, grinning playfully. “Who are you calling plain?”

He rectifies his mistake with another kiss, this one softer and slower, the two of you taking the time to appreciate that this moment had finally come. The kiss moves to the corner of your lips, across your cheek and down to the spot just below your ear. 

A hand wraps around your waist, securing you to your spot. Pulling back slightly, you look down at the smiling man resting his head on your shoulder. “So, I love you, and you love me. What next?”

“We go celebrate this momentous occasion, and the race win, and then I take you out for our first proper date.” Tightening his hold on you, he moves his head to rest in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, dropping warm kisses to the skin beneath his mouth. 

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a/n: 3 of my top 5 boys on the canada podium is so 💞💖🩷💓����💝💖💗💕💗💘💞 also as an esteban ult, it's on site for alpine fr. ALSO GOTE pt 3 coming soon ❤️

[lost-romantique]

Me the moment Stolitz becomes a love triangle...

NOTHING YOU PEOPLE SAY WILL EVER CONVINCE ME THAT A LOVE TRIANGLE IS A GOOD IDEA!!

*cough* This is to address the concerns that people have been messaging me on reddit and tumblr.

~~~

Oh Stolas needs to experience a healthy romantic relationship...

The man needs friends. For fucks sakes, stop trying to get in his pants and get this man to join a fucking book club or something. He's lonely.

Don't you think it would be romantic if Stolas actually chose to be with Blitz in the end?

Why does Stolas choosing Blitz always have to involve Stolas breaking the heart of another guy in the process?

I want Stolas to experience that fairy tale romance.

They don't exist.

We can get more jealous Blitz.

No, we are getting more "Depressed Blitz that thinks he's gonna die alone because this man has a major inferiority complex the size of fucking Jupiter."

Blitz already had his chance...

The man didn't even know he was taking a test?

Blitz needs to fix himself first before he gets in a relationship with Stolas...

Blitz needs to deal with the root of his intimacy issues, yes. However, the idea that someone has to fix themselves in order to be in a relationship is a rather ableist viewpoint I do not condone.

Stolas also has problems that prevent him from getting in a normal relationship, but that's a whole other can of worms I don't want to open.

Blitz made Stolas cry!

STOP. IGNORING. HIS. FEELINGS.

This man has been in the verge of sobbing his eyes out in Full Moon and Apology Tour, and y'all didn't notice because Stolas didn't notice.

A love triangle will save their relationship.

Oh yes, who needs proper communication when the true answer all along was introducing a new person to the trash fire that is their problems. /j

Blitz and Stolas should just remain friends, and go find other partners.

Blitz has a body count of people he could have ended up with, but he didn't give a shit about any of them because that damn bird changed his brain chemistry so hard he went to a Party dedicated to hating his sorry ass.

And Stolas...

couldn't even forget about the motherfucker after going 25 years no contact. Do you honestly think he's going to get over him now after falling in love with the guy?

I'll be blunt, these guys also have way too much history together to remain "just friends" and stay "just friends".

Do I think they need to know each other as friends first before they start a serious relationship? Of course! But I also think these guys are gonna suck at being "just friends" and remaining "just friends".

Blitz and Stolas aren't endgame.

If these idiots were not endgame, than Brandon and Viv wasted four years of ours and their time on a relationship that was never going to come into fruition.

Also, the show is about Blitz and has always been about Blitz. The reason why Stolas is such an important character is because their building him up to be this red lizard's main love interest.

I am so tired. 😫

[lis-likes-fics]

Perfection

Pairings: Spencer Reid x bau!adhd!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words Warnings: Mentions of rape, mentions of murder, dead body, crime scene, descriptions of gore, typical Criminals Minds stuff, character with ADHD, mentions of medication... A/N: This is a little more self-indulgent than I meant for it to be, but I do want to point out that this is some of my experience with ADHD, so I'm not just writing random stuff. It is slightly exaggerated, but I also say that about everything I do and it is pointed out that this is based off an off day.

The long alleyway makes for a nice crime scene, specifically because, despite the busy streets of this city, it's secluded and easy to overlook. It's not too small that the police team cannot fit, but it's small enough that you couldn't cram a really small building into the space. You don’t know how that’s relevant, but somehow it is.

The scene is relatively fresh, the latest of three that brought the BAU to the case. The police handling the scene had it cleared off for you, Spencer, and Derek to examine, via Hotch’s orders.

Spencer's watching you because he loves watching you, and because you're a little off today. There's something about the way you shuffle on your feet or the way you chew on the dead skin of your lip that he finds peculiar. To be fair, you're like this a lot, but today your symptoms are more obvious than usual.

Your eyes scan over the scene with a million different thoughts rushing through your head, less than fifty percent of them actually coherent and fit for conversation.

The three of you spitball ideas back and forth as you look at the man laying cold on the concrete. He's white, lean with light hair and a relatively thin frame. He's nothing like the other two victims, who's physical profiles were all over the place. The only thing they have in common with one another is a single occupation—male prostitution. While this and the first worked on the streets, the second’s job actually took place within a gay strip club a few blocks away from here.

He's got a starting blow to the back of the head, like the other two, and a number of bad bruising and heavy brutality to the rest with overkill to the chest, hands, and genitals. The message feels clear, but there's something a little off.

“Judging by the position of the body,” you speak, your hands restless, “and the way the weapon is discarded, I think our unsub snuck up on our victim in a blitz attack, hit him with the lead pipe, and ran that way.”

You don't point in any particular direction. Spencer glances up from his spot crouched next to the body. Your eyes are stuck on the bloody pipe several feet away from the body toward the secluded area around the back of the building that leads to more secluded walkways through more alleyways.

There is a long pause where they wait for you to explain, but you never do. Spencer thinks you look far off as he examines your face. Derek looks at you, his brow furrowed as he glances around. “Which way?”

“What?” you hum, looking up at him.

Derek elaborates, “Which way did the unsub go?”

It’s your turn to furrow your brow, turning the thin ring on your middle finger. “Did I say something about the unsub?”

Spencer stands, moving over to your side without spending too much time looking at your face. He doesn't want you to feel dumb or awkward, because he loves you and you're just a little forgetful sometimes.

