#after they die viktor hates himself more than ever but is just like tired. hes tired. and he selfish and he loves jayce

[regallotus]

jayvik is so Fuckinginsane to me because the only reason they couldnt just like Be Happy is that Viktor hated himself to much to let Jayce love him and Jayce loved Viktor to much to ever make him be loved

[dvlwthn]

“  i  think  i  am  a  better  ghost  –-                than  i  am  a  human  being  .  ”

Is that SEBASTIAN STAN? No, that’s just VIKTOR MICHAIL EVANOFF. They were born on 13/08/1733 and are a HUNTER living in Northknot Town. They work as a EMT. Some say they're RESOURCEFUL and OBSERVANT, but I’ve heard others say they're CLOSED-OFF and UNSTABLE. When you think of HIM, don’t you think of  HANDS  TAINTED  RED  AND  A  MIND  FILLED  WITH  GUILT  ,  CONFUSED  RAGE  WITH  NO  OUTLET  ,  SCREAMS  OF  THE  PAST  FILLING  THE  NIGHT  AIR?

A E S T H E T I C

HAUNTING  SCREAMS  OF  THE  PAST  .  WAKING  UP  WITH  NO  MEMORY  .  THE  OVERWHELMING  FEELING  OF  DROWN  ONCE  THE  PAST  TRIES  TO  CATCH  UP  WITH  YOU  .  DRIVING  FAST  UNDER  THE  MIDNIGHT  SKY  .  SLEEP  BEING  UNKNOWN  .  TO  DIE  WOULD  BE  A  PRIVILEGE  .  ACTING  OFF  EMOTIONS  BECAUSE  IT’S  ALL  HE’S  EVER  KNOWN  .

Q U O T E S

“  i  will  not sleep  .  i  cannot  sleep  .  i  cannot  hear  those  screams  again    .   ”   –  unknown..

“  there  are  all  these  moments  you  don’t  think  you  will  survive  and  then  you  survive  .   ”   –  david levithan.

“  you  don’t  get  to  die  and  be  reborn  the  same  .  you  come  back  ,  but  you  come  back  wrong  .  this  is  the  price  you  pay  for  resurrection  .   ”   – nathaniel orion.

“  i  like  the  scars  because  i  like  the  stories  .  bravery  ,  stupidity  ,  pain  . . .  none  of  them  come  free  .  ”  –  jessica  martinez

M U S I C    P L A Y E R

“   life  isn't  always  what  you  think  it'd  be  .  turn  your  head  for  one  second  and  the  tables  turn  . . .  and  i  know  ,  i  know  that  i  did  you  wrong  but  will  you  trust  me  when  i  say  that  i'll  make  it  up  to  you  somehow  ,  somehow  .  ”   i’m so sorry by imagine dragons.

“   somebody  make  me  feel  alive  and  shatter  me  .  so  cut  me  from  the  line  –-  dizzy  ,  spinning  endlessly  .  somebody  make  me  feel  alive  and  shatter  me  !  ”   shatter me by lindsey stirling.

“   i've  become  so  numb  .  i  can't  feel  you  there  –  become  so  tired  . . .  so  much  more  aware  .  i'm  becoming  this  .  all  i  want  to  do  is  be  more  like  me  and  be  less  like  you  .  ”   numb by linkin park.

P E R S O N A L I T Y  

+ calculated, protective, and intelligent

- self-critical, detached, and secretive

viktor has always been pretty smart, it’s something that helped him a long way. he picked up on things easily which came from always keeping busy. it’s how he dealt with a lot of his issues... by just not dealing with them and finding something to do.  

after coming to terms with everything he’s done, viktor was really hard on himself and found it hard to connect with people. he was good at pretending, but didn’t think he deserved real happiness.

what maybe come as a surprise to some people, is how charming he can be. it takes awhile for him to warm up to people, but once he does, they see more of this side to him. his charming and playful side. and once they start to see it, he becomes very loyal and protective of them. 

H E A D C A N O N S

001. viktor michail evanoff was born to michail and helena evanoff, not they he’d remember that. he also had a younger brother named ivan who, if he could remember,  he’d miss more than anything in the world. while he may  not remember it, his family was killed by a couple of rouge vampires who did it for fun.  viktor had just gotten home from fighting in some war he couldn’t remember. he was celebrating his return home with his family. if he really really tried to remember, all he’d come up with is screaming and the colour red.

002. when he woke up after being turned into a hunter, he remembered nothing of his life. there was a block on his mind. the only thing he could remember was rage. they had made him the perfect killing machine. he was only told to kill, that it’s what he was meant to do. to protect humans. yet, during that time, he didn’t care about protecting, he just needed to kill. he followed his gut and killed plenty of supernatural beings without an ounce of hesitation. including the two witches that had been there when he woke. that told him his job was to kill. they hadn’t been part of the ritual, they were just the ones taking care of him while in transition to hunter.

003. for his first life as a hunter, he didn’t even know his own name. he didn’t need to know it. he travelled all over the world killing any and all supernatural beings he came across. he picked up many different languages during this time. despite not being social, he knew it was important to know what was being said around him to help him hunt down these things. 

004. during his second lifetime, things were pretty much the same, except now he was hunting down witches with the intention of finding someone to remove the block on his mind. no one ever could and he grew more and more frustrated about it. which caused his rage to become out of control again. he did, however, finally learn his name. not that it helped him cause he could find no information on himself.

005. after coming back for the third time, he started to become pissed off for a different reason. he could only wonder when he’d not come back. when he’d no longer have to being a killing machine. he was ALREADY tired of it. but he kept at it because it was all he knew. it was during this lifetime that he had gotten hurt and stumbled upon northknot for the first time. his urge to kill was going crazy, yet no one tried to hurt him. in fact, someone had offered to help him. it left him confused. he knew he could kill anyone in the town, he was too hurt. but he planned to. he did. he figured he’d act however he needed to survive and kill as many creatures as he could once he was better. but his healing process took longer than he thought and he had time to see what this town really was. this weren’t creatures coming together planing ways to kill humans... not this was PEOPLE coming together to live. to survive. to hide from humans. to hide from him. these were families just being. it wasn’t them that was wrong with the world, it was him. so when he was FINALLY healed, he left, promising to never come back.

006. the fourth time he came back, he didn’t want to hunt anymore. he remembered his third life so vividly and intensely that as soon as he woke up, he had actually just started crying. thinking of everything he did before. of all the PEOPLE he killed without even questioning it. so this life time, he knew he had to do better... which is when he started practicing medicine. he had known basic things from having to take care of himself, but now he was trying to help others... but the urge was still there, so he took what he knew and was learning and applied it to fighting still, becoming a medic in the army. it was the perfect way to ease himself into doing better. 

007. since then, he has come back a couple more times and has had his slips up where his instincts got the better of him. but he still continued to try. he didn’t want to end up like the monsters he hunted. so he made sure to only hunt those who truly deserved it. all while helping those in need.

008. he has spent a lot of time travelling the world and learning as much as he could. languages, culture, history, everything. the man hated NOT KNOWING considering how much he didn’t know about himself. so he tried to make up for it by knowing everything else. 

009. the moment heard the news about what was happening in northknot, the man didn’t hesitate in making his way back. he was surprised with himself, he really was. but he needed to help, especially help this town. 

C O N N E C T I O N S

Best Friend. they met while viktor was hunting. this person had been hunting the same person. surprisingly the two managed to get along pretty well. mainly just due to them being able to work so well together. they could have been on a better path already and tried helping viktor through his time trying to figure it out... or viktor went through his change first and helped them when they figured it out for themselves.

Child Like Figure. viktor met this person after he already started seeing that supernatural creatures were more than he was told. the two ended up helping each other. they both came from a pretty tough background and ended up teaching each other what a family was meant to be. [ closed ; upcoming ]

Enemy. before seeing the error of his ways, viktor killed a lot of innocent people. this person would be someone connected to one of those people and are looking for revenge. 

Ex. what started as two people just using each other for sex, ended up with one of them caring more than planned. so things between them stopped. however, they started up again when they ran into each other a month or so later. this time, they both fell for each other. but things ended when a group of vampires attacked them. this was when he got really injured and ended up in northknot the first time. he wasn’t aware of the fact that this person was changed into a vampire. neither are aware that the other is alive. 

Someone He Saved. could be someone he saved in town (working as an emt) or someone he saved before coming to town. he checks up on them from time to time, just to make sure they’re okay.

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [8/37]

A/N: Next update will be September 26th. 

Chapter Seven – Missteps

“I hate this.”

Yuuri slowed to a stop and turned to look at Yuri, his head cocked to the side.

“Hate what?”

“This!” Yuri gestured wildly with his arms, “I feel like a child, with them watching us like that.”

Yuuri turned away from Yuri and glanced over to where Otabek and Viktor had been watching them surreptitiously from across the gardens, and doing a very bad job of hiding it. Otabek was nursing a beer, while Viktor was drinking tea from a truly horrid floral teacup. Viktor was smiling indulgently at the pair of omegas, while Otabek seemed to be glaring at the tabletop.

It had been just over two months since Yuri had seen Yuuri last, and the older omega overall looked the same, if a bit more anxious than usual. Yuri wasn't certain the same could be said for him—he felt completely wiped out after coming down from his second miserable heat in Otabek's company. It had played out very much like the first—Otabek waited until the heat actually hit before he offered Yuri the suppressants, as though hoping Yuri may have suffered some sort of extreme brain damage that would cause him to welcome Otabek's touch, and not reject him again.

Needless to say, it had been another miserable heat, where Yuri all but begged Otabek to leave him be.

“Viktor's just...protective,” Yuuri replied awkwardly, his face flooding with colour as he spoke, and he looked away from the alphas to focus his gaze on his feet.

“I'll bet,” Yuri said sarcastically. “Protective of his offspring, maybe, but what about you?”

“He cares for me...I—I think,” Yuuri answered awkwardly, and moved a hand to the mark on his throat; the movement seemed to be unconscious, rather than deliberate. “I mean, he's good to me, I'm not afraid of him or anything, and...he's just...eccentric? He's a little weird and over-the-top at times.”

“Is that Japanese for he tries too hard?”

Yuuri smiled weakly.

“Just a little.”

They kept walking, staying out of earshot of the two alphas, though they kept their eyes on the omegas like two birds of prey. Yuri kept an eye on Yuuri, and could not help but notice how often his hand strayed to his abdomen, which was still completely flat.

“You...uh, go see the doctor yet?” Yuri asked awkwardly, and nodded towards Yuuri's stomach. He seemed to pale a little at the words, and nodded meekly.

“Yeah.”

“And...?”

“It's...it's...I'm looking at a C-section,” Yuuri replied weakly, and Yuri blinked in confusion.

“What? Why?”

“Well...” Yuuri paused, and swallowed audibly. “Um...the doctor didn't find one heartbeat...he found three.”

“Oh...oh. Ow.” Yuri winced. “I don't like the idea of pushing one out of my...but three?”

“Viktor's even more excited than he was before, but I have to be extra careful I don't tire myself out and stuff. He's sort of given overbearing a whole new meaning.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Yuuri smiled weakly at Yuri's sarcasm. “How do you feel about it, though?”

“Mostly? Still scared,” Yuuri admitted, his hands still on his abdomen as he dropped his gaze again. “The idea of having to be a dad to three kids instead of one...what if I'm a bad dad? What if Viktor's working too much to help me? What if something happens and they die?”

“Yuuri, breathe,” Yuri said quickly when it looked like Yuuri was a step away from having a total mental breakdown. “First, you're a great caregiver. You took care of me when I first got to the Omega House, and I was a fucking wreck. I'm sure if you can handle me, you can handle three babies.” Yuri paused, then offered Yuuri a small smirk, “besides, they're not just Viktor's kids...they're yours, too. Their first words will probably be sorry.”

Yuuri chuckled weakly, he but did not contradict him.

“I suppose it'd be easier to deal with if we didn't feel like...their kept boys or something,” Yuri continued, and cast a quick glare over to where the alphas sat. Otabek still was staring at his feet, and it looked as though he hadn't touched his beer.

“Otabek never takes you out?” Yuuri asked, and Yuri shook his head. “Maybe...maybe that's because he hasn't marked you yet? Viktor takes me out a lot, but...”

“But what?”

“Well...he says he likes having me on his arm, so maybe I'm just his...what's the word...arm candy?”

“Alphas are so charming,” Yuri added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You could replace us with blow-up sex dolls and they wouldn't know the difference.”

Yuuri smiled weakly at that, but he didn't answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the scenery as he eased down under the willow tree at the edge of the property, the same one that Yuri was so fond of. They sat almost out of sight of the two alphas, and as Yuri eased down next to his companion, he spotted the alphas moving their table to keep them in view.

“Maybe Otabek hasn't taken you anywhere because of this...?” Yuuri reached out and touched the obedience collar, and Yuri flinched a little. He still hated the damn thing and wanted it off, but he hadn't yet worked out how to do that. “Sorry,” Yuuri said quickly, “I just mean, maybe he's worried that you'll run, or get taken away by another alpha, since he hasn't marked you yet?”

“And so his solution is to lock me away here until I go insane from the solitude, since the only time he ever talks to me is when he wants to discuss my heats or whatever...” Yuri mumbled miserably, and glanced over to the pair of alphas again. This time, he caught Otabek watching them, and he narrowed his eyes into a glare.

Otabek looked away.

“Yurio, I know it's not the greatest situation in the world...but...maybe let him in, just a little?” Yuuri asked timidly, “I mean...things with Viktor are...confusing, but he's nice, and he takes care of me. Otabek wants to take care of you, I can see it—we all can. What do you have to lose by letting him...you know...be close to you?”

“You mean besides by body autonomy?” Yuri asked snidely, and Yuuri flinched. The older omega's hand immediately moved to his abdomen, and Yuri felt the first tendrils of guilt worm in his stomach.

“Fuck, Yuuri, I'm sorr—”

“—no,” Yuuri interrupted with a small smile, “it's all right—you're right. I mean, maybe it's not the most healthy thing in the world, but...Viktor makes me happy. He does all he can to make me feel cared for, and I'd hate to see you alone and miserable out here because you and Otabek can't find some sort of common ground.”

“I think he thinks he's being noble, letting me choose when I'm marked,” Yuri muttered, and glared down at the grass.

“In a way, he sort of is,” Yuuri replied meekly. “I mean, Viktor marked me practically the second he took me home, and Otabek letting you acclimate to this life before...it's nice. I think it's sweet.”

“Sweet? Sweet?” Yuri sputtered, and the older omega recoiled a little in alarm at Yuri's tone of voice. “What the hell is wrong with you? He's just...he's trying to break me so that I'll say yes. I can't—I won't let that happen. I'm not going to turn into his...his...whore and his brood mare. I can't do that—I won't.”

~*~

When Yuuri left that evening, the possessive arm of his alpha draped over him, Yuri could not help but feel a distinctive loss as he watched them descend to Viktor's painfully flashy red convertible and speed away.

