#they need to have trust and faith in him too

[cuubism]

Jayce-with-anxiety is in my head so here's my porn manifesto about the matter. I hope you like it

d/s, developing relationship, not-negotiated-at-all kink, t4t jayvik

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theories and findings [AO3]

The unveiling of the first Hexgate is in two days, and Jayce is… maybe spiraling. A little.

Sometimes he gets like that. Even when there’s no real need. The Hexgate is ready to be shown, after all. It’s been in final testing phase for a while, and he’s tested every core function he can imagine, tested every edge case, every minuscule possibility, beat the ever-loving crap out of the thing to make sure it could stand up to heavy use and tolerate mistakes by non-scientists trying to work it. It holds up. He knows it holds up.

But he needs it to work, at the key moment. Needs it not to fail him. The entire future of their research depends on having this product to show for the past several years of funding.

Viktor doesn’t seem worried. He trusts the numbers. Jayce trusts the numbers too, really, it’s just the investors that are the wildcards. As he’s been learning more and more, other people don’t always trust the numbers—unless those numbers are dollar signs.

He should be finalizing his speech. Instead, for what feels like the fifteenth time that day, he gets up from his chair in the lab, grabbing his toolkit to go do��� he doesn’t even know what. Take the Hexgate apart for the nine millionth time and make sure all the screws are exactly 12.3 milligrams in weight? Or something. He has stress dreams about that shit. Even with all the math they’ve constructed to understand magic, it can still be frustratingly hard to predict. Sometimes magic takes huge imprecisions and simply works around them. Sometimes a screw is 12.2 milligrams instead of 12.3 and the entire thing fucking blows up.

(His lab notebook shows both that the mass of the screws isn’t actually one of those wildcard variables and that they’ve all measured in at exactly 12.300 milligrams the last six times he’s weighed them, but never mind.)

He’s halfway across the room, toolkit in hand, when Viktor says, “Jayce! Put that down.”

Jayce drops the toolkit.

It flies open, wrenches and screwdrivers and nuts and bolts scattering everywhere in an enormous crash. Viktor turns to stare at him, putting down whatever he was tinkering with, as Jayce winces.

“I meant… on the table,” Viktor says slowly.

Jayce clears his throat, voice unexpectedly tight. “Right.”

“You don’t need to check over the parts again,” Viktor continues, as Jayce bends to start collecting the fallen tools. “The machine works. Your own data prove it.”

“I know. It’s just.” He dumps some bolts into the bottom of the toolkit. He’ll have to reorganize them by size later. When he’s not kneeling on the floor. “What if it doesn’t?” How to explain that for all he ought to be a scientist, putting all his faith in the test results, he can’t stop himself from imagining every possible branching future scenario, every world where there’s a flaw in the device he didn’t foresee, where it breaks, where it explodes, where it simply doesn’t work, or, somehow worse, where it does work but no one sees its majesty, where they think Hextech is a disappointment, a waste of money and time after all, where they don’t get it, and pull their funding, or decide it’s dangerous like they’d believed before and all their work gets dismantled—

He’s frozen halfway through putting some wrenches away, and forces his hands to start moving again.

“I would take you to do another test run, but it doesn’t seem like that would soothe you,” Viktor muses.

Jayce finally snaps the kit shut again. “You’re not worried at all?”

“About the Hexgate functioning as promised? No. I suppose, eh… other people are harder to predict.”

Exactly.

“But it seems to me this machine is exactly what ‘other people’ wanted,” Viktor continues, “so there is little cause for concern as to their reaction.”

Jayce stands, toolkit in hand. “What do you mean, it’s what other people wanted? You aren’t happy with the Hexgate?”

Viktor shrugs. “It’s an exceptional piece of engineering that proves the functionality of Hextech and, I am sure, will make investors very happy. Still, Hextech can do more.”

He’s right. Hextech can do more. But Jayce needs to get through this use case with his sanity intact first. “Let’s come back to that three days from now?”

Viktor nods. “There is cause for celebration, too, of course,” he says. “It’s a monumental achievement, Jayce.”

