#i love victor because i too would like everything to stop happening all the time forever

[wingedknightrose]

WIP Weekend

Tagged by @lucien-lachance a couple of times over the past couple of weeks but haven't been able to keep up with it because work is hell

Tagging @lucien-lachance because I haven't seen you do one this weekend so. y'know >>

have a snippit from Apocalypse, wherein Victor has no idea how bad his night is about to be.

Victor groaned, falling back in his chair to stare at the ceiling for a moment, trying to figure out what the best path forward was. Did he go out and investigate himself? He was both more capable of getting up there and more knowledgeable about what he’d find than anyone else in the Brotherhood. But they were also expecting an attack, and depending on who or what was doing the attacking, he’d be needed here. And then of course there was all that nebulous chaos they were anticipating without any solid idea where or when it would break, so he could be needed anywhere at a moment’s notice. Unless the Cathedral was where everything was going to go wrong, at which point he really needed to be there, and - he was going in circles. “Goddamnit,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his palms. There wasn’t enough information for him to make the best call. He hated situations like this - it was gambling with lives, and his family wasn’t known for being particularly lucky. His phone chirped softly in his pocket. Victor sat up, pulled it out, and unlocked it without even checking the notification. He found himself staring at his chat history with Alucard; the vampire had sent him a single sentence - the most Victor had heard from him all month. It’s starting. Victor sat up a little straighter, shooting a question mark in reply, because that message was stupidly ominous and completely unhelpful. He waited for a minute or two, but there was no answer forthcoming. Of course Alucard would choose tonight of all nights to be cryptic. Victor glared at the little picture at the top of the screen - a white wolf making one of those doofy blep faces - like if he did so hard enough it would come to life and explain what was going on. “What’s starting…?”

[insomniadreamzz]

In love with the Wolf

Alpha!Jinx x Fem!Reader

This fic takes place in Omegaverse AU. Mentions of smut, blood, werewolves, violence, angst

This fic is also taking place in another world but with Arcane characters. A Fanfiction written by me. I don’t own any of the characters. Using (Y/N) in this fic as well for Reader.

Enjoy!

Part1

Part2 https://www.tumblr.com/insomniadreamzz/772189728598523904/in-love-with-the-wolf

Prolouge

Jinx and Vi were both Alpha‘s and sisters. Their relationship wasn’t the best after their father died in an accident. Vi blaming Jinx for it, like she blamed her every time something went wrong. Since that accident both of them parted ways, Vi meeting a beautiful woman, a Omega called Caitlyn. Caitlyn grew up in well known pack, a family with a lot of money, living the fancy life together with Vi in a beautiful place, a mansion. Meanwhile Jinx stayed at their lifestyle they had before. Nothing looked pompous, she had a simple home, a little hideout where she spent her time resting after going hunting or just causing trouble in town. She was known for being a criminal who stole stuff from other werewolves that had a more fancier life or even going in the human town and causing trouble there.

Their father Vander always told them not to get close to the human town. It’s dangerous. Humans and Werewolves had their problems with each other obviously. War between humans and werewolves was always a thing but at that time things got quiet between them. The leader of the whole werewolf nation made a deal with the human one. A deal no one really knew exactly about but it was important for every nation that they stopped fighting and living their own life even tho there were a little outsiders who still caused trouble. Criminals like Jinx. How long will the armistice hold on until everything goes back to chaos again? Only time would tell.

———

„Is that really necessary?“ You asked as you looked at the mirror, your brother Victor helped you adjusting the tie of your new uniform.

„Of course it is. You’re an adult woman now and our government needs more people who take care of the well being of human existence. You have never been the girly girl ever since you were little. You wanted this don’t you remember? Protecting your home?“ He told you as he gave you a smile with a little hint of sadness in it. „I can’t do it because of my disability to walk but you can. Make your older brother proud.“ He mentioned and you smiled, nodding in response. Victor was right. He couldn’t do anything much but you could. Maybe it isn’t that bad and you could use what you will learn to protect your loved ones.

Even if there is no war at the moment there were still some outsiders who caused trouble on both sides, human and wolves. The city must be protected and you grew more proud with your new job, fighting for good all those years you grew stronger and smarter. At least you thought werewolves were bad and they had to be locked away as soon as they get into the human territory. It’s too dangerous letting those ‚animals‘ run free.

All those things got taught to you. All that hatred. But for what cost? Your brother disappeared and you were alone, living only for the well being of your hometown.

You didn’t know what happened to Victor. He just disappeared from one day to another. You made peace with your own mind, convincing yourself of thinking he won’t come back anymore so you will stop being disappointed every day he won’t stand in front of your door, telling you everything is fine.

„Make your older brother proud.“ That sentence from him creeped in your mind daily and you promised him you will make him proud.

You were walking along the streets, the whole morning was rather quiet, not much to do for you as you roamed along the usual are you were positioned on. You were about to take a break when you suddenly heard a loud bang, a building catching fire, your eyes widen as you saw the chaos only a few meters away from where you were standing. „Shit…“ You mumbled under your breath, running towards the building.

You saw a few people running into your direction, away from the fire, some of your coworkers who were located near your route were also on their way to where the explosion happened, helping injured people out of it.

You decided to get in, trying to find more possible injured people but you didn’t see anything, coughing as you inhaled the smoke of the fire which also made it hard for you to see anything. In the middle of the chaos you saw a figure sitting in the middle of the room you were standing. It was a female, giggling to herself insanely before she noticed your presence, pink glowing eyes looking straight into yours. Her grinning widely so you could see the tip of her fangs. She was one of them…

„What the hell are you doing!? Get outta here!“ You shout at her, not caring if she was one of the wolves. She was still a living being. Sometimes you thought you are too soft for this job but letting anyone die wasn’t one of your things to do. „Why? Don’t you love the chaos? I do like it. Because that’s all I can do right. Causing chaos and trouble.“ She answered and your eyes widened, realising she was responsible for that.

„Why???! Why did you do that? I mean-…fuck it!“ You grumbled, knowing it was pointless asking her that. When you heard the ceiling above you cracking, something snapped in your mind and you rushed to grab the other womans arm and dragging her out of here, she squirmed into your grip, clearly not wanting you to touch her but you didn’t care at this point. Just the moment you both got out, the building crushed together.

„Don’t fucking touch me!“ She growled, you having other plans though. „Are you kidding me? You are arrested.“ You said before a coworker joined you, his expression almost scared as he saw your grip on the other womans arm. „How…did you get her?“ He asked before taking the handcuffs, making sure to put them around her wrists, you both having a hard time to make her stay still but you somehow managed it together.

„What? Why are you so shocked? Isn’t that my job?“ You asked him and his answer kind of surprised you. „That’s Jinx. You have never heard of her? She is well known for doing crimes. You will get a huge price for catching her!“

Your eyes widen in surprise. That woman was Jinx? She didn’t even try to fight you but why? Why was she so easy to get? Something is definitely off here. Jinx didn’t even look at you both, she looked to the ground, looking at absolutely nothing. She looked empty and sad. She did give up so quickly it made you wonder why or was it a trick?

Ever since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about Jinx. You wondered why she didn’t try to escape from you, she could easily turn into her wolf form and escape also the colour of her eyes…that pink colour. Usually werewolves had golden eyes, why were hers so…unique? You wanted to know more about her.

It was your free day but you still made your way to the cells, the urge to see Jinx again and getting to know more about her was just too intense. You knew she probably wouldn’t want to talk but at least you could try. Maybe you could also understand how that species is thinking and if they really are this bad. You always believed in the good in people and you wanted to give it a try.

When you stood in front of her cell you saw her being all curled up in the corner, her long blue hair hanging over her face you could barely see her. The walls of the cell were covered in scratch marks, telling you she probably freaked out in there. You didn’t even habe to say anything, she could sense your presence, her head slowly lifting to look at you, thise eyes already made you feel lost in them. Her gaze was tired, she was tired. Probably from crying, her dark makeup all smudged, cheeks stained with dried tears. „What do you want? Judging me?“ She grumbled but you didn’t answer yet. You crouched down to be the same level as her, showing her you don’t wanna do anything bad. „I want to understand you.“ You finally spoke with a soft voice, making her grunt in return. „No one understands me.“ She said, both of you staying silent for a while before she finally decided to say something.

„I lost everyone. My father is dead because of me fucking up…my sister blaming me for everything that ever went wrong and left me for a fancy bitch that hates me, everyone hates me. What’s the point of trying to keep a living? Nothing. I have no one.“ Her sudden openness was surprising but you understood the part of having no one. „You know…I have no one as well…my brother…he is gone. I don’t know if he is even alive anymore. Our parents died when we were younger.“ You mentioned, looking at Jinx who hugged herself as her nails digged into her upper arms, making her bleed. „You don’t understand half of what I am feeling.“ She continued pushing you away with her words but you stayed stubborn. „So all of this chaos because you have no one?“ You dared to ask and she snorted, snapping her head up as she looked at you, her eyes filled with rage but also with pain. „I wanted to show them all! I wanted to show what I can do! But…I always end up fucking up so I accepted that this is all I can do. I can’t do anything good.“ She snarled before getting up, walking towards you as she grabbed the metal rods of the cell. „What do you even know? You’re just a human.“

„Maybe I am just a human.“ You said before standing up as well, looking directly into her eyes. „You decided to cause trouble here. That’s not your home, that’s just not right. Of course we have to do something about it don’t we?“

„A human killed my father! My fault or not he died by a humans hands! I hate you! I hate what you are!“ She kept on yelling at you, her rage radiating a lot of power but you stayed calm. „You would have been arrested in your own home as well by doing that crime. You can’t blame every human for what they have done to your family. I do believe that if we would work together instead of wanting to erase each other we will have a much more peaceful life.“ You explained, her expression still angry but surprisingly she listened to you. „Jinx. You can do better than that I know it. I don’t care what you are. You are unique. Please remember my words okay? Think about it.“ You said before turning to leave, hoping Jinx will really think about what you told her. Maybe you had a chance to get her convinced to use her intelligence and powers for good. Just maybe.