A hand at the small of Yuri's back made him jump a little, and he whirled around to see Otabek frowning at him. Yuri glared, and stepped out of his reach.

“Leave me alone,” Yuri growled, and moved to storm away, but Otabek was too fast for him. Otabek grabbed his forearm, the hold just firm enough to keep Yuri from breaking free, but not hard enough to be painful.

“Let me go, asshole,” Yuri growled, and Otabek's scowl deepened.

“No,” he replied firmly, and half-dragged a protesting Yuri down the hall and into the parlour. He did not stop until they reached the antique leather settee, and he forced Yuri down onto it.

“Yuri, I have tried to be nice, I have tried to give you space, I have tried to be close to you, I have tried to give you what you need to be happy here,” Otabek said, a note of frustration in his voice. “What will it take to make you happy?”

“Let me go home.”

“You are home.”

“No, I'm not, when are you going to get that through your thick skull?” Yuri snarled, his eyes narrowed in his fury, “I'll never, never see this as home. This is a prison. My home is that tiny shack by the sea, with my grandfather, and it reeks of fish and wood smoke, and there's barely enough room for the two of us but I don't care because that's home, and I haven't been there for five years, and it's likely that I never see it again, thanks to you. If you won't let me go home, send me back to the Omega House, I don't care, but I don't want to be here.”

Otabek stared at Yuri following his rant. His gaze was clouded, dark, and very close to fury. Yuri did not back down, but glared right back at him.

Suddenly, Otabek lurched forward, almost as though he'd intended to make a grab for Yuri, but stopped himself short, and with an angry shout he jumped up and stormed from the room.

Yuri watched him go, his skin tingling with nervousness.

He couldn't quite explain why, but he felt as though he'd dodged some kind of bullet.

Still shaking a little, Yuri decided to make an early night, and hastened from the parlour and up to his bedroom.

~*~

Movement.

A strange jostling, and Yuri could feel arms across his back and under his knees, like he was being carried somewhere.

He cracked his eyes open. Above him the silhouette of Otabek was thrown into sharp relief by the dim lights, which were whisking past them steadily.

“O-Otabek?” Yuri croaked sleepily, “what are you doing?” Yuri blinked up at the figure above him, and he hushed the omega.

“Shh, my Yuri,” he murmured softly, “you're dreaming, go back to sleep...”

~*~

When Yuri woke the next morning, it was so early that it was still pitch-black outside. The sky was a deep indigo, and Yuri could hear the soft chirping of songbirds greeting the day. He was momentarily overwhelmed by confusion by what had woken him, but after a moment, he realized—this was not his room.

It was then that Yuri became acutely aware of the gentle weight of an arm across his ribs, and a warm body at his back.

Yuri's eyes bulged in sudden understanding.

I'm in Otabek's room, he thought.

I wasn't dreaming.

He really was in my bedroom last night.

How strange that the thought did not distress him in the same way it normally would have.

No, no, no. Yuri shook his head a little, careful to not wake the alpha. I can't think like that. That's what he wants, for me to break down and let him in. I'm still waking up, I'll start panicking any minute now.

“Yuri...”

His name was vocalized like a sigh, and he whipped around to face Otabek, only to find him still in a dead sleep.

Is he...dreaming about me?

Otabek sighed again, and seemed to unconsciously shift closer, as though keen to eliminate the space between them. Yuri froze, startled, and uncertain what to do, while he watched as Otabek snuggled close, and seemed to radiate sleepy contentment.

“Yuri...” he mumbled again, but beyond that, he did nothing else.

His voice softly speaking his name made Yuri's heart flutter in a strange, uncomfortable sort of way, and he was glad that Otabek was asleep, and would not see this reaction.

~*~

Yuri could not recall falling asleep again, but just as suddenly he found himself waking up, and bright autumn sunshine was filtering in through the huge bay window.

He was not alone in the bed; Otabek was stretched out next to him, on his side with his head cradled in his hand, and elbow braced against the mattress. Yuri could feel the soft tickle of the alpha stroking his hair, and he hated how his body seemed to come alive from the gentle touch.

“Morning,” Otabek said when Yuri's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled warmly down at the omega.

“Morning,” Yuri croaked, while Otabek continued to stroke his hair lightly. Yuri closed his eyes again; it felt nice, and he felt far too groggy to protest it—yet.

“I took the liberty of asking Stephenson to bring us breakfast in bed,” Otabek hedged awkwardly, “I wanted to talk to you somewhere comfortable, and I figured you'd be more open to it if there's coffee and pastries involved.”

Yuri's knee-jerk reaction was still to go against anything and everything that Otabek said, but at the mention of food, his stomach gave an audible gurgle. He deflated a little, but still eyed Otabek distrustfully.

“...what kind of pastries?”

“Strudel, danish, turnovers, croissants...” Otabek reached for his bedside table and produced a platter of a number of different pastries, some with fruit filling, some drenched in icing, and the croissants seemed to be of the chocolate variety, with its tips dipped in dark, tempered chocolate.

Yuri eyed the tray uncertainly as he sat up and crossed his legs. Immediately, Otabek balanced the buffet of fat and carbs across Yuri's knees, and the omega licked his lips as his stomach growled again.

“This doesn't mean I've forgotten that you basically kidnapped me from my own bed last night to bring me in here,” Yuri warned, “I'm just...not awake enough yet to be mad at you.”

“That's fine,” Otabek replied in a mild tone, as though wholly unbothered by Yuri's promise of an impending temper tantrum. “Coffee?”

“Please. Black.”

Otabek lifted a sleek French Press off the night stand, and filled one of the available mugs. Yuri accepted it from the alpha, and felt his face flood with colour when their fingers lightly brushed together.

He did that on purpose...

The thought did not improve Yuri's mood, but as he sipped the hot drink, it took all of his strength to not moan out loud.

This isn't coffee, Yuri thought dazedly, this is the nectar of the Gods.

“Is it good?” Otabek asked, and Yuri cursed inwardly. How much he liked it must have shown on his face.

“It's all right,” he replied simply, and picked up the chocolate croissant. “Uh...what did you want to talk about?”

“Well...us.”

Yuri definitely saw that one coming.

“What about this time?” Yuri asked sourly as he bit into the croissant, and nearly choked in surprise, for there was a full-sized brownie in the centre of the thing.

“Well...how much do you know about alphas?” Otabek asked, “I mean, how we differ from omegas and things like that?” He spoke in a light, unassuming tone while he filled his own cup and began to sip it, though made no attempt to close the distance between them, or help himself to any of the available pastries.

“All I've ever been told about you alphas is that you're big, sex-crazed brutes who are obsessed with having children,” Yuri replied, his voice thick, given that his mouth was still full of food. To his response, Otabek frowned a little.

“I wouldn't say sex-crazed, but for me, the children part is fairly accurate. It's something that I want very much, Yuri.” Yuri opened his mouth to respond in anger, but Otabek continued before he had a chance to. “But that's not to say I want to pressure you into it before you feel ready. I stand by my intent to wait until you want it, not just me.”

“You'll be waiting a long time...” Yuri muttered under his breath, but if Otabek caught the comment, he didn't react to it.

“Anyway,” the alpha continued, “there's other things, too. When there's an unbonded omega nearby, even out of heat, it can be disorienting, especially if we're interested in that omega—that's part of why the Omega House program exists, to protect omegas from rape, and to help the alphas feel less...well, fucked up.”

“What do you mean by...disorienting?” Yuri asked uncertainly as he gazed up at Otabek.

“You know that feeling when your blood sugar is low, and you're very dizzy, you can't focus on anything, but the second you sit and eat, your head clears?”

“Um...I think so...”

“Well, when I smell you, but I can't go near you, it's kind of like that,” Otabek said, and reached for Yuri. He flinched slightly, but the alpha did nothing more than brush a few blond strands from his eyes. “The moment I get to touch you, even if it's something as simple as this, it's like a healing balm or something. I feel so...alive.”

Yuri felt a blush rise in his cheeks, and he stared down into his coffee mug. He knew what Otabek wanted in the grand scheme of things, but as to what he was getting at from this conversation, he was drawing a blank.

“I'm not sure what you want from me, here,” Yuri mumbled, and squirmed uncomfortably. His knee-jerk reaction was still to rebel against anything and everything Otabek had to say, but this morning he felt far too drained to go forward with his usual routine of being as big a pain in the ass as he possibly could. At the same time however, speaking to Otabek softly like this was making his pride bristle with negation. The whole thing left Yuri feeling terribly confused and unsettled.

“I want you to give me a chance, and I want you to come back to our bed,” Otabek said, his voice soft, but Yuri could easily discern the pleading tone in it.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry.

“So you can groom me to be your baby factory?” Yuri sniped as he set down the coffee on the night table, pushed the tray away, and gathered his legs to his chest.

He remembered now why he hated Otabek.

Yuri buried his face in his knees, and shivered when he felt a large hand brush through his hair. Like before, it tickled his scalp, and he hated how calming the tiny action was. It wasn't fair. He didn't want to be calmed by Otabek, he wanted his hatred of the alpha to be pure.

But the more time that passed however, the more confusing his feelings towards Otabek became.

“I don't want you to be any more or less than yourself, Yuri,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri shivered when he felt a kiss brush against his temple. Yuri's arms tensed around his legs, and he did not move. “All I want from you right now is the honour of holding you at night as you sleep—protecting you, if you'd let me.”

“I can take care of myself,” Yuri cut in, his voice muffled slightly by the fact that he hadn't lifted his face from his arms. He heard Otabek chuckle, and the bed shifted as the alpha moved to sit behind him,  and resumed stroking Yuri's hair.

He could feel the lift and fall of his hair as Otabek's fingers carded through the blond locks, and Yuri shivered a little. It felt nice. He hated that it felt nice.

“I know that you can, Yuri, but sometimes it's okay to let someone else take care of you, too.”

“Someone like you, maybe?” Yuri asked; he'd meant the words to be cutting, but they came out more feeble as his body responded to the alpha's gentle touch against his scalp. It was so calming, like Otabek was draining all the fight out of him. Yuri tried to muster up some anger for his situation, for how Otabek had snuck him into his own bed without his consent, but it wouldn't come. He felt calm, and pliant, and Otabek seemed to know it, too. Yuri couldn't be sure of this, of course, given that from his current position he couldn't see Otabek's face, but  somehow, strangely, Yuri was certain that he could sense it.

“Yes,” Otabek answered smoothly, “someone like me. I do care for you, Yuri. I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't want you in my life. Is it really so bad?”

“Yes,” Yuri deadpanned. “You chose me like a shirt off a rack. That's not really how dating is supposed to work.”

“We are alpha and omega,” Otabek pointed out, “we aren't betas. Our social interactions are not the same.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbled in reply, “you're not the one enslaved, here.”

“You're not my slave,” Otabek growled, the danger in his tone so intense that Yuri jumped a little in surprise at the sound of it. The alpha's hands dropped to Yuri's waist, and he held tightly to him, not unlike a child with their treasured toy. “If you were, I could just order you into my bed, and order you to carry my children. Instead, I am asking, and trying to win your affection.”

Yuri glared into the crook of his arms, and wondered whether it was worth pointing out that his attempts to win him, as he put it, involved leaving him in seclusion with no one but him to talk to. He'd been to school long enough to know what psychological torture was.

Trouble was, he couldn't remember how to properly fight against it.

A hand brushed Yuri's cheek, and he jumped. The angle told him that Otabek was now in front of him, not behind him, but he couldn't recall feeling the alpha move.

Yuri looked up reluctantly, the change in lighting enough to make his eyes sting, and he gazed up at the alpha—his keeper—nervously. What was he planning? His face was always so blank, and Yuri often found that his actions were scarily unpredictable, and he'd only realized that he'd gone too far when Otabek snapped.

At the present moment, Otabek's expression was the same impassive one Yuri had come to know so well. This time, there was a note of tenderness to the look, and it caused a shiver to run through him.

What did Otabek want? What was Yuri supposed to say?

Unconsciously, Yuri inched backward.

Otabek reached out for him, his expression shifting from tender to mournful.

“Yuri, please...”

“Please what?” Yuri asked nervously, and watched as Otabek inched forward to close the distance between them again. Yuri froze, his breath stilled, and he felt once more that strange combination of fear and want overwhelm him as Otabek's hot hands closed over his own, and the alpha's lips stopped scant inches from Yuri's.

“Can we start again?” Otabek asked, his breath tickling over Yuri's lips. “I want you in my life, not just my bed. The only time we ever see each other is when I want to discuss things regarding this claim or my hope to have children with you. I think maybe that was the wrong approach. I was trying to give you space, but I think I created more of a rift, and made you think I only wanted you around for one thing.”

“Um...what did you have in mind?”

“Viktor is throwing a party next week, and he's invited a handful of mated alphas to the event. Sort of a pre-baby shower shower thing. I wasn't going to go since things between us are so tense, but...would you come with me?”

Yuri bit his lip.

To go meant finally to escape this house, even if only for a little while, but it also meant that he'd have to play the part of a happy little omega hanging on the arm of his alpha, which didn't exactly sit well with him either.

“You won't be expected to hang onto my arm the whole time, and there'll be no free alphas there, so there's no worry that someone might try to take you from me.” Otabek murmured softly,  and he reached out to card his fingers lightly through Yuri's hair.

There's no worry that someone might try to take you from me.

Yuri frowned; in that simple sentence, Otabek proved once more that he still did not see Yuri as anything more than his possession—something to own. How could Yuri even contemplate being with someone who felt that way about him? If he were to be with anyone, he wanted to be on equal footing with him, not this freak show.

The thought made Yuri feel—if possible—even more depressed, but with Otabek hovering over him and waiting for an answer, he knew he wouldn't be able to brood in peace until he responded to the alpha's request.

“I'll think about it,” Yuri said at last, and Otabek's face broke into a brilliant, sunny smile. He brushed his lips over Yuri's in a soft kiss, then slipped from the bed and headed for the adjoining bathroom.

The moment Yuri heard the rush of the shower running, he wasted no time, and bolted from the room.

A/N: If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P NLMG Masterpost

[kazliin]

Every Pawn Can Become A Queen Snippets Part 3 of 3

I promised people that I would write the ending of the Historical Fantasy Arranged Marriage Au that came from my original fake Viktuuri fic list from the Rivals series alternate A03 so here it is! 

Original post here

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Disclaimer - this is a mock up of what one of the fics written by Viktuuri fans in the Rivals universe on the alternate AO3 might look like and therefore is a reflection of how fans see umfb!Yuuri and Viktor not as they actually are. Also again this is a quick fun piece of writing so please don’t take it seriously!

