#but not everything is written for you. and it's fine to just not like something

[cutielando]

game night | l.n.

synopsis: in which game night gets a little too competitive

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

As the winter break finally came around, Lando had made plans for him, you, Max and Pietra to take a trip to the mountains, just the four of you.

Which is how you guys found yourselves nestled comfortably in a cabin deep into the Swiss mountains, chatting it up and just enjoying the quiet atmosphere that the off-season provided you with.

But, knowing Lando, he couldn’t stay still for more than an hour at times, and would always find something else to do.

Just like he did now.

“I’m bored” he had announced, groaning and throwing his head back against the couch.

You chuckled, knowing he would have said that sooner or later.

“So?” Max asked, looking up from his phone at his friend.

Lando was silent for a moment, contemplating about how he could cure his sudden found boredom.

“Let’s play a game or something” he suggested, his eyes lighting up.

"Like what?" you asked, your hands running through his curls softly.

He pondered for a moment, his eyes glancing around the cabin living room before his eyes landed on a shelf full of board games.

Not saying anything, he jumped up from his spot on the couch next to you, beelining for the shelf to analyze what he was working with.

"Let's play Monopoly" he said, his eyes twinkling as he took the box in his hands and rushing back to sit down next to you.

You, Max and P all groaned in unison, the last thing either of you wanted was to play Monopoly with Lando.

Lando stopped in his tracks, looking at the three of you with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked, his shoulders deflating.

"Mate, you know how you get whenever we play Monopoly" Max said, glaring at him.

He pouted, looking at you for support.

You bit your lip and shrugged, making him gasp.

"You too?" he asked, looking at you with a hand over his heart.

"Baby, I love you, but you know how competitive you get whenever we play" you said, trying to be as gentle and nice as possible.

"But I want to play..." he said, pouting and looking at the ground.

You sighed, shaking your head as you exchanged looks with Max. Both of you knew Lando was playing the both of you, wanting to make you feel bad for not wanting to let him play.

Max sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, we'll play" he muttered, making Lando erupt into a wide smile as he sprinted towards the coffee table to lay everything out.

You laughed at his antics, shaking your head fondly.

"I wanna team up with P" you called out as she took your hand.

Lando whipped his head around, staring at you with betrayal written all over his face.

"What? Why? We always team up together" he said, his eyes sad.

He almost made you change your mind, but flashbacks of past game nights with Lando made you stand firm.

"That's exactly why we should change things up a little bit" you argued, trying to keep his spirits up.

He pouted, glaring at you while setting up the board. He kept it up for a minute or two longer before he sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but just this time" he said, pointing to you.

You nodded and leaned over to kiss his lips quickly before you got and moved so you were sitting next to Pietra.

Lando huffed once again before he finally let go of his anger and instead focus on "discussing strategies" with Max.

As the night went on and the game was in full swing, Lando's competitive side slowly started to show itself when Max landed on one of your properties and had to pay you almost all the money they had.

"MAX! What the fuck, mate? You just walked right into their trap!" Lando shouted, pushing Max as he stared at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t control the fucking dice, now, can I?” Max argued back.

You and P, on the other hand, were trying not to laugh, finding the exchange between them too funny.

They continued to bicker like this until late into the night before you called it quits on the game.

Instead, you were now snuggled up on the couch with Lando, the fireplace doing a fantastic job of warming you up.

The world around you was silent, the only sound echoing through the warm cabin being the crackle of the fireplace.

Lando was staring at the crackling fire, his hand playing with the ends of your hair.

Looking down at you, he noticed that your eyes were shut, your breathing evened out as you peacefully slept on him.

Smiling a little, he pressed a soft and gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering a quiet "I love you" as he let himself succumb to a peaceful sleep.

Dreaming of you.

...and beating you at Monopoly.

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[mqrrstarr]

Gladiator Headcanons! (1/?)

How the Characters would act if you: Had A Cold!

Character x GN! Reader

Warnings: s3x implied

Characters Featured: Maximus, Lucilla, Commodus, Acacius, Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Macrinus (edited: I never actually wrote anything for him but I did now)

A/N: First Tumblr post in a while, and I'm actually writing things too! This is the first time I've written elaborate headcanons, so please forgive if they seem a little off. I apologize for any historical/character innacuracies, and I hope to get better!! xoxo -mqrrstarr

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Maximus would immediately notice something is off. You kept complaining about a headache that didn’t seem to stop, and your temperature was high. 

“Darling, I don’t think you should fight today…”

You could only cough in response, and the guards wouldn’t let you rest. As the day’s challenge was fighting in pairs, he rapidly volunteered to fight with you. Maximus protected you from the other gladiators, and killed them as fast as you could sneeze. By the end of the day, Maximus gave you his blanket and other amenities, ushering you to a more comfier cell. (He had placed a bet with another gladiator.)

“There darling, rest up nice and easy.”

I can also see Maximus getting the other gladiators to create a soup/stew sort of mixture. Not good. But he’s very fatherly, if you can get that?

- - - - - - - -

Lucilla knows everything. After taking care of Lucius as a child, she can rapidly tell when you’re not feeling well.

“Sweetie? Do you feel alright?”

She’d do the mom thing, put her hand on your forehead and try to figure out what was wrong with you. Your head was practically boiling, so she’d get her servants to make tea, lay you in her triclinium and keep you company.

“The servants will prove useful sweetie. You’re a strong warrior, so keep hanging on.”

She’d hum a lullaby, read poetry (the same she’d read to Lucius) and tell stories until you fell asleep. 

- - - - - - - -

Commodus was rarely comforted growing up, so he knew how to handle sickness easily. Growing up semi-independent, he knew homemade tricks and tips to feel better.

“Y/N, are you not feeling well? Just get some herbs and drink an elixir. You’ll be fine.”

He realizes that he sounds a bit harsh, and reminds himself that he never wants to treat you how he was treated; with solitude and no gratitude. Commodus gets you all the snacks and food you want, and even hugs you for as long as you want. 

When you question him after it’s been a whole afternoon of him on your chest, he simply says,

“Y/N, do not question the Emperor. I wish to lay with you, and I do not fear sickness. The Gods can protect one of their own.”

He keeps hugging you and falls asleep, and the next day you’re both coughing and sneezing. 

- - - - - - - -

Acacius has been through so many battles and massacres, yet he’s never truly encountered a cold. The soldiers that cough, are usually dead. Coughing up their own blood, that is. He really doesn’t know how to help you properly, but he’ll try his best.

“Angel, can you tell me what’s wrong? I’m not really sure what to do. Should I get a doctor? Are you feeling a certain way?”

and as he says this, Acacius would use his hands to caress yours, and treat you even more like a princess/prince. He’d lay you in his own bed, and give you massages until you’d feel better. He’d also do a little more if you’d want. Iykyk. You’d fall asleep quickly, and you’d wake up to Acacius either next to you, or on a chair by the bedside and he’d be all sprawled out. His soldier senses would wake him up though.

“Angel? Angel? You’re all right now, that’s wonderful. My lovely Venus, you’re all healed.”

And his words, he would seal with a forehead kiss. GOD HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART I NEED PEDRO PASCAL

- - - - - - - -

Caracalla had his own sickness, the one of syphilis. His wild mentality usually was what kept him going, and the love of ruling over Rome. Yet the Emperor cared for his significant other, and refused to let anyone else; even his closest servants touch you.

“My Wife/Husband, the most holiest of them all, I shall take care of you. Please tell me what your most vivid desires are? Allow me to assist you.”