To be continued

I hope you enjoyed the first part!! It’s more of an introduction but dw part 2 will come soon! Let me know if you like this story and wanna see more. I have a lot for you incoming. ❤️

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Glimpse of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

masterlist. | next part

Prologue.

Everything was perfect that day. Finnick was home for more than a week, something so rare that he cherished. It meant he didn’t have to endure the cold touches of Capitol citizens on his body, it meant he didn’t have to fake a smile, it meant he didn’t act like a show pony, it meant that he could relax, it meant he could be his true self. Most importantly, it meant he could spend time with you.

He spent his mornings swimming in the ocean with you, afternoons in the market with you, and nights cuddled up next to you as you read, a simple domestic routine.

You decided to sleep in that day. Finnick, still wanting to go swim, decided to go alone. While he felt the cool waves against his skin, he thought about what you two would do that day, what you guys would have for lunch and dinner, what you guys would buy at the market, what book you would read, simple thoughts.

Simple thoughts that he should’ve cherished for longer.

He returned from the beach around noon, he expected to find you in the living room baking, or on the back porch reading.

Instead, he found you in the living room, a look of shock and horror on your face.

"As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.”

“Finnick.” you whispered to him.

He saw red. How could they do this? How could they take his and yours normalcy away? “They can’t do that.”

“Finnick…”

He leaps from the couch and shuts off the TV, “They can’t do that!” he shouts.

“Finnick please!” you say, your voice raised slightly.

“They can’t- they can’t make us go back there. They can’t. They already put us through so much- They can’t do this!” he says, shaking his head. “Finnick please sit back down.”

He paces the room, “He’s doing this to get rid of her. Because of her, we’re all going back to hell.”

He was referring to Katniss Everdeen. He knew you knew that, you both were in the Capitol when she and Peeta Mellark won. You both knew that stunt she pulled would cause trouble. But neither of you expected this.

“Finny…it’s not her fault. She’s one of us. It’s Snow, it’s his fault” you say as you cup his face.

He closes his eyes and puts his hands on yours. “I won’t let them take you away from me angel. I won’t.” “I know Finny…I know.”

🌊 .·:*¨🌊🐚🌊¨*:·. 🌊

It had been ten years since his name was in the mix to be reaped, only six since yours. There weren’t that many female victors for four, so chances of you being picked were high.

Finnick prayed that the odds would be slim to none.

As you both approached the town square, Finnick squeezed your hand and kissed your forehead.

“I love you angel. No matter what happens, remember that.”

“I love you too Finnick, always.”

He then reluctantly let go of your hand, dreading the fact that that exchange of love may have been your last.

You both stood on separate sides, Finnick in his white tunic, you in a simple baby blue dress.

“The male tribute for District Four….”

“Finnick Odair.”

Finnick held back his emotions and flashed a cocky grin for the cameras. He knew he would be reaped. He knew it from the beginning.

“And for the female tribute…”

“Annie Crest-“

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Finnick’s heart felt like stopped. He hoped he was hearing things. You couldn’t have volunteered. You couldn’t.

He slowly looked over and saw you whispering something to Annie before walking to the front.

No.

No no.

No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to go in.

“The male and female tributes of District Four ladies and gentlemen!”

Finnick quickly walked over to you and wrapped you in his arms, placing a kiss atop your head. “Angel…why…you weren’t supposed to..”

“We’re in this together Finny. You and me.”

He gazes into your eyes, your soft, loving eyes, pressing his forehead against yours and whispering ‘I love you’ to you as the cameras shuttered.

“You and me angel. Always.”

A/N: RAHHHH ITS OUT!!! omg i hope u guys liked this, be prepared for LOTS of angst and some cute moments between finnick and reader >:) ANYWAYSSSS again i hope u guys liked this and very special announcment

🥁🥁🥁🥁

WE ARE ALMOST AT 100 FOLLOWS!!! YAYYY

tysm for all the recent love u guys, actually. im so grateful for all of you <333 have an amazing day/afternoon/night

love u guys <3

[ellswritings]

Worse Things

Mentor!Haymitch x New Mentor!Reader

TW: Unspecified age gap, Hunger Games angst, reader won her Games, pre-Katniss and Peeta, angsty fluff, thoughts of suicide/self-hatred, mentions of death.

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

There’s a certain lack of emotion one has to have when going into the Hunger Games. Getting rid of those feeling of guilt, empathy, sadness, anger, it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing Y/N had to do. She had to force herself to become and emotionless killing machine. Taking lives one at a time, sometimes multiple at a time. And she had to pretend it didn’t affect her.

Walking out of that arena, she knew her life would never be the same. She felt hollow, like any spirit she had died along with the first life she took. Her world started spinning out of control and there was no way to stop it.

Being from District Twelve, no one suspected she’d actually survive, let alone win. If anyone could call what happened to her “winning.” Everyday was like living through a nightmare. Things got to the point where she truthfully didn’t care if she woke up the next morning.

Her life was complete taken away from her, in more ways than one. No one really warned her about the dangers of being a Victor. Or maybe they did, and she just didn’t listen. So when President Snow tried to find a way to control her and she denied it, she didn’t realize what would follow suit.

Returning back home was a slap in the face. Her entire family had been slaughtered and she hadn’t been any the wiser. It felt like everything she sacrificed was for nothing. The guilt ate her alive like a soul sucking parasite. She got the only people who could ever love a monster like her killed.

Taking a swig of the whiskey bottle in front of her, she slouches down in her chair, an ever present frown on her face. Her body is numb and mind completely fuzzy. That’s the one thing she loves about alcohol. It distracts her, rids her of all the pain she feels on a day-to-day basis. Truthfully, it’s the only reprieve she can find.

She slowly turns her head towards the door, a sound resembling a knock echoing around in her head. A small huff leaves her barely parted lips as she stares blankly ahead at her fireplace. There’s no point in getting up. The only person who ever visits her in her secluded home is Haymitch Abernathy. Her old mentor. If she had a choice, she would only interact with him when they had two new Tributes to send off to the slaughter. But she could never be so lucky.

A hand on her shoulder pulls her out of her drunken gaze. Her head lulls back lazily as she meets a pair of familiar icy blue eyes. Even in her state she can feel his disappointment just by his gaze.

“What do you want?” Y/N grumpily greets, looking away from him to take another drink.

As the bottle is about to touch her lips, Haymitch snags it from her grasp. “I came to make sure you were sober enough to go into town. Clearly, my hopes were too high,” he says sarcastically, moving to put the bottle on a higher shelf.

“Why do you even care?” Y/N glares. “And who are you to judge me? You were drunk the entire time I was in the arena. What a mentor you were, huh?” She scoffs crudely. Her words cause a small pang to rush through his body, but he doesn’t show it. She’s right. Who is he to judge her when he spends his days just as drunk or even more.

“I care because we have to be at the Reaping in less than three hours,” he snaps back. “And I don’t want to deal with you embarrassing yourself and the rest of the District on live television.”

“Our District embarrasses itself enough on its own, it doesn’t need my help,” she grumbles and tries to smack Haymitch as he picks her up out of the chair and walks her over to her bathroom.

“My point,” he emphasizes by Turing the faucet on in the bathtub. He moves the flow of water to the shower head before sticking his hand underneath to make sure it was warm. He wants to sober her up. Not give her pneumonia.

A loud gasp, or scream ,as Haymitch would put it leaves Y/N’s mouth as he douses her with the shower head. It takes every ounce of willpower not to surge forward and sock him in the face. Her hair, now completely soaked, sticks to the side of her face. Her pajamas also sporting the same “wet dog” look the rest of her does.

“I’m gonna kill you,” she growls, her fists clenched tightly. But she does have to admit, the effects of the whiskey are wearing off rather quickly.

“Give it a go, sweetheart. You’d put both of us out of our misery,” he huffs, walking out of the bathroom and returning with a fresh set of clothes and a slice of bread. “Eat this,” he tosses the food towards her. “Should keep your stomach at bay til we get to the train.”

The relationship between the two of them has never been easy. Even when she was his Tribute. She was hard headed, crass, sarcastic, always spoke her mind even if it got her in trouble. In some ways, he admires that about her. That she doesn’t let anyone tell her what to think or how to act. But judging by what she’s turned into, she must regret possessing those qualities.

When he first met her, he had a feeling she would be the first Tribute in a long time that would actually have a chance. Normally, he doesn’t even bother giving his Tributes advice or helping them. He tried for the first ten or so years, give or take, but after watching them all die one after the other, his hope faded. There was no point in trying.

Until he met Y/N.

She was angry, a spitfire. She had that desire to get home. Watching her train and see how she was in the days leading up to her Games, it sparked that feeling of hope again. It was small, but it was there.

She likes to believe he was drunk for the majority of her Games, but truth be told, he was the most sober he had been since he won. He wasn’t completely mentally present, but he did put in effort to try to be. And that’s why he’s here now.

He never had a problem self-destructing. Going down this path seemed fitting for him, but it tore him up inside to see Y/N doing this to herself. He didn’t want this kind of life for her. Wallowing in self pity as she drunk her problems away. He can’t help but feel responsible for her in a way. Maybe if he had contained his alcoholism better, she would have never considered it a viable coping mechanism.

But as he waits outside her bathroom as she gets ready, he realizes that she probably would’ve resorted to liquor anyway. They had that in common.

He heads the lock on the door clock, signaling for him to move out of the way. The e/c eyed woman walks out, her hair pulled into a lazy half-up, half-down style. Her cargo pants are an olive green that compliments her complexion perfectly and a tight-fitted black sweater that falls off her shoulder slightly. It’s not the fanciest thing she could have worn, but it’s what he grabbed. He knows she hates being uncomfortable on the ride to the Capitol.

“What are you staring at?” She tries to mumble bitterly, but the soft look in his eyes removes some of the bite her icy tone usually has.

“Well, I was going to compliment you, but then you just had to get grouchy,” he shrugs satirically.