Every Pawn Can Become A Queen Snippets Part 3 of 3

Rating:  Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Category: M/M

Fandom: Figure Skating RPF

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov

Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor Nikiforov, Katsuki Mari, Phichit Chulanont, Christophe Giacometti, Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin, Jean-Jacques Leroy, Georgi Popovich, Mila Babicheva, Other Character Tags To Be Added

Additional tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe – Historical Fantasy, Alternate Universe – Royalty, Plotting, Assassination Attempts, Enemies to Lovers

Summary:

Yuuri is the Prince of an Empire, second in line for the throne and renown in battle, a formidable warrior who has been fighting for almost half his life against the neighbouring Empire and their barbaric ways. But after tragedy strikes both kingdoms, an uneasy peace must be formed between the two opposing sides, a peace that must be sealed with the strongest of bonds.

Charged with keeping the peace for the sake of his people, Yuuri is forced to leave his homeland forever and marry the only son and heir of the opposing kingdom, forging an alliance with marriage to protect the empire built on the backs and blood of his family and now ruled by his beloved sister. But Yuuri knows what the marriage truly is beneath the pretty words. A life-sentence, imprisoned forever under the rule of a man he hates and has faced on the battlefield countless time.

But the political machinations of the foreign court might prove to be an even deadlier battlefield than the one he just left and he must keep the peace between the two kingdoms to save the lives of millions, whatever the cost. And what’s more, his long-time enemy and new husband is not the man he believed him to be and his position as Prince Consort holds more power than he ever expected. For the one who holds the heart of the future king is the one who can control the kingdom.

Extract from chapter 14 of 15

 Yuuri could feel the sweat dripping from his brow as he ducked yet another swing from an enemy sword, knowing every moment could be his last. The fighting was intense inside the walls of the palace and if his plan didn’t start to work soon he knew every man and woman he had brought in to fight would be lost. They were loyal and brave but they were vastly outnumbered. The numbers wouldn’t matter if the cogs he had set in motion were allowed to work while he caused the distraction but if they failed he would die and everyone who followed him would die with him.

The fighting was intense and Yuuri was right in the thick of it but even so he still saw when a flash of silver hair appeared in the distance far across the cavernous throne room filled with fighting soldiers. Viktor had entered the fray, determined to protect his home even if Yuuri wasn’t the real threat. Far from it. But Viktor didn’t know that. All he knew was that the enemy were here and they were armed and it was his duty as a prince to cut them down.

Yuuri just prayed that even with Viktor there he would still have time. Viktor was a legendary warrior and with him joining the fight the balance would tilt against them even more rapidly.

Dodging another blade he moved, determined to cut across the hall and out into the corridor where the worst of the fighting was still taking place. As he moved he saw Viktor falter, saw him turn and could sense the moment that their eyes locked from across the room, blue on brown, the air seeming to thicken all around them.

A flash of deepest betrayal shone in Viktor’s gaze and Yuuri remembered his husband’s promise when they had last seen each other, that if Yuuri were ever to step foot back in his country again Viktor would cut him down without a second thought. But Viktor made no move towards him, still gazing at him even as the chaos raged around them and Yuuri could feel the guilt claw up his throat and threaten to strangle him.

He was doing this for Viktor, for both of them and for everyone they served. And Viktor would see that, if only Yuuri could buy a few more minutes. But even as the thought crossed his mind he saw the iron walls slam down behind Viktor’s eyes, cutting off all emotion as his eyes narrowed. He raised his sword in a fighting stance and Yuuri knew that, love or no, Viktor was not intending to let him escape again.

He loved Viktor, loved him with all his heart and he knew that he couldn’t fight him. Couldn’t ever imagine harming him and couldn’t let Viktor cut him down mere minutes before Yuuri proved his innocence and finally uncovered the real traitors for all to see.

So he did the next best thing. He ran.

 Extract from chapter 14 of 15  

The corridor was strangely dark and deserted and Yuuri could hear his own ragged breaths as he staggered down it, exhaustion clawing at his bone. It had worked, his plan had succeeded and any second now everyone in the castle would know the truth. He could go back to Viktor and they could begin to make things right between them. Deal swiftly with the traitors and restore peace to their empires.

There had been moments when he had been sure that he would fail, would die or worse, watch the deaths of those he loved. But he had determination and he had faith and finally the end was near.

There was a soft twang from behind him and Yuuri staggered forward from an unexpected impact, the force of it combined with the exhaustion nearly knocking him to his knees. There was no pain which was why Yuuri felt the shock flood through him when he looked down to see what had struck him so unexpectedly.

The wicked metal head of an arrow protruded from his left side, low down and far enough out that it could almost have missed him altogether. The tip gleamed red in the torchlight and Yuuri’s hazy mind dazedly registered that it was his blood smeared across the tip and now slowly staining his shirt like wine.

Slowly he turned around, willing his eyes to focus on the figure that was standing behind him, the figure who had shot him so inexpertly.

Gradually the shape swam into focus and Yuuri could feel his lips mouthing the familiar name. “Yuri.” he mumbled and even though there was no pain he could feel the wound begin to sap the last of his pitiful remaining strength, forcing him to sink ungracefully to his knees.

Yuri was standing at the far end of the corridor, bow still raised in his hand but with the sting hanging loose. His hands were trembling, shaking violently and for a second Yuuri’s muddled brain couldn’t begin process why. Yuri was famed for his archery skills, Yuuri had seen him put an arrow straight through a squirrel’s eye at a hundred yards. A long expanse of corridor might be separating them but he couldn’t understand how Yuri could possibly have missed him, could have shot him so inexpertly that he wasn’t already dead.

As he watched, Yuuri saw Yuri lower the bow, hands still shaking and in the torchlight he could just make out the faint tear marks that had trailed down the younger boy’s face. Yuuri had never seen Yuri cry before. Yuri had never let himself, determined to act strong as was expected of the nephew to the king and the next in line for the throne after Viktor. When they had first met, Yuri had hated him with a passion but Yuuri had tried hard to win over the boy’s favour and he had believed that Yuri had come to trust him at least, maybe even like him in his own reluctant way.

But that was all before Yuuri had been branded a traitor and sentenced to death. Before he had escaped and every soldier in the kingdom had been tasked with ensuring his death. Yuri might be young but he was no exception and he had done his duty, just as every soldier should.

Yuuri could feel the bitterness rising in his throat because he had been so close. His victory was now assured, the truth would be out and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. But it was too late for him. The arrow in his side and the pain that was suddenly beginning to make itself known and spread like a fire through his body would ensure that.

Strength suddenly left him and Yuuri could feel himself slump over, his body hitting the floor with a thud and sending another spike of pain shuddering through him. The wound was clean and far enough away from any of his vital organs that he knew it would be a slow and painful death. But he was so tired and he could already feel the blackness begin to creep in on his vision and the world began to spin around him.

Vaguely he wondered if Yuri was going to come and finish what he started but instead he heard rapid footsteps disappear down the corridor and the sound of a muffled sob echoing into the distance. But he barely had the energy left to process it and when the darkness finally came he embraced it gratefully and allowed it to drag him down into oblivion.

 Extract from chapter 15 of 15

Distantly Yuuri could hear the sounds of running footsteps, shouting voices but his tired mind was too exhausted to translate the words that they were saying. Hurriedly they grew closer, getting louder and louder with each footstep and he suddenly recognised one belonging to Yuri and the other belonging to…

Warm arms were suddenly wrapped around him, lifting his limp body from the floor. Frantic fingers were pressed across his neck, desperately searching for a pulse and Yuuri could hear a sob of relief from the man above him when his search was met with a tiny flutter from Yuuri’s own heart.

Viktor.

More words were being shouted across him and Yuuri could hear Yuri mixed in among them, sounding panicked. But all he cared about was the man cradling him in his arms and chanting Yuuri’s name over and over again as if in prayer. He was too tried to move, too drained to even open his eyes but he was glad that if he was going to die, Viktor would be there with him when he did.

It seemed like his plan had finally worked, that his own innocence had been proven and the traitors exposed if Viktor was holding him so close and so tightly, rocking backwards and forwards with fingers clutching desperately into Yuuri’s rapidly paling skin. If nothing else, Yuuri was content to know that Viktor would no longer think badly on him, would no longer think him a traitor. His spirit could depart the mortal world in peace with Viktor’s forgiveness lighting the way.

Viktor began to speak again, more words in his own language that Yuuri knew he should understand but his brain couldn’t begin to translate, weak as he was. Instead he simply relaxed into the feeling of being held and let the darkness carry him away again.

 Extract from chapter 15 of 15

Yuuri had no idea how long he floated in the darkness, not quite alive but not quite sure he was dead either. Sometimes a few words would filter through, snippets of conversations in voices he recognised.

“…swear I didn’t know.” came one and Yuuri’s brain supplied ‘Yuri’ before he drifted away again.

“…infection…” came another and suddenly tight hands were gripped his and Viktor’s fingers were smoothing the hair gently across his face, whispering sweet words of encouragement.

“…be brave.” he heard as if from a distance and then a pain ripped through him worse than any he had ever felt before and he screamed out loud, the sound torn from his throat as he writhed. The pain was everywhere, burning through his veins but the worst of it was like a searing brand pressed deep into his side and he realised that they must have removed the arrow that was slowly but surely dragging him down into death.

Viktor’s arms just gripped him tighter and he was still murmuring gently in Yuuri’s ear but Yuuri could hear the crack in his words and he couldn’t stop himself screaming again when something was poured into his wound that made it burn even worse than before.

That time, he was grateful when he sunk back into unconsciousness.

After that he went back to drifting, the soothing blackness surrounding him a balm to the wounds that he knew existed in the waking world. It was hot in the darkness, hotter than he had ever felt before but he was too lost in the shadows to really register the feeling.  

Just like before sometimes words filtered in and out of his consciousness. He was almost sure that days were passing but he had no sense of time, lost in the darkness, and he could never be sure.

Sometimes it was Yuri speaking, voice loud and angry and choked with tears. Sometimes it was another man that Yuuri didn’t recognise, although from the fragments he had understood he realised it must be the physician.

“…herbs…” he had heard once and then later “…drink…”

“…might not survive the night your highness…” it said another time and Yuuri could just feel the cool trickle of water across his forehead and down his neck as someone wiped his brow gently and sent the doctor away.

It was Viktor, he was sure of it. Even floating in the darkness he would recognise Viktor’s presence anywhere. His words were often just out of Yuuri’s reach but Yuuri could still feel him by his side, where he had yet to move from. Sometimes Viktor pressed cool cloths against his face and across his neck, sometimes he held Yuuri’s hand or pressed gentle kisses to his brow. Sometimes he sang, low melodic lullabies that Yuuri only partially remembered.

Once, when the darkness was more pressing than it ever had been before and the heat seemed to engulf him from all sides, Yuuri was sure he could hear Viktor muttering the same words over and over again, one of Yuuri’s hands clasped in both of his own. The scent of the strange foreign incense that Viktor’s people used in worship was filling the room and it took Yuuri a few seconds to realise that Viktor was praying.

He wanted to reach out, to open his eyes or at least squeeze Viktor’s fingers to let him know that Yuuri could hear him but he was too weak and even the few seconds of lucidity sapped enough of his strength that he quickly drifted away again.

 Extract from chapter 15 of 15

 Yuuri had spent so long in the darkness that it was a surprise when his eyes finally fluttered open. The room his was in was still dark, curtains drawn to block out the chill of the night but it wasn’t the blackness he had been trapped in for so long. As he looked around he registered that he was lying on a bed, luxurious and large enough for two. It was their bed. His and Viktor’s.

But Viktor wasn’t sleeping next to him on the other side in the way that Yuuri had grown so used to. Instead he was curled up on a chair next to the bed, head slumped over onto the soft fabric with one of his hands still tightly locked with Yuuri’s own. He looked a mess, hair dishevelled and dark circles staining underneath his eyes.

Wincing, Yuuri sat up a little. His side still stung when he moved but when he lifted up the silky fabric of the shirt that had been covering him he saw that the wound was neatly dressed, fresh white bandages wrapped tightly around it and it tugged a little as he twisted, new skin drawn tight over the place where the arrow had struck. The heat was gone as well and his head felt clearer than it had in…however long it had been.

Glancing down at Viktor again Yuuri couldn’t help but marvel at the way his hair shone in the faint beam of moonlight slipping through the cracks in the curtains, the way his face always looked so much more innocent when he slept. He was so beautiful and Yuuri could feel the relief wash through him that he had succeeded. If he was here, if Viktor hadn’t left him to die, then it had to mean that they knew the truth, that Viktor had forgiven him and that they were safe.

Gently he brushed a strand of Viktor’s hair away from his face and Viktor stirred at the motion, eyes fluttering open and then widening when they took in Yuuri before him, sitting up with eyes that were finally open. He jolted up, instantly alert and Yuuri barely had time to breathe before he was pulled into a crushing hug.

Bringing his hands up to clutch onto Viktor’s back his buried his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck and could feel the tears welling in his eyes. When he pulled back he could see the same mirrored in Viktor and the other man was looking happier than Yuuri had ever seen him.

“Yuuri.” he breathed, almost reverently and Yuuri smiled, bringing both his hands to cup Viktor’s face.

“Viktor.” he replied and knew that that was all that needed to be said. They could talk properly later. But for now they were both alive and they were together and that was all that Yuuri needed. So he brought Viktor down into a kiss and thanked both his own gods and Viktor’s that they finally had a second chance.

[mwolf0epsilon]

League of Legends - Suicidal Atonement

Summary: When he’d passed the fortified borders that divided Piltover and Zaun, Jayce knew he wouldn’t be coming back with his life. It seemed like the Void wasn’t the only realm with a prophet to its name.

Warning: Suicidal behavior, body-horror, violence, death and cannibalism

[I felt like writing something about that skin concept of Viktor I made a while back, not sure where I was really headed with this but I think it’ll do for what it is...]