“I’ll celebrate once it’s over with,” Jayce says, and goes to scrub his hands over his face with a tired groan—

—dropping the toolkit again in the process.

Maybe he should just go home.

Before he can move to pick the kit up again, Viktor says, “Leave that and come look at this. Perhaps it will distract you.”

“I need to—”

“Come over here.”

Though he doesn’t say it sharply, something about the command of Viktor’s voice has Jayce scrambling to obey. Viktor studies him with a strange look in his eye, but doesn’t say anything as Jayce goes over to his workstation, leans over his shoulder, studies the small device on the table before him.

“It’s a… hex-powered hinge of some kind?”

“It’s for my knee,” Viktor says. “To reduce friction in the brace. Though… I haven’t worked out all of the kinks yet.”

Viktor hadn’t worn a leg brace when they’d met—at least not one substantial enough to be worn over his clothes—but he does now, and has moved from a cane to a proper crutch, too. Jayce worries about it, but Viktor never seems to appreciate it when he verbalizes his concerns.

He studies the hinge. Its pieces are incredibly small, so Jayce can’t tell from a glance what might be wrong with it, but the Hexgem clearly isn’t connecting to all of the wiring correctly.

“Perhaps you will have better luck in fixing it. Fresh eyes are always beneficial,” Viktor says, handing it to him.

Jayce is grateful for any distraction that doesn’t involve taking apart the Hexgate yet again, so he takes the device back to his workstation.

It’s only twenty minutes later, as he’s holding it under a magnifying glass, soldering one of its tiny pieces with a tiny blowtorch, that he realizes. “Hang on. You broke this on purpose to distract me.”

“Oops,” Viktor says.

“Viktor.”

“Yes, I finished it this morning,” Viktor admits, unrepentant. “Did you fix it yet?”

“That’s not the—”

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

“…No, not yet.”

“Finish fixing it, then,” Viktor says, and turns back to his work.

Jayce lets out a frustrated breath, but does as he says. Why, why do as he says? He should just give Viktor the thing back to fix himself— or throw it at him, honestly.

He doesn’t. He fixes it.

It takes him a few hours—about thirty minutes of that spent fixing, the rest spent studying the intricate design of the joint, and seriously when did Viktor even have time to make this? It’s so tiny and precise, barely larger than the Hexgem that powers it, and nearly weightless in his hand.

Eventually he goes to give it back—and finds Viktor with his drafted speech in hand, marking it up.

“You could give a speech yourself, you know,” Jayce says as he places the little hinge down in front of him.

“Hmm. I don’t think so,” Viktor says. He makes a final note on the speech. “This is cleaner, now. Though you should proofread it to make sure it is in your voice.”

“I hate writing speeches,” Jayce says, putting the papers aside. Secretly relieved that Viktor’s finished it up.

“But you are good at giving them.”

The praise strikes deep on this day when he feels so keyed up. And on an element of the presentation he feels less sure of, too. The work he can feel confident in—when he stops overthinking it—but presentation, he’s learning, is as important as substance, unfortunately. He can’t just make it right, he has to deliver it right.

“Help me install this,” Viktor says, picking up the little joint device.

Jayce startles. Help him? Viktor never—

Oh. Great. It’s another bid to distract him.

“Fine,” he says anyway.

He expects Viktor to take his leg brace off and set it on the workstation. Instead, he gives Jayce a long, considering look. Then pushes him down by the shoulder.

Jayce goes, more surprised than anything, falling to his knees before where Viktor’s sat in his desk chair. His breath rushes out of him. But Viktor doesn’t say anything else about it, just swivels the chair so the outside of his knee is angled toward Jayce.

“This gear here,” he says, gesturing to the brace’s hinge at the bend of his knee. “It rotates when I walk, but there is too much friction.”

“Don’t you want there to be some resistance so it offers support instead of just… folding?” Jayce asks.

“Eh, some, when I’m standing, but it should rotate smoothly when walking. This—” he picks up the new joint piece “—locks into place while stationary but turns easily in motion. Or, it should.” He gives it to Jayce, as well as a tiny screwdriver so he can dismantle the existing pieces. “Install it and we’ll see if it works as intended.”