“Oh no, what ever will I do?” She shoots back with a fake gasp. “How will I ever get by without your empty compliments? I might just combust right here.” She rolls her eyes harshly before shoulder checking him and walking down the hallway to her room to gather the rest of her things.

“Are you always this much of an ass?” He calls out after her, walking down the hallway as well. “Or is it just to me?”

“Just to you,” she replies dryly, not looking at him as she lugs her minimal amount of items over her shoulder. They don’t need much when heading to the Capitol—there’s little point in dragging luxuries for a stay that promises more nightmares than comfort.

Haymitch smirks faintly, though the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He knows her quip is an attempt to shield herself, to keep him—or anyone—from getting too close. That doesn’t stop him from muttering, “Lucky me,” as he trails after her.

The two make their way to the Reaping Square in tense silence. Y/N’s boots crunch against the dusty path leading to the stage as the weight of what’s to come settles on her chest. She knows the routine well enough. She’ll stand there with Haymitch, Effie will deliver her cheery speech, and two names will be drawn—two lives practically sentenced to death. It’s a show of power, a tradition designed to remind everyone of the Capitol’s control. And no matter how many times Y/N goes through it, it never gets easier.

The square is packed by the time they arrive, children standing in tightly formed lines with trembling hands and wide, fearful eyes. She stiffens at the sight of them, her chest tightening. Some of these kids are barely old enough to understand what’s happening, and yet they’re expected to stand tall, to accept the possibility of death with their heads held high.

Haymitch, standing beside her, senses her shift in demeanor. He doesn’t say anything—he knows better than to offer empty platitudes—but his eyes soften as he watches her gaze flicker across the sea of young faces. The vulnerability in her expression is fleeting, quickly replaced by the hardened mask she wears so well.

Effie Trinket’s bright, artificial voice snaps Y/N out of her thoughts as the Capitol representative prances onto the stage. Her garish outfit, all glitter and frills, stands in stark contrast to the muted tones of District Twelve. Effie’s smile is painted on, too wide and too perfect, and Y/N can’t help but resent her for it.

As the first name is drawn, Y/N braces herself. The voice announcing the girl’s name doesn’t register as Y/N stares at the small figure stepping forward. She looks no older than twelve, her pigtails bobbing with each shaky step. Y/N’s fists clench at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

The boy’s name comes next—another child, barely a teenager. He stumbles as he makes his way to the stage, his eyes darting to his family in the crowd. Y/N forces herself to remain composed, but her stomach churns violently. She knows what awaits them. She knows the terror, the bloodshed, the inevitability of it all. And she hates the fact there’s nothing she can do to save them.

Haymitch notices her jaw tightening, the slight tremble in her hands. Without thinking, he places a hand on her arm, a brief gesture of solidarity. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t acknowledge it either.

When the Reaping concludes, the group heads to the train station. Y/N walks ahead, her pace brisk as if putting distance between herself and the Reaping Square might also rid her of the memories. Haymitch lingers behind with Effie, who chatters about Capitol festivities and the importance of appearances. He tunes her out, his eyes fixed on Y/N’s retreating figure.

On the train, Y/N sits across from the Tributes in the dining car, her posture rigid. She studies them for a moment, her gaze unreadable. They’re too young for this—too small, too scared. She takes a breath before speaking, her tone measured but blunt. “Listen, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this for you. The odds aren’t in your favor. They never are for kids like us.” The boy flinches at her words, but she presses on. “But that doesn’t mean you give up. You fight. You use whatever skills you’ve got to stay alive.” The two of them stare at her with wide eyes, like they were expecting someone much warmer. “Tomorrow we’ll go over what you guys are good at, but for tonight just… find a way to relax.”

Haymitch watches her closely, noting the way she softens her voice ever so slightly as she speaks. She’s trying, in her own way, to prepare them, to give them something to cling to. It’s not hope—she’s too jaded for that—but it’s something.

After the Tributes retire to their quarters, Haymitch, Effie, and Y/N do the same. However, the younger out of the three doesn’t stay in her room long. She tries to sleep, she really does, but her mind never stops racing. It’s almost painful the way she tosses and turns, unable to stop picturing the gruesome ways these poor kids will die. It makes her feel the ungodly urge to vomit the very little she’s eaten over the past few days.

Unable to find a moment of peace, Y/N walks out of her room, mindlessly wandering around the train car until she ends up back in the dining room. Her sock clad feet carry her to the small cushioned bench in front of the window, the moon shining brightly through it.

She sits down, staring out the window as the scenery blurs by. She’s tired—bone-deep weary in a way that goes far beyond the physical. Her gaze is fixed out into the night, but Haymitch knows she’s not seeing any of it. She’s somewhere else entirely, likely replaying the Reaping over and over in her head.

He watches her silently for a moment from the doorway, his hand tightening around the neck of the bottle he hasn’t yet opened. Her profile is sharp against the dim light—jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. It’s a posture he knows too well, the one people wear when they’re trying not to break. He hesitates, almost turning away, but then she exhales shakily, and something about the sound pulls him forward.

Sliding into the seat across from her, he leans back lazily, the way he always does, feigning indifference. But his eyes don’t leave her face. She doesn’t acknowledge him at first, and he doesn’t push her to speak. Instead, he just watches, the silence between them heavy but not entirely unwelcome.

Eventually, he breaks it. “You look like you’re about to set the whole damn Capitol on fire.”

She scoffs softly, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in a ghost of a smile. “Not a bad idea,” she mutters, still staring out the window. “Might solve some of our problems.”

He chuckles, the sound dry but genuine. “You’d probably do it, too. Wouldn’t even think twice.”

“Why should I?” she snaps, finally turning to face him. Her eyes are sharp, but there’s something else there, just beneath the surface—something raw and fragile. “They’ve taken everything from us. What’s left to lose?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between her face and her clenched hands. The tension in her shoulders, the fire in her voice—it’s all so painfully familiar. He recognizes it because it’s the same anger that’s burned in him for years, a constant, smoldering rage that never quite goes out.

“You still have yourself,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than she expects. “That’s worth something.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, leaning back in her seat. “Is it? Look at me, Haymitch. I’m barely holding it together. And for what? So I can watch more kids die while I stand by, pretending I can help?”

The crack in her voice guts him, though he doesn’t let it show. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes lock onto hers. “You think I don’t know what that’s like?” he says, his tone sharper now. “You think I haven’t spent every damn day since my Games asking myself the same thing?”

Her breath catches, and she looks away, her throat tightening. He leans in closer, his voice softening, but the intensity in his eyes remains. “It kills me to see you like this. Destroying yourself the same way I did. You’re better than that. You’re better than me.”

Her chest tightens at his words, the rawness in them catching her off guard. She swallows hard, her gaze flickering back to him. For the first time, she sees the exhaustion etched into his face—not just physical tiredness, but the kind of weariness that comes from years of fighting battles no one else can see. And for the first time, she realizes how deeply he cares.

She doesn’t know how to respond. The anger, the frustration, the self-loathing she’s been clinging to all this time feels like it’s slipping through her fingers, replaced by something much harder to face. Vulnerability.

“I’m not better than you,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just...trying to survive, same as you.”

His eyes soften, and he leans back slightly, giving her space but never looking away. “Then stop tearing yourself apart,” he says simply. “Let me help.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long. She meets his gaze, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. For a moment, neither of them moves, the silence stretching out like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Without thinking, he reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing against hers. The contact startles her, and she looks at him, her expression guarded.

“What are you doing?” she mutters, though her cheeks flush slightly.

“Trying to make a point,” he replies, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re not as far gone as you think. If you’d stop being so damn stubborn all the time and quit pushing people away, things wouldn’t be as hard.”

Her breath catches at his words, the rawness in his voice cutting through her defenses. She looks away, but she doesn’t pull her hand back.

“You’re being weird,” she mumbles, her tone lacking its usual sharpness. “And gross.”

He chuckles softly, a rare sound that surprises them both. “Yeah, well, you’re blushing, so who’s the weird one now?”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stares at him, her chest rising and falling unevenly as if she’s trying to hold herself together and failing miserably.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, his voice rough but honest. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Something in her breaks at his words. She doesn’t know if it’s the exhaustion, the grief, or the sheer weight of everything they’ve both endured, but suddenly, it’s too much. She shifts forward, gripping the front of his shirt tightly as if he’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her lips crash into his, hesitant at first but quickly growing more urgent, more desperate. He freezes for half a second, startled by the suddenness of it, but then his hands are on her, one cupping her cheek while the other grips her waist. The kiss deepens, and she clings to him like he’s her lifeline, her anchor in the storm.

When they finally break apart, she’s breathless, her forehead resting against his as she tries to steady herself. “You’re a creep, you know that?,” she mumbles, her voice shaky but teasing.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “You started it.”

She pulls back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Don’t make me regret this,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“You won’t,” he says simply, his tone laced with a confidence that surprises even him.

As the train rumbles on, the space between them feels smaller than ever, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Y/N allows herself to feel something other than anger. Something that feels a little like hope.

[vanha-paholainen]

Viktor NSFW hc's.

Tw: mentions of sickness, mentions of throwing up, mentions of famished body.

Soon I will see my dear Viktor again.

I made some headcanons about him. Hope someone will like it. English isn't my first language, so please, don't beat me up, I'm just some ukrainian guy.

— The older Viktor gets, the worse his legs get. Problems with joints are added to the congenital curvature. If at the age of twenty-two he was able to cover three or four kilometers in a day, and with proper stops and motivation — all eight, now, at thirty-two, it is sometimes difficult for him even to get himself out of bed.

— Viktor, in addition to the corset and leg correction shown in the series, wears compression stockings when he feels particularly lousy.

— Actually, all his meals are scheduled and strictly regulated in accordance with his medication, but this stubborn workaholic often neglects his needs, which then makes him vomit bile, faints and experiences other troubles.