---

     The day Kassadin fell to Malzahar’s blade, Runeterra was beyond doomed. There was no warning, no sounding of a trumpet or drums of war, it just happened in a blink of an eye. One moment you were going on with your life, the next you were fleeing from the monstrosities that spewed from the gates of hell that the prophet had opened. Nowhere had been safe.      Nations had fallen, species began to die off, the Institute of War was upturned and destroyed in the ongoing chaos. Rivalries had been forgotten in favour of survival. At least...Most of them had. Such had not been the case of Piltover and Zaun which, looking back on it now, had been entirely Jayce’s fault.      Icathia’s onslaught of horror had been relentless. The void beings had wanted more and more and Malzahar, as the good little pawn he was, had provided a solution for his masters. The parasites had come pouring out of the portals and they’d hit Zaun faster than any invasive species Runeterra had ever seen. At the time people were fleeing to Piltover for safety, towers high and away from danger, shiny golden hues a comfort. They couldn’t take away the little glimmer of hope that had been left in the form of their glorious city, so they’d immediately closed the borders and trapped Zaun with the infectious monsters. All a grand plan of the Defender of Tomorrow, a plan no one disagreed with, considering it was for the “greater good”. All but Viktor that is.      As Jayce climbed down the barricade, he wondered. Wondered if perhaps Malzahar had considered Viktor a threat and had planned to use Zaun to nullify any danger he might possess to the invasion? Maybe...Malzahar was a seer after all, gifted with the Vision. Perhaps he’d seen what would have happened if Jayce had worked alongside his longtime rival...After all, why attack Zaun when Piltover was crawling with terrified disorganized crowds of people?      Viktor had disagreed heavily with Jayce’s plan, called him a selfish madman for condemning a whole nation just because he thought Piltover deserved to strive. Obviously, they’d argued. Argued and screamed until the crowd cheered Jayce and booed Viktor...Just as it had before. The zaunite had not let it slide like he once would have. For him, it wasn’t a matter of pride. He left for the border and Jayce had never seen him again.      Passing the border, going deeper and deeper into the ruins of Zaun, Jayce knew very well why Viktor never returned. Everywhere he looked there was infection. Bizarre growths of viscous breathing flesh and eyeballs and other assorted bits and pieces that shouldn’t belong on pavement or walls. Zaun was alive with wrongness and abominable constructs. He could see from his carefully hidden position, the remnants of Zaun’s people. Hunched over corpses of the less fortunate, feasting on their flesh and bones, organs and blood. Covered head to toe in boils and eyes and whatnot, mutated beyond recognition into something unknown but familiar. Zaun was now Icathia’s plaything, a nesting ground of terror and despair.      The Defender of Tomorrow carried on his path, going through district after district. Searching. He ignored the pleas for help that came from a woman that ran past the shadows he hid in, ignored as she fell and was then pounced on by what could perhaps have been a pack of mutated children. They ripped into her, dug deep until one could hear the snapping of bone and the gurgles of lungs full of blood. One of the heinous creatures ran off with an eye in it’s grasp and a hand in it’s mouth. Disgusting beast. There was nothing he could have done, Jayce told himself. Nothing now.      When he’d passed the fortified borders that divided Piltover and Zaun, Jayce knew he wouldn’t be coming back with his life. He reached his destination and almost smiled. The building was still partially intact, although covered in the monstrous growth of the void. He knew that he’d been spotted the moment he walked closer, could feel the burning gaze on him. When he’d told Caitlyn and Vi he was going to see Viktor, they’d both reacted differently. Caitlyn had yelled at him, furious and sharp, digging deep into his conscious and crying out in such a way that he knew she wasn’t truly angry but sad. Despairing for a life that had long since slipped from all their grasps, mourning for friends she’d never seen. Preparing to accept that Jayce’s battered sanity and hollow body would never even get a proper burial. Vi had simply accepted it, given him a solemn smile with tired defeated eyes. She understood why he needed to do this, what he needed to do to atone. She would have done it as well, had she not willed herself to stay for the Sheriff. Piltover still needed Caitlyn and Vi. They no longer needed him.      Jayce knelt in front of the building, aware of the sluggish footsteps of his rival as he left his hiding spot, his old home. All things considered, the herald did not look as monstrous as he’d imagined at this point. The left side of him was alien and monstrous, but the right still seemed comfortingly human. Stubborn as always it seemed.   “Y-youuu...” It was an accusing hiss, distorted and wet sounding, like there were too many tongues involved. Teeth were also clicking, grating on his nerves in such a way that it made Jayce’s skin crawl.      The defender looked into three glowing eyes. Purple instead of yellow, his vision linked to the hivemind, broadcasting a spectacle to many. The large thick tentacles connected to Viktor’s back, reminiscent of his cloak, extended to reach out, grab and bind. The force they exerted on Jayce’s body was painful. They could easily crush him if Viktor so willed.   “H-hate....Y-you-u-uuu...uu.....” the monster gurgled venomously, bringing the burlier man closer with such an ease...Wicked left claw cupping Jayce’s face painfully, while the right reached out to stroke his hair. The third arm gazed at him with it’s own eye, green tears escaping the duct, hitting the ground with a sizzling noise. Acid.      There were so many things Jayce could say to his mutated rival. Apologize, tell him he’d been right about everything, anything really...But he chose to stay silent, staring into the monster’s face and trying not to vomit as he saw the mask-like ridges of flesh move, writhe like live snakes. Viktor’s face neared his for a second, the third intrusive eye closing so that he could bump their heads together in some form of sorrowful comfort. It was disturbing, considering how much they’d hated each other before...But it made sense really. If anyone had any reason to mourn, it certainly was Viktor. This was clearly not for Jayce’s sake, this last moment of calm.      As soon as Viktor reeled back, the defender knew it was time. He smiled one last time before he saw the monstrous flesh of his face opening up into a large wicked mouth full of teeth and tongues. He felt the searing pain of acid meeting skin before those knife like teeth came for him. And then? Then Jayce knew no more.  It seemed like the Void wasn’t the only realm with a prophet to its name.

[shangyang]

yoi big bang preview

over the last couple of months, i’ve been working together with @halcyian​ (who is wonderful, and you should check her out) for the @yurionicebigbang ! since posting time is coming soon, here’s a quick preview of what we’ve got in store. 

The air is thick and noxious, but as men and women alike choke on the ash and cloying sulfur that dyes the snow an ugly black, and skies a stormy grey, Viktor lets the wind whip his hair into a frenzy. It’s so much shorter now, and even though years have passed since he cut his hair upon taking the mantle of a warrior from his father, Viktor’s hand strays to the shorn ends. 

The war horn bellows, low and menacing, like a hot knife cleaving through tension and still air. Holding out a hand to halt the men and women behind him, Viktor lets water pour from beneath the ice, swirling around him in a ribbon. It’s an old friend, the water, and as the whip curls around his hand, barely touching him, Viktor lets out a breath. 

The scent of sulfur and ash is stronger now, and the ice seems to shudder the closer the firebenders come. 

The water whip ices over around Viktor, forming jagged points and serrated edges. A little closer, he signals. Moments away.  

This is true: the Fire Nation has been at war with the Water Tribe for centuries. No one can remember why, not even the son of the man who began the war, nor his grandson. But the war continues on, despite that fact that the drive for war is long gone, and all that remains is weariness and a never ending cycle of hate and sorrow. Women and men have their loved ones sent home to them in urns, in pieces, or not at all, if there is nothing left to send home. Mothers mourn sons, fathers their daughters. This is true: Viktor Nikiforov was raised for war. A clan of warriors, and a duty to protect the Northern Water Tribe come hell or high water, passed on from father to son, to the son of the son. This is true: He is fourteen the first time he fells a man with his sword. The blood runs more red than anything Viktor has ever seen, red enough to rival the color of the flames the firebenders wield. He is sixteen when his father dies at the hands of a Fire Nation general. As Viktor wraps his father’s furs around him, not even an hour after the man’s death, he thinks, at least the man went down with him. This is true: On his twentieth year, the war ends with the death of the Fire Lord.

Water blossoms, delicate and glistening, where there should be fire, in between Yuuri’s cupped palms, and horror burgeons in his chest. Mari lets out a strangled cry, and the fire bouncing from her fingertips goes out with an ozone-scented pop. The ball of water bursts, but not a single droplet wets the cotton of Yuuri’s robes. It scatters around him, past his ears, dripping through the cracks of his fingers, and soaking into the stone of the practice hall. It’s wet. Moisture clings to his fingers, drips from his hair - and this, while nothing new, feels impossibly foreign. Yuuri had always known that he would be a firebender - like Mari and Father, Grandfather and Great-Grandmother Suki. But this, this isn’t fire. Heat isn’t curling above his palm, licking, smooth and sandpaper-like, just as Mari claims it feels. The water is cold, freezing the nerves in his fingertips, turning them red with the chill. This is a dream. Yuuri pinches himself. It smarts, and the parting marks are red and raised when he draws his hands away from his arm. It’s not a dream. He meets Mari’s eyes, and wonders if she’s scared of him now, because they’re children of the Fire Nation; worse still, they are the prince and princess of it, and they know, more so than anyone, how dangerous waterbenders are. It was an accident! He wants to say. I didn’t want it to be like this. I didn’t ask for this. Mari’s eyes are wide; watery and terrified - she remembers all too well the incident that killed General Nishigori, and orphaned Takeshi in the process. Don’t scream. Please don’t scream. But Mari is only twelve, and Yuuri is only eight, and they are still children. She isn’t disciplined, hasn’t yet been molded into a proper Heir, and Yuuri knows that she, more than he, is scared. Mari lets out a bloodcurdling shriek, and Yuuri curls his body into itself, hiding his wet hands as the sound of footsteps clattering across cobbled floors creeps closer and closer.

This is true: Katsuki Yuuri, while a prince in birthright, is the spare to his sister’s Heir. He was not raised to burn as bright as she, did not speak loudly amongst men twice his age, and in truth, rarely spoke at all. He was a shadow in his sister’s light, although his parents had hopes that he, in turn, would come to shine as bright as she. This is true: When he is eight, Yuuri bends for the first time, surrounded by cobblestone floors and rich, crimson walls. His sister is nearby, and she is excited. His parents linger in the throne room, distracted and thinking of their children. They all expect fire. This is true: Yuuri is the disappointment; the failure to his sister’s success. When his family expects fire, Yuuri, instead, gives them water. This is true: At eight years old, Katsuki Yuuri dons a veil, and hides himself behind layers of silk, cotton and cloth, and begins to live a lie for his kingdom and people. When his people want fire and approachable warmth, they will look for his sister. 

This is true: The Fire Lord has two children; the eldest a daughter, bright and tenacious, the embodiment of flame, who burns brighter than a dying star - and the younger a son, quiet and mysterious, with a countenance colder than the ice from far North. No siblings have ever been quite so different, but they are the children of the Fire Lord, even if, it may seem as if one does not quite belong.

The firebenders are upon them. Behind him, beside him, on the ground, burnt and dying - Viktor’s comrades are all around him, fighting for their tribe and their freedom. He grits his teeth and pushes harder against the soldier advancing on him. Viktor cannot let the Fire Nation take the Northern Water Tribe. She is brilliant under the sunlight though, and Viktor catches a glimpse of her curling spires as they glitter silver beneath the sun. A place like this deserves to be protected, Viktor thinks. The people who can love and call this place home deserve to live. The soldier goes down with two of her comrades in a heap, a shard of ice protruding from her stomach. The other two are just unconscious, knocked out from the impact of their helmeted heads colliding with the ice. The soldier’s blood spider webs through cracks in the ice, fading to a pink as it crawls away. Viktor tears himself away from her prone, cooling body and pushes forwards. The general must be nearby. The heat grows stronger and stronger the further into the crowd Viktor gets, and he grits his teeth as a bolt of ruby flames whistles past his ear, singeing hair as it goes. It hits someone, and Viktor can hear a panicked, pained cry echo through the battlefield. He slams his elbow into the face of a nearby firebender and keeps running, carving a path through the battlefield. Closer, closer - the heat grows ever more unbearable, ribbons of flames spinning around a man, molten tongues reaching out to burn and devour any waterbenders that are trying to get close. Viktor reaches for the sword sheathed across his back - a family heirloom, passed onto him on his father’s deathbed - and unsheathing it, lets the midday sun dance along the carefully polished blade. The general turns to look at him - he cannot be older than Viktor, and that, in and of itself, is jarring. His skin is cacao dark, so unlike the other firebenders Viktor has seen, and his eyes glitter from behind the shorn fringe of his bangs. The ribbon-like flames flick around him, challenging, mocking. The air smells of ozone, and it feels as if the world has slowed. Viktor has never been one to back down from a challenge. His lip curls, and with a flick of the wrist, he brandishes his water whip in response. (if the general looks apprehensive - well. it’s just a trick of the light, nothing more, nothing less.)

Yuuri stands, silent as always as Phichit enters the room, decked out in his armor as a General. They’re deploying him off to the front lines, right at Nikiforov’s damn feet, and Yuuri can only remember one occasion where he has felt fear as strong as this. He hates it. They’ve both grown older while hearing of Anatoly Nikiforov’s only son; how deadly he is, how he leaves no survivors, how his heart must surely be as cold as the ice he commands, and now, to know that Phichit is being dropped right at that man’s door is terrifying. Yuuri cups Phichit’s face with a careful hand. The other is hidden behind within the voluminous sleeves of a xuanduan, and Yuuri watches, careful, gauging to see if Phichit shies away from the chill of his hands. Phichit blinks, carefully pulling Yuuri’s hands into his own, and rubbing them together. “They’ve gotten colder,” he murmurs, quiet. “Are you -” “I don’t know,” Yuuri responds, tired and soft. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me, Phichit. You’ve got to worry about yourself.” Phichit smiles, but it’s a paltry imitation of the real thing. “I am,” he promises. “But I’ll always worry about you, Yuuri.” Yuuri stares down at his hand, and at Phichit’s own clasped around it, and for what is certainly not the first time, wishes that he could bend fire too. “Stay safe,” he says instead, and reaches up to cup Phichit’s face once more. “Stay alive.” “I’ll do my best.” It’s not good enough, but it will have to do. They don’t have the time - nor the luxury - for a tearful farewell.

They’re locked in a deadly dance when the missive comes. The general, face tight with pain barks out for his soldiers to halt as a falcon swoops through the air, tawny wings spread wide enough to block out what little sunlight filters through the clouds of smog. The flames sputter out and die around the general, and trembling, he holds his arm up, as the falcon dives down to land upon the leather gauntlet that covers his arm. “Thank you,” Viktor hears the general murmur to the falcon, as he slides the rolled missive out from the scarlet red pouch tied around the falcon’s neck. The glint of gold in the pattern of flames is telling - this is a royal missive. Something has changed in the capital, and though the Fire Lord would undoubtedly know that the missive would not reach the general and his troops for a week at the least, this is important enough to send over turbulent seas and bitter cold. Viktor lowers his sword slowly, and watches as his clansmen do the same. “Lower your weapons,” the general says, lifting his helmet from his face with an unsteady hand. He’s so young, and Viktor blinks a few times, uncertain if battle fatigue is distorting his vision. There is still some roundness to the general’s cheeks - the kind that only baby fat can leave - and his straight, pitch black fringe sticks to his forehead. “We will fight you and your no more.” He looks at Viktor, and down to Viktor’s sword. A flicker of something runs through his eyes, and he inclines in head in acknowledgment. “The Fire Lord is dead! Long live Lord Toshiya!” He yells, this time, to his men. Despite the tremors that wrack his body, and the blood dripping from wounds that Viktor has inflicted, he seems jubilant, his face lit and glowing. Stunned to silence, Viktor turns, and watches as all around, Fire Nation soldiers drop their weapons, and pull of their helmets. A resounding cheer shakes the ice, and men and women are cheering alongside their general. Confused as he is, Viktor feels something in his chest loosen. Panting, Mila comes to a stop beside him, fur-lined hood around her shoulders, and her blood red hair a bright beacon against the neverending white. “This...this could be a trap, Vitya,” she murmurs, but her spear is no longer bared, but rather, slack against her side, grip loose. Viktor stares out at the cheering Fire Nation soldiers, and then back to his clansmen. He takes in the confusion rippling and roiling across the battlefield, and looks once more at the barely-mature face of the Fire Nation general. “No,” he says, softly. “No, I don’t think this is.”