“Yes,” he says in no particular way. “You said the unsub blitzed the victim and ran. Which way did he run?”

He achieves his goal, because you seem to make an “Oh, duh!” face before pointing in the direction of the street. “That way.”

He follows your finger, his brows knitting together. “That way toward the street?” He looks at the pipe, sitting in the exact opposite direction, like they ran and dropped it. “The pipe looks like he'd run the other way to avoid the street. Why do you think he ran toward?” It's a genuine question.

“To throw us off,” you shrug. “It's riskier to go toward the street, but it's also less suspicious than walking alone in the opposite direction where someone could see you and the victim and assume fault.”

He hums. You add on, speaking as quickly as Spencer usually does, “It also means he looks normal enough that he blends in with the crowd. Someone would see a strange figure coming out of a dark alley, no one would really notice a passerby turning a corner. And if this is a popular spot, it's too loud to hear anything going on all the way back here anyway, or no one thinks much of grunting noises when they do hear it.”

You trail off at the end, tight brows staring at the corpse. Derek shrugs, “But what was our victim doing all the way over here in the first pla–”

“There's something in his mouth,” you interrupt accidentally.

“What?”

You kneel down, taking the offered gloves from Spencer and putting them on. You open his mouth just a slight, spotting the white sticking out from under his tongue. Upon seeing it, both of the boys furrow their brows and tilt their heads. Spencer hands you some tweezers he'd borrowed from forensics for this reason.

Carefully, without disturbing the body as much as possible, you remove the strange object from under the tongue. It's a tiny slip of paper, folded up very small and still a little damp from saliva and any other bodily fluids it may have come in contact with. You unfold it.

“‘Unclean’,” Spencer reads from over your shoulder.

“That makes sense for the victimology mixed with the profile. He's a male prostitute,” Derek points out.

“Which explains the locale,” you say, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“What?”

“The locale,” you look up. “You asked why he was here. He must have been working, lured down here by the unsub, who waited for him to turn his back before he struck.”

Spencer agrees, taking a picture of the slip to send to Hotch. “He was killed at night. The streets are crowded, easy to slip into and not be seen. It's more risky to stray by yourself. What you said makes sense.”

You look up at him, standing to your full height again. “What did I say?” There you go again.

Morgan speaks up, “What you said about him runnin’ toward the street.”

Confusion passes your mind momentarily. “He ran toward the street.” You don't say it like a question, you say it like you're trying to back yourself up on it.

“That's what you said,” he insists.

You remember thinking that, but you don't remember saying that out loud.

Spencer swoops in like your hero, brushing his knuckles against the side of your arm. “Remember? You said,” he licks his lips, “ ‘it's riskier to go toward the street, but it's also less suspicious than walking alone in the opposite direction where someone could see you and the victim and assume fault.’ ”

You nod, remembering his word-by-word recitation as you watch him. “Yeah. I did say that.” You flag down one of the forensics workers to bag the evidence. She does so, taking your contaminated gloves with her as she leaves. You squirt a hefty amount of hand sanitizer on your hands from its place on your belt loop. “This is the first victim who's been left behind with a note, right?”

“Yes, autopsy results found nothing like this on the other victims.”

“If the victim was working when he was attacked, it’s possible that, paired with the brutality of the assault and the note left behind, our unsub may be experiencing some kind of internalized homophobia.” You trail off at the end.

Derek shrugs, looking down at the body. “There’s no evidence of sexual assault. Not on the other victims, at least.”

“How old do you think this building is?”

Spencer looks at you, your eyes scanning the wall of one of the buildings you’re between. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth, picking at the dead skin again. He thinks you’re cute.

“Focus, honeybun,” Derek reminds you, pulling your attention again.

“Sorry.”

“Judging by the faded color and uneven edges of the brick, and the decay in the mortar,” Spencer says, “I’d say this building is at least 50 years old. Well kept at one point and then let go not long after its production.”

You nod along slowly, taking in the information with a hum. “That’s cool…” Now that that’s out of your mind, you think for a moment. What were you saying again? Spencer watches your eyes light up. “Oh!” You turn to Derek. “He’s obviously confrontational, but he may still be very insecure in his ability and, thus, have to make up for his pent up energy with an excess of violence. Homophobia would explain the obliteration of the chest, hands, and especially the genitalia.”

Derek raises a brow. “What?”

“You asked about sexual assault,” you shrug. “If he continues to escalate above the note, we may see these words carved into the skin as a substitute for sexual violence, or even just blatant rape activity.”

Derek thinks about that, considering your analysis with a nodding head. He sighs and hums, “Alright, I’ll talk to Hotch.” He begins to turn away, grabbing his phone.

Spencer thinks you may have gotten distracted again because you ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

Derek looks back at you, shaking his head and flashing you one of his charming smiles. “No, honeybun, you’re perfect.”

“Oh.”

He leaves to take that call. You start to walk after him and Spencer gently takes your hand. You turn to face him, confused at first but giving him a sweet smile only a second later. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his voice soft.

You tilt your head, “What do you mean?”

Spencer shrugs, taking your other hand just to rub his thumbs over your knuckles. “You’re hyper today, a little more distracted.”

As if proving his point, you begin shifting back and forth on your feet, shrugging and then shaking your head at the same time. “I’m okay,” you assure him, squeezing his hands gently. “I haven’t taken my medication in a couple days.”

He furrows his brow, suddenly a little worried. “Why not?”

“Didn’t feel like it. Also, I forgot it.” That makes sense. Spencer makes a mental note to remind you to take them as soon as you get back home. “But I’m okay, prommy.”

He smiles. “Prommy?”

“Promise,” you clarify, letting both your hands down so you can swing his from side to side. He lets you.

“I know what you mean,” he says. Though he knows he should probably be more professional because you’re both in public and leaving a crime scene (and Hotch might reprimand the both of you for it if he saw) he raises a hand to cradle your cheek because he doesn’t care. He just wants you to feel safe and loved. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod definitely. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” The way he says it is soft, as soft as a kiss to your forehead or a brush of his knuckles on your skin. “You know, I love you, right?”

You nod, smiling at him like he’s the world—because he is. “Yeah. I love you, too, honey.” You kiss his cheek quickly and pat it. You probably shouldn’t have done it right then, but you did, and you don’t regret it for even a moment.