He’s such a sweetheart, and he’d definitely tell you so many stories of him and Geta in their childhood, Roman mythology, and anything to keep you entertained. As he also has mommy and daddy issues, he also do a Commodus-esque move and lay on your chest and probably fall asleep first haha. When the both of you awake, he'd hear your stomach rumble.

“You’re hungry? Well then I shall feed you. Anything for you my love.”

He’d keep you filled with food and him to help your weak state. (CARACALLA COME HOME THE KIDS AND I MISS YOU)

- - - - - - - -

Geta was always stressed.  Getting much more to do as Emperor, as Caracalla had his own “duties” to fulfill. When you started coughing and sneezing as you strolled in the palace garden, he’d send the servants away to prepare a room where you could quarantine. As much as he loved you, he’d refuse to get sick. (Rome needs a healthy representation.) So you’d be alone the first few days with the occasional knock on the door. When you seemed less sick than before, he’d spend all the time with you.

“My love? I’m here for you. The Gods have finally allotted time for our get together. It will be only the finest in Rome for the night; us.”

He’d definitely turn the situation into a fun (fucking) night and then the days after that would be a cycle of laying together, fine dining meals, and caressing. (your bodies, of course.) When he has to return to his Emperor duties, he’ll leave with a long romantic and passionate kiss, one that made your entire body warm.

“Won’t be long. I’ll be back in the night.”

(if you couldn't tell i love the idea of geta as needy all the time)

- - - - - - - -

Lucius knew what it was like to feel sick and tired constantly, so he took care of you. Like a shepherd tending to his favorite sheep. Both of you grand warriors and gladiators, so there was no time to feel bad. He reassured you he could fight without you, and vowed to come back every time.

“Dearest, I promise to return safely. I couldn’t leave my soul with you, it has to be me truly here always. I vow on our love to fight for freedom and the peace of Rome. I will also fight for you.”

You trusted Lucius, (WHO WOULDN’T WITH THOSE BLUE EYES) and he is a man of his word. Day after day, you slowly healed and was able to rejoin Lucius and the others again.

“See? I knew you’d heal. The Gods give power to those who are great. And you are great.”

You fought as usual, but he’d still protect you a little more to ensure you were actually okay. 

- - - - - - - -

Macrinus would see you and get together some gladiators in your presence, hoping they would entertain you and help you ignore the pain.

“Sickness is nothing but temporary Y/N. You can and have the power to move on.”

You’d take his advice and eventually keep doing your work as his assistant, and he’d make sure you were well taken care of.

“Y/N? A true warrior does not dawdle. Good job keeping up with your tasks.”

Surprisingly, you were able to keep up with work and healed faster than expected. (THERE I WROTE FOR MACRINUS)

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne on the topic of femjay... do u think she'd like giving gifts? I feel like she's the type to shower u in gifts and act like it's nbd she didn't even think about it when she got it for u (she is lying)

ok anon I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant buuut it's kinda related? anyway i was inspired so please enjoy awkward arkham knight femjay who doesn't know how to interact with her old best friend/girlfriend when she returns from the dead so she starts leaving gifts instead. i ❤️ my weirdo wife

ak!female!jason todd x fem!reader.

****

Someone has been leaving you presents.

Normally, you'd be freaked out. Probably, you should be freaked out anyway. How someone knows your exact dress size and what chocolate you like and your favorite flowers and your birthstone... well, it would scare anyone.

But. But the thing is. Every gift and every placement of the gift feels very familiar. It feels like the habit of an old love. Because she used to do the same. Pretty rocks or flowers found on patrol. A t-shirt for the band you liked. A kiss.

It feels like training, like muscle memory: here is how to break in without breaking anything. Here is how to leave a scene undisturbed. Lessons that a friend shared with you.

A friend you loved. A friend you mourned.

The dresses are beautiful and certainly not cheap. But they have a familiarity to their design. They're extravagant, fairytale dresses that you dreamt of wearing when you were young. Dresses you have no reason to wear now.

They aren't revealing or risqué either, and that comforts you too, even though it probably shouldn't. Bruce would be upset at your lack of self-preservation.

This is you living in the past. This is hoping for the impossible.

The jewelry is also beautiful and nothing you could wear to work or to a grocery trip. It's all necklaces and bracelets heavy with diamonds or emeralds or sapphires. But there's a single ruby ring you've received, and it's plainer than everything else. You wear that regularly, even though that definitely encourages your admiring stalker.

The gift-giving is random but they never go more than two weeks without a visit. And there's no note, no demand, nothing. It's like you have an invisible pet raven who likes bringing you trinkets that cost more than your rent.

After the seventh gift, you plan a trap. You want to face this admirer, show that you're not afraid. Well, you're a little afraid. Mostly, it's fear at the fact that you haven't called the police or Batman, even though you and Batman haven't been simpatico for a long time.

No, something stops you. The hand that leaves your gifts is a hand you know. You're certain of it.

You set up a camera behind your shuttered closet, then leave for the day.

You return to the camera gone and a beautiful gold carved statue of a dove. And a note.

Not yet.

Well, fine. You can wait. You're mad because that camera wasn't cheap, but you can wait.

Weeks pass. Gifts arrive. You make a batch of cookies as a thank you on one occasion. Three cookies are missing when you come home. You smile.

Then the night comes.

You don't know how you know it's the night you'll meet them. You just have a feeling. You've written them notes, certain they've been received. No notes have arrived for you besides the one from all those weeks ago.

You put on one of the dresses, a delicate, frilly blue creation that shows your shoulders and neck. You finish it with the sapphire necklace, one of the first gifts you received.

She slips in through your window and freezes when she sees you, even though you know she timed it so you'd be home when she came.

"Hi," you say.

She doesn't speak. She approaches you slowly, carefully. She's very tall, very muscular. Her face is covered with an intricate helmet and she wears similar armor on her body. A new hero in Gotham? Or a villain?

"Do I know you?" you ask.

She shakes her head. You study her for a moment. Glowing eyes stare back. You can't tell if she's lying. It seems like she means it: you don't know her.

"But you know me?"

Your admirer hesitates. Then she nods.

You close the distance until you're a foot apart. Her breathing remains steady but her fingers are restless.

"I like the gifts," you say. "Though I'm confused why you're giving them to me."

Her fingers still. She says nothing.

"A friend used to give me gifts too," you say quietly.

You're both startled. Why did you say that? You don't know.

"You don't want to hurt me," you say.

She shakes her head fiercely.

Suddenly, you want her to touch you. You lift your head and expose your neck. You can tell she's tracking the movement. It sends a thrill down your spine. Maybe something's wrong with both of you.

"Do you like your necklace on me?" you ask.

Touch it. Touch me. Prove you aren't a ghost.

You hear her swallow and inhale shakily. She reaches for you and lightly touches the gold chain around your neck with one gloved finger. You close your eyes. A name falls from your lips. God, you miss her.

The window creaks. You open your eyes. She is gone.

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,494.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all that you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[srslylini]

The thing about Act 1 of season 2 is that, while in context with the rest of s2 it was bad, they actually did set up a good story and continued season 1 pretty amazingly.

There were still some problems but genuinely most of those problems stem from the rest of the Episodes not delivering and not on the first 3 setting stuff up.

Act 1 giving us the tree being sick? Really good idea, perfect set up even the connection between the hextech and it being sick? Nice as fuck. It's what they did with it (nothing) and how it didn't matter (at all) that destroys Act 1.