Rain is falling in Caldera. Though his father’s coronation is today, Yuuri doesn’t know if he can handle staying in the ballroom, mingling with prodding courtesans, and power-hungry politicians. Let Mari handle them, he thinks, staring up at the stormy sky. The garden smells of flowers, the dew opening up every blossom. The scents, combined are dizzying, but Yuuri pays them no heed - his mind is elsewhere. Yuuri stares up at the sky. He wonders if the falcon has reached the Northern Water Tribe front yet, and if Phichit has finally been able to lay down his weapons and celebrate the end of the war with his men. He wonders, if, perhaps Nikiforov had gotten to Phichit before the missive. Yuuri’s fingers tighten in the silk sleeves of his xuanduan, the sleeves wider and heavier than the everyday one he wears. The chrysanthemums and dragonflies patterned across the spring green silk wrinkle as he grips the silk tight enough to rip it. That has not happened, he promises himself. It won’t. The rain falls in an arc around Yuuri, not a single droplet falling onto the delicate silk, or on his hair or skin. Yuuri can bend water around him with little thought, but he wonders, if he believes hard enough that Phichit will come home unharmed. They are fighting on both ends, and Yuuri hopes that Phichit will not regret what he has done to keep himself alive. Yuuri knows that he will not. Come home safe, he prays, staring up into the clouds. Come back safe.

“What are you doing?” Yuuri turns around at the sound of footsteps against wet pavement, to see Mari making her way through the rain, a parasol held above her head.

The sleeves of her daxiushan are rolled up, tucked into her bodice so not to get the rich silk wet, and she’s left the traditional shoes behind for leather boots. “You’re going to get sick if you stay out in the rain this long, Yuuri,” Mari grumbles, stepping over felled foliage, and skirting around the large bushes of chrysanthemums that Mother is so fond of.

Yuuri spreads his arms out, and watches as the rain flees from him, not a droplet landing to wet his hair, or wrinkle the fine silk of his clothing. “You were saying?” He asks, dull and quiet.

Mari lets out a sigh - she is all too used to his moods. “Come inside, Yuuri.” She holds her parasol over his head as well, and watches as the rain begins to skirt around the both of them. “Mother wants to know where you’ve been - the ceremony is about to begin.”

Yuuri nods, and reaches up, pulling the veil down over his face. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

His sister stays there for a moment longer, before taking Yuuri’s hand, and walking them both in, parasol held steady above their heads all the while. Yuuri stares down at where their hands intertwine, and tries not to think about how warm Mari’s hand is against the chill of his own.

[viktorredemptionarc]

Fic: Falling out of feeling [JayceViktor]

A/N: Available @ AO3 too. Set after all the Bad Things happen, and Viktor attacks Jayce’s lab. It was supposed to be a lot angstier than it is but halfway through it I discovered that I cannot do that. Fixed some hiccups left because I published it FRESH OUTTA THE OVEN and some formatting stuff.

Word Count: 7.160.

Characters/Relationships: Jayce/Viktor.

Rating: T for language.

Summary: Regrets go well with snap decisions.

Since Viktor left, he learned how to hate him. It was easier to find him a menace, clear cut as a danger to Piltover and humanity, than to remember him as the dry witted man he once knew.

He tells himself that, but some nights Jayce aches all over with missing him and he doesn't know what to do with himself. He misses the easy friendship they forged back when Viktor was allowed in the academy, the way he dismissed academic nonsense yet fought to spread knowledge. How he talked about humanity, and emotions, and progress, as if the world weren't rotten but merely needed adjustments to shine.

We are slaves to our emotions, he would say, and to this day he still thinks that Viktor was waiting for an answer that Jayce was unable to give him.

Once Viktor left for good, nobody cared to tolerate him anymore. He's aware. Viktor found his arrogance funny, something to prod at and make fun of instead of something irritating and wrong. He misses that, too, even the more so when loneliness jabs at him and twists his gut.

As it is doing right now, as he reads one of his colleague's papers, acutely aware of the fact that the author only wants him to read it because he's Him. Knowing that if Viktor caught him thinking that, he'd stare at him with unimpressed disdain and say something ridiculous like "good grief, you are impossible".

They made so many mistakes.

He leaves the paper on the desk and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands with a groan. Things could've been different. There's no way to know if they would've been better than they are, but he's sure that changes could've been made. If he had backed Viktor up when Stanwick stole his credit for Blitzcrank. If he hadn't told on Viktor to the Academy. If he had followed him after that. If he hadn't attacked Viktor's laboratory in Zaun.

Wondering leads him nowhere. Yet, after all these years, he can't help but feel guilty sometimes when his guard is down. He can recognize Viktor's fault in things, but it's only fair to reflect on his. Not doing so, or trying to avoid to, is a matter of pragmatism. Once he starts, he can go at it for hours and all time spent on that is time lost.

Jayce looks at the paper on his desk and grimaces.

Transhumanism in the magic and clockwork era: Challenges and opportunities.

Viktor would have either loved or hated that. It was hard to know with him, sometimes. Specially after the incident with Blitzcrank, when things soured between them. But he has a feeling that he would have at least had something to say.

He has to stop thinking about it. Viktor attacked his laboratory not that long ago, there's no use in getting tangled up in that mess again.

He can't change the past. It's bitter and hopeless, but it's the truth.

Viktor's voice, when they were younger, a fire in his words that could burn the world. He remembers them, still. We are slaves to our emotions.

He can't change the past.

But maybe he can change the future.

-x-

That night he dreams of the day when everything went wrong.

-x-

Dusk, the sun filtering through the windows.

Viktor walking in circles, his eyes ablaze.

Tension. Frustration. Anger.

"You are oversimplifying things. You refuse to see reason, as usual."

"You are taking away their free will!"

"I'm trying to stop them from killing each other and themselves!"

"By making them unable to refuse to follow commands!"

"Goodness gracious, Jayce! What kind of commands do you think they're going to get? It's only temporary, they will be informed, it's for their safety."

A plea in his voice. Please, understand.

"You're having delusions of grandeur."

"They will die, Jayce. They are dying. It's not a controlled environment, free will isn't part of the equation when they're getting intoxicated and losing it to begin with."

"Either way, you can't do that."

"Why?"

Viktor screams at him. Demands answers. He wants to scream back. Nobody is as self-sacrificing as you. Nobody will see it as you see it. Nobody will bother to listen beyond you telling them that they will be forced to obey.

They will steal it as they did before.

"Have you forgotten about Urgot? What if your research is used for other things, Viktor? What if it ends up in the wrong hands? Not everyone wants what you want, believe it or not. We can't manipulate free will because then they will think that it's okay to do it."

"It's the only way. You're blinded by your emotions."

Enough.

"So are you. I can't let you do this, Viktor. I just...I can't."

Viktor's back to him. The ever tense line of his shoulders.

Defeated.

"Do as you will."

-x-

Venturing into Zaun when he's had barely one or two hours of sleep isn't the brightest idea he's ever had, he will admit that, but it's the only thing that makes sense. Not much, but enough for him to break one of the rules that have dictated his life.

Jayce wants the situation to be over. He wants to stop spending hours wondering about the what ifs and how everything turned south. He wants to stop being on high alert every second of every single day, to the point of almost attacking a child. He wants to stop playing this good versus evil charade.  Jayce is clever enough to know that it's bullshit, that he's a jerk. More of a jerk than Viktor could ever be.

For better or for worse, Jayce expects it all to end today. He could very well die in seconds as he approaches Viktor's laboratory, or he could live to tell the story. Either way, the ridiculous back and forth between him and Viktor will stop.

The metallic gates to the building open without him having to do more than walk to them and he looks around, on high alert, waiting for the moment the automatons jump on him. But, as he makes his way towards the main entrance, nothing happens.

Once in front of the door to Viktor's home, he expects another grand gesture of technology. Automatic doors, maybe an automaton, but he gets the unexpected and it almost makes him rethink it all and go back to Piltover.

His bravado is the only thing keeping him there when Viktor opens the door, metallic and foreign. So different from the man he remembers, not a trace of his tired eyes and gloomy smile. Inscrutable.

Jayce clears his throat, trying for nonchalance but knowing that he's failed beforehand.

"You didn't attack me on sight."

"You are unarmed," Viktor answers, in a no-nonsense tone of voice that takes Jayce years back and makes his heart clench, and with a distortion to it that makes it hurt. "Do you want to come inside?"

Detached. Formal.

Wrong.

He nods, and Viktor guides him inside standing tall and holding himself steady. Jayce follows him to what he guesses is the main room, with automatons lining the walls and tables overflowing with notes.  He looks around, fascinated and revolted by the organs floating in glass jars. There's a workbench, and on the workbench there's blood, and Jayce has the sneaking suspicion that it's Viktor's.

He doesn't want to think of the other possibilities.

All the while, he feels Viktor staring at him leaning against his workbench with a calmness that gets on his nerves.

This is not how he expected this encounter to go. He expected screaming, an explosive mess of emotions. Reproaches and regrets thrown at each other. Not Viktor, calm and composed, guiding him inside his laboratory as if they hadn't tried to kill each other at some point. As if Jayce hadn't apologized to him across a room and Viktor hadn't ordered his automatons to kill him.

He gets why, now, but it still stings. Even though Jayce had almost killed Viktor, too. People though that he was dead.

It's too civil, considering how they've come to this, and the reasons why it might be as tame as it is being are dreadful. Viktor might be way too different from the man that he remembers. He somehow tried to prepare himself for that, but the reality of it is too harsh.

"What do you want?" Viktor inquires, and Jayce feels relief at how tired he sounds even if the distortion gets on his nerves. Even if he misses his voice more than he has missed anything in his life. As if something essential has been taken away, lost forever.

Extrapolating it to Viktor as a whole hurts too much to start thinking about it. He needs to focus. He needs to be articulate. He needs...something. Anything.

Jayce sighs. "I want us to stop behaving like children," Viktor huffs, and Jayce misses the tense smile that used to go with the sound. He knew that this would be painful, he wasn't ready for how much.

"I am sure that I can, but can you? Last time you came to visit me, you smashed everything around you with a rather big hammer."

"I thought that you were trying to kill people," he argues. It feels futile, and childish considering his words, but he has to.

"You thought wrong. You have a tendency to do that when it comes to me," Viktor laughs, humorless. "Jump to conclusions, assume the worst, and betray me."

He wants to tell him that he's wrong, but Viktor raises a hand and Jayce takes a deep breath and waits.

"We may not have seen eye to eye in everything, Jayce, but I trusted you."

Guilt blooms in his stomach, heavy and hot. He thought that he was doing the right thing. He always did. But the right thing came with a price, and that price was Viktor. Jayce wonders, again, if anything would have changed if he had taken Viktor's side back then. If Viktor's attitude towards human emotions would have been different. If he could still look at him in the eye now, listen to his voice, read how he feels in his face.

Useless thinking, yet inevitable.

Jayce lets Viktor's words hurt while he sheds his pride and steps closer to him. He lets them burn through him, be a bitter reminder of everything he did wrong.

"I'm sorry," he says, pouring all the regret he feels into it, and for what feels like an eternity Viktor doesn't react.

Then, slowly, Viktor raises his hands to the back of his head. There's a click, and as he lowers his hands the metal that covered his face does it with them. His eyes are closed, yet Jayce longs to touch him just to reassure himself that Viktor is real. That he really was wrong about how his enhancements work.

It's selfless, he's aware.

He doesn't care, but he refrains all the same. Jayce closes his hands in tight fists, and Viktor opens his eyes and he can't breathe.

"Judging by your expression you thought that I had cut my face off," Viktor smiles, mirthless, and Jayce's stomach ties in knots. "You always had a flair for the dramatic. I have, as a matter of fact, kept most modifications away from my brain."

Most. Alarmed, yet trying to be patient, Jayce only takes another step closer to Viktor and looks at him. The light in the laboratory is unflattering, to say the least, but his features still fill him with familiarity. Sharp and straight lines, tired eyes, lips half stretched in a worn out smile, angular nose.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, stupidly but out of things to say, and Viktor shakes his head and runs a metallic hand through his hair.

"Done is done. I have had a lot of time to wallow in regret and misery, and it has brought upon nothing but trouble," Viktor sighs. "That is what emotions tend to do."

Jayce bristles. "Emotions are what brought me here today."

There's a lull in the conversation, brief, filled only by the sound of Viktor's fingers tapping on his mask. Metal against metal, like clockwork inside a machine.

"And what good has that done?"

Viktor's words cut him in places deep and tender, already sore.

He knows the answer.

None.

Jayce rubs his eyes, exasperated with himself and the situation he's gotten himself into.

"Will anything at all fix this, Viktor? Is there even a way?"

"In all honesty, I don't know what you want to fix."

Jayce wants to scream at him that he's lying, that he does. But he doesn't know how true that statement would be, and suddenly the idea terrifies him.

"This mess between us, this rivalry. I don't understand it."

Viktor huffs. "Neither did I, when you stopped making sense and started dancing to Pididly's rythm, yet here we are."

"I made mistakes."

"Yes," Viktor deadpans, and Jayce laughs. He's hurting so much, so bad, in ways that he almost forgot that he could, yet Viktor didn't doubt a second to back him up on that. Yes. Yes you made mistakes. Yes.

"So did you."

"That's debatable, but I guess that I could have talked it out at some point. It wasn't my brightest moment. Everything was crumbling under my feet, Jayce, what did you expect me to do."

Saying talk to me sounds selfish, even to him.

Jayce doesn't know what he was expecting Viktor to do. Remain as himself, maybe.

Stay.

He could lie or say nothing at all, but if he wants anything to come out of this Jayce has to be honest. He owes Viktor that much. "I wanted you to stay."

"I am here."

Jayce grumbles, frustrated. "That's not what I mean."

"As disappointing as this might be to hear, I am not a doormat. I am, albeit open to discussion by now, a human being. They kicked me out of the Academy. It was my life. It was hard. I did what made sense back then."

"You mutilated yourself."

Viktor's eyes cut through him with what Jayce is both appalled and mystified to recognize as rage. Such a reaction, from someone who claims that emotions imply weakness, leaves Jayce speechless. He wasn't expecting an automaton, not exactly, but he wasn't expecting to be able to taste Viktor's fury in the air either.

The atmosphere has changed. Tension hangs heavy around them and Jayce knows that he has failed. That the situation is far from over, and that it's his fault for being unable to keep his mouth shut.

Viktor's voice, when he talks, is deceivingly calm and detached. "I wouldn't expect you to understand what I did this for," he says, and Jayce can see that his organic hand is trembling around the mask. "Leave."

No, Jayce thinks. You're dehumanizing yourself. You're drifting away. You went down a path that I couldn't follow. A dark and scary one, morally and ethically ambiguous. I can't leave now. You are the one who doesn't understand how hard it has been to come down here. Come with me.