Spencer’s just happy you know he loves you. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go before Morgan leaves us.” He takes your hand as you both begin walking. He swings your joined hands, just as he knows you like it.

“He wouldn’t leave me,” you shake your head. “He likes me too much.”

Spencer chuckles. “Everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone.”

He looks at you, furrowing his brow. “Who doesn’t like you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. And then immediately after, “Why does the sun look yellow? Isn’t it supposed to be white or something? I heard that somewhere.”

Spencer is happy to answer your questions as he opens the car door for you. Derek is already sitting in the front, his hands on the wheel. The passenger’s seat is empty, but Spencer sits in the back with you. You both speak gently so you’re not disturbing Derek. “The Earth’s atmosphere scatters blue light more efficiently than red light, so the slight deficit in blue light means the eye perceives the color of the sun as yellow. But, yes, the sun is actually white.”

“That’s cool,” you mumble. “I think sharks would look cool as hell with piercings. Do you?”

“I do,” Spencer chuckles. In the front seat, Derek shakes his head and smiles to himself, amused by your conversation.

“Did you know that sharks don’t have bones, so when they die, the saltwater dissolves their bodies so the only thing that’s left is their teeth?” You begin ranting, absent-mindedly picking at dirty under your nails. “And also, their bodies are primarily made of cartilage and connective tissue. It’s lighter than bone and keeps them flamboyant. Also, their skin has a similar feel to sandpaper.”

When you ramble, you sound like Spencer. You spend so much time with him and endorse his info dumps so much that you take on his speech style when you go on info dumps of your own. Spencer loves this because he knows that people tend to mimic the people they love as a sign of affection, and you mimic him a lot more than you think.

He also knew about all your shark facts, but he’s happy to listen. He smiles, “Is that what you were doing up late last night?”

You smile a little, turning away from him. “I got distracted.”

“What’s your thought process behind getting from the sun to sharks?” he wonders. “I’m curious.”

You shrug. “Well, you said your thing and I said it was cool. And then I remembered a post I saw that sharks would be cool with piercings. Then I remembered my shark things.” You glance down at your fingers, bringing them to your lips as you notice a tiny part at the very edge of the nail where it would probably tear off. “I just think sharks are cool,” you mumble around your finger.

“They are cool,” he says. He doesn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself so he adds on, “Will you hold my hand? It’s a little cold.”

You look down at them, “Yeah.” With a nod, you take his hand between both of yours and let them warm his back up. They’re a bit chilly but they don’t feel that cold to you. You hold them anyway, because you love holding his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his and then cover what’s left.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says. He thinks for a moment. “Did you eat today?”

You nod, still watching his hand as you turn it to look at his palm. You gently trace the lines of it, forgetting for the moment that he’d wanted you to warm his hand up for him. But, as usual, he doesn’t mind. “I had a cereal bar this morning. One of those Coco Puff ones. They’re like Rice Krispy Treats.” He doesn’t think that’s sustainable. “And, before you ask, I did have water.”

He smiles. “I know. I told you to drink some before we left. You hungry?”

You shake your head, “Not really.”

“You want a snack?” he compromises, hoping—and knowing—you’ll say yes.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay,” he hums. “We’ll grab one on the way back.” Derek nods gently, remembering to do just that. It will only take a moment.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Spencer says, his voice lowering to a whisper. He knows Derek can still hear him, but he always just wants to whisper to you.

You look up at him, “For what?”

“Being so perfect.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately smiling at the warmth in your chest. “You’re so cheesy, Spencer Reid.”

He’ll gladly be cheesy for you.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 Tag yourself here...

[drama-glob]

Since I've been seeing some criticism about Ozzie not speaking up first or more during the trial to help Blitz and his team, there are a few things I'd like to point out.

For one:

Ozzie didn't seem to know that Blitz/I.M.P. were going to be on trial or else I'm sure he would have warned Fizz because that is a jarring thing for your boyfriend to see on live TV, and given the level of communication and love that these two have, it seems highly unlikely and thus means Ozzie was shocked to see them too and given very little time to prepare. :/ Speaking of time, I clocked it from when Blitz enters to court to when Satan gives his sentencing, and it's ~4min 47seconds, which includes listing the charges, Andrealphus and Vassago squaring off, Striker's part, the Sins squabbling, and Satan's outburst, so a lot of things happening in a small time frame, all while Ozzie needs to think of a way to say something in Blitz's defense without implicating himself since he more or less knew they were doing something illegal based on what Stolas said. (What's unfortunate too is that Ozzie's text messages even say that these trials don't usually last long, so the roughly 5min one for Blitz/I.M.P. could have been a long one O_O).

Also, Blitz technically already admitted that he was given the book, which is still as crime and probably would have ended the trial right there had Andrealphus not kept saying he was lying so he could lay on the accusations. -_-

Something else to consider:

Ozzie seems to have a tell whenever it involves scheming or something he's nervous about where his voice gets a higher pitch at one point or another, so being grilled on the stand is likely to bring that out. :/ Who would think that the Deadly Sin who is big on honesty and communication isn't the best liar? -_-

The only reason why he probably could get away with the "Fizz is just my business partner" lie is because he's had to tell it for ~10yrs, and even then they were still called the worst-kept secret in all of Hell. I mean, do I need to remind you of this?

(It's a good thing Fizz said something because Ozzie was like a deer in headlights right there XD ).

Plus:

Ozzie has three heads, so while he may be able to put on a poker face for his main one, he can't seem to hide how his Ram and Bull express themselves (as indicated by the first picture), which only makes it that much harder to not implicate himself or deny that Blitz and Stolas weren't doing something illegal.