— Speaking of stomach problems. Let's omit the fact that all the characters that I like, they somehow magically appear — Viktor really has a reason for problems with the gastrointestinal tract. Previously, everything was tolerable, but now, due to the side effects of phlegm-thinning lung drugs and heavy painkillers on which he sits, Viktor vomits with enviable regularity at least once every two weeks. This usually happens either in the middle of the working day or after. Sometimes he jumps up to get a basin early in the morning, because he can also be sick from pills. Because of this, his teeth are slowly deteriorating. In addition, it is in the episodes of vomiting that he feels particularly weak and pathetic.

— It is in case of an unforeseen outpouring of vomit that there is a basin under Viktor's desk.

— He often faints too. This is mainly due to overwork and lack of sleep. Over the years, Victor has learned to anticipate this phenomenon and therefore usually manages to sit down.

— Viktor washes exclusively while sitting on a special shower chair for people with disabilities. You can't sit in the bathroom in his position, and if you do, you'll get out, and standing in the shower without support is painful and tiring for him.

— If Viktor takes days off, it's just to get enough sleep. He doesn't like social events and noisy streets. It seems to him that the Piltoverians look at him with contempt, he does not like small talk, because he is used to putting meaning and sincerity into every word he says, and, besides, the noise of the crowd tires him very quickly. Even when Jayce invites him, filled with a strange sense of extrovert duty to an introverted work partner, Viktor politely refuses. He does not want to once again experience the views of the local nobility and feel like a stranger. He has enough problems without that.

— The feeling of loneliness and misunderstanding is his only faithful companion. Since childhood, Viktor has watched the fun of other children as if through bulletproof glass, and over the years this feeling of alienation from the world of people has only worsened. He had never experienced true friendship, had never loved anyone—and sometimes this realization made him hate himself so much that it was time to climb into a noose. In despair, he thought that maybe if he had been born like everyone else, it would have been easier for him. No, he never tried to be like the crowd, but loneliness often made him regret his genius. Over time, Viktor resigned himself. After all, his mechanisms will always be with him. There is no human impermanence in them. The breakdown of a certain gear is easier to predict than the cooling of a relationship.

— By the age of thirty-two, Viktor is a virgin. As mentioned earlier, he has never loved anyone, and therefore this fact is not shameful for him. He just thinks it's out of his area of interest and has no regrets about it.

— Viktor has a very significant «manhood»: 18.4 cm in length. However, he does not use it.

— Despite the extremely lousy position of his lungs, he smokes, and smokes a lot. He prefers unfiltered cigarettes, smokes about a dozen a day.

— Surprisingly, Viktor is not circumcised and is not even infertile. He is quite capable of becoming a father - but I think anyone understands that this will be the worst version of a dad that can only be imagined.

— Viktor never attached much importance to the partner's gender. He believes that there is no need to limit yourself to such extensive issues. He is bisexual (and possibly a mechanophile).

— If Viktor hypothetically has sex, he will do it with all his usual thoroughness. He will buy a pack of the best thin condoms (japanese ones can serve as an analogue from our world), purchase hypoallergenic lubricant and be very careful with his partner. In addition, before sexual intercourse, he will wash himself and immediately before the process, he will discuss everything with his partner again. It may seem superfluous, but he does not know how to do otherwise. He feels safer when he knows for sure that he is doing everything right: after all, it is not in his plans to damage someone's intestines or cervix.

— What Viktor will definitely not try in bed is the missionary position, where the heavier partner will be on top, and sitting on his face. This point hardly needs explanation.

— If Viktor finds himself in a receiving position in bed (that is, under a man), he will expect from his partner the same tenderness and attentiveness that he shows himself. Viktor does not welcome rudeness and savagery. He is thirty-two years old and terminally ill. With him, either gently and carefully, or in no way.

— Viktor prefers large partners with a good combination of fat percentage and muscle mass. No, appearance does not come first for him, the contact of mind and soul is more important to him — but opposites attract, and he will be especially pleased if his partner, regardless of gender, is an athletic endomorph with dark skin and large breasts. Sky and Jayce are perfect for his type.

— By the way, the subject of Viktor's stingy erotic fantasies are... Anatomical sketches with a female body. Yes, he prefers realism and precision even in such matters.

— Viktor treats himself differently. As mentioned earlier, he differentiates himself from society, and therefore his own nakedness seems disgusting and unnatural to him. He considers himself unattractive due to exhaustion and pelvic problems, and therefore does not like to relate himself to the general mass. Deep down, he wants to become a machine: then there will be no problems with a sick body and an imperfect mind. «Naturalness is for everyone, but not for me.»

[chasing-posts]

Allison should have had a villain and redemption arc in the last season.

Now first of all let me say I do like Allison and think she's cool...but I also believe she had some negative character traits that were explored since season one and were really divulged in season 3, and could have/ should have been resolved by the forth season.

For one she did kill Harlan for stopping her child from existing, even though it was an accident and he was basically Victor's foster son. This showed the only children she tends to care for is her own.

Second, we never fully got an answer to one of her most famous Rumors, "I heard a rumor that you loved me." This one has always been speculated to be directed at either her husband, daughter or Luthor. And with how she sexually assaulted Luthor in season 3 before he got married and how he could never get over her, I think it was him.

Third, can we address that she assaulted Luthor?

Forth, she made a pack with Reginald and as such got to redesign the universe so Clair was back, and Ray was alive and possibly her father, which means she erased her last husband from existence and rearranged time and space to get what she wanted in her perfect life.

And all of this is bad stuff, add to the fact that Sloan is missing when Ben is here, and it does not paint a nice picture. In fact I always thought that the reason Sloan was missing, was because Allison could not handle Luthor moving past her, and being happy with another woman. Even if she didn't want him anymore. As such, she erased Sloan to keep her back up, even after getting married (twice) and having sexual/ romantic relationships of her own. She STILL could not handle not having a hold on Luthor.

So if I could change things, I would say let her have EVERYTHING she always wanted at the start of the season. Her daughter, the love of her life, her powers and even her carreer... and absolutely none of it bringing her joy due to the cost she had to pay to make it happen, and how BADLY it screwed over her siblings, especially Victor and Luthor, to make it happen.

Have her repent by actions. Actually have it so the siblings are a little slow to let her back into the group and only do so to protect their own (like when Victor got kidnapped and all 6 were needed to save him.). Have Luthor confront her about their AWEFUL relationship and most inportantly, what she knows about Sloan. What she did to her when she rebooted the universe, and why she's gone when cranky Ben is still here.

Finally, change the rest of her story make her face consequences for her actions. Maybe have both Ray AND Claire leave her after she went too far with her Rumors again only do it ON SCREEN so it's actually impactful and have her be all alone. Maybe have her reconnect with Klaus to help him get off the drugs the first time after her family leaves her (because honestly, I like their relationship a lot this season and her helping him stay on track was good) and that being her foot in the door with the rest of them through Klaus, before she rejoins them all against Reginald/ the Cleanse/ whatever is the true big boss this season. Finally, before she makes things as right with her siblings, try and help THEM get their powers back while she still has hers.

Because while I don't think Allison is a bad person, i think she has done bad things. And I think actually addressing it all instead of sweeping EVERYTHING under the rug like they did in season four, would be great.

FINALLY, PLEASE RESOLVE THAT WEIRD INCEST PLOTLINE WITH LUTHOR. IF IT WAS GOING TO BE SUCH A BIG PART OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND CHARACTER ARCS, I WOULD HAVE PREFERED TO SEE IT RESOLVED INSTEAD OF JUST... IGNORED. IF THERE'S NO RESOLUTION WHY EVEN HAVE IT IN THE FIRST THREE SEASONS! COME ON!

[calaisreno]

Yes and No

“Do you love her?”

It had taken them less than thirty minutes to go from the Rizla game to just asking each other random questions. The only celebrities that Sherlock knew were nineteenth-century chemists and twentieth-century criminals, which had more or less spoiled the game, and Sherlock had declared it pointless.

Then he suggested Yes or No, which at least required some deductive reasoning, and John agreed. But Sherlock was very good at this game, having deduced nearly everything about John in the first days of their acquaintance. Without asking any question, he deduced that John would choose violin, a human liver, Mrs Hudson’s nephew, and Sherlock’s old mouse-coloured dressing gown.

John gives up. “Fine. What don’t you know about me?”

Do you love her is a real question, he gathers— from the look on Sherlock’s face, which is serious and a bit sad.

The answer, which should be yes, of course I love her, instead comes out, “I’m marrying her.”

“People marry for reasons other than—“ Sherlock stops, appearing to realise he is going in a direction that can only lead to bad feelings. “Sorry, not a fair question. Better: When did you know that you loved her?”

He remembers grief. The intense pain of the days after he saw Sherlock die on the sidewalk in front of Barts. There are few details he can recall after that moment. It was as if the pain had receded just enough to let him breathe, and a kind of grey fog had descended. Pain, then sorrow.

Somewhere during the sorrow part, Mary had appeared. She may have been there sooner, but he hadn’t noticed. At some point he became aware of her bringing him coffee, talking to him, urging him to come out for lunch. Always there, cheerfully bullying him back into life. Eventually he noticed that he wasn’t quite as sad, and that she was rather pretty.

But the pain was still there, a tender spot in his memory, and most days he still felt defeated. Mary helped, though, and he thought that if she stayed, everything would be easier. He didn’t need to explain; she understood. He could keep the memories at bay when she was around.

By then he was having sex with her. He didn’t remember exactly how that had begun. Maybe it was a pity fuck one night when he’d had too much to drink. He woke up in her bed hungover, waiting for the darkness to descend like a weight on his chest, and she was there, making him a cup of tea, urging him to have some toast, sweetly solicitous and not accepting any excuses.

Does he love her?

Sherlock is still looking at him, the question in his eyes.

“She was there when I needed someone,” he says. “I just knew.”

He’d known that morning that he needed to move on, to leave what had happened in the past and live his life. And there she was.

“Your turn,” Sherlock says.