He doesn't say any of that.

Jayce can't hold his gaze any longer. He looks at the workbench behind him, stained with blood, and bites his lip ridden with uncertainty on what to do. If he leaves now, there's no way to know what would happen next. But pressing Viktor, that has never been the best choice when they were younger. Not when he specifically asked to be left alone.

"Viktor, I-" Viktor cuts him off with a shove, bypassing him and crossing the room to the door. Jayce closes his eyes for a brief moment, enough to compose himself. To gather himself and his wits and will his legs to carry him out of Viktor's space. The message has been clear. He wants him out.

He turns, and follows Viktor all the way back to the door.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, in a last attempt to try and fix the situation, to at least make sure that Viktor knows that it was a mistake.

The only answer he gets is the door closing loudly in his face.

-x-

The next morning, Jayce wakes up to a throbbing headache and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. As the day progresses, he wanders around his laboratory without purpose, trying to settle himself and reign over his own emotions as well as advancing on his own work. It's of little to no use, and his idle coming and going through rooms and tasks only helps in making him irritable and even harder to be around than normal.

He's furious.

First and foremost, at himself for putting his foot in his mouth and upsetting Viktor to the point of anger. Livid at his own failure, at his own incapacity of maintaining a civil conversation. It was going well, not stellar by any means but they were talking and it seemed to be going right.

Jayce can't also help being angry at Viktor. That maddening, volatile, man. He never knew where he stood with him, even when they were friends he had no idea whether or not Viktor merely tolerated him or liked him. It's ridiculous.

Yet he knows, because he might be arrogant but he's also intelligent enough to self-reflect, that Viktor is right to be angry and that he was an asshole. Which only fuels his own self-loathing to a point in which, sore and tired from spending the day roaming around his lab forcing himself to work and snapping at everyone around him, he ends up slumping on a chair sulking.

"What's up with you?" Jayce groans, and Vi blinks at him from the door. She stalks into the room, whistling as she looks around. "What the fuck, dude."

Jayce rubs his eyes. He isn't in the mood to talk. He is in the mood to stare morosely at the wall thinking about all the things that have gone wrong in his life. His afternoon is full.

"Nothing," Vi snorts, but Jayce pays her no mind. She sits on the workbench by his table, arms crossed. Jayce glance slowly up at her. She doesn't look happy. "Really, Vi. It's nothing. You wouldn't understand."

She glowers. "Hey, first of all fuck you," she gives him the middle finger. Jayce feels like he deserves it. "What's wrong. I mean, something must be wrong, you look like crap. Am not gonna ask you to work on my gauntlets like this, you could mess 'em right up."

This is, oddly enough, just what Jayce needs. He's mad at himself and at Viktor, ridden with melancholy and sadness and an endless string of what ifs. Vi is abrasive, and she won't have mercy on his soul. Maybe it will help him think. Not of a solution to Viktor's situation, but of a way to move on.

A very unhelpful part of his brain whispers unlikely and Jayce sighs.

"I went to Zaun," Vi perks up. It's hard to know how she feels about Zaun, these days, but she looks interested enough. "I...thinking about it now, it sounds stupid. But I wanted to talk to Viktor. Or have our final fight. I don't know."

Vi smirks. "You missed him," it isn't a question, and Jayce resents her for that but can't argue. He shrugs. "So then what? Not a cool good versus evil fight?"

"No, not as such," he laughs, weak and worn. "I said something that I shouldn't have."

"Business as usual, then."

"Hush," he plants his elbows on the workbench, staring down at the metallic surface with a grimace. "It was worse than usual, believe me. I told him that he had mutilated himself."

He can't see Vi's wince, but he can feel it.

"You suck."

He's aware. "Yes, I know. Thank you."

Jayce sighs, bounces his leg, leans back on the chair and stares at the ceiling suddenly full of restless energy. It's better than sulking, he supposes.

"So what now? I mean, I guess you can't punch your way through forgiveness but there must be something you can do, right?"

But that is exactly the problem. Jayce looks at her, carelessly inspecting her knuckles, and is grateful for the privacy she's giving him. Conscious on her part or not, he's already horrified at the sting of tears rising behind his eyelids. He wouldn't want her to see.

He bites his lip. "I don't know," Jayce takes a deep breath, blinks hard and fast. "I just. I don't know, Vi. And that's the whole thing. I can't figure out what to do now, and it was all my fault, and it's all gone to shit."

Vi hums, still pointedly looking at her own hands. "I'm not good at this sorta thing, but if I do know something is that one can still keep trying. It's what we do. Take some time to think about stuff, then maybe try again."

Jayce won't tell her that it sounds like an stupid thing to do. It's the only thing he can think of, too, and she's the only one who has came up with anything at all. She might be right, for all he knows.

She shrugs and jumps off the workbench. "It's either that or moping around forever."

"Sounds appealing," he mutters, and she slaps him between the shoulders. Hard. "Okay, fine. I will think about it. Can't and won't promise anything. This is a very complicated situation, Vi, we tried to kill each other."

Vi snickers. "Yeah, well, who hasn't."

-x-

Night comes, and even if Jayce can still feel the irritation and the guilt prickling at his skin even while he attempts to sleep, he must admit that Vi was right and that thinking about it has calmed him down enough to stop catastrophizing. Their situation was catastrophic to begin with, what happened was merely a setback.

A regrettable one, true. Avoidable, yes. But it happened all the same, and all he can do now is either stay wondering what he could be doing to fix it or go see Viktor and try again. He didn't ask him to leave forever, after all.

Semantics, adds a voice that sounds very much like Viktor's in his head, and Jayce sighs as he starts drifting off.

The alarm is blaring.

Jayce jumps out of bed, as alert as he can be when he's just been woken up, and scrambles out of his room and down the stairs to the front door. Panting and frantic, he looks around himself and finds nothing.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

The alarm stops with a last, pitiful, sound and panic raises cold through Jayce's body. Whoever has entered his house knows how to deactivate the alarm.

It isn't easy, he made sure that it wasn't.

With his heart beating in his throat, Jayce turns to go to where the alarm's circuits are and freezes.

Viktor is there, standing tall and in full armor, right in front of him. Jayce has half a mind to remember that Viktor could be here to harm him before feeling relieved.

"Relax," he says, and Jayce huffs out a shaky laugh. "I mean no harm. Wasn't expecting the alarm, is all."

His nonchalance is, once again, alarming. But Jayce doesn't know what time it is, he feels vulnerable and raw, and he doesn't want to second guess himself or Viktor. He guides him silently to the living room and sits on a wooden chair rubbing at his temples while Viktor stays standing, staring.

Jayce sighs, figuring that even though Viktor is the one who has broken into his house he should at least say something. "I really am sorry for what I said. I did mean it, but it wasn't right. It was ignorant of me, and simplistic."

Viktor hums, and the click of the mask being unfastened lures him into looking up.

He looks tired, even in the dark where Jayce can barely see him. Yet resolute, in a way that he almost envies.

"I am still angry," Viktor grumbles, between his teeth. "But anger leads nowhere. I am also tired of this back and forth between you and me, and I supposed that I could drop by to settle things."

Jayce quirks an eyebrow. "In the middle of the night."

"The passing of time isn't as easy to discern in Zaun as it is here," he says, something bitter in his tone, and Jayce nods. "When I realized, I was already here and it was a matter of doing it or leaving knowing that I wouldn't be coming back."

That, he can understand with ease.

Viktor looks around the room until he locates another chair and drags it towards where he's sitting in the dark. He settles, there, and looks at Jayce with an expression that he can't fully decipher.

"Was this how you thought your life would be like when we were younger?"

Jayce smirks. "Sitting with you in the dark at who knows when in the morning talking about the future? Sure," he pauses, but so far Viktor offers no reaction. "You?"

"At some point, yes. I guess that was a possibility," Viktor catches his gaze in the dark, and Jayce feels trapped until he relents and looks at a point over Jayce's shoulder. "Until, you know. All that happened."

Maybe it's time to come clean. Maybe it will do both of them some good. Maybe not.

There's only one way to know.

Jayce crosses his arms over his thighs and leans forward. "When Stanwick stole credit for Blitzcrank, he talked to me before you came back from Zaun and threatened me. He said that he would get me expelled if I tried to do anything. He did that to everyone who worked on Blitzcrank." Viktor's breathe hitches. "As for the suits, to this day I still think that free will should never be toyed with. I don't know if there were other ways, but I do think now that the the Academy overreacted."

"Yes," Viktor whispers, airy yet firm, and Jayce nods.

"I'm not trying to justify myself. Raiding your lab was a mistake that will burden my conscience for as long as I live. People died because I acted on a misconception, and there is nothing I can do about it now. I just thought...I don't know. That it was important for you to know."

For a long while, Viktor says nothing and stares down at his lap. He reaches out and grabs one of Jayce's wrist as if in need of an anchor, and Jayce lets him. It's anchoring him too, and it wouldn't do for him to drift away now and get lost in memories of things that he can't fix.

Viktor looks up at last. "I, too, wish to end this rivalry. Never wanted it to start, to begin with. If you want, I will leave and you will never see me again."

There's a fragility in his words, albeit firm, that tugs at Jayce's heartstrings, that makes him want to shake his wrist free only to hold his hand. It's too late to tell him that he never wanted him to leave in the first place, so he does the second best thing that comes to mind.

He shakes his head. "No. That's not the point. Long nights spent talking about the future are still something that I would like to have."

Viktor's lips curve in a faint smile. Jayce holds his breathe, hyperaware of his fingers around his wrist. "You will have to go down to Zaun. I am still a wanted man here," he says, his eyes searching, and Jayce can hear the words that aren't there.

Sacrifices are to be made. He's going to have to give in order to get this, whatever this is. Jayce snorts, and tugs with his wrist for Viktor to lean closer. With Viktor sitting in front of him for the first time in years, a few trips to Zaun sound like a ridiculous price to pay to have this back.

"I will be there," he reassures, and Viktor nods. Jayce sighs, rubs his eyes and looks back at Viktor. "Was this really so easy to fix?"

Viktor lets go of his wrist and smacks his knee. "No. But I don't see what we were getting out of a petty war, publicity for you aside."

Jayce grimaces. "Don't. They expect things from me, they don't get them, they hate me. I never asked to be their poster boy, you know that. They just kind of went and got me there on their own."

"I know that you like it and that liking it makes you weak," Jayce bristles, but recognizes the jab as the truth and settles. Viktor is still very close, leaning into him, and he can't see hostility. He's as relaxed as he's seen him. It's a rare sight, but a welcomed one. "But I don't think that you actively seek it."

"Damn right I don't," Jayce stifles a yawn with the back of a hand.

"I loved you," Viktor mutters, and all of a sudden he's more awake than he's ever been in his life. He isn't looking at Jayce, having leaned back, and is running a hand through his hair. The familiarity of the gesture hurts in ways that he wasn't expecting. "Back then, I did. It was destroying me. An awful feeling. A weakness of sorts."

"Why," Jayce blurts out, stunned and aching, and Viktor quirks an eyebrow but doesn't answer. "I mean. I thought that you could barely tolerate me."

"One does what one must," Viktor says, so solemn that it should be ridiculous, but Jayce is too dizzy to laugh. The finality of the past tense is just hitting him, and it's making his entire being recoil with disapproval. Another regret to add to the list.

"I did, too. Love you," he laughs, aware of the mild hysteria in it, and Viktor looks shocked for a second before composing himself. "Honestly, Viktor. Don't you remember? I was insufferable, I stayed like that for a week. Completely and ridiculously enamored, but you rebuffed me and I figured that it wasn't possible. I tried to move on."

Tried being the key word.

Yet here they are, aren't they. Two grown men, unable to deal with their own feelings. He gets, now, why Viktor makes such unsavory remarks about them.

"That is what that was? I thought that you were trying to drive me out of the lab," Viktor frowns at him, then groans and hides his face behind his hands. "This is ridiculous. How old are we."

"Old enough to recognize that we were idiots," he says, reaching out to gently pry Viktor's hands from his face. He gives, muttering under his breath. "Do you love me now?"

He isn't sure what makes him ask. He feels giddy and brave, a little bit as if he's in a dream. For a second he's afraid that is actually what this is, but Viktor takes his hand and the metallic parts of his fingers bite at his skin. The tiniest flairs of pain reassure him that it's real.

"No, but I reckon that I could given time," Jayce notices, distantly, that the hand he's holding isn't fully organic. He doesn't care. "A lot has happened that we need to talk about beyond this night, not everything can be fixed in a few hours."

Something rebellious in Jayce wants to argue. Why not, why can't we go back to how we were before. Why can't we forget. But there's a bigger part of him, one that's cautious, that knows that Viktor is right. Rushing into things might be his style, but he cares about this and he's been given a second chance.

"Yes," he agrees, with a nod, and Viktor lets go of his hand and leans to rest his forehead against his. Jayce closes his eyes. "I know that. One step at a time, right?"

Viktor nods and Jayce raises a hand to touch his face. It's been only one day, but it feels like ages have gone by and when his fingers touch Viktor's skin his whole body hums with approval. He's warm to the touch, and as his fingers slide to the back of his neck and find metal Jayce is mildly surprised to discover that he doesn't care.

"I will go down to Zaun tomorrow," he touches Viktor's faint smile with a thumb.

"Okay."

"I will bring a paper I've been forced to read," Jayce wants to kiss him, but that can wait. "It's titled Transhumanism in the magic and clockwork era: Challenges and opportunities."

Viktor snorts. His laugh is dry and inelegant and Jayce longs to hear it again soon. "Sounds awfully dull."

"I wouldn't know, I've been thinking about you instead of reading it," his honesty catches both of them by surprise, and Jayce leans back and retrieves his hands to stare at Viktor as he blinks at him. "I've been doing that a lot the last couple of years."

Viktor shakes his head. "Sweet talking me will get you nowhere," he stands, and Jayce glances at the window and sees the first rays of sunlight filtering through. "I should leave."

He's right. That doesn't stop Jayce from wanting to tell him to stay. He has the feeling that once Viktor crosses the door, the spell that has fallen over them will be broken and they will be back to that awful tension and unfortunate remarks. But if Viktor stays any longer, he risks getting caught around Piltover. He took a big enough risk going up at all, albeit not knowing the time, Jayce won't stop him now.

It's regrettable, and everything in Jayce is screaming at him to try and make him linger if only for a little bit longer, but he must let him go for now.

Jayce will go down to Zaun later. He promised. He'll bring the awfully dull paper. That's something that he can hold onto.

He guides Viktor to the front door in silence, and Viktor opens it and takes a deep breath before putting his mask back on. Jayce's heart gives a painful pang.

"I'll see you later, then," he says, as Viktor stands in the doorway, and he half expects Viktor to change then. Into the monster everyone thinks he is. Jayce feels guilty for doing so, but he's also tired and sleep deprived and terrified that whatever amicability they have achieved is too frail to last. "If you want to."