Caitlyn's set up was absolutely not bad, and a lot of people were praising it. It made sense for her character and it also didn't seem like they thought she was right. Not with all the other episodes after Act 1, though. Contrary to populer believe I like morally not so good (evil) characters if they make sense. Caitlyns narrative was promising to be interesting they just didn't do anything with it and acted like what she did in Act 1 was fine and excusable and alright. It wasn't. Had they actually done something with what they set up with her, well I wouldn't be standing here now.

They also promised this season being a Vi focused season and while I would say that Act 1 did actually give us a lot of Vi, in context with the other Acts... no. In hindsight there was no need to make her an Enforcer. "But the lore-" I'm gonna stop you right there, they also completely changed Viktors lore, and even Jinx' lore. So?

CaitVi was also something that, in Act 1, I was way more ready to get behind. I was a CaitVi shipper in season 1, I did like their dynamic and wanted it explored. I liked their kiss. I did not like what they did after that. Not Caitlyn hitting Vi and then getting to hit her again and never apologizing. I am a lesbian and here I am telling you: Everything that happened with them was weird.

Act 1 also gave us this genuine good found family between Isha, Sevika and Jinx. It was so moving and well done even in such short of a time (there is still stuff to criticize about it but the consensus is that it is awesome so yk I can overlook certain stuff). And then they turned around and wrote Sevika completely out of the story and killed the plot device that was Isha. When Isha should have mattered.

I didn't even originally dislike how many new characters they introduced because season 1 once mastered characters like this. Maddie seemed promising, until she wasn't. Loris seemed interesting and well thought out until he wasn't. Lest was such a good addition until she was just written out of the show completely. Don't even get me started on Steb.

Ambessas ploy in Act 1 was also something that I genuinely liked. Even Mel figuring out a mystery was good. Until they decided "well that doesn't matter anymore".

In Act 1 I did actually like the subtleties. I liked how Caitlyn saw the Violets and how, in episode 3 of s2 she saw one through her rifles lense (I have no idea what that is called, sue me haha) floating over Jinx. Because it was a nice add on and nothing that would destroy your viewing experience if not noticed, and it wasn't on the nose.

While a lot of directions they took, I was already questioning (the Smeech stuff took up way too much time) I was ready to give that a pass because it didn't destroy anything, yet.

Up until episode 4, it all seemed well enough, and while the prison scene also made me question stuff (that god damn Enforcer pants joke oh my god I will never let that go what was that) it wasn't anything too bad, yet.

The reason Act 1 doesn't work now is because of Act 2 and Act 3. Had Act 1 stood alone or had Act 2 and Act 3 delivered on Act 1, we wouldn't have that much of a problem. As it is the further Acts destroy what Act 1 seemed to carefully build up.

In the end what seemed purposefully and artistically done in Act 1 now seems like something the writers actually believe.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

yes the plants take the gem but what does that have to do with sonic and tails can you explain I'm very intrigued

i'm assuming you're referring to this post!

In the anime Sonic X, the third season was dedicated to a completely original story. (also obligatory "please watch the subbed version, the dubbed version got censored heavily" mention) The spoiler-free version is that group of aliens in fucked-up robot armor, led by Dark Oak, descend on Mobius to try and steal the Chaos Emeralds. In attempt to save the universe from these freaks, Super Sonic scatters the emeralds across the galaxy before crashing to the planet (he's fine tho). The aliens, known as the Metarex, then attack the planet and steal something from its core, causing the plants to slowly wither and die.

Around this time, a refugee from space crashes on the planet, looking for Sonic. An anthropomorphic plant, her name is Cosmo and she is the last survivor of her race after the Metarex attacked her ship. She knows Sonic as the only person who can control the chaos emeralds, and begs him to help defeat the Metarex. Turns out these guys have been planet-hopping and genociding as they go, but their main goal is to steal the Planet Egg, which is a magic thing at the core of each planet that keeps it alive and thriving. She currently doesn't know what they're using them for but it's not for anything good. And, well, now they're hunting chaos emeralds... and, as we find out later, making fake ones.

Tails happens to have a spaceship so the whole gang goes into space to fight the Metarex. This takes up the entire season and it fucks severely. Again, the English dub was heavily censored; the og Japanese has constant death and shit. In the last of the spoiler-free bits, I will say that if you have ever heard of "Dark Sonic"... this is where he appears.

The entire season is extremely dark but extremely well-written, which makes it very popular in the fanbase. Ian Flynn has previously stated he wanted to adapt this arc to comic but Sega wouldn't let him; us seeing the Chaos Emerald surrounded by plants, along with fake chaos emeralds and Dark Sonic-implications, is making us wonder if Sega's let up and we might get this arc after all.

Now, spoiler version, though I really do suggest you watch the subbed version of this season bc it's a fucking masterpiece:

We find out late in the season that Cosmo and the Metarex are the same species. In this species, the sexual dimorphism is a different "final stage" of their life cycle. The "male" plant-creatures enter their final stage as basically a kaiju, in order to defend their society from threats; the "female" final stage is turning into a giant fuckin tree in order to reproduce with seeds. The downside is that once you enter this final stage, it is FINAL, and you die shortly after.

However, when their planet was attacked by an unseen threat (it's never clarified, but a lot of people theorize it to be the Black Arms considering Shadow 05 was about to drop), they were all about to get wiped tf out. Dark Oak started experimenting with the Planet Egg in order to stay permanently in kaiju version without dying. His wife, Earthia (or "Ashia" in Japanese, but it just translates to "Earthia") is fucking horrified that he's fucking with the life of their planet like this. While he convinces the "males" to join his side, Earthia escapes with the girls and bombs their planet to kill Dark Oak and his new monsters. They survive though, and Dark Oak starts leading them to steal more planet eggs.

Turns out their plan is to use the power of the eggs and chaos emeralds (fake or real) to do a full-scale attack on the entire fucking universe, which will kill all animal-people and turn every planet into overgrown plants. We actually see some characters from a Shadow one-off episode being killed and violently turned into trees in one scene. Fucked up. That's what they want to do to everything.

And Cosmo? Well she didn't just happen to be a survivor; turns out Dark Oak spared her from the attack on her ship, semi-possessed her in order to spy through her eyes and ears, and yeeted her down to Mobius. He's been using her to spy on the Sonic Crew this entire time, against her will and without her knowledge. It fucks everyone up a WHOLE lot.

Anyway there's like a three-part finale where Super Sonic and Super Shadow are desperately trying to keep these fuckers from Mass Genociding. Finally, Cosmo realizes that she's the only one who can stop this and sacrifices herself; she goes into her Final Stage, turning into a tree but trapping Dark Oak in there with her (it's a long story, he kinda turned into a meteor). She then appears to Tails, the ship captain, and tells him to fucking shoot her to kill both her and Dark Oak, saving the galaxy.

The problem is, Tails and Cosmo have had a bit of a romance over the course of the season. It's been fucking adorable, and Tails became extremely protective of her after Shadow tried to kill her (long story). There's an uncomfortably drawn-out scene (and I mean that in the best way) where Tails is like. Emotionally broken and trying to figure out any way to do this without killing Cosmo. Eventually, he has to give in and fucking shoot her, blowing her and Dark Oak up. It saves the galaxy but traumatizes the hell out of him.