John thinks of all the things he’s ever wanted to know about Sherlock, but has never asked because it has never seemed a good time. Sherlock has a way of warding off questions with just a look. An armour that does not allow anyone in, not even John. He’s wondered about a lot of things, but asking has never been an option. Sherlock never has to ask; he simply deduces. John is terrible at deductions, as Sherlock often reminds him.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Sherlock doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Twice.”

“That was a yes-no question, so I get follow-up. So, the first. Who was he?”

Sherlock smiles. “You’re assuming it was a man.”

“Wasn’t it? I thought… you’re… erm…”

“Gay? Yes, I am.”

“You loved a man,” John says. Obviously.

“Well, a boy. I was twelve. I suppose it wasn’t love so much as infatuation and hormones. His name was Victor. I never told him until I met him again at uni.” He gives John one of those looks that makes him feel like he is being x-rayed. “Have you ever kissed a man?”

“I’m not gay,” he says at once. “I mean, why would I kiss a man if I knew I wasn’t gay?”

“Follow-up question, then. When did you know you were not gay?”

John’s mouth may have been open for a bit. It’s an odd question. Everybody knows they’re straight until something happens and they know they’re not. Isn’t that the way it works? “I just knew. When did you know you were gay?”

“When I was twelve. I was at a stupid birthday party my mother made me attend, and we were playing Forfeit. I was asked a question I didn’t like to answer and took the forfeit. Up until then the penalties were stupid things like singing a song or doing a dance, but this time it was kissing a girl. The girl was willing, and I was curious, so I agreed. That was when I realised girls weren’t my cup of tea, so to speak. I wanted to kiss Victor.”

John says nothing, though it’s his turn. He remembers a similar party, a boy who wanted to kiss him, and feeling terrified that his parents would find out if he did. Harry had just come out, and he was trying very hard to make up for all of her shortcomings.

Sherlock asks, “How do you know you’re not gay if you’ve never kissed a man?”

“I’ve kissed lots of women,” he replies. “I don’t need to kiss a man to know I’m not gay.”

Sherlock shrugs. “I assumed that I was like everyone else, that some day I would meet the right girl, get married, and have children. That was how it was supposed to work, and I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t like girls that way. All my fantasies were about boys, but I thought I would eventually be attracted to girls as I got older. That kiss told me I would never love a woman.”

“You think I should kiss a man just to see if I’m a bit gay?” He laughs.

“It’s your forfeit, for not having an answer.”

“I’m not going to kiss some random bloke just because you—“

“Not a random bloke. Me. Kiss me.”

This is dangerous ground. Somewhere in his libido lies something that he’s thought about. Maybe he’s even fantasised about kissing a man. Having sex with a man. Just a lark, maybe. Don’t lots of men go through that? It doesn’t mean anything.

But, Sherlock. He lived with him for a year and a half, and they’d been friends. And he grieved when Sherlock died. Not grieved like a friend. He’d lost friends before, and this was nothing like those losses. Pain, darkness, unending regret. Even after Mary, some of that darkness remained. Moments when he remembered something Sherlock had said or done, a stab of pain. If it hadn’t been for Mary—

And it came to him. Mary was balm for his wounds. She brought him back from the edge. He is grateful to her. But gratitude isn’t love. Being in such pain for so long, and then a bit of light— that isn’t love, it’s relief. He’s seen patients in physical pain become almost giddy when given a dose of something that takes their agony away, not even enough to make them high. Relief feels like intoxication when pain has gone on so long.

If it hadn’t been for Mary, he would have understood what he’d only begun to see. She helped him, saved him even. But she was a distraction from the pain, not a cure.

He glances at Sherlock, who is pulling back, looking like he wishes he hadn’t just asked for a kiss. Maybe he’ll make a joke about their game, move them towards goodnight, goodbye, see you at the wedding.

“Yes,” he says. It’s an answer to everything— regret, grief, sorrow, love. It’s an apology for not seeing sooner, for the night at the Landmark, for his anger and cruel rejection of the man he has loved for years. “Kiss me.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sherlock is right. The kiss tells John things he’s tried hard to forget. It tells him that has loved men before, but called it friendship, that he has wanted to touch men and kiss them, and called it lust, or fantasy, or a phase that all men go through. Women attract him too, and he grabbed onto heterosexuality like a life-raft because he was afraid of the alternative. His sister and his father, yelling. Harry thrown out of the house. His father, looking at him, saying not you too. Never you, my boy.

The kiss tells him that has already met the love of his life.

“I need to call Mary,” he says when they break away.

Sherlock looks sad. He nods. “Of course.”

“One more question,” John says. “Who was the second person you loved?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says. “I’m about to call my fiancee and break our engagement just days before the wedding because I’m in love with my best friend. So please, answer the question.”

Sherlock’s face does something John has never seen. It crumples and tears fill his eyes, and then he’s laughing and crying and not able to speak.

John kisses him again.

Author note: This is an old ficlet, from Trifles, posted here.

[tojivu]

love, kisses & croissants ⋆ naoya zenin

an. naoya you've infiltrated my brain.... ib the song where the lyrics go "i love you i love you i love you"

cw. sfw. naoya is kind of an asshole. gn!reader, but not proofread so please lmk any gender references if i made any.

playing. because she goes by the 1975.

naoya zenin would press kisses onto the soft, supple skin of your cheek as soon as he wakes. no good morning, no stretch — he reaches and bends from where he is to let his lips latch onto you.

two kisses later and he's finally greeting you, whether you're awake or not.

"morning." his voice is raspy, throat dry from the cold air of the bedroom you two shared. he brings his fingers to brush the stray hairs away from your face.

how naoya loves your expression when you sleep: an overwhelming need to hold and kiss you, make you feel as comfortable as possible so you can continue your slumber — how he finds you prettiest when you're unaware of it.

your eyelids flutter as the sunlight seeping in through the curtains sting; a long exhale leaves your lungs and you find yourself inching closer to naoya — who was warm amidst the temperature of the room.

he lays face up, shirt nowhere to be found (as usual). your husband was always one to show off even when sleeping — you're able to feel his skin graze your fingertips, some spots more prominent than others due to scarring: you've memorised the position of each and every one of them on his body.

"morning, naoya." you smile lazily at the man under your touch. he doesn't smile back, but you think the way his arm pulls you closer says everything his face doesn't.

naoya zenin was a puzzle, most days — it took you a long time before you could even touch him without earning a complaint or an irritated expression.

"stop touching me." a grunt and an eye roll, every single time.

it was the night after your wedding. you remember it vividly, the order of events engrained into your mind and heart. you never want to forget the hour that naoya let you love him.

it wasn't much, and you think if you told anyone that they might laugh in your face: most couples would scoff and say that the first kiss should have happened long before the knot was tied.

you think you would've gone the whole marriage without any touching. before the ceremony, naoya would only let you hold his hands or fix his tie — mundane things that held no passion — or maybe very little, not enough to remind you both you were to be married.

it was naoya who pulled you in that night, hands on your hips as he pressed his lips onto yours. it's inexperienced, and you want to giggle but you know you can't (due to the crowd and family attending the ceremony). it would be much too embarrassing for your husband.

when he pulls away, his lips are glossy and his eyes are enlarged — as if he's never experienced this feeling before.

it's just then that naoya zenin realises he loves kissing you. the feeling of your lips so close to his skin, the feeling of laying on clouds when he tastes your favourite lip balm. the feeling of you.

he felt embarrassed that his clan witnessed such a thing. naoya's weak in the knees in front of you, someone who was nowhere near his power or authority. he finds it annoying just how much control you have over him, but he thinks it's okay — for now — as long as you don't betray him.

he hopes you don't.

naoya doesn't bother saying a word in the morning, only kissing you where he feels you need to be — your forehead, wrist, cheek, lips, jaw, neck.

the small discovery he made on the night you two got married had his mornings set for life: a kiss as soon as he woke, a gentle 'morning' followed by another kiss. he's hooked.

sometimes he returns all bloodied from brawls: wounded but still the victor, dragging himself into the home he shares with you (and the servants he keeps around) — naoya appreciates your warm embrace and the soft kisses you pepper on his face. you complain about how he smells like metal, but you hold him anyway.

"[name]," naoya snaps you out of your reminiscing-like daydream. "we should go out for breakfast today."

you roll your eyes at the fact that this is what your husband stopped your trip down memory lane for.

"we have chefs for a reason, naoya." you remind him, as if he doesn't know that already — he orders them around almost all the time, mostly due to your random cravings.

"i know."

"then?" you ask, "i thought you hated being around random people."

"i don't like being around lowlives," he clarifies. "but we could spend some time together. if you want."

"if i want?" you giggle, poking at his cheeks. this would've gotten you killed if you were with the naoya you knew all those years ago. "i didn't know you cared about what i want."

"don't act like that." naoya's grip around your waist tightens, your stomach pressing against the side of his abdomen. "just say yes or no. i'm a very busy man."

"are you making space for me in your tight schedule, busy naoya?" you tease. his ears burn a bright shade of red, and he tuts. "i'm feeling really special. you're so good to me."

"cause you are," naoya admits. how vulnerable he seemed that it made him feel like throwing up. "[name]."

naoya zenin was a puzzle, yes, but you think he's gotten easier to solve by now. a kiss and some praise and he's all set, sarcastic or not — whatever you say has him weak in the knees. it's almost scary how much power you hold.

"i love you, my busy man," your hands cup his cheeks and turn his head towards you, and you press a quick kiss onto his lips. "i'm thinking about croissants."

you earn a flustered naoya, cheeks reddened and eyebrows furrowed to hide his crystal clear expression. he was starting to feel his heart pound.

"we can get croissants. i know a good place."

"it's probably expensive, then." you roll your eyes.

"who do you think i am?"

"my dearest husband." you flirt. it hurts to be so cheesy this early in the morning, but you think it's okay because it's got naoya blushing like a tomato.

he doesn't say anything. naoya is fighting the deafening sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the electricity he feels flowing through his veins, along with the smile creeping up on his face.

"i love you," he replies a minute later.

"i never knew you were a romantic, naoya."