Viktor cocks his head, and Jayce has a feeling that he's frowning at him. "Of course. Bring the bad paper. I want a kid that comes around some days to read it, will be interesting to see how that goes."

He's stepping away, and Jayce grabs his hand on impulse. Metallic, organic, he cannot be arsed to care.

"I..."

Viktor sighs. "Jayce. One step at a time. It is going to be hard, but that's how most things are," he steps closer as he talks, and Jayce is slightly ashamed of how relieved he feels. "I must leave now, but you will come by later. And if you don't, I will try and sneak up here tomorrow. We will make do. You are as stubborn as they come, I trust that to be instrumental in the reconstruction of us."

Carefully chosen words, those, and Jayce is ever so grateful for them. Fortified. They are true. He swallows around the knot in his throat and squeezes Viktor's hand one last time before letting go. Viktor nods, pats his arm, and strides purposefully away from his house.

Back in his room, Jayce sleeps better than he has in years.

-x-

Transhumanism in the magic and clockwork era: Challenges and opportunities is, as predicted, awfully dull but Naph, the kid that is in Viktor's lab sometimes, tears into it with enthusiasm and asks for more. Jayce is a bit alarmed and very pleased to see that bringing him things to read has become a routine, that spending time with Viktor, and Naph occasionally, is as much a part of his life as talking to boring academics or stabilizing his hammer's system.

"You're here again," Naph says, as Jayce walks to Viktor by the workbench, and there's a hint of caution in his tone. He dislikes Jayce, but that's fair enough because Jayce doesn't know how to talk to children. They're hard to figure out. "Did you bring me anything?"

He hands him a stack of papers and the boy holds them and frowns at them. The Ethics of Mechanics. Viktor wrote that one, back when they were in the Academy, and Naph's eyes light up when he scans the first page and reads the author's name.

Naph tugs at Vikor's sleeve and Jayce hides a snort with a cough. "You wrote this," he blurts, and Viktor glances his way and at the piece of paper he is holding up.

"I did, indeed. Many years ago," Viktor directs a pointed look Jayce's way, and he shrugs. "We can discuss it once you are done reading it, if you want to."

"Yeah, that would be cool," Naph replies, as he leafs through the pages, and Jayce is amazed by how eager he looks. He does like to read, has been happy to do so with everything Jayce has brought him, but he has never reacted like this. It's kind of endearing, as if he thinks of Viktor as a celebrity of  sorts.

He might, for all he knows.

Jayce looks at Viktor while he works, leaning on the free side of the workbench. It's been months since their midnight conversation, and Jayce is full of longing. Lingering gazes and brief accidental touches can only maintain him for so long, and he's full to the brim with loving Viktor in brand new ways that he wasn't capable of when they were younger.

Quieter, more patient, grateful, focused on all those little details that make Viktor who he is. It's comfortable to bask in it, as disconcerting and  annoying as waiting can be. But he can wait for as long as is needed. It's worth it.

Viktor is working on his own arm. The first time he saw it, it made him feel dizzy and nauseous but it was, admittedly, a fascinating process. Now, he's desensitized to it and can look at how Viktor tinkers at it without so much of a blink. It can be even calming, help him think, with how mundane it has become.

Jayce likes the idea.

"You didn't send those two persons to my lab," he asks, and Viktor stops with a wire halfway to his wrist but doesn't look up. It's a bit of a sore topic between them, one that they've tried to bring up sometimes but that most of the time finds them in the wrong mood to talk. Jayce figures that it's best to try and get rid of it once and for all.

"No, I did not. I don't put vials full of chemicals on people. It's not how I work. My hypothesis is that someone heard of the attack, was interested in your research, and tagged along," he can hear the name Viktor isn't saying in that someone, but doesn't push. Viktor connects the wire to a port in his wrist, flexes the fingers of his open arm, and hums. It's a pleased little sound that Jayce drinks up like an starved man.

"I figured as much, but it's good to know for sure."

Viktor seals his arm closed, and Jayce kind of misses the circuits and the metal inside. He wonders if Viktor would let him fiddle with the mechanisms one day and a shiver runs up his spine.

He is learning quite a few things about himself, during his visits to Zaun.

"Are we done with that topic for now?" Viktor seems snappish, but his expression reveals nothing. He looks calm, relaxed, and Jayce gets a little bit closer to him. Viktor glances his way but doesn't comment.

"Yes, we are. Done is done. I'm over it, anyway," he shrugs and Viktor nods. Good. He wants to talk about other things. He wants to talk about everything there is to talk about with him, and that is something incredible and amazing that Jayce himself has yet to stop marveling about.

They stay in comfortable silence for a little while, and Jayce looks at Viktor from the corner of his eye as he tidies the workbench. The blood is, in fact, Viktor's. He knows that now, after Viktor told him matter of factly and as if he were stupid that yes, he bleeds when he opens his arm to work on its mechanism.

He also told him that he doesn't feel the anticipation of pain, and Jayce still worries about that. Some of Viktor's ideas and choices still don't sit well with him, and some of his own are still hard for Viktor to get, but they're talking and that is more than he expected. As Viktor said, there's a long way to come. At least they have found a path to walk through.

"Viktor," he calls, and Viktor hums distractedly as an answer. "What do you think of disjunctive conjunctions."

Viktor doesn't say anything. He leans on his hands over the workbench for a second, turns to Jayce and kisses him hard, and deep and wonderful and everything that Jayce needed. He grabs onto Viktor's waist with both hands and tugs him closer, and Viktor prods at his lips with his tongue. Jayce can feel his heart beating in his chest, the front of his body pressing to Viktor trying to soak in his warmth, and is opening his mouth to let his tongue in when the sound of footsteps approaching makes him jump back.

"Er...sorry. I can leave you guys to it," Naph quips, looking rather pleased with himself. Jayce, albeit mortified, is too exhilarated to find it in himself to care. They have time. All the time in the world.

Viktor coughs, by his side. "It's fine, Naph. Did you want anything?"

"Ah, yes. I'm donde reading that," Jayce doesn't believe him, and judging by how Viktor crosses his arms and quirks an eyebrow he doesn't either. "I read fast. I have some questions? If that's okay?"

Viktor casts one last lingering gaze towards Jayce over his shoulder, that Jayce can feel burning him from the inside out, and turns to Naph.

"Of course. Questions are what make the world make sense, they can be more interesting than the answers."

Jayce looks at Viktor and Naph walking side by side to sit on a pair of chairs by a table, chattering away, and smiles.

[paperlettuce]

Titanic - Yuri!!! On Ice (Chapter 4)

    The next morning, Yuuri wasn't in a very good mood, his mind clouded in a hangover. For the first few minutes, Yuuri and JJ drank their tea in silence until she said, "I hoped you would come to me last night." Yuuri glanced up and offered her a small smile. "I was tired." "I understand. Those below deck exertions must have been exhausting." 

Yuuri's face fell and he sighed deeply. "You followed me, how typical." He said. "You're not to do that again, Yuuri." JJ said, sternness in her voice. "You can't order me around like that, I'm not a worker of yours." Yuuri said in a moment of boldness which he normally didn't have. "I'm your fiance." "My fiance?" She smiled, though the smile soon fell, her slamming her hands on the table and shoving it aside, a few dishes falling as she came to stand over him. "My fian- my fiance! My husband in practice, if not yet by law, so you will honour me. Or I will drop your mother and you so fast, your heads will spin. I'm not afraid to cancel the engagement. Are you?" She huffed and turned on her heel, storming out to clear her head. Yuuri sat frozen in the chair, only letting out shaky breaths once she left. One of the servants came over to help, Yuuri murmuring, "I-I'm so sorry, we've made a mess..." He tried to help clean, but only cut his hand, the servant making him stop. He fell back on his butt, the chair sliding and making him fall back a bit as he tried to steady his breathing.

    Yuuri sighed and stood in the mirror, buttoning the white shirt he wore to match his white pants, glancing over at the jacket he would put on in just a minute. He heard a knock at the door, looking back to see his mother come in. She came before him, looking down at his buttons as she helped button his shirt. "*You don't have to marry her, you know." Yuuri sighed softly to himself. "Yes, I do. I can't stand to see you working in a seamstress factory, mama." "But you're unhappy." Before he could even deny it, she added, "I can see it in your eyes." Yuuri glanced down, watching as his mother tediously buttoned his shirt up. "Father died and we have no more money yet. Jacqueline is our only hope for keeping a good life for ourselves." It was Hiroko's turn to sigh. "I just want you to be happy. I can tell you aren't happy with that woman." "I'm not, but you know I would do anything to take care of you." "Your decisions are never easy, are they?" Yuuri chuckled sadly to himself. "No, never..." She smiled gently up at him as she put the silk jet blue jacket over his shoulders. "No matter what, I'll support you, Yuuri." Yuuri smiled and leaned down to hug his mother. "I love you mama." "I love you too."

    "And that's what happened last night." Viktor explained with a dreamy sigh at the end, Chris chuckling softly. "You really love this boy, don't you?" "Mhm." "And you know the heartbreak you'll get when he says that he can't be with you?" "Mhm..." "Okay, good. Don't get your expectations up." Chris hummed and sat beside Viktor, crossing his legs. After all, he was in the same situation. "What's on your mind?" Knowing that Viktor wouldn't let up if he lied, he answered, "That beautiful boy from last night. Soft brown hair, gentle green eyes. He got flustered so easily, but he was so sweet." "Someone else fell in love last night too, hm?" Chris laughed and pushed him. "Well, my beloved doesn't have a fiancee. Though, if he's gay, there might be a chance of you seducing him. I've seen you seduce a straight Catholic priest, you could probably do it." Viktor laughed at the memory, thinking how wonderful it would be to receive Yuuri's feelings back as well. "There must be something I can do. Well, first I have to see him again." "They're holding service in the first class hall, maybe you could find him there?"  Viktor grinned widely and thanked him, out the door before Chris could say another word.

    Later that day, Yuuri and his mother and JJ went to the ships chapel, the first class group singing hymns together. Yuuri stayed as far away from JJ as possible, her yelling earlier having put him on edge. Viktor hurried down the hall, holding onto a pillar as he turned a corner, saying a quick hello to Guang-Hong before heading to where church was being held. Before he could get in the door, one of the doormen stopped him, standing in his way. "Sir, you can't get in there." "I have to speak to someone." "I'm sorry, but you have to leave." Viktor frowned. "I was just here last night, you don't remember me?" "I'm afraid I don't, now you must-" "I'll handle this." Celestino, the guard who had spoken to Viktor on the night he saved Yuuri's life, came out, him sighing gently. Honestly, he hated carrying out JJ's whims. "Ms. Leroy and Mr. Katsuki continue to be appreciative of your assistance. They asked me to give you this." He said, holding out a twenty dollar bill. Though tempting. Viktor shook his head, glancing in the room to see JJ glaring his way. "Look, I don't want your money, I just want to see-" "And to remind you that you hold a third class ticket... It would just be easier for you to go for now." Viktor's frowned deepened and he gave JJ a displeased look before walking away, though he vowed that he would find Yuuri again later. JJ gave a small smirk, Yuuri giving her a strange look before focusing on the song.

    "What does this wheel do?" Yuuri asked as him and his mother and fiancee were given a tour of the captains portion of the ship. "Oh, we rarely use that one, in all honesty." Guang-Hong smiled, looking as someone came to Leo and said. "Another iceberg. This ones' from the North end." "Thank you." Leo said, looking up to see a worried look on Yuuri's face. "Don't worry, that's normal for this time of year. It gets cold out on the ocean. As long as we get word ahead of time, we can always plan ahead. Actually, we're speeding up." "Mhm, the last boilers were just lit." Guang-Hong hummed. They continued walking along the ship, going onto the side of the ship with all of the lifeboats on it. "Mr. Ji, I noticed that you only have about half as many lifeboats as required for so many people on the boat." Yuuri commented. "Ah, that's right Yuuri, you miss nothing, huh?" Guang-Hong said with a small smile. "It was thought by many that the deck would look too cluttered with more lifeboats, so, even though I wanted more, they only allowed me to put in half as many as we might have needed." "Waste of space as it is on an unsinkable ship." JJ hummed as she continued walking. "Don't worry, I made a good ship. It's all the lifeboats we would need."

    Viktor groaned as he climbed up a pillar and to the first class deck, him just out of view of a child playing with his toys, his father and grandfather watching him. Viktor had to see Yuuri again, it didn't matter that they were of two different and opposite classes. Viktor turned the corner, though quickly moved back, eying a bowler hat and nice jacket on a chair. Well, if he was going to be on the first class deck, he needed to look first class. He took the two, turning the corner just in time to see Yuuri down the corridor, speaking to the ships creator. Just as they turned the corner, Viktor grabbed Yuuri's arm, leading him into an empty exercise room. "Viktor, this is impossible." Yuuri said as the platinum haired man closed the door. "I need to talk to you." "No, Viktor, no. I'm engaged." He said as he leaned against the wall, Viktor coming closer to him. Yuuri paused at the soothing scent of Viktor's cheap cologne, his cigarettes, his sweat. So uniquely him. It pained him so much to say what he had to say. "I'm marrying JJ. I love JJ." "Yuuri, you're impossible. You're a ball of anxiety and you're stubborn and maybe even a bit spoiled, but you're the most wonderful thing I've ever come into contact with and I'll be damned if I lose you this easily. I know how the world works, we would never be accepted, I have ten dollars in my pocket and nothing to offer you. But I know that if you go back out there and marry that wretched woman, you won't be alright." "Well, I'm fine... I'll be fine..." "Really? You expect me to believe that? I know you're not. You're not happy, and you're going to die if you stay this way. Not right away, because you're strong, the strongest boy- man I've ever met. But you will. But..." Viktor moved closer to Yuuri' one hand on his waist and one on his cheek, Yuuri fighting back tears. "That fire that I love so much about you will burn out... And I don't want to see that happen." He said, wiping a stray tear that fell from Yuuri's eye. "It's not up to you to save me." Yuuri said, his chest aching as he said, "I'm going back, don't talk to me again." He said, sliding out of his touch and leaving the room. Viktor's head fell against the wall, his hands falling to his side as he stared blankly. Everything he had cared about so much seemed insignificant. Losing his voice, his legs, his ability to draw, to smile, to seduce. Losing all of that would have been better than losing Yuuri.

   Yuuri stared blankly at his plate as he sat with JJ and her two friends, them gabbing about the wedding and whatever else they chatted about, Yuuri didn't care. He had met Viktor only three days ago, but it felt so numb without him, so wrong. Yuuri almost felt sick being without him, knowing all of the things he had said. He could only imagine how Viktor felt. He looked as he saw a man teaching his son to sit up straight, to eat with the napkin in his lap, what forks to use. Even such a small child being held to the same horrible standards. Yuuri knew that if he married JJ and had children with her, the poor things would have to suffer what he had as well. And that simply couldn't happen. Viktor was right, he couldn't let himself be so unhappy, otherwise he would end up at the figurative end of the ship again.