Jayce takes the new joint piece reverently. Viktor never asks for his help with his braces. And sure, it’s a diversion to stop him from overthinking about the presentation, but still. Still.

Jayce carefully unscrews the existing hinge. He sets the old gears aside on the table, lining each tiny screw up so they won’t get lost. Then places the new Hexgear.

It takes a bit of finicking with to get it properly aligned; the fit is precise. Then he screws it into place, snapping each part of the broader hinge back where it belongs. Everything connects perfectly, of course. Viktor designed it, after all.

The Hexgem lights up as the metal pieces seal in place. Power crackles along the entirety of the brace, prickling at his skin, then fades.

“Test it out,” Viktor says, voice hushed.

Jayce takes Viktor’s calf in gentle hands. God, he’s skinny. Has he always been this thin, as long as Jayce has known him? Viktor is not a fragile person, in fact Jayce often feels breakable in comparison to Viktor’s seemingly iron determination—but holding him like this, Viktor feels almost brittle.

It won’t be a proper test unless Viktor actually stands up and walks. Real friction, and all. But Jayce slowly bends his knee up, then back down. The hinge turns smoothly, no creaking, the Hexgem glowing softly.

“How does it feel?” he asks.

“Marginal improvement,” Viktor says, but there’s a secret smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Jayce. Excellent lab assistant work.”

“Haha.” There is something satisfying, though, about helping him. Not in the lab. Like this.

Like this, Viktor’s leg still cradled between his hands. Looking up at him, because he’s still kneeling, and seeing the light change in Viktor’s eyes, that teasing appreciation shifting to something… deeper.

Jayce feels pinned by his gaze. As if mesmerized, Viktor reaches out to touch his temple. Pushes an errant strand of hair back behind his ear.

“I do not think you can give a presentation like this, Jayce,” he teases. Fingertips still lightly touching Jayce’s face, as Jayce’s hands are still on his leg. “You look disheveled.”

“Whose fault is that, making me get on the floor?” The words do not come out in the teasing, light way he intends. Instead, Viktor’s gaze pulls something scraped and wanting from the depths of his throat. Something he didn’t even know was there, until Viktor brought it forth.

Viktor’s fingers trail from his temple down the back of his neck. Jayce shivers. It’s a feeling not unlike the jolt up his spine when Viktor had told him, put that down! Come over here. Normally, they are so in sync. Have been from almost the moment they met. But sometimes recently it’s felt like their gears are catching instead of turning smoothly together. Like there’s something in the way of a proper alignment, something Jayce wants to get out of the way but can’t because he can’t even tell what it is.

When Viktor’s hand clasps around the back of his neck, it’s like the gears skid and slip and click back together. Turning again as one.

“You feel tense,” Viktor says, fingertips probing his trapezius muscles, the touch painful for how deep he presses. “Too much time spent bent over a desk.”

“Hypocrite,” Jayce says.

“Well, yes. Which is why I know it hurts.” His voice isn’t sympathetic exactly, though, as he keeps pressing into the knots in Jayce’s muscles. It’s not lacking in sympathy. But that’s only a low note in his tone—the surface sounds more like curiosity, like the way his voice ticks up in interest and appeal when they get magic to dance just so at their fingertips. Excitement. Almost. “I can fix it.”

“What?”

“Get up,” Viktor says, and for some reason Jayce just does. He stands, and then Viktor stands, too, taking up his crutch from where it’s leaning against his workstation. He walks a few steps, testing their modification to the brace. “Hmm,” he says. “Better variable resistance.”

“…Good?” Jayce says. He has no idea what’s going on. But as Viktor starts walking to the door, saying “Come on, Jayce,” he follows.

“Where are we going?”

“To my rooms. Or yours. I have no preference.”

“Why?”

Viktor slants him a look that’s almost mischievous as he pushes open the door. “Do you have any objections?”