Super Sonic and Shadow contain the blast, and Super Shadow chaos-controls it away and disappears (this is likely bc they were setting up for the Sonic Heroes arc, where Shadow would have to appear out of nowhere again). When Sonic returns to the ship, Tails meets with him, desperate for him to say he saved the day last-minute and brought Cosmo back. Instead, all Sonic could find was a single seed– considering how the Metarex reproduce, it's probably Cosmo's child, but it's never clarified. This causes Tails to have a complete fucking breakdown.

The season p much ends there. They show everyone starting to heal on Mobius, have a bit where the anime-exclusive character Chris has character development and leaves to go home, and then go "and now we're going to have more adventures!! yay!!" before panning to a potted plant in Tails's workshop, showing that the seed has sprouted.

As I said, it's very dark, but VERY good, and thus we all really really hope that it's what Sonic IDW is building up to. They've been building up fake Chaos Emeralds, Tails blaming himself for things outside of his control, and Sonic being 110% done. I didn't even get into the Dark Sonic stuff, cause it only appears briefly in one episode and then is never mentioned again, which you'd think would be bad writing but no it just raises so many questions and you know that was what was intended by it.

The arc is really beloved but because it only appeared in a 2005 anime (which was heavily censored in English, and the og Japanese didn't air officially until a couple years ago), not a huge chunk of the fanbase knows about it. Which means we really want to share it and get more people into it and how good a character Cosmo is. So yeah that's what we're excited for.

[hovkinnie]

mizuena/ena5 incoherent rant below bc i love them so much im losing my mind

I can't stop thinking about how much of mizuki's conflict in prsk is resolved entirely by ena's actions, not mizuki's own, and that's actually really fucking good. hear me out.

One of the driving emotions for Mizuki's conflict is obviously fear; she's afraid of being left once people know her secret, she's afraid she can only ever have shallow connections with people who wouldn't really accept her as who she is, she's afraid of losing the few friends she has and the one space where she feels like she can express herself through their shared art.

But beyond that, the other driving emotion for her is guilt. She feels guilty that she's been "deceiving" everyone else, she feels guilty that she's left Ena waiting for so long without telling her her secret, she feels guilty that everyone else seems to be moving forward and facing their fears while she seemingly can't. And when her secret is revealed, the strongest emotion she's going through isn't her fear of being left behind, it's the guilt that's been eating her away from the inside.

She tells ena that it can't be the same, that now ena won't be able to treat her the same, that she knows Ena and Kanade and Mafuyu are so kind they'll smile and tell her they're fine with it, but that they'll just be forcing themselves for the sake of kindness. That they'd rather not have to deal with everything that makes Mizuki complicated, but they would anyway because they're kind like that. That she can't bear that. She doesn't deserve that.

And all of this guilt is so real for this young trans girl to feel because it's what we're pushed towards constantly, even when we're supposedly accepted for who we are. The lie that we're deceiving others when we present as our own gender is so deeply written into our collective psyche, and even beyond that, even in "progressive" spaces, the violence we suffer is often treated as our own burden to bear, as something we have to deal with and not burden other people with.

So many basic bitch stories about trans women, with trans women protags written by cis people, have them struggle and "grow" as the story progresses, having to "face their fears", to come out to people they're scared of leaving them, to "trust their loved ones" and take that first step. I think a lot about The Missing, a game that gets a lot of the horror of being a trans girl and yet still has the protagonist, who is so terrified of how her mom would react to her coming out she tries to end her own life, learn the lesson that she should come out anyway, trust this person that's only given her reasons to fear her, because that's the only way for her to move forward.

Mizuki doesn't do that. She doesn't have to. Mizu5 is all about the horror of being outed before you're ready to come out yourself, even to someone you know would show you kindness. And it allows Mizuki to stew in her own guilt, the guilt that she never faced her fears herself, that she's burdening N25 with her suffering. But Ena5 is about Ena, so patient and unwilling to hurt Mizuki, finally being moved to action by kaito and meiko agreeing that it's up to her to be selfish and try to bring Mizuki back, to recognize that Mizuki doesn't want to be alone.

It's up to Ena to do the scary thing, for her to be open and vulnerable about her feelings. For her to go up to Mizuki, despite being ignored for so long, as someone who is so sensitive to being ignored- to being rejected- and to tell Mizuki what she needs- and deserves- to hear. That she's wanted. That Ena doesn't care if Mizuki thinks she deserves it or not, that Mizuki's guilt shouldn't factor in because Ena wants Mizuki beside her.

It's the ultimate transfem fantasy because it's the fantasy of being truly wanted, of being unconditionally loved. It's the fantasy of someone seeing you for who you are, and not just "accepting you" as if it's a favor they're doing you, but going as far as telling you that the way you've been conditioned by a lifetime of violence to feel and act to protect yourself is NOT your fault, it's NOT just your responsibility to deal with, that you deserve someone who will go through the effort of digging you out of that hole and that you're not a burden for needing that.

In a lot of subtle ways, Mizuki's story feels 1000% written by people who understand trans girls so far beyond the scope of the usual explaining-transness-to-cis-people style of narrative, even understanding ways that these narratives fuck up routinely and also understanding exactly what is needed to sneak this into a highly commercial hatsune miku gacha game. There's a lot of compromises made there for the sake of being this kind of story in this kind of game, but what we get in return is so much more meaningful as a transfem narrative than anything of similar popularity that I can think of, it fills me with so much emotion and I truly can't fathom believing it's somehow "bait" or "not real rep" unless you've never had to think about transmisogyny and how it emotionally affects you to this degree.

I'll never stop thinking about them. Congrats on the wedding mizuki and ena. someone like ena is exactly what every trans girl deserves, and never has someone proven herself more deserving of a trans girl's love than ena. i love them both so much my heart feels like it's going to explode whenever i think of them. huge thanks to everyone involved in creating their story

[yallthemwitches]

Spoiler: I've come here to gush.

I have to admit something: I'm not a big "long sweeping fic" fan. I've snooped around in this fandom for a long long time and was there during the ff.net hayday of many of the 'major' fics and liked them fine, but something was always missing.

For this reason, I fought reading The Last Enemy for some time now. I opened it once, saw it was a multi pov tome of a thing and went noooope. My husband lovingly refers to this urge as my "Sopranos knee jerk" which is to say, I do this with lots of media that is lauded and often I am very very wrong.

THIS is one of those times. I blasted through this fic, literally ignored clients and mailing out (probably) Christmas gifts in order to read. Everything about this was so spot on: the characterization, the world building, the politics (so time specific but believable), the PINING (wow, it was like watching the first few seasons of The Office again and I mean that with the highest pining regards)I could go on. Again, gushing.

Just...in what cruel, upside down world did THIS piece not originate as canon and instead some sequel written by an absolute horrid human being was?? Ours, apparently...but not cruel enough to keep this incredible gem from the public.

Anyways. Go read it. I beg you. Give yourself a Christmas gift. and thank you @chdarling-tle for this absolute masterpiece, I'm just in awe with your talent.

[cryinhell]

No one asked, but here's my updated top ten hellaverse ships (both canon and not)

10) Stella x Striker

What can I say? I love an evil couple. I think these two look pretty hot together, and it's interesting how Striker seems to respect Stella despite hating blue bloods. These two aren't canon, but I wouldn't mind if they were

9) RadioRose

Despite having mixed feelings on Alastor, I think these two are just so cute. Either as a couple or just queer platonic partners, I don't care. Rosie seems to be the only person to make Alastor genuinely smile, and she's the only one who can touch him. There's a special bond there I really like

8) Verosika Mayday x Wally Wackford

So this is the biggest crack ship on this list, but I think in theory, it's so cute. I really want Verosika to be happy, and Wally, despite being a bit of a scammer, is really sweet. I'm totally cool with Verosika ending up with Barbie as well, but I slightly prefer Wally. I wonder if they will have more interactions in future episodes.