     Viktor stood at the front of the ship, staring down at the water ahead. He couldn't focus on anything at all, not after what had happened. It didn't come as much of a shock that he was rejected, and he had planned for it, but not well enough. There wasn't anything else he could do, either. Yuuri didn't want to see him and, despite his feelings, he respected him too much to disobey his wishes. Which was also why he was surprised when he heard Yuuri's voice behind him. "Hello Viktor." He turned and looked at him, a confused and hurt look on his face. Yuuri didn't want to see him again, he had said so, so why was he here? "Yuuri..." "I changed my mind... Ah, Chris said you might be up here." He immediately smiled and offered his hand to Yuuri. "Come here. Close your eyes." Yuuri took his hands and did as told, stepping up when Viktor told him to. "Hold on to the rail, eyes closed. Don't be scared, do you trust me?" "I trust you.." Yuuri whispered softly, holding his arms out as he felt his body go weightless, Viktor's arms around his waist. "Alright, there. Now open your eyes." He said softly, pressing his lips to his ear. Yuuri let his eyes open, him gasping. From where he was, he would only see the open water, him looking out in amazement as the sun slowly set across the ocean. "Flying! I'm flying!" Viktor chuckled, holding him closer and balancing them. "Yes, you are." He said, moving closer to his cheek, spreading his arms so he could hold Yuuri's hands. "Come Josephine in my flying machine going up she goes, up she goes." He whispered, Yuuri laughing softly and turning his head to face him, the two so close to each other. Well, no point in holding back now, their feelings were brutally obvious. Viktor took their hands down so he could hold Yuuri close, him moving in the last few inches so he could kiss him. And it was like fireworks in his chest, like the missing part of him had been filled. This was what Yuuri had needed for so long now, someone to reassure him, make him happy, give him the adventure and, more importantly, the love he always needed. Yuuri reached his hand back, holding Viktor's cheek as they kissed, though they eventually had to move back for breath. "Wow..." Viktor whispered, the two both chuckling to themselves. Yuuri felt tears running down his cheeks, Viktor pressing their noses together as he wiped his tears. "Why're you crying, my darling?" "I'm happy, that's all. I'm sorry for what I said before." Viktor smiled and pecked his lips again. "That doesn't matter, I'm just glad you came back to me." Yuuri smiled and said, "Come with me back to my room. I have a favour to ask of you." "Anything, love."

___________________________

*When something is in Italics, it means the two aren't speaking English together, but a shared language, like Japanese between Yuuri and his mother, or French between Chris and Viktor.

[freykugel]

I finally finished Suikoden III. And it was a huge stressful labor. Not even a labor of love. More like obligation? I was on a Suikoden high because I absolutely adore the first two games. And I’m a very forgiving person because if one aspect of the game is absolutely stellar I will move mountains to complete it. But SIII felt like work. I was getting tired. I literally was watching youtube videos of other things 70% of the game. I just really wanted to see if I’d appreciate it more now than I did when I first played it.

Because when I first completed it in like... 2010? I dunno. I had plenty of time. I just needed to go in order of release. Back then it was like just a lukewarm response. Eh it was okay now I can play Suikoden V.

And replaying it now I can’t understand how people love this game.

First off, the music. The music is absolutely lackluster. It’s mildly quirky at best and obnoxiously awful at worst. I don’t understand. Miki Higashino composed a beautiful and iconic soundtrack for the first two games and gave me high expectations. And I hear the Castlevania Symphony of the Night composer did a good chunk of it? But it’s all either so forgettable, awful, or just plain unfitting. I know there are a few duds in the first two game soundtracks but it kept me pumped up. It kept me interested. It made the game move fast. BUT NOT THIS ONE. One of the worst battle themes I’ve ever heard. The life blood of JRPGs is usually in the beautiful music but NOT THIS ONE. I’ve read how people gush over Duck Village and Vinay del Zexay BG music and I’m just--... Your taste is not my taste and that’s okay but the OST does not make me want to play.

Which made it so much more slow and awkward when the music actually LOWERS THE VOLUME DURING CUTSCENES. There’s no voice acting so why the fuck are they lowering the volume?! I don’t fucking understand. It makes it quiet/silent and slow moving. At the very least keep the music BLARING I DON’T FUCKING CARE HOW AWFUL IT IS don’t soften the music because they’re talking. This infuriated me like what the hell ass kind of logic was that?

But continuing on the music train, there is so much back tracking. The majority of the game is just repetitive trekking through the same goddamn forests and towns. Like I said the random encounters and backtracking would be mildly better with a kickass battle theme. But since it’s fucking awful this is made to be an infinitely more arduous chore. I know you can’t just pick and choose location points because it would make Viki irrelevant but FUCKING HELL. My blood pressure goes up just remembering it. Oh I’m out of money I have to fight treasure bosses. Except I’m at Lake Castle and the next location I have to go to is at Mountain Pass. ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE MAP. And the Mt Pass itself is fucking long with a winding path. FUCK. Viki’s presence was waaaay to short in the game. And yeah, she can only show up in chapter 4 because you can’t just have her teleport just one perspective character and no one else. And with no Blinking Mirror you’d still have to slog your way back home. GODDAMN.

Speaking of battle music, the battle system is obnoxious too. You can tell me all about how it brings an added strategic feature to it, like you pair up your melee and magic user so that your melee fighter can tank while your magic user drops their nuke. But fuck that, what if I want to use all six magical nukes. Nope can’t do that. And like what if I wanted Aila to use her Shield Rune while the rest of the group do their SFDF Unite attack? Nope.

And once upon a time I actually preferred the SIII war system because it gave me much more control over the characters. Flash forward to 2017. Nope. Nooooope. I spent more than a couple days with the small free time I had level grinding my fodder characters and raising their weapon levels so they won’t DIE in battle. But Frey, if your time is precious why didn’t you just stop playing? Well it’s tied into the Luc portion of the rant so hold on a moment.

Quick point to say FUCK THE FIXED CAMERA. I kept going back to the previous room or got stuck behind obstacles while I watched ANYTHING ELSE MORE INTERESTING THAN THIS.

Okay now we get into the story portion of the rant. I get what they were trying to do. I really do. I understand splitting the perspectives in three meant there’s going to be repetitive scenes. I understand they were trying to convey the greys of war and shit. BUT IT’S SUCH A WASTE OF TIME. I have already seen this let me skip. What did it add? Nothing only that the one perspective character missed out on some context. 

I do really like Chris and Geddoe less so but he’s okay. Unfortunately Hugo is the odd duck out so to speak. His story is short, boring, and doesn’t really add more to the context. It’s just a kid doing a job, he gets chased, his bestie gets killed, sees the baddies, and canonically he gets chosen to be the Flame Champion. And me being a stickler for canon always choose him to be FC because narratively it makes more sense for Chris to receive True Water from her father and Geddoe keep his True Lightning. But Hugo. Did. Nothing. To. Deserve. It. Like Tir gets shit tossed at him from the beginning and it was awful to have. Riou was forced into a battle against his best friend. Hugo? Rrrr Ironheads and shit.

Which is sad because his mom, Lucia, is the best character ever. Best mom.

Thomas I do actually adore. His chapters were a lovely break. But it could be because they’re short.

Hugo’s FC speech was awful. As charismatic as a slice of bread. Who the fuck can he unite. Nobody. Zexens and Grasslanders and everything in between. There’s so much bad blood between them and Hugo just whips out a few trite Shounen Manga words and then BAM they’re united? Awful awful. I don’t know what Chris or Geddoe say but I can’t imagine that they’d be any better.

I mean, to be fair, in SI and SII the protagonists were silent so they couldn’t even do a speech, but at least you could sort of fill in the blanks. Plus they had a beautiful supporting cast who were strong enough to create a charged atmosphere. Especially with the likes of Viktor and Flik. Here in SIII everyone is just mildly interesting or shitty. There’s no one really who was like FUCK YEAH and truly engaged the army or the player. Just. Mild.

Also let me just say Lulu pissed me off.I know he’s a kid but Louis literally bumped into him and said, “Oh excuse me. Pardon me.” And Lulu goes off on a racist rant about FUCKING IRONHEADS. Like I know you’re a kid and you’ve been raised like this but RNGESUS PLEASE he apologized after accidentally knocking you over. 

Caesar, boy, what a useless tactician haha. Everything he told you to do was common sense. And Albert? I hate Albert too. He makes me uncomfortable in the same way Lucretia did in SV in that he’s so omniscient about everything. Like the entire game was him setting up the dominoes and in the end knocking them down. Plus the ending blurbs on Caesar like, “All your efforts were for nothing el-oh-el because your bro was always one step ahead.”

Apple what the hell ass are your cameos. 

Jimba’s reveal as Chris’ father was terrible and unexplored.

Yun’s self sacrifice for the ritual left no impact. I have no idea why she left such a mark on Chris that she’s referred to in the ending blurbs. I don’t get it.

Okay now for the elephant in the room. Luc. I’ll be honest. I think I played through this entire fucking game because the fandom is enamored with Luc. And maybe it’s because I’m fucking old but I don’t understand it at all. Yeah, he had a semi-permanent spot in my party in SI and SII because of his powerful magic and it was less likely to fail. But what the fuck happened in SIII. In the first two games he was a shit head. He’s a jerk who dropped a golem on you in the first game for funsies and only stuck around because Leknaat told him to. He’s a petulant brat who only bothered to reveal his True Wind Rune because it was piss off Sasarai. But then in SIII all of a sudden he’s a tormented thirty year old man angsting about his existence and the visions he’s supposedly seeing about absolute order and silence. So he goes off to... destroy his Rune and soul so that Hirusaak can’t get all 27? What??? Am I missing something????? Like I would find the entire plot of SIII believable if his characterizations from the first two games were anywhere near close to the one in SIII. Except it’s not? All of a sudden he slam dunked himself into his emo phase? He’s not even acting like a shit lord? Just Crawling in my skin these wounds they will not heal. I don’t get it. Even after playing the Luc extra bonus chapter. Especially after playing it. Just LET’S SPARK A WAR BETWEEN TWO COUNTRIES TRYING TO SETTLE A PEACE TREATY SO WE CAN ENTICE HARMONIA INTO INVADING AND GRAB ALL THE TRUE ELEMENTAL RUNES. I just. What. I’m having such a difficult time just wrapping my mind around this idiot plot ball. Remember the bit where he was like JOIN ME HUGO/FC. SEE THE VISIONS YOU WILL BE TORMENTED WITH AS A TRUE RUNE HOLDER. Bluuuuh. I don’t know. I just don’t.

I didn’t bother with the plays. I didn’t bother with the baths. I didn’t even bother trying to get the Golden Hammer. Which is sad because I discovered new things with the older games when I replayed them. Cook-offs? Bath toys? Wow I just zoomed past them the first time around. But I was ready to be wash my hands of SIII. It’s not for me. I don’t understand the fandom.I don’t understand the love. But you do you and if you happen to adore the game that’s cool. But that’s not where I’m at.

I might have been super forgiving and loving towards this game if it were infinitely shorter. Like, SI definitely has its problems. You can’t sprint without a Holy Rune, the inventory system was fucked, and so many characters are such bullshit (I am the Window Man I live and breath windows here let me swap them out for you.). Even SII like Nanami I love her but I also hate her what the fuck Nanami why would you fake your death and hurt your brother like that. And all those bugs I GAVE YOU TWO SPINACH SEEDS WHY DID IT DISAPPEAR. But SI was short and sweet and SII had beautiful pixel graphics and popping characters. SIII had awkward bulky graphics, terrible music, and it DRAGGED ON FOREVER. Literally over 70 hours. I wasted 70 hours of my life. I can’t get them back. I just wanted to refresh my memory of it.

This was all my fault I know. I just wanted to rant.

Let me just say one good thing was that I do really like the added skills. It added an extra layer in creating a diverse team. Also with Support Characters I get extra help from NPCs who would otherwise just rot in HQ.

Okay I’m done.

[yuuriandvictorswag]

Victuury soulmate au part2

Yuuri decided on the last day of his first Grand Prix Final, that he was a failure. He was in last place by a hundred points. The moment his prestation was done, he went to the kiss and cry without a word. He wouldn't make eyes contact and wanted his coach to lay off of him so he could leave and cry alone rather than in front of thousands of people.The moment the public and the cameras stopped looking at him with pity, he ditched his coach and ran to the nearest bathroom. After making sure he was alone, he locked himself in a stall the fastest he could and broke down crying after holding it in for 10 goddamn minutes. After about five minutes, he decided to call his mom to lift his spirit. The thing was , they were pitying him as much back at home as they were here and they kept apologising for his poddle's death and Yuuri didn't want to hear any of it. He didn't want to come out of his stall ever. What if he met his soulmate Viktor Nikiforov? THE Viktor Nikiforov? He would die right on the spot. I mean, who would want a failure as a soulmate? No one! Before he could hate himself even more, a sharp and strong kick hit his stall's door. After quickly apologising for taking too much time, he opened the door and faced .. Yuri Plitzetski. Crap. The kid looked really pissed. With a weird and heavy Russian accent, Yuri started to scream at Yuuri, telling him how lame he was and etc, like he needed to be told. Yuuri said nothing back, he was too shocked. The boy huffed heavily while glaring daggers at Yuuri and he left quickly without another word. Yuuri stayed there for quite a while, well at least until his coach found him standing alone in a public bathroom, looking dazed and not saying a single word. He dragged Yuuri all the way to the skater's room. The taxi was long and awkward considering it was basically just Celestino answering phone calls while Yuuri just looked outside without really seeing anything. The moment regain some sort of mental consciousness, he was sitting on his hotel's bed and his coach was walking in circle while talking in a soft voice. - You have half an hour before I come pick you up for the Grand Prix Final's banquet. Yuuri let himself fall on his back with a heavy sigh and accepted since he was too tired to argue. He was ready within 15 minutes and before he knew it, he was at the banquet, surrounded by unknown people. Great.

Viktor, as usual, had won gold at his fifth Grand Prix Final . Right after his performance , he wanted to do nothing more than go cuddle in his appartement with his poddle Makkachin. Unfortunately, he had to talk to billions of reporters and the press and his coach and basically everyone annoying ( yes that meant to whole world). Viktor wanted to be late to that banquet, it was boring, useless, full of annoying people and small talks which meant it was filled with everything Viktor hated. However, Yuri would in no way let that happen ( he said: Over my dead body! To which Viktor had only shrugged and said : "Fine") and this was the reason he and his " friends" were the Ines of the first to arrived. After about ten minutes ( and three whole conversations on his future) Viktor noticed an short Japanese that looked some sort of familiar and that guy looked depressed.

What didn't know , is that he was watching his soulmate from ten meters away. His soulmate was right there and didn't know it. The one he'd been thinking and dreaming about ever since he was eleven was in the same room as him and he didn't know it.