"i love you," he repeats, as if you're losing your hearing. "i love you."

the words flow like water. it's a disgusting phrase he never thought he'd utter, but here he is — repeating it like a prayer to you.

"i heard you the first time." you giggle again, running your fingers through his hair. "loud and clear."

"i love you, [name]," he mumbles as his eyes get gentler by the second, his gaze softening the more you play with his locks. he thinks he'll fall back asleep any moment now. "i love you so much."

"i know, naoya," you assure him, head drawing closer to his to peck his forehead. "and i love you more."

"you can beat me in very little things, [name]." naoya replies, eyes blinking slowly at yours. "this isn't included."

"i beat you at wii that one time. you're terrible at wii golf."

"i play real golf," he scoffs. "not in some video game for children. it's harder in real life."

"such a sore loser."

you suppose you're a sore loser, too. you'd never be able to beat him at the 'i love you' game — he'd never let you — but that didn't mean you couldn't try.

you've got plenty of time, anyway.

041223 — Bue i'm gonna cry this is so ?!??? idk what this even IS

[sunatsubu]

Jayvik and time paradoxes

I can't stop thinking about Jayce/Viktor. They're driving me insane, absolutely INSANE. Because everything about them is a time paradox??

This is pretty rambly, I'm just trying to get my thoughts down in my attempt to stop going crazy over them and also just figure out what the heck happened because I'm still kind of confused about some stuff, also I am not very familiar with game lore, mainly just the show.

They circle each other and are so intrinsically linked in so many ways, being both cause and effect to each other's fates. Starting at a random point that ends up circling all the way back:

Jayce and Viktor invent Hextech

Jayce gets drawn into politics as a result, away from Viktor

Viktor gets desperate, experiments with hextech on himself, with Consequences (Sky)

Viktor asks Jayce to destroy hextech

Jayce, unable to let Viktor die after Jinx's attack, fuses him with it instead

This leads to Machine Herald viktor, but not quite; like Pre-herald I guess? Where Viktor still retains some humanity

Jayce gets told by alternate Viktor to stop him from becoming the Herald

In his attempt to do so, he kind of causes/hastens it instead?! (more thoughts on this below*)

alternate Herald Viktor regrets everything and saves baby Jayce/gives him the runestone**

Jayce grows up wanting to research magic thanks to mage Viktor, and cue s1 events that end up circling back to the first point**

*I can't stop thinking about how kind and gentle Viktor seemed when he was trying to help Vander. It really seemed like he was on a path to using his new powers for good, without any sinister effects (though maybe I missed some hints, need to rewatch). It wasn't until after Jayce blew his heart to smithereens that he seemed to start on that path of deeming emotions and humanity unnecessary, solidified when Jayce rejected him to join him as partners again.

**Still trying to wrap my brain around these last two. The existence of alternate Herald Viktor that brings our Jayce to his destroyed world in order to ask him to stop our Viktor - does this imply that Viktor would have still become Machine Herald even if Jayce hadn't tried to kill him? Was it an inevitable thing? Or is this still more time paradox shenanigans, where Viktor asking Jayce to stop/kill his younger self, is both the cause and effect of Herald Viktor? And yet another paradox, Viktor inspired baby Jayce to research magic and ultimately invent Hextech, which is what was needed for Machine Herald Viktor to come to pass. So it seems like there are actually 2 paradoxes related to the creation of Herald Viktor/apocalypse post Viktor's revolution.

These time paradoxes defining their existences makes me think they weren't supposed to exist. Or at least, the ways they so significantly affected the world, weren't supposed to come to pass; Hextech, Viktor's Revolution, apocalypse. So while their ending breaks my heart into a million pieces, it makes a lot of sense. In order to cancel out what they'd do to the world (or just Piltover? this is another point I'm curious about, did viktor's revolution affect ALL of humanity?), they had to erase themselves from existence. It's so. romantic and tragic, but not really on both those counts? Like somehow deeper, too deep, to put such simple labels on. Honestly I don't even really know how to describe what their story makes me feel.

Bit of a tangent, but one interesting anomaly is the alt timeline Ekko was in. So Jinx would always be an important factor in Jayvik's fates since her attack almost killing Victor is the catalyst for a lot of things. Mage Victor says Jayce is the one thing across all timelines that could stop him, implying there are MANY timelines where Herald Viktor comes to be. Which thus means in all those timelines, Jinx is the unstable mess we know and love, the one who would attack the council. So that makes it interesting (and kinda gutting because its like Jinx is destined to suffer in most timelines) that Ekko's alt timeline was most likely rare in its stability, where despite Vi being gone, Powder is relatively happy and the world (Piltover/Zaun) is quite peaceful.

This is a seemingly random segueway, but Jayvik very strongly reminded me of the german show Dark. (WARNING FOLLOWING IS MAJOR SPOILER FOR THAT SHOW)

A completely different genre and story, but both are about two people whose destinies are so linked together throughout time and alternate universes, but weren't supposed to exist. And they could only save the world, allow it to go on untouched from the devastating effects they would have on it, by taking themselves out of the equation.

[ambrossart]

I asked before about what would happen to Patrick after everything but I'm curious about Vic. Like what do u think he'd go into, would he stay in derry or hightail it out of there to college as fast as possible? Do u think if he and Evelyn did leave they'd stay in touch or just Drift apart and forget about each other (if this happened I think I'd sob lmao). I love Victor so much and the way you've done his character is my favourite thing cause people usually forget about him and belch :(

Oh, thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about Victor! 😂

To be serious, though, it’s hard to say what field he’ll go into once he’s older. Vic’s only fifteen, after all, and he’s still finding himself. He has plenty of time to figure out what he wants to do with his life.

If I had to guess, though, I’d say he'll probably end up doing something in the math or science field. And something where he doesn't have to interact with people on a daily basis.

Will he stay in Derry? I could honestly see his family moving at some point before he graduates, especially if his dad gets a new job. Vic’s someone who likes his routines, so unless his whole family uproots, he’s unlikely to go anywhere on his own.

College would be an exception, of course. But as he is now, I don’t think Victor has much motivation to pursue higher education. That would be too stressful, too big of a change for him. No, I don’t think Victor even wants to think about college right now. He’s just… surviving.

Now if he did move, I do 100% believe he and Evelyn would stay in contact with each other. Forget the whole Derry amnesia thing, Evelyn would refuse to drift apart from Victor. He means too much to her, and vice versa. That girl would be calling him, visiting him, writing him letters, and Vic would definitely send her postcards because he knows how much she loves them.

Oh my gosh, that would be so adorable! 😭

I better stop now before I make my Victor bias even more obvious than it already is.

[simpsonns]

a/n: This is my first ever fanfic so bear with me. There is no content of this man so I wrote something because ahhhh

warning: this is not proof read (I’m dyslexic) and is probs terrible

summary: Readers saves Jim yay

It had already happened. It was too late to save Jim. He was the victor and he was about to claim his price. A part of him knew something was wrong, he could tell by the eagerness of officer rick, hand resting on his gun.

He looked down through the crowd of people dancing, all the happiness and love shared by the people that made the room warm and humid. Then he saw her, the girl who came to stop this stupid tradition. But the animalistic nature of teenage boys was too much for one girl to stop.

She had a-lot of rumors around. People said she went off the deep end after her only friend, the winner of last year’s run left town. Jim always admired her from a far, the beauty of the girl was something he had never witnessed before. It was like the universe had made him just for her. He never looked in her eyes until after he killed sawtooth jack, when he did, he saw someone who looked as though someone had just savagely murdered their best friend. And in a way he did.

After the crowd lifted him the air and the wave of adrenaline came down, he went to her as she wept over sawtooths body.

She explained everything.

He was going to die.

Jim walked through the crowd to the girl. Letting her magnetism pull him in. She walked to him, because in this universe she felt the same. Meeting in the middle of the dance floor they made a plan. To leave this stupid town.

He knew what needed to be done, but she was the one who had the heart to do it. They met at the crossing, a shotgun and pistol were loaded into the car and they simply drove away.

The sheriff wasn’t far behind, but they knew what they had to do to stop him. The car reached a screeching halt, one look was shared between the two. After Jim left the car and followed the sheriff to grave that had been dug dozens of times. She followed. And so did death.

One shot for the sheriff, and one for the farmer.

Once back on the road it was clear, even though they had stopped the cycle, all they had become was monsters themselves.

As they drove to freedom through the night there were no words shared just grief for the people they left behind, the people who didn’t get the treatment of a victor.

It was vowed that next year they would save Richie, to give him the same freedom they were yet to share.

[stargazer-sims]

For Caroline:

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

🏳️ "What will make you give up?" Thank you!

Thanks for the ask @dandylion240 !

Caroline Okamoto-Nelson

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

Caroline: Well, I guess it depends on what it is and who told me not to do it. My dads always say I should evaluate my own actions, and I try to think things through most of the time. Like, I'm not one of those people who'd just "jump off a bridge just because all my friends are doing it" as my Nanna Grace would say. 'Cause, I mean... that's just dumb.

I usually try to listen to my dads most of the time, especially Victor because he knows what he's talking about. He's adventurous like me, or I guess I should say I'm adventurous like him, but anyway... He's gotten himself into plenty of trouble before by doing stuff people told him not to do, and he says he's grateful that I don't have impulse control issues like him.

Now, that's not to say I've never turned around and done a thing after my parents or grandparents or some other adult told me not to. Victor says I'm the only person he knows who broke the same arm twice before they were even a teenager. To be fair, the first one was completely out of my control because it happened in a car accident.

The second one was totally my own fault, even though I blamed Yuri at the time. I don't remember what I did to get in trouble in the first place, but whatever it was, the consequence of it was that Yuri took away my handheld video game and said I wasn't getting it back for two whole days. Obviously, nine year old me wasn't having that. I'd seen Yuri stand on a chair to put my game in one of the high kitchen cabinets, so when I thought he wasn't looking, I got a chair and tried to climb up myself. It was still too high, so I got on top of the fridge, and then I had to stretch out as far as I could to reach the right cabinet. Long story short, I misjudged exactly how far I'd have to lean, and I lost my balance and crash-landed.