7) Fizzmodeus

Is this controversial? Probably. I know Fizzarolli and Asmodeus are so loved in this fandom, so putting them at number 7 is awful...but they aren't my favorite. I do like them, and I think they're really cute! I just have ships I like more, but that doesn't take away how sweet these two can be. Sometimes obnoxiously sweet heh. So yeah, no disrespect to these two

6) M&M

So these two were at first kinda meh for me, but over time, I've grown to love them. They have a pretty healthy relationship, and I always hate when someone bothers Millie for marrying Moxxie or saying Moxxie isn't a good enough husband. These two clearly love and respect each other and clearly grow together with every episode.

5) Staticmoth

Like I said, I love an evil couple. Valentino is a monster, and Vox is deplorable. That doesn't stop me from loving them as a couple and thinking they are cute. I think they both should die, but also would be sad cause come on, they're cute together.

4) Cherrisnake

I love Sir Pentious, I love Cherri Bomb, so obviously, them together is a fun pair. I shipped these two before the show came out and was so excited to see Pen having a crush on Cherri. They kinda remind me of the early versions of M&M, but they need a lot more time. Cherri isn't ready to accept love, and Sir Pentious is well...in a different world. I can't wait to see these two develop and become an actual couple.

3) Adamsapple

So this and Lucilith could be here. Lucifer being happy is the main objective, and its Adamsapple is so fun. They clearly have a history, and there's a lot of feelings. If Adam comes back in season 2, I'd love to see this be fleshed out. I doubt they'd be a couple, but maybe friends? Who knows. I'm fine with this one not being canon, and just something fun in the fandom

2) Stolitz

Stoltiz is pretty important to me because it really got me involved in the fandom. I've been watching Helluva Boss since the beginning, but episode one of season two had me from casual watcher to actual fan. Blitzø is one of the characters I really relate to, and Stolas is just a really well written character. I love the development of these two and they are worth waiting for. I really gotta draw some fanart of them because they are everything

1) Huskerdust

Are you surprised? You must be new. These two are my everything and all time otp in the Hellaverse. I've talked so much about why I love them, and I will continue to do so until I can't any longer. Angel and Husk are not only my favorite characters individually, but their growing friendship and eventual relationship are just so ughhhh. I love these losers, and they will always be number one.

Thanks for reading my nonsense

Have a good one 💜💜

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

Y/N widened her eyes at the letter, her breath catching in her throat. The handwriting was impeccable, every letter, every curve and line, perfectly formed. It was nothing like the chaotic scrawl she remembered from the Viktor she once knew. 

Back then, his words were always barely legible, as though his thoughts raced too quickly for his hand to keep up. But this… This was different. New. And yet, there was something so unmistakably him about it that her chest ached.

Her fingers trembled as she read the words again. He had her pocket watch. The thought made her stomach churn. Of all things, that had survived the wreckage? She swallowed hard, her mind spinning. 

If Viktor had it, then he must know. He must know who had broken in. Or… Did he? Maybe he just suspected it was her. Maybe this was his way of confirming his hunch.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the possibilities overwhelmed her. As long as the rest of them remained out of the spotlight, she could handle it. She would have to. Powder and the rest of them were still safe…

But the thought of that watch being in Viktor’s possession felt like a cruel twist of fate. The one thing tying them to the crime scene, the one thing she cherished above all else, was now in his hands.

It didn’t sit well with her. None of this did. She wasn’t sure which stung more— the fact that Viktor had her watch or the fact that, after all these years, he had finally reached out to her. 

And it wasn’t some casual gesture or friendly note. No, it came in the form of this letter, perfectly written and delivered with a precision that felt so foreign yet so deeply familiar.

She told herself it didn’t bother her. That she was fine. That it was just a letter. But the truth? It gnawed at her. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit. A lot more.

With a shaky hand, Y/N reached for a piece of paper from her cluttered desk. The edges were charred and smudged, and the surface was riddled with creases and smears of ash, a stark contrast to the pristine, pressed sheet Viktor had sent.

Digging through her bag, she grabbed the first writing tool she could find and paused. Her mind went blank. She didn’t know what to write, or even how to begin.

Emotions had always been her strength. She prided herself on her ability to connect with others, to understand what they felt and recognize her own feelings in turn. 

But now, staring at the blank sheet in front of her, she felt utterly lost. Viktor wasn’t a diary she could confide in. He wasn’t a safe place for her to pour out her vulnerabilities. He wasn’t the Viktor she once knew.

The realization hit her harder than she expected, a dull ache spreading through her chest. He had been her best friend, her constant companion, the one person who truly understood her. They had shared everything once—secrets, dreams, fears. And now? 

Now they were strangers. A lifetime had passed since they had spoken, and she wasn’t even sure if he had remembered her at all. Until now. Until the letter.

Her fingers hovered over the page, her pencil poised but unmoving. She told herself it was simple. Just write back. Just tell him she would meet him where he wanted. Just assure him she was fine. This wasn’t about emotions or the past—it was about the pocket watch. That’s all it was.

“You’re okay,” She whispered under her breath, as if saying it aloud would make it true. “He’s just returning something to you. It’s not that big of a deal.”

_____________________________________________________

Dear Viktor,

I got your letter. After all these years I didn’t know if you even remembered my existence but… I guess this is the one time I’ve ever been wrong between the both of us.

I will meet you tonight.

Y/N.

Viktor’s eyes widened as he read the note. It was short, but it confirmed what he had hoped for so long: Y/N was alive. She hadn’t died, after all. He ran his fingers over the writing, recognizing it immediately. 

Her handwriting was messy but charming, a unique style that only Y/N could pull off. The marker she’d used had smudged slightly, making the words look perfectly imperfect, just like her.

At first, Viktor felt relieved, but that feeling didn’t last long. Dread crept in, heavy and cold. He was going to see Y/N tonight, after so many years. 

He thought about all that had happened between them. He had abandoned her. The thought hit him like a punch. He’d been a terrible friend. No, worse than that— a terrible person.

And Y/N? She didn’t forget. She had an incredible memory for people who had wronged her. Every name, every face, every slight was etched in her mind. She even knew how to get back at them. That trait had always been a little scary, but Viktor couldn’t deny that it had been useful. 

She had stood up to the few that would bully him. Y/N had defended him fiercely, even when he just wanted to fade into the background.

Y/N had been his closest friend, his protector. And now he had to face her, with the pocket watch she wanted, and all the guilt of what he had done.

“Oh, what’s that?” Jayce’s voice interrupted Viktor’s thoughts. His new partner had noticed the distraction. They hadn’t worked together long, but even Jayce could tell that Viktor’s mind was somewhere else.

“Just a letter,” Viktor said, folding the note quickly and tucking it into his pocket. He hoped Jayce would drop the subject, but Jayce wasn’t one to let things go that easily.

“Y/N, huh?” Jayce said, smirking. “Cool name. So, who’s he?”

“She’s an old friend,” Viktor corrected. His tone was hesitant, and Jayce caught it.

“Sounds like you two go way back,” Jayce said, his grin softening into something more thoughtful.