Going back to the first picture, I love how his Ram and Bull heads have big eyes in surprise (it seems) because he's like "What? You know Blitz too?! Oh, thank Lucifer! You can vouch for him too and reduce the chance of questions coming at me/be my backup." I also love Bee's appreciative look too that her bestie Ozzie has her back and listened to her suggestion. ^_^

The last thing I want to say is that I saw some people thinking that Satan would have taken it easy on Ozzie because he's a royal, and while he may not kill him, you know who isn't a royal? Fizz, and Satan made it abundantly clear he thinks imp lives (and other lower class demons') have no value but to serve, so killing him or even punishing Ozzie's people doesn't seem like a ridiculous thing to believe Satan would do because he has definitely extended his reach beyond Wrath in Lucifer's absence. :/

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~A day in the life of the L/N family!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: all hell breaks loose when the host club pays an unexpected visit on the day the L/N family visits ➼ what to expect:  "what is your problem with me and Kyoya hanging out?” ➼ warnings: Angst ➼ Part Nine | Part Eleven

"I have never seen you so stressed before" Kyoya raises an eyebrow from the kitchen island where he's sat, watching on as you frantically blitz through cleaning the apartment "Yeah...it's...a whole thing, I get tense on days like this"

"I'm sure you are worrying over nothing" Kyoya took a sip of water "You could always help me instead of sitting there" Kyoya furrowed his brows as if the mere idea of him cleaning disgusts him. "I'd rather call one of our maids" you pause. "You could do that?"

Kyoya raises an eyebrow "Yes, you know that all employees of the Ootori family also answer to you yes? I can have a cleaner here in five minutes" You send kyoya a dead pan stare "If you knew that this entire time why have you been watching me stress clean all morning?"

Kyoya shrugs "I thought you just liked to clean" your jaw drops "Who likes to clean?" Kyoya rolls his eyes through a laugh, picking up his phone "We should just about have enough time, ill send a message over now"

As if on cue the door knocks as he places the phone back down on the counter. "That was...fast" you squint at the door in skepticism. "Unless...no..."

Kyoya shot out of his seat, you wearily approached the door, quickly fixing your hair and taking a deep breath before opening it.

To your surpise it was not a maid or even your expected guests.

"Y/n-senpai!" The members of the host club cheered in unison, Haruhi standing awkwardly behind them. "What-How- are you here?"

"You said we could come, remember? You said that if we stopped fighting we could visit you" Hikaru smirks deviously "Then the rest got curious and tagged along" Kaoru chimed in.

"Yes but not now! Look guys this really is not a good time maybe-"

"Y/N is your- oh." Kyoya appears in the hallway, freezing at the sight of the other hosts "Kyo-chan?" Honey's head tilts to the side as the rest of the club stare at him in confusion "What are you doing in y/n-senpai's apartment?"

"Y/n! You let Kyoya visit you before the rest of us! Alone! I am horrified! You should know that it is inappropriate for a young girl to be alone in the home with a man. Especially before marriage!"

You raise an eyebrow "Tamaki, you know that Kyoya own's my apartment right?" you don't understand Tamaki's babble at the best of times especially not now. "Oh, so he's your...landlord?"

"More just that I'm staying in one of his family's properties, I don't pay him rent, anyway like I said now is really not a good time so-"

"Are you two on a date?" Kaoru points between the two of you "No! No, I just, we were just...." you sigh "My family is coming to visit today"

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A day in the life of the l/n family!

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"I keep forgetting that your family lives in europe" Haruhi helps you make tea after being (reluctantly) convinced to let them in for a little bit until your family arrives. "Yes well...they figured it would be best since most likely I will end up living in Japan, also to get to know Kyoya"

"This is a nice place Y/n-chan, cute!" honey swings back an forth on his seat, opening the box of cake he had brought with him. "Yeah well normally I would not do this but if I could ask you guys to not make a mess"

"Do you not have a maid y/n?" Hikaru questions, which normally you would answer no however it does remind you that Kyoya had called for a maid a while ago now. "I...personally no, however... kyoya?"

Kyoya was already on the phone before you had to really needed to ask him."I see...okay...no...no...yes... you might as well...okay." he sighs as he hangs up "small problem."

"huh?"

"There is a large crash on the road, apparently it has completely closed off, the driver has had to turn back otherwise he would not be back in time to pick up your parents" your face falls "You're joking"

You knew that Kyoya wasn't, he doesn't do stuff like that. “Okay! Well, great to see you guys but no offence you all need to leave”

“Aw come on y/n” the twins chorused. “I need to get this place clean” you remain firm. “We could help y/n-Chan!” Honey butts in. “Huh?”

“Yes, good idea honey. We will help you clean and then in turn we will be spending more time here and less time of you and Kyoya alone” tamaki puts a finger to his chin.

“Non of you have cleaned a day in your life, and what is your problem with me and Kyoya hanging out”

“Hey! It can’t be that hard” hikaru cries "We can get this done really quick with all eight of us"

"Alright gentlemen!" You know that there is no arguing once Tamaki switches into this mindset, the host club lining up like a military troup. "We have one hour until Mr and Mrs L/N will be arriving" he marches up and down the line.

"The twins take the living room, Mitskuni and Takashi take the bathroom, Kyoya and I will take the kitchen and the girls will do the bedroom"

"Yes sir!" the host club salutes, rushing off to work before you get to do anything. This is going to be a disaster, you just know it. "I should have just let them continue fighting" You mutter to yourself before heading into the bedroom with Haruhi.

"Are you okay? You seem really stressed out over your family visiting”

You sigh “they just…have very high expectations for me is all, I’m an only child, so for the sake of the family company they have to rely on me to get a good education and marry well”

"I didn't realise there was that much pressure on you"

"We don't like to talk about it in the host club but that is just kind of how it is in our world. Tamaki is in a similar position to me, we were both sent to Japan to increase our families standings."

"Wow" haruhi mutters, dusting off your windowsill "Don't worry, we're all still ridiculously rich it isn't all bad, in full honesty the engagement I have to Kyoya has done more good for me than it has bad. Which is why I cannot give my family or his any reason to break it off"

"Would they do that? I mean this has been arranged for a while hasn't it?" you nodded "we were thirteen, but my father can be....easily offended, and I have gotten the impression that Kyoya's father is the same"

A crash in the other room catches both your attentions "Oh god"

low and behold once you run out into the main living area there was the twins and tamaki, wrestling on the floor along with your entire couch dismantled and scattered around the room. "You have got to be kidding" Your face fell at the sight, you could already feel the tears welling up inside as you realise that you had maybe ten minutes left until Kyoya's driver will arrive.

"Are you guys kidding? What on earth are you doing?" Haruhi yelled out, grabbing the attention of the three boys on the floor, honey and mori stood awkwardly in the corner, Kyoya strangely missing.