Lesson learned. At least for a while.

🏳️ "What will make you give up?"

Caroline: Honestly, I have no idea how to answer this. I don't even know what could make me give up. Most people who know me even a little bit know I'm not the 'giving up' type.

Stopping something I'm doing or ending a relationship because I realize it's not good for me? Yeah, I'd do that. I might need help or advice, or I might figure it out on my own, but to me, that's not the same thing as giving up.

I don't think I'd ever quit a good thing or let go of a dream or a goal just because it's hard. Like, life is hard anyway, and I'd never have anything if I just gave up every time something looked like a challenge. I don't know if a lot of people realize how hard it is just to exist as a blind person in normal everyday life. Some of the most basic stuff that other people take for granted was hard for me to learn, but if I was going to be independent some day, I couldn't just up and quit because learning how to use kitchen appliances was scary or whatever.

Yuri says you have to grab life with both hands and tell it what you expect from it, and hang on tight even when you think you can't. As far as I can tell, he's been doing that ever since I've known him and look at everything he's achieved. If I'm even half as successful as him some day, I definitely won't forget to thank him for showing me the way.

Also, I don't know what it'd take for me to give up on somebody I really love. They'd have to do something really awful to make me stop caring about them

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 3: 1893

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE EPISODE 2 HERE

Episode 3, here we go:

22) matching suits part 2 anyone, who work on those costumes: I want to kiss you all!

23) Another exhibition of touches:

the challange name is: "how close we can get, before we sink into each other"

24) "And they lived happily ever after..." They had some lokius fan in the editing room, I´m telling ya! This retro movie style transition... THAT is my roman empire...

like seriously? what is the purpose of this? I can´t wrap my head around it. someone just thought that it is really crucial to end this scene with two of them in a circle. OK.

but WHY?

It was LITTERALY used only once! (I´m sorry, but as someone, who works as an editor, this just driving me crazy 🤒🫠)

25) Loki and Mobius enjoying popcorn:

I have several things to say here:

ever heard about when one person is "forced" to have fun for the first time, and to try new things by the other person, and he´s protesting and is all about work and serious matters, but secretly loves it and is visibly relaxed and happy? - Because I´m sure this is some bloody romantic comedy trope, that everyone have seen about hundred times!

"Oh look, you have a piece of food on the chin, let me just…"

I know I already said this somewhere, but, this is the moment, where in my language suddenly (completely randomly) switched from formal way of speaking to each other to intimate way of speaking to each other. (I´m Czech, btw, and I have no idea, what happened in that recording studio but it had to be interesting)

26) Also... Bickering like married couple (part 3)

27) "You know sometimes I forget, that you are one of them... Blows my mind!"

Mobius being Loki´s fan.

Also yeas. Loki is one of them. God. And Mobius is a small, normal dude. JUST A HUMAN. Analyst, even! And they´re eating popcorn together.... also Loki will do whatever Mobius wishes

28) another "let´s be as close as we physically can" challange

Loki can´t keep only eye on him. he needs hands, because reasons

29) Mobius supporting Loki in using magic...

... or I should say Loki using Magic, whenever Mobius wishes, because...

"Will you handle this please?" "Gently!"

And on top of that... not him, explaining, what just happened, to the public, by: "The amazing Loki, everyone! He´ll be here all week! 🥳🥳🥳"

who the heck asked, Mobius? stop showing off with your magical boyfriend

30) Victor/Ravonna - the most transparent mirror ever:

THIS scene? Are you kidding? Ravonna running towards Victor: "Mr Timley! are you okay? And Mobius running practicly at the same time towards Loki with: You allright?" and both helping their man up on their feet?! IN SYNC! this is too much.

WTF

31) THE BIKE THIS. this is the most GREENLY green point, I can think of. Someone had to have this vision. This idea. And put it in to screenplay. Someone had to find the bike. Someone was shooting this. Camera is moving around them. And they were all like GREAT idea, let´s have them riding tandem bike while chasing Ravonna and Timely, that makes complete sense! (even when we have Loki chasing Brad USING MAGIC one episode back) anyway... ever heard about "let´s do this crazy stupid thing - absolutely not - and then they do the thing" trope?

32) Loki going with Mobius, not even thinking about it anymore.

And to think, that I was expecting something like S01E03 (Lamentis episode)! Once again, I wasn´t prepared for amount of Lokius content I was actually served. What a surprise! 🤯

[81buttons]

Haymitch's daughter falls in love with Finnick Odair while in the Capital

Of course no problem!

AN: I've decided to put a name to the main character in this story.

"A Light in the Darkness"

Finnick Odair x OC

summary: Where Haymitch's daughter falls in love and has a relationship with Finnick

As Finnick made his way through the training halls of the Capitol, he noticed a young woman with brown hair standing off to the side, observing the training sessions of each district representative. Intrigued by her presence, he approached with a charming smile.

"Hey, and who do we have here?" he said, his voice soft but full of innuendo.

Elara raised an eyebrow, regarding him with suspicion. "Finnick Odair, I presume?" she replied, her voice carrying surprising assurance for her young age.

"Oh, it seems someone did their research. Bravo, princess. What gave me away?" he teased.

"Your arrogant smile, I suppose," she responded, fluttering her eyelashes playfully.

If there was one thing Finnick particularly adored, as paradoxical as it may seem, it was someone who could hold their own against him. Accustomed to having all the women at his feet, he found it particularly enticing when a woman refused to be walked over.

"I see you know me, but darling, I still don't know your name," he said, inclining his head slightly.

Elara hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to give him her name. It was almost like making friends with the "enemy." It was already complicated enough as it was; Katniss, who had been chosen again, struggled with the idea of returning to the arena. It had been difficult enough the first time, so a second time… On the other hand, Peeta had not been chosen to participate in this new edition of the games; it was Haymitch, her father. When she heard his name come out of Effie’s mouth, her heart stopped, and then everything happened very quickly. Peeta approached, announcing that he was volunteering and Haymitch had to let the young man go in his place. After all these events and the press harassing the couple from District 12, Elara thought that it might not necessarily be a good idea to get closer to the others. After all, they were the games; they were adversaries, enemies. In the end, only one would remain.

However, in a way, it intrigued her, and she wanted to know more about the young victor. As long as he didn't really know who she was, there was no reason they couldn't talk.

"My name is Elara," she finally said.

Finnick nodded slightly in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Elara. I'm surprised it took me so long to meet you, such a charming girl."

Elara crossed her arms, unimpressed by Finnick's flattery. "I'm here to observe and learn, not to flirt with Hunger Games victors."

A smirk played on Finnick's lips. "I see. A woman with such a sharp mind is refreshing here."

"What, don't tell me you're not happy in the Capitol? You must have all the women at your feet," she teased.

Finnick froze for a moment, surprised by her direct question. "Oh yes, but I never lose sight of why I'm here," he said.

"To win," he finally replied, his blue eyes shining with a mixture of pride and a hint of sadness.

"I understand. Everything seems so normal and natural before we remember the true purpose of the games," Elara sighed. She had always known the games; they had taken too much from her: first her father, and now her best friend. She knew all too well the effect the games had on people.

Suddenly she saw her father in the distance, seeming to be looking for her. If he saw who his daughter was with, she was finished.

"Well, Finnick Odair, it was a pleasure, but I have to go."

"Already? But I don't even know why you're here, and when can I see you again?"

"We will see each other again, I'm sure. I'm really sorry, I have to go."

Then she left, leaving Finnick surprised, surprised by her and her vivacity, but surprised because he was smiling, and he smiled for several days in a row.

He wanted to see her again; he had to see her again. He wanted to get to know her. He didn't even know what she was doing. She had too strong a character to be one of the Capitol's women. So she must come from a district; was she also a tribute? If that was the case, Finnick didn't even want to think about it; he couldn't see or face her in the arena.

After several days, as he paraded on the chariot alongside the other tributes during the opening of the Hunger Games, his gaze suddenly fell on a familiar silhouette in the crowd. There, sitting next to the mentor of District 12, Haymitch, was Elara. Surprise and confusion gripped him. What was she doing there, among the spectators of the Capitol? And why was she next to Haymitch, the mentor of his adversaries?

For a moment, Finnick felt a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He scrutinized Elara with troubled intensity, trying to understand her presence there. Then, suddenly, everything became clear in his mind.

"Elara...," he murmured, his eyes widening with understanding.

A wave of realization washed over him. She was Haymitch's daughter. That's why she was there, to see the tributes from District 12 participate in the Games. Finnick felt a surge of emotion engulf him, mixed with an inexplicable warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Amidst the cacophony and hustle of the Games' opening, their gazes met, and in that brief moment, Finnick forgot all his fears, knowing there would be something more between them than he had initially imagined.

She was stunning, dressed in a simple white gown, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Her attire had nothing to do with the Capitol's extravagant fashion, but she was naturally beautiful; Finnick had already noticed it during their first encounters.

After that event, their conversations became more frequent, and they found excuses to cross paths regularly. Sometimes, they would meet in a quiet corner of the Capitol, exchanging stories about their respective lives and laughing together as if they were the only ones in the world.

Although neither of them wanted to admit it at first, their relationship grew day by day, still in secret. Not a day passed without them talking, which began to intrigue Haymitch.

One evening, as they walked through the Capitol gardens, Finnick decided it was time to share his true feelings with Elara. "Elara, I need to tell you something." Elara looked up at him, curious about what he had to say. "What is it?" Finnick took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I feel something special for you, Elara. Something I've never felt for anyone else."

"Finnick…"

They both knew it wasn't possible for them to feel this way. Not now, not there, not like this. Time was running out; Finnick would soon have to face the ruthless challenges of the arena.

Elara lowered her eyes, feeling a lump forming in her throat. She knew their time together was limited, and every precious moment they shared would be a cherished memory she would hold onto.