“… Yes,” Viktor said after a pause. “I suppose we do.”

“Tell me about her.” Jayce sat on the chair next to him, “Sounds like you two are pretty close.”

Viktor hesitated, he wasn’t sure how Jayce would react to telling him she was from the Undercity. That he was from the Undercity, so he didn’t. But he did tell him about everything else.

“She’s got white hair, similar to snow.” Viktor thought for a moment. It had been a long time since he’d seen her, but he never forgot her face.

Jayce nodded, listening at Viktor’s features seemed to soften at the thought of his ‘friends’ features. 

“She was incredibly strong and smart as well. Somehow, she could always cook a very good meal if she had enough ingredients. She’s made a delicious soup before in fact! Y/N… She had a harsh exterior, but she was always able to be soft as well.”

_____________________________________________________

Y/N had finally reached her destination, her shoes tapping on the stone pathway as she found herself in the familiar alley way. She traced her hand softly on the bricks, a sense of nostalgia running through her.

“Y/N?” A voice called out.

Y/N lifted her head and frowned at the sight of him. He stepped into view, his figure as fragile as ever as he leaned on his cane, a different cane this time. His dark hair was a bit longer, and his neat clothes wrapped tightly on his thin frame. He wore a brown cloak, hiding his Piltover clothing and looked healthier.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Viktor said softly.

Y/N leaned on the alleyway wall, crossing her arms as the dim lighting hid her face. She held her hand out, “Do you have it?”

Viktor nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the antique. “The clock was broken, I… Hope you don’t mind that I fixed it.” He said, handing her the watch as he averted his gaze.

Y/N reached her hand out before hesitating. She searched for his eyes, golden and full of warmth, and found them. And all of a sudden, time seemed to stop. Her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear… 1 beat, 2 beats, 3 beats, 4 beats. 

And then time started once again.

Y/N’s hand brushed Viktors as she grabbed the pocket watch. He was cold, though wrapped in multiple layers to conceal himself, and she was warm, though in ragged clothes.

“Thank you, Viktor.” Y/N said softly, eyes full of something the inventor couldn’t quite read. Eyes that he wanted to drown in for eternity.

The way she said his name made him want to melt in her embrace once again. A longing for a hug, a simple touch, like when they were kids. But he knew she didn’t owe him anything, he knew that abandoning her in the Undercity was wrong.

All of a sudden the Undercity air was no longer cold, it was warm and he could finally breathe, better than he could in Topside. Viktor wasn’t sure why Y/N had this effect on him, why his affection for her as a child had suddenly come back. It confused him.

Y/N seemed to feel the same, staring at him as well. She felt a sense of longing that filled the hole Viktor had left in her heart, a growing fondness that made her brain go fuzzy. Did he always look so… Beautiful? Yes. He always did.

The white haired girl turned her gaze away from Viktor as well, resentment still settled within her heart as well. And she couldn’t just brush it all off for him. Could she? No, she could not.

“You won’t… Tell anyone about what happened, right?” Y/N asked, slightly turning her body away from Viktor. The man blinked, trying to find her gaze now.

“Of course not.” Viktor shook his head, unconsciously pulling in closer for more of her warmth though he stopped himself before he got too close. “I… You’re my dearest friend, Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t help but scoff softly at the title, “Am I?” She asked quietly. “I appreciate what you said in your letter… But, you seemed so self-aware about it… Did you know what you were doing when you left me?”

Viktor faltered, backing away slightly at the accusation. “I…” He stammered. It wasn’t that at all, he wanted to keep Y/N safe. But he knew that was a bullshit answer, to say that he wanted to keep her away from the danger. “I haven’t been the greatest friend, have I?”

“No. You really haven’t…” Y/N said coldly, regretting how she sounded. “And… I-I guess I haven’t been the best either. I should be happy for you, that you left, and I am! You’re in Piltover now! One of the Topsiders.” She gave a weak smile, “You made it out-”

Viktors cane dropped to the ground as his arms wrapped around her. She wanted to give him a hug, wrap herself tightly around him and melt in his embrace. But her arms were frozen, stuck mid-way as if deciding whether or not what she should do.

“I missed you.” Viktor’s voice was soft, low in her ear, “And I am sorry that I’ve been such a horrible friend, that I took you for granted. No one deserves that, especially not you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She’d been the taller one between them when they were kids, but now he was about a few inches taller. How the tables had turned. “I missed you too.” She whispered, her arms wrapped around her friend.

Viktor flooded her senses, all she could feel was him. She could smell soot, books, and other things she couldn’t quite name, she could hear his steady heartbeat, finally see what he looked like after all these years. Y/N just couldn’t taste him. The thought made her burn in embarrassment.

And all of a sudden they were both little kids again, searching for metal scraps and building boats together under the moonlight. All of a sudden they were back to where they were, the Undercity. The alleyway. All of a sudden they were together again.

“Is it possible… To forgive?” Viktor asked quietly.

“Maybe, but… I don’t think anyone can forget.” Y/N said, eyes locking with Viktors once again. She handed him his cane, “Thank you, Viktor, for returning the watch.”

“Of course-” Mojí drahoušek. Viktor paused. Maybe not today, it wasn’t the right time for that. “Of course, Y/N.”

_____________________________________________________

Fire.

That’s all Y/N could see. Fire roared in furious waves, licking up the broken walls, consuming everything it touched. The air was thick and suffocating with smoke, the acrid tang of ash burning her lungs with every desperate gasp. 

Somewhere in the distance, buildings crumbled with a resounding crash, and the screams of the dying blended with the deafening roar of the flames.

But through it all, one color stood out. Blue.

Y/N froze, her breath catching as her wide eyes locked onto a small figure amidst the chaos. A little girl, sobbing on the ground, her tiny frame trembling with heartbreak. The blue of her hair shone vividly, like a beacon of grief in the midst of destruction.

"Powder!" Y/N screamed, her voice cracking as she stumbled forward. Her heart felt like it had been pierced, every beat a painful reminder of the scene unfolding before her.

The girl looked up, her tear-streaked face pale and trembling. When their eyes met, Y/N’s chest constricted. Powder looked so small, so utterly broken.

Y/N fell to her knees, her arms encircling the girl’s frail form in an instinctive, protective embrace. Powder clung to her like a lifeline, burying her face in Y/N’s chest as her sobs tore through the air.

"Why did she leave me?!" Powder wailed, her voice raw, each word stabbing into Y/N like a dagger. "I mess up everything!"

The words hit Y/N like a hammer. She didn’t need to ask who "she" was. The jagged pieces of the puzzle came together in her mind. Vi had left.

Y/N’s gaze shifted to the bloodied goggles lying nearby, a grim reminder of the lives lost tonight. Claggor… She choked back her own grief, her thoughts spinning wildly. Where was Mylo? Where was Vander? What had happened in the time she’d been gone?

She tightened her hold on Powder, her own tears threatening to spill as the girl shook in her arms. "It’s… It’s gonna be okay," Y/N whispered, though her voice quavered with uncertainty. "We’ll figure something out. I’ll figure something out."

But Powder wasn’t hearing her. The girl’s cries turned into a wordless, anguished scream, the sound raw and primal. It shattered Y/N’s heart into a thousand pieces.

"Hello." The voice was low, cold, and calculating.

Y/N’s instincts flared to life, and she snapped her head toward the sound. A man stood just beyond the carnage, his figure shadowed by the flickering light of the flames. His sharp gaze swept over the scene, over Y/N, over Powder, and finally, over the beast’s lifeless body behind them.