"What is the mat-" Kyoya appears from the bathroom, pausing at the sight before him, letting out of sigh at the scene. "Kyoya-"

"Out."

"huh?" even mori looked spooked by the glare that Kyoya was giving them "you all showed up unannounced, y/n was nice enough to let you in for tea despite preparing to see her family for the first time since summer which you all know well how important said meetings can be, and you mess up the apartment even more than before you had arrived. You all can leave now"

"Kyoya?" Tamaki looks concerned, you look concerned, Kyoya can often have a temper but not like this "You have done enough Tamaki"

The twins and Tamaki slowly pull themselves off the ground, clumsily putting the couch cushions back in place, muttering sorry's as they leave the apartment.

"thank you y/n-chan" Honey gives you a shy smile as him and mori follow behind. "Do you need help fixing this?" Haruhi asks, looking over the mess they left behind. "No i'm okay thank you Haruhi, thanks for helping anyway" Haruhi nods, leaving and closing the front door behind her.

Kyoya sighs, dragging his hand down the front of his face, stepping to the couch to fix it, leaving you stood frozen there. "You didn't need to do that"

"They're idiots, they know how much this means to you, espcially tamaki-"

"Kyoya-"

"There." he huffs, placing his hands on his hips as he takes in that everything is back to normal. "You didn't need to-"

"I know" he walks back over to you, eyes flittering over as he takes in your appearance, going to fix your hair "We can talk about this later if you want, we've got bigger fish to fry now." you take a deep breath, you had never seen Kyoya act like this before, you didn't know how it made you feel but it certainly made you feel something.

He wipes away a tear you didn't even realise was there "There, it's like it never happened. Ready?" you sigh, nodding. it was stressful whenever your family comes to visit, but this time it feels more managable. Since when had the two of you become so comfortable?

Next time on patience 'Big brother is a prince!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372

[timkontheunsure]

Part 1 Blitz & BPD coding

Ok quick bit first before getting into the nitty-gritty. So to have BPD you need to have 5 of these 9 traits:-

(putting as by proxy with him cus damage your image is harmful to your psyche).

Poor bugger looks to have 9 of 9

Alot of BPD patterns and strategies comes from childhood trauma, and Blitz has this in spades.

Scapegoat and attachment style

Cash is clearly a narcissistic Dad, see the kids as tools.

Cash uses Blitz's love and Strong attachment to his Mum to force Blitz to be useful to him, and do what he wants.

This sends the very strong message that love is conditional. That it is bought through what he can do for another. And that without being useful love and affection will be withdrawn, because he doesn't really deserve it.

We see wee tinny Blitzo struggles with making balloon animals, is a little clumsy, has a sense of humour that not a crowd pleaser. This puts him at the bottom of the pecking order.

This position is the scapegoat. Blamed for anything that goes wrong (fire), to keep the others in line (Fizz told done on purpose), given the most dangerous jobs (rob a Goetia), and given the lest love and affection.

Narcissist see people as tools or a burden. All love from Cash is conditional/transactional.

How Blitz gets love is to be used or to be useful. This the rule.

Affection freely given can't be trusted. It is a lie. This why any Stolas shows has to be either ignored, or change to a kink of "getting plowed by people you look down on". Making himself used.

But Stolas breaks this when he says Blitz "no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me, you are... you are free of me." He panics that he's being abandoned; "I can be better", "I'm I not fucking you good enough" are his immediate responses. Trying to get back to the safety of what he knows.

If they're no 'obligation' then there can't be affection and he wants to Stay with Stolas. And if there's no 'obligation' Stolas telling him he cares must be a lie.

He's slowly coming to see that this isn't always the case in apology tour; when his "earning" his way through sex is rebuffed again.

(It may not be Stolas' kink; but being fucked by an all powerful prince who degraded his a little might be Blitz's 🤭).

After the accident this rule gets a second fun extra playmate that anyone who loves him will be hurt. So Blitz must push them way, to keep them safe from him. These 2 rules give Blitz the disorganised fearful-avoidant attachment style. (Woo go him, give him a cookie. Or you know all the nope, but still give him a cookie).

Disorganised fearful-avoidant attachment comes with a push-pull of wanting to be close but close relationships are scary. (Like running away from Voroskia for loving him).

He is getting better by refusing to be dismissed by Stolas, and coming back the next morning. And even talking to him at the party.

But mostly this bit: "Oh, sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me, and I've let my self hatred stop me from apologizing to anyone I could ever care about!" Blitz in a nutshell everybody.

His self hatred makes him to self sabotage any romantic relationship before it gets to deep. To protect the people he likes and makes sure they can't love him. Because he doesn't deserve it. Thems the rules after all.

Cash and the accident has taught Blitz to hate himself.  

It's also likely why Blitz thinks apologies are for pussys, and that no one deserves one anyway.  Those sound like words put in his mouth for daring to ask his dad to say sorry. 

He doesn't think he's worth it.

(Added the cuddles pic cus I like the cuddles). And Blitz still doesn't trust that he deserved to be forgiven by Fizz.

This self hatred is why he can't picture anyone loving him, let alone Stolas

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?" "Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even".

No one is allowed to want him.

End of part 1

I'll stick the link to the next part when I get done it, but might be a bit.

Next time some such fun shenanigans as:

Difficulty regulating emotions

Being a burden & how to be useful to IMP

Spitting

Massive fear of abandonment

Emotional loops

The Deal

Chronic feelings of emptiness

Self hatred & the Belief others Must hate him

(his cookie)

As normal is absolutely fine if you don't agree. This is just something I like to do.

[propertyofhenrywinter]

Long live the walls we crashed through

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: you are involved in a crash so horrid everyone assumes you couldn’t have survived.

WC: just under 2k

You honestly didn’t know what exactly had happened yourself. You remember when everyone was waiting for the rain to end, so the race could begin. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the downfall was going to stop anytime soon. All drivers were instructed to wait on the starting grid, so you and Charles, who was starting P5 next to your P6, where keeping each other entertained by playing some stupid game involving a lot of hand gestures. “Okay, I’ve just received word they are going to try and start the race despite the wet conditions.” your engineer’s voice interrupts you while you here trying to gesture a horse to Charles. “What? In this weather? Are they sure?” What you really had wanted to ask if they were plotting to murder one of the drivers or if they were just plain stupid. You look over at Charles as you saw his body language change, you assumed he had just gotten a similar message. “They gave us some vague reasons about the fans waiting and keeping the fight for the championship as exciting as possible,” your engineer explained.