"Finnick... You know what awaits you. You know you have to leave soon…"

Finnick nodded, his blue eyes locked onto hers. "I know. But I want you to know that these aren't just words, Elara. What I feel for you, I've felt it since the first time I saw you. Since I met you, I've started dreaming of a life after the Games, a life I never thought I could have. Even in the arena, I'll think of you. I know... I know it's the Games, and there's a good chance that…"

Elara bit her lip, fighting back the tears threatening to fall.

"But I have a goal to achieve, for you, to win for you."

"I'll wait for you." Finnick gently cupped Elara's face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I love you, Elara. More than anything in the world." Their lips met in a sweet, passionate kiss. And as Finnick prepared to face the horrors of the arena, he carried with him the memory of this pure and unwavering love, a bright light in the darkness that awaited him.

[loveandmurders]

I can't stop thinking about the song What could have been by Sting.

It happens to perfectly describe Trudy and Bo's relationship.

I am the monster you created

You ripped out all my parts

And worst of all, for me to live

I gotta kill the part of me that saw

That I needed you more

I can't imagine the trauma behind the way Vincent and Bo got physically seperated by Victor. But in a way, Bo is the one who suffered the less, compared to what happened to Vincent's face.

I can't imagine the guilt Bo feels every day though, even if it is not his fault. Deep down, he knows it. Trudy knew it too, but she still never loved him.

She couldn't, even if she would have tried.

She made him angry, she broke him physically and emotionally over and over again, until there was nothing left but a sadistic and violent man.

Even if Bo would have tried to get away from the murders, he couldn't. It was too late, it was his fate, it was what his mother made of him.

And even if he was aware Trudy never loved him, he still safely kept her body inside the church and replayed her funeral over and over again. It may be an attempt to get free from her, to finally let her go and to not desire her love anymore. Or it may be just like when you scratch an old wound and you make it bleed again. He knows he needs her, but he lost her forever and even if she was still alive, even if she could see everything he is doing for her and for her project, she couldn't love him.

Because she didn't have it in her.

And he knows it.

I hope you know we had everything

When you broke me and left these pieces

I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and

I want you to lose like I lose when I play what could have been

Oh, what could have been

They could have been a happy family despite everything.

Vincent was the little artist, Bo could have been the responsible big brother and he could have helped the family. Lester could have brought so much light and joy in the family too.

But Victor and Trudy didn't have it in them to be good, even less to be good parents. Their love was toxic and selfish. Maybe they loved each other, but Trudy certainly only loved her art.

More than once Bo cursed his parents, his mother. He just wanted to be loved, he just wanted to be part of something. He was jealous of Vincent, of course. But at the same time, he loved his twin too much and Vincent had always been there for him.

Bo's anger was directed toward his mother. The pain was (and still is) unbearable. He could imagine how life could have been. When she died, he wondered if it wasn't his own hatred and violence who killed her. Maybe everything he felt turned into a disease and destroyed her body like she destroyed him.

Maybe it was her own hatred and violence who killed herself, but Bo never thought about it, because things were always his fault.

In the end, she died and Bo killed Victor.

No one won, and everyone lost.

Why don’t you love who I am?

What we could have been

He used to scream at her, to threaten her, to try and beat her. When he grew up things went worst and even Victor had issues fighting him off. Truth to be told, Bo would have never hurt Trudy. He just needed her to see how hurt he was.

But she didn't care.

Now, every day, he goes seeing her at the church, asking her why she couldn't love him. Everything could have been so much happier, if she had at least been able to pretend. He could have even been a better person. Truth to be told, he didn't particularly enjoy the killing, he just didn't believe he deserved a better life.

His mother told him too many times he was a monster, so it had to be true.

And he loved her so much.

I am your ghost, a fallen angel

You ripped out all my parts

I couldn’t care what invention you made me

'Cause I, I was meant to be yours

And because the boys loved her, worshipped her, they couldn't let go of her work. Vincent didn't want to leave because of his face and because he had to keep going her art. Bo didn't want to leave because he couldn't let go of Vincent and because he wanted his mamma to be proud of him, wherever she was (probably in Hell). Lester left but came back everyday for his big brothers. Trudy never loved Lester either, but she never hurt him, because she didn't care about him at all.

She hated Bo because he was a monster just like her, because she could see her own sins in him, because she could see herself in him. And she hated herself and she hated this stupid and pathetic life she had. She had always wanted more, she wanted to be famous and that was why she forced Vincent to promise him he would keep going her legacy.

She hated her life, but she was scared to die.

And she died painfully.

Vincent cried, Bo didn't but shattered even more, Lester was lost.

Victor went even more insane.

Funny how a woman who had no love was adored by the four men in her life. Such a waste.

I hope you know we had everything

When you broke me and left these pieces

I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and

I want you to lose like I lose when I play

In the very end, Bo and Vincent die in the House of Wax. Vincent hugs Bo and puts his face where it used to be in their mother's womb. It could have been the metaphor of a new beginning in a better life, but it is just Vincent looking for comfort as he loses everything.

They die because they spent their life wanting to please a woman who broke them; they even die inside of Trudy's legacy. All her creations are gone now, even her boys.

Lester is left alone once again, as if even death forgot about him. He may be lost, but he is the only one who has the chance to get free from this past.

With a bit of luck, Bo and Vincent will never find Trudy in Hell.

Despite everything, they still deserve better.

I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and

I want you to lose like I lose when I play

What could have been

[hearteyedfeelings]

Just some thoughts I had while watching the second half of the episode, ignore any grammar mistakes pls I was feeling FEELINGS and recording them as I went:

(these are just my off the cuff thoughts, don’t know if they will change but for now I thought they were interesting and worth the share, if you disagree that’s cool, if you agree, that’s cool too, I fucking love this show so much)

And that's the thing, isn't it? I'm at 3:38:40, and I don't know how the rest of this conversation is going to play out, but I need to get these thoughts out. They were swirling in me and I needed to bring them out into the universe. Because right now, the Arch Heart wants Fearne and Imogen to, and the rest of them, but mainly Fearne and Imogen, to get to Predathos first, and to control Predathos, to chase away the gods and not kill the gods. That way, Ludinus will kind of get what he wants and everything will be- yes, there's going to be lots of fighting still, because you can’t convince the people that have been fighting this from the ground already with blood in the game.

I'm bringing this back to House of the Dragon. (If you haven’t watched, basically there’s a war and one tries to stop it, but ultimately it’s too late). And that’s what’s said, “It's too late.” What Rhaenyra and Alicent talked about, things have been set in motion. The war that is going to happen between the factions of Vasselheim and the Vanguard and Ludinus and all that, that's- I think that's going to happen. Now, unless the Arch Heart can get these guys immediately to, and in front of Predathos to get this, you know, “oh, we're gonna control Predathos thing” to happen immediately?

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Things have been set in motion that are way past this point. But the main thing that bugs me, right, and this is where my, like, Ashton comes out, The Arch Heart, the gods, they want their children to go do this for them, and they don't know if it's gonna work. They are setting lambs up for the slaughter again.

Possibly. Maybe.

They, the Arch Heart, talks about wanting to break the cycle, but they are contributing to the cycle in their own way. And if this doesn't work, if Fearne and Imogen immediately spaghettified, like, Victor Timely in Loki, then he'll just go, oh, shit. Well, that sucks.

You know, this is why I love fucking Laura Bailey. She asked the one question that was perfect to ask.

She asked the one question. “If you were inside one of us, do you think we'd be able to control you?” Like, obviously not??? Or at least I don’t think so. Orym had a vision and got rocked. To contain a god would be a feat.

I have to kiss Robbie on the mouth. Robbie hit the nail on the fucking head and I agree with him 1000%. He said, essentially, “Oh. So you get to live. You get to go off and be merry with your family. And, you're asking us to sacrifice ourselves while you get to live. Just like you have done for eons at this point.”

And the worst part is, is that I can already see in Laura in Imogen, that she's gonna do it. Now, I could be totally wrong. But I don't think I'm wrong. And man, does that suck. Because, like, you knew this story was probably gonna end in a tragedy or a bittersweetness.

But it sucks having the full picture.

I love Sam so much. He basically just said, “hey, you're asking us to sacrifice ourselves. Why don't you sacrifice yourself?” You know?

You're gonna make us do the hard thing, and we're gonna have our hard, terrible, happy, gorgeous lives where we’ve searching for moments of happiness. A happy ending. A rest. To live. And we have to give that all up. Because you wanna run away. At the end of the day, it's gonna be the same outcome. You're gonna run away and leave, or you're going to die.

So why can't it be the other way around? Sam brought up a really good point. I hope they circle back to it, but I don't know if they will. But, essentially, when we found out from the Arch Heart that Exandria is ants, and Predathos doesn't care about ants, even though Liam did make the beautiful analogy, “I step on ants all the time and I don't notice.” So take that with a grain of salt.

Sam said, so if we let Predathos go and he eats you, we're gonna be fine because we're ants. And the Arch Heart was like, no. It'll be pandemonium and chaos if that happens.

The thing about that is, right, he wants to leave, and he wants everyone to leave, his whole family to leave, to be chased out. If the outcome at the end of the day is they are gone, just like they'd be gone if Predathos does eat, it's going to be pandemonium either way.

The outcome of this is the gods are gone. Does it matter that it's through being consumed or being chased? Maybe on some small scale stuff. Maybe even on some big scale stuff, but not on mega scale stuff. It's going to be pandemonium either way.

And who’s to say the Gods won’t fight? Maybe like the Arch Heart and Mystery God Number 2 want to leave, maybe they will stay and fight. And then a Calamity part 2.

Or maybe- maybe, just maybe, this does work. And everything ends up okay. All in all it’s a delicious fucking story and I’m excited to see where it goes. It sucks when the end of the rope is the characters you’ve grown to love for 107 episodes and that means there’s a good chance we’re going to see them lose their peace, but hey- like I said, I’m just sharing my some thoughts. I love these guys and want to see them have their happily ever after. I think they deserve it.