Y/N’s hand shot to her bag, her fingers closing around the hilt of a knife. She yanked it out, holding it with trembling resolve. "Don’t come near," She warned, her voice shaky but firm.

The man ignored the knife, his expression unreadable as he took a slow step forward. "There, there," He murmured, his tone almost gentle. "I can help."

Y/N’s heart pounded, her grip tightening on the blade. But before she could react, Powder moved.

The girl lunged forward, throwing herself into the stranger’s arms. "She left me," Powder sobbed, her small fists clutching at the man’s coat. "She’s not my sister anymore."

Y/N felt her blood run cold. Powder had latched onto the man as though he were a lifeline, her trust given freely and desperately.

Y/N struggled to find her voice, to piece together the right words. Her tears finally spilled over, her cheeks wet as she wiped them away. "W-Who… Who are you?" she stammered, hating the weakness in her voice.

The man crouched, his mismatched eyes glinting as he placed a hand on Powder’s shoulder. "Your savior," He said softly. "Silco." Silco held a hand out for Y/N to take, “Tell me, how old are you?”

“Eighteen.” Y/N answered.

“Hm, such an early age to have a heart broken so coldly.” Silco commented, “Come here, dear.”

Y/N hesitated before taking his hand, hugging him tightly and searching for the warmth of a father. Though she assumed he was dead. “Thank you…” She whispered softly as she hugged Powder a bit more tightly.

taglist: @night-fall-moon @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

(A/N: Did Arcane change my writing for the better and my brain chemistry? Yes.)

[clockwork-ashes]

Shake the Frost - Part II

Read on Ao3

Summary: Elain’s visions lead her to the human lands where she seeks answers from the one male she’s been avoiding—Lucien. As the two of them work together, the walls built between them begin to crumble.

Note: this is for the lovely @zenkindoflove for this year’s @acotargiftexchange <3 a HUGE thank you to those organising the event, i had the most fun!!!

Elain POV 

Elain stared at the paper in front of her, the pen hovering over the blank sheet until a drop of ink fell and scattered onto it. 

Blood dripping onto a fresh blanket of snow. 

“Lovely,” Elain muttered, setting the pen aside and crumpling up the ruined paper. She wasn’t able to focus on the task at hand, despite her efforts the last few days. It had been a week since she’d left the Night Court, and every letter she had penned had been filled with more of the same vague reassurances. 

Everything is fine. 

I’m just taking some time for myself. 

Don’t worry, and I’ll be back soon.

The words had all felt hollow when she’d read them out loud, and each of the letters she had written and signed had all been promptly tossed into the fireplace in the sitting room. 

Elain sighed, rubbing her eyes as the latest of her visions crept up on her, sharp and unwelcome. It was the same one she had shown to her mate when she’d first arrived at the manor, flashing in her mind like the briefest glimpse of a shooting star. 

Eris Vanserra, handsome in a cloak made of the finest silk, a crown of flames adorning his scarlet hair. 

Lucien handed a dagger to his brother, one made of Illyrian steel, blood on the silver edge. 

Ravens scattered into the air, their wings black against the grey sky. The cold scent of copper filled the air, mingling with the scent of something burning…

Elain gripped the edge of the table, forcing the vision out of her mind much easier than she had expected. She knew she couldn’t ignore the message it was trying to send, but she was glad all the same when she was once again simply staring at the kitchen tiles. It usually took a lot more of her energy, fighting the constant flood of images that pressed against her consciousness, but being near Lucien seemed to make it better. 

At first, Elain had thought it was mere coincidence, but after laying awake in the evenings only to sleep dreamlessly for seven nights, even she couldn’t deny there was a bit of magic to the bond between them. Lucien’s presence was like a quiet balm against the chaos, anchoring her in reality and pulling her out of any spiraling visions. While it still wasn’t enough to stop them entirely, the effects of the mating bond has not gone unnoticed by her. 

Elain tapped her short nails onto the wood of the table, looking at the remaining blank sheet of paper and the discarded pen she had borrowed from Jurian. With an exaggerated sigh, Elain slumped in her chair, defeated. 

She had started writing to Feyre, and every word had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Performative and insincere, she couldn’t find a way to explain her actions in a way that wouldn’t make them all worry about her.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor interrupted her thoughts, and Elain straightened in her own seat. She glanced up to see Vassa, the sharp heels of her booted feet loud as she settled next to her. The other woman paused, one brow raised, her face a near impossible mixture of curiosity and disinterest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice steady. 

While there was no concern lining the words, Elain could admit that there was also no judgment. She let out a heavy breath, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “Everything,” she mumbled, exasperated. She combed her hands through her tangled curls, a small, frustrated noise escaping her lips.

Vassa clicked her tongue, a sound that almost made Elain smile. There was a teasing edge to it, the kind that could easily break through the weight of Elain’s frustration. “Are you always this dramatic?” Vassa asked, her dark eyes glinting with amusement, her question a friendly challenge. 

Elain laughed weakly, shaking her head. “If I write to my sisters, they’ll tell me to come back.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She knew Feyre and Nesta would demand she return to them, back to the safety of their circle, back to the comfort of Velaris. While they might be willing to help, Elain was certain they would also be the first voices telling her to stay behind. 

Sometimes, Elain had to remind herself that her sisters behaved that way only because they cared. 

Vassa tilted her head, her expression shifting to something far more curious. She scrunched her nose, clearly considering Elain’s words. “You don’t have to, though,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of someone who was used to giving orders instead of following them. “You can do as you like.”

Elain gave her a small, rueful smile. “I’m guessing you don’t have sisters?” she asked, her tone playful. She was surprised at how easy liking the human queen was. 

Vassa snorted in response, the sound louder than Elain had expected from someone of her status. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t be obligated to listen to them.”

Elain laughed quietly at that, the sound lighter than it had been in days. The simple words made her feel a little less alone, a little more understood. Vassa was right, of course, and Elain didn’t necessarily owe anyone explanations. 

“You don’t have to listen to me.” Vassa’s expression softened as she stood up slowly, tucking her chair in gently, giving Elain some space. “But the Cauldron gave you a very powerful ability, and I think that means something. And I think your sisters should trust you,” she said, her tone unexpectedly earnest.

Elain’s throat tightened at the reminder. She had considered being a Seer a curse for so long, a blessing and a burden. The Sight connected her to the world in ways that were both beautiful and terrible, and her visions could be lovely and vicious in equal measure. She frowned, her lips pulling downwards as she stared at her hands. 

Vassa didn’t wait for her to respond. With a soft shrug, she turned and left Elain alone at the table, her boots clicking daintily along the floors. Elain didn’t immediately return to her letter. She let the silence settle around her, the quiet that filled the space where Vassa had been. The weight of her words lingered in the air, like a promise.

Elain closed her eyes, the faint pull of the bond to Lucien humming in the background of her mind, soothing and grounding her. While it annoyed her slightly that a man was the cause, the reprieve it brought was enough for her to ignore the more bitter thoughts she usually had around the bond. 

When Lucien was near, it was as if she could finally breathe. 

No sooner had she relaxed, she felt the vaguest of chills along her spine. A vision creeped along her eyes, the kitchen disappearing from her sight. 

Blood scattered onto snow. 

Eris gripping a dagger, golden rings flashing. 

The gentle sound of whirring, a final click, before the dagger cut through flesh. 

Elain’s breath caught in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the image, but it clung to her, sharp. Blowing at a strand of hair, the world sharpened back into focus. 