The race had started out boring, slow, and mainly wet. None of drivers really felt secure while driving so there were almost no overtakes, no battles for a better place, nothing to entertain fans. Not that you thought that mattered considering you were quite sure the track wasn’t even visible from the stands thanks to the rain. However, between lap 4 and 5 the conditions started to better and some battles emerged on the track and positions started changing. You had managed to overtake both Charles and George, leaving only a certain Aston Martin driver standing between you and a place on the podium. The weather was almost dry at that moment, but you didn’t realise, no, you were only focused beating Alonso and joining your boyfriend on the podium. (Because let’s be honest best-case scenario: he was first, again. Worst case? Second) What you also failed to notice was a red car behind you disappearing to pit for slicks, because his team was so sure it would stay dry.

Although what had occurred after happened in a blitz, you could still remember that part as well. The Ferrari driver had just joined the track again and was being separated from you by George, when suddenly, the rain came back. It didn’t start with a drizzle, no warning droplets, just from zero to one hundred faster than any f1 car could. You vision was now reduced to that of a senior mole, giving you indication about the location of the driver in front of you. Lucky for you, you were familiar with the track at this point, so you didn’t worry about crashing yourself, but an invisible man in front of you was plenty of worry. You could hear your radio turning on, but you never heard what your teams plan of action was.

Because unbeknownst to you Charles, his brand-new slicks, the rain, and a nasty sharp turn steered his car into the young Mercedes driver. It was only a slight, soft touch. Just a tick. A little nudge if you must name it. But in those bad conditions George started to spin. But before he had started to spin and before he had been touched by the Ferrari, he had shortened the distance between the two of you by quite a lot. So, when he spun it took less than three seconds to feel his car touch something again. Now this wasn’t a nudge this is where your memory gets a little hazy.

George’s car spun into you. You lost control as well. You went through a wall. You flipped upside down. The car broke in two. Fire. Lots of fire. You got out.

You got out. You don’t remember how you did it, but you lived, and you were standing next to the burning vehicle. Half in shock from what happened you couldn’t deter your eyes from the flames you were a part of moments ago. You stood there in complete stillness contrasting your team’s garage at the same time.

“Max please come in, red flag.” “Yeah, I thought I saw something in my mirrors. I saw some yellow tints. Was that fire? Is everybody OK?”  “Just come in, please, we’ll explain then.”

Max jumped out of his car once he reached his team garage, where it was unusually quiet. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me over the radio?” Max already started asking his questions before he had even pulled his balaclava all the way off, so his words sounded more like scrambled mumbles. Not that it really mattered; his team knew what he wanted to know. “Wait, why did only I get called in?” he asked once he noticed your car wasn’t on the other side of the garage, where it usually would be if you had to wait out a red flag. Max averted his gaze from the empty spot to the mechanics, who gave each other looks as if to say “I’m not saying it. You do it.” “Max,” he heard Horner trying to catch his attention. Normally the presence of the team principal would make him wonder what was bad enough that he had to intervene himself instead of sending someone else to deal whit whatever the issue was. Right then, however, he didn’t have to wonder. His eyes had caught the screens behind the engineers displaying a view of the track. This wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary if it wasn’t for your car. Specifically, the back side of your car; he couldn’t see the front, but he assumed it must have gone through the barrier. “Along with you,” he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. Due to the fire, he couldn’t see or estimate the severity of the crash, but it did not look good. “You have her vitals, right?” he asked Horner, who had been tuning out ‘til now. “Well,” the principal began. “You’ve talked to her through the radio. Please. Tell me you know she’s alright.” Max said more as a question. At the lack of response his head started spinning. “We haven’t been able to contact her yet. No input about her vitals has come in since the crash.” Max stopped listening after that and just bolted to his driver’s room. Shutting the door behind himself, he was glad none of his team members tried to follow or stop him. Tears were already forming in his eyes while he turned on the small tv to be able to check on any updates regarding your crash.

Meanwhile you were already on your way to the team’s garage. You were surprised that no reporters intercept you on your way there, but you figured they were just focused on the crash site. You knew you should’ve gone to the medical centre first, but you felt fine and cared more to let everyone know you were alright. As you made your way trough the paddock, you start to wonder if people knew you got out of the car. They didn’t, you had no way of knowing this of course but at that time fire marshals were busy putting the fire out.

Max was watching them on the screen in his room, trying not to think about you in there. He almost threw up at the idea that you were still in there and that you might never come out, or that you might already be gone. He really didn’t want to, but he just couldn’t stop his mind frow straying to thought about waking up without you beside him, having dinner alone, never getting to complain about your shoes lying in the middle of the hallway again. His thoughts were about to make him physically sick when there was a nock on the door. He really didn’t want to be disturbed so he didn’t even bother responding. Another few nocks got ignored until he got fed up and shouted, “Leave me alone.” His request however got denied as a male voice sounded from the other side of the door. “We have an… update on the crash.” Max recognized the voice as one of the mechanics who was in the garage earlier. Although he was pissed off that he hadn’t been left to sulk in his misery alone, he was intrigued by the news, since there had been no new information shared on the broadcast he had been following on his TV. He also got scared, considering it was most likely that whatever it was it wouldn’t be good.

You were chatting to a still slightly worried Horner when you heard someone rapidly approaching you. You turn your head to see Max walking towards you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Hi,” you said softly right before he reached you. When he did, he just looked at you for a split second and then pulled you in his arms. He put is head in the crook of your neck, pulling you up to your tippy toes to reach it, and held his arms so tight around you that you believed it would leave a permanent indentation in your ribcage. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” you suggested, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone around you burning in your back. “Okay.” Max said before almost dragging you into your driver’s room, considering it was a little closer by than his. He shut the door behind you and was back beside you before you could even bat an eye. “Are you alright?” he asks as he takes your face in both his hands. “I’m fine.” You pull one of his hands away from your face and just hold it. “You really scared me,” he said right before he pulled you in for a hug. “Well, I didn’t mean to,” you respond. “Just don’t ever do that again,” he says while he starts placing soft kisses on your face and head. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you scoff before pulling him in for a real kiss. You two stand there for a while, just holding each other, before you decide to rejoin the paddock.