Elain grabbed the pen again, her hand shaking just slightly. She trusted her sisters, and a part of her believed that they trusted her too. She scrawled across the paper, her hand moving swiftly, though the words were no less difficult to find despite her new found confidence. 

Nesta and Feyre… 

Elain paused, her mind swimming in a sea of visions, and she sighed, feeling the pressure of the words she was about to write.

I’m fine. I promise.

LUCIEN POV

Lucien’s fingers hovered over the chessboard, nudging a knight forward with a sly grin. “Check,” he said, leaning back in his chair, russet eye gleaming.

Jurian didn’t flinch, his face a mask of concentration as he moved his queen with quiet precision. “You’re getting better, but not that good,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed the board.

Lucien laughed, taking in the sight of the human general, wondering if he was still as sharp and quick-witted as he’d been on the battlefield centuries before. Their banter filled the room as the game continued, but it wasn’t long before a soft sound caught his attention, the light creak of the door opening.

Elain stepped into the room and his heart stuttered once in his chest. She had her cloak wrapped snugly around her shoulders, the dark fabric catching the flicker of light from the nearby hearth. The fire’s glow danced over her, but it was her presence that struck him the most. Her beauty was undeniable, and tonight, it seemed to have intensified. The dim moonlight filtering in through the arched windows made her eyes seem endless, there was a depth to them that pulled him in. She was staring directly at him, and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t look away.

“I’m going for a walk,” Elain announced, her voice quiet but resolute, a slight blush staining her cheekbones as she looked between him and Jurian.

Lucien’s gaze lingered on her, sensing the unspoken invitation in her words. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Jurian cut in. Still looking at the board between them, he said, “Sounds lovely, I’ve been meaning to stretch my legs.” 

Elain’s lips parted, her blush deepening. The sight was both endearing and exasperating. She looked at Lucien, as if expecting him to speak and intervene on her behalf. She tugged at the bond between them, like a rough yank on a string tied to his rib. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat as he glared at his friend, golden eye clicking into place. 

Jurian raised a broad hand, a rook between his fingers. “I’m kidding,” he added with a grin. 

Elain laughed awkwardly, the sound a mix of relief and embarrassment. Lucien rolled his eyes, offering her a long-suffering look as he stood up, giving her a small smile. “Let me grab my coat.”

The moment stretched out, and without a word, Lucien stepped into the hall, pulling on his boots before he took hold of his jacket. He could feel Elain’s eyes on him as he shrugged on the dark wool coat, the familiar weight of it grounding him. He turned back to her, holding the door open, his chest tight with an emotion he didn’t want to name.

Elain stepped past him, her breath coming out in small clouds as she elegantly stepped down the stone stairs of the manor. The night was still, save for the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots. Lucien kept a glamour up, a faint shimmer around them to let her know he had done so. 

There was a part of Lucien that was glad they would remain hidden from view, a feeling that was as though the world beyond the spell didn’t exist.

The air was crisp and cold, the faintest touch of winter biting at his skin no matter how warm his blood ran. He kept his gaze ahead, but he could feel Elain’s presence close beside him, her steps matching his pace in the quiet of the night.

It was his mate who broke the silence, her voice soft, but the words still sharp with meaning. “Can you help me send a letter to the Night Court?”

Relief washed over him, knowing that the sooner Feyre and Rhysand knew where Elain was, the less trouble he would have explaining himself. 

“Who should I send it to?” Lucien asked, his voice steady, although his mind was already working through the necessary steps he would have to take to make her wish a reality. 

“Nesta,” Elain replied without hesitation. Her tone was firm, as if she had made her decision long before she had even asked for his help. “If you can get it to Nesta first, I’m sure she’ll show it to Feyre.”

Lucien nodded, understanding. He glanced at her, taking in the way she tucked a curl behind her pointed ear. The vision she had shared with him weighed heavily on his mind. He had tried not to dwell on the fact that she was able to show others what she saw, but he was very impressed that she had learned how to manipulate her magic without help from others. 

“If we can also send a letter to Autumn?” Elain’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Lucien furrowed his brow, the scarred side pulling uncomfortably as he glanced at her. “Who would you need to speak with in Autumn?” Even though he already knew the answer, he might as well hope that she’d change her mind. 

Elain looked up at him with her full lips pressed into a firm line. There was a silent challenge in her dark gaze, as if to say that he already knew the answer. 

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, holding back a small smile. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice soft and determined.

Elain took a slow, steadying breath, a perfect little cloud in the cold night. She grabbed his hand, a gentle tug, just enough to stop him in his tracks. She was wearing gloves, a barrier between them despite the contact. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes warm despite the chill in the air, and the moment felt as if time had stretched itself thin.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice low but sincere.

He felt a rush of warmth flood through him at her words. “Of course,” Lucien answered instinctively, before realizing how hollow the words might have sounded to her ears. 

Before he could say anything more, Elain surprised him again. She linked her fingers with his own, pulling him as a reminder to move so they could continue to walk. 

Elain didn’t let go of his hand, a ruby blush staining her cheeks. She held on tightly, and Lucien dragged his thumb across her knuckles, letting her lead. 

[northern-passage]

one thing i find really difficult about navigating the IF space is the direct line of contact between readers and authors. we share the same space, and i think that plays a big part in this weird blurred line we have in this community and overall lack of boundaries.

for a lot of people this is a fun hobby and while i personally try to keep it... semi-professional most of the time, it's easy to get wrapped up in having fun on tumblr (or the forums, or reddit, wherever it is that you mainly post/interact) and have a lot of personal interactions with both readers and authors alike - which is fun! i like it more often than not, but i also think that's why a lot of comments in this space can end up being really entitled, over-familiar, and inappropriate.

it's no secret that most authors get really weird messages on here, and while this is also a problem on social media at large and not just specific to IF tumblr, it is still definitely a big problem in this community.

and to be clear i'm not saying that you can't be friendly with authors or readers (i've become friends with a handful of readers myself) and i definitely don't mean to imply that there needs to be a huge divide between us; that's silly - again, most authors are readers, most readers are authors, we’re just people on the internet sharing the same space. but all of us deserve to have our boundaries respected. this is my story, and we are strangers. as a general rule of thumb: if you wouldn't say it out loud to someone you just met, you probably shouldn't be saying it to a stranger online. especially anonymously.

[rythyme]

really not a fan of boston very explicitly saying "I want to be exclusive romantically but not sexually" only to be told "You're lying to yourself. I think you should be alone."

[shitpostingkats]

I don't know if it's intentional; but it is genuinely saddening that Yusho is a better dueltainer than his son.

I'm in the home stretch of Arc-V episodes, and now that we actually get to see Yusho duel it's obvious that he's just more... entertaining than Yuya. He's got this fun "silly uncle who pretends to pull a quarter from behind your ear" charm, much better charisma, and wears the morals he preaches far more naturally than Yuya, in places where pacifism makes sense, instead of some of Yuya's duels where it just felt like naivety. He just makes the whole ringmaster shtick feel more natural, and totally an extension of his character.

Idk, Yusho showing up and being active in the plot just drives home how desperately borrowed Yuya's aesthetic is.

[gregoftom]

ok but why here. his crotch and nipples? what the fuck is this what the fuck sidoes this  msmean what the ufck dowojelamefwh

[toastedsmoreo]

I gotta be less terminally online bc every time I think about jjk’s ending I get annoyed