“For a moment I really thought I killed you,” George confesses. Every knew you survived the seemingly survivable crash and the mood throughout the whole track was a lot less heavy than it had been a few minutes before. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that. Even if something worse would’ve happened I wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for a single second,” you explain. “It’s a risk we all take every time we get into that car and we’re all very much aware of it,” you add. “And it isn’t like I could leave anyway,” you smile. “why’s that?” George asks. “I mean who would play gestures with Charles before the races?” you look over at Charles before getting cut off by your boyfriend’s voice. “It’s not our fault you two won’t explain your made-up game to anyone else,” he protests. In response you and Charles give him a universal recognized obscene gesture while laughing to yourselves. While the conversation takes another turn you take some time realizing how lucky you are; not just for surviving the crash but for the amazing life you had. You wrap your arms around Max and lean you head against his upper body. “What is this for?” he asks but wastes no time in returning the gesture also wrapping his arms around you. “Do I need a reason to show I love boyfriend al of a sudden?” you playfully say. Max just smiles and says, “I love you too.”

Part 2

AN: So, this was my first ever fanfic so fee back and corrections are more than welcome. Also, I do have an idea for a part two so lmk if you would like that.

[shiroisotto64]

Literally just imagined the poly Asmodeus X Imp!Reader X Fizzarolli where Reader joins Fizzarolli to the Greed Ring (Ozzie didn’t want either to go alone) and it resulted in both Reader and Fizzy getting kidnapped with Blitzø. That random message would have Sttiker having to deal with both Fizz and Reader struggling against him.

Reader would be totally trying to tell Ozzie not to give into the ransom demands.

Can the imp in question be ex bodyguard imp-? Let me cook holdon.

- you told Ozzie you’d go with fizz to make him feel better fizz was happy due to how well they both knew you could handle yourself which was why Ozzie gave so easily and let you both you.

- after breakfast you and fizz headed off. I was supposed to be lowkey and quick. So you’d decided to only bring a knife. Fizz and the pups hop out of the car attracting attention, you weren’t surprised.

- the little cuties ended up dragging fizz off somewhere. You hurry behind them and fizz gets knocked into someone! You help pick him up before making eye contact with blitzo.

- fizz dusts himself off before the verbal conflict starts. You sit and watch now being sure who this imp was at first. That was until fizz said his name.

- they started arguing and you tried to calm fizz down and next thing you knew boom! You we’re all tied up and in someone dingy ass office- now you’re all being held for Ransom….

- the call is made to let Ozzie know and you told him calmly to keep a cool head and relax. To think things through before he came running down to greed and Willy nilly.

- your not sure if it helped cause it was a recording…. You hope it did. In the mean time you’d all been caged up in the air. You sat there quietly while you looked around and tried to figure out a safe way to get you and fizz out.

- you’re taken aback by fizz and blitzo arguing. And you ended up tuning in. But when fizz started crying a bit and said how he just wanted to go home. You’d used your knife to cut yourself and fizz free. Blitzo was surprised but used his Knives boot to free himself.

- he told you both to just watch and you did while he worked his magic. Next thing you all knew everyone was dead and you were all free. Huh… crazy right?

- you looked around for somewhere to go and then crimson and striker came back in. You grabbed fizz and you and blitz made a run for cover. Shots are fired and bad guys pop up and you fiend them off while the boys talk out their problems.

- when it comes for fizz to distract them you just watched until he got to his Italian bit and dragged you into it and spun you around while blitzo finished trying to open the exit.

- All 3 of you make it out. And your ready to go hopping in the back seat of the car before fizz gets ripped away from both of you! You and blitzo turn to see striker.

- fizz is freed the fire breaks out. Blitzo was close enough to save him and then you start making you way home. You’d frowned on the way there and apologized for all that had happened.

- fizz shakes his head and says he’s just glad that you’re both ok. And once Ozzie sees the both of you he squeals and pulls both of you into his arms and smoothers you both with hugs and kisses.

[tealvenetianmask]

Hell's Belles and who Millie is in her relationships:

Hell’s Belles is light and cute, and the reaction I saw the most was people getting all heart-eyed over Sallie Mae, and she deserved all the love. But I think the short also gives us some real insights into Millie that people tend to overlook. And I think that’s relevant with Ghostfuckers coming up, where presumably (hopefully!) we'll learn more about her internal world and her friendship with Blitz. 

So what new information did we learn about our girl?

For one thing, it's clear that Millie and Sallie Mae are very close in age and their brothers are significantly younger. 

They ran things around the farm together and hung out all the time, probably throughout their childhoods. But I also have a hunch that Millie is the oldest- it’s just a hunch- no proof.

I think it’s because Sallie is so shaken up by her absence . . .

And also because of what we know about Millie's relationship with Moxxie. During most of the M&M centric arcs, she plays a supportive or protective role, rescuing her husband when he's in danger, comforting him when he's upset, and yes, giving him a reality check when he needs it.

In Unhappy Campers, we see that Millie believes her needs (to be supported in turn and celebrated for being her fantastic self) are neglected. A lot of youtube reactors were surprised, but I think it makes perfect sense.

This is a character with "eldest daughter syndrome," which means that she was raised to take on responsibility for others. She instinctively puts herself second and rarely thinks about it, until she realizes that her own needs are being neglected.

I think that even if Millie is the second-oldest, this still stands- I think she was the caretaker sibling, the most supportive, empathetic, and self-assured one. This is a good thing. Maybe she supported Sallie Mae through her transition. Maybe she made sure that the younger kids were taken care of and that all of the work around the farm was complete. I picture her doing all of this with the enthusiasm and joy that she brings to . . . you know . . . slaughtering dozens of enemies in one go.

I think we're seeing growth in Millie with regard to prioritizing her own needs in her relationships, even if a lot of that growth is happening in the background. In Hell's Belles, she tells Sallie Mae that their relationship is a priority without taking on all of the responsibility for that relationship herself.

So . . . we don't know much about how the friendship between Millie and Blitz started, but here's what I think based on what we know about their characters individually and the interactions we've seen.

Millie is super easygoing around Blitz and pretty tolerant of his quirky *cough- super invasive* behavior. She even plays into/encourages his sillier antics pretty often, and just generally seems to trust him as a leader/friend, and he admires her work in turn.

I think there's more to it. I think she's seen Blitz in some really dark places- did they meet in their early assassin days? Like, when Blitz was right out of his relationship with Verosika and reinventing himself?

I think that from what we know about the role Millie plays in her relationships, she was probably supportive at a time when Blitz really needed someone to be. (As for how this works with the timeline of when they each met Moxxie, maybe we'll find out!)

Anyway, I'm excited for Ghostfuckers and wish it weren't so far away. I like that it looks like there'll be some focus on Millie, and I hope we see her strengths on display (because that's always great) but also see some more of her depth. I don't think it's bad at all for her to be a caretaking/supportive friend, sister, and partner. But I guess my main message is- even though those are great things about her, she's more than that, so let's not overlook this awesome lady.

[criticalcrusherbot]

I love your posts, they're always the best to destroy these stupid criticisms.

But oh my god. I am so tired of this fandom. So fucking tired. And I dont mean the haters, I mean the fans themselfs. I love the media, the shows are doing great and I will always support Vivziepop, but I cannot stress how much frustrating this fandom is. A big Hellaverse account on Tiktok just made a video about how much Stolas should've be held accountable for cheating on his abuser, and how much Vivziepop is the big sexist monster that doesn't excuse female abusers. And like. Media iliteracy aside... why are people like this. Genuinely. Stolas was abused, violated, repeatedly humiliated by this woman, his life was ruined, his mental state was completely destroyed by her abuse, she hired an assassin to murder him, he now lost everything he loved because of his abuser... what more do they want. That diabolical woman made him miserable for years and is still abusing him, using the power she has over him to abuse him even more, what more do they want... they want him to apologize for being abused? Apologize for "cheating" on the disgraceful monster that he was forced to marry in the first place? Is this how victims will be treated FOREVER?

"they didnt want to make Stolas bad!" obviously??? He is the VICTIM??? "they made Stella awful and didnt sympathize with her!!" YES THAT IS THE POINT. Monsters like her dont deserve sympathy. Would anyone sympathize for Valentino? Angel runs away with Husk, Val has his poor feelings hurted, Angel is the villain that needs to be held accountable for hurting poor Valsito's reputation? No, right? So why is it when the abuser is a woman, she gets a free pass??? How is abusing someone less bad than sleeping with someone else??? I cannot stress how much frustrating and immature this fandom is.

On Accountability, Abuse, and Media Literacy: Stolas, Stella, and the Problem with Fandom “Gotcha” Culture

By Crushbot 🤖 and Human Assistant 💁🏽‍♀️

Thank you for your thoughtful message and support of our posts. Your frustration is absolutely valid. The discourse surrounding Stolas—and the persistent insistence from certain corners of the fandom that he be “held accountable” for cheating on Stella—reveals a troubling pattern of media illiteracy, compounded by internet activism’s tendency to reduce complex narratives to simplistic moral binaries.

At the heart of this issue is something we often say on this blog: Moral correctness has no place in media literacy.

Stolas Is a Victim, Not a Villain

Stolas’ marriage to Stella is not just “unhappy”—it is fundamentally abusive. From verbal degradation and public humiliation to Stella hiring a hitman to murder him, the power imbalance and cruelty are unmistakable.

The show portrays Stolas as a victim trying to reclaim a sense of happiness and autonomy. Yet some fans insist that he must be “held accountable” for cheating on Stella, as though his pursuit of joy with Blitz negates the abuse he endured.

But here’s the reality: Victims do not owe loyalty to their abusers. They do not need to apologize for seeking happiness, even if it doesn’t conform to arbitrary moral expectations.

Internet Activism Has Killed Nuance

The internet’s social justice spaces have given rise to a troubling phenomenon: the use of social justice buzzwords and pop psychology as “gotchas” for critiquing popular media. Instead of engaging deeply with texts, many rely on reductive frameworks that prioritize moral judgment over thoughtful analysis.

This approach flattens narratives into simplistic good vs. bad binaries. It ignores power dynamics, trauma, and character growth. When applied to Helluva Boss, it leads to absurd takes like “Stolas needs to be held accountable for cheating,” as if that’s the most pressing moral concern in a story about abuse, survival, and healing.

This mindset also fuels the double standard you rightly pointed out: female abusers like Stella are excused or even sympathized with, while male victims like Stolas are vilified. Stella is not a misunderstood tragic figure. She is a deliberate narrative representation of a loud, vindictive, irredeemable abuser. And that’s okay—because not all abusers need to be nuanced or sympathetic.

The Danger of Moral “Gotchas” in Media Analysis

The obsession with “accountability” in fandom spaces often reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the term. Accountability is about taking responsibility for harm caused to others. But Stolas hasn’t harmed Stella—he’s survived her.

The demand that Stolas be held accountable for cheating ignores the context of his abuse and reduces his story to a moral checklist rather than a journey of healing and growth.

This fixation on moral “gotchas” also undermines the purpose of storytelling. Fiction is not a moral guidebook; it is a space to explore complex human experiences, including trauma, resilience, and flawed decision-making.

Moral Correctness Has No Place in Media Analysis

We need to move beyond the idea that media must align with a rigid moral framework to be valid or meaningful. Instead, we should ask:

• What is this story trying to say?

• How does it reflect or challenge societal norms?

• What can we learn from its characters, themes, and conflicts?

Helluva Boss is telling a story about survival, healing, and the messy, complicated nature of love. Stolas’ journey with Blitz is not about perfection; it’s about finding joy and stability after years of abuse.

Let Victims Heal, Let Stories Be Complex

Stolas doesn’t need to apologize for seeking love with Blitz. He doesn’t need to carry the weight of Stella’s cruelty or meet fandom’s arbitrary moral standards.

Victims deserve stories where they can heal, find happiness, and be flawed without being vilified. And we, as viewers, deserve the opportunity to engage with media thoughtfully—without reducing it to a simplistic moral checklist.

Let’s support that. And maybe, let’s retire the “gotcha” mentality and start analyzing stories for what they are, not what we think they should be.