It’s not like they haven’t been to each other’s Academy apartments before. And something in Viktor’s expression compels him forward. “No?”

“Good.” And he leaves the room, leaving Jayce to catch up.

--

Jayce walks beside him through the halls, intentionally going slower than he normally would on his own. He often has to slow himself down beside other people, both in the lab and in person. He doesn’t have to slow himself down in the lab with Viktor. They can always keep up with each other, and it’s brilliant.

He does walk slower, though, and not only because of Viktor’s leg. The peril of being tall—and always in a rush—is that he constantly has to remind himself not to outpace other people. It doesn’t feel annoying when it’s Viktor, though.

In any case, despite the fact that Jayce could outpace him, it feels more like Viktor is leading him.

Viktor’s rooms are closer to the lab, so they end up there. Academy rooms are a bit sparse in general, and Viktor’s in particular—little in the way of decoration, only books, paperwork, small inventions on shelves and spare tools. Even his kitchen table is just covered in wiring and screws and half-finished projects. Really, both of them tend to spend most of their time in lab.

“How do you feel,” Viktor asks, as Jayce closes the door behind them, “about a back massage?”

“A what?” Jayce did hear him, though, so Viktor doesn’t repeat himself. He waits.

Truthfully Jayce doesn’t feel any particular way about any type of massage. The kinks in his back will work themselves out if he does some stretches.

But he looks at Viktor’s fine hand wrapped the handle of his crutch. The expectant look on his face, almost knowing. Something unnameable shivers up Jayce’s spine, much like when Viktor had touched the back of his neck. He feels almost out of his body. His heart gives a heavy thump.

“…Okay,” he says at last. What is he doing? No, actually, what is he doing.

Following Viktor to his bedroom, apparently.

When they work together, it’s like a dance trading off—one leading the line of thought one moment, then the other taking it and drawing it further, and back and forth. Now it’s like Viktor has seized the leading role in the waltz, his hand firmly clasped around Jayce’s shoulder through the turn.

There’s a strange peace in following. In the pattern of Jayce’s steps steered by Viktor’s thoughts. Their work is in innovation, and Jayce is always taking first steps, day after day after day. There’s a relief in letting Viktor take this one.

He’s been to Viktor’s apartment, but not his bedroom. It’s as minimal as the rest of the space. Viktor stops by the bed, leaning his crutch on the nightstand.

“Take off your shirt,” he says.

Mechanically, Jayce obeys, undoing his tie, his waistcoat, his shirt—damn these elaborate Academy uniforms—and kicking off his shoes for good measure. For his part, Viktor stays clothed, other than taking off his shoes, but he does loosen his tie, and Jayce finds his eyes drawn to the hollow of his throat as it’s revealed.

“Go lie down, Jayce,” Viktor says. This feels less like an order; it’s softer. Nevertheless Jayce does what he says, feeling the weight of Viktor’s eyes on his back. He lies facedown—Viktor’s bed is surprisingly comfortable, for Academy furniture—face cushioned on a pillow that smells like Viktor, on the rare occasions Jayce has gotten close enough to notice.

Once again he asks himself what the hell he’s doing. But he doesn’t get up.

Viktor kneels beside him on the bed. He’s acquired massage oil from somewhere—“I use it for my leg,” he says before Jayce can ask—and pours some out, warming it between his palms. Jayce can only just see his movement out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn’t ask if Viktor is physically capable of doing this, or kneeling on the bed, or anything else. He’s learned that the less he asks the more likely Viktor is to volunteer the information, if in a roundabout way. It would be more efficient to do multiple tests back to back translates to I can’t walk back and forth between the lab and the Hexgate ten times in a row today; I will run the tests, you take notes on the board means standing for hours is hard right now. Jayce isn’t always good at picking up on the subtleties in what people say, but he tries to pay attention.

“Normally, deep tissue work does cause some pain as the knots are worked out of the muscles,” Viktor says, “but you should tell me if it seriously hurts.”

Jayce nods, face still pushed into the pillow.

Then Viktor gets to work.

His hands glide over Jayce’s back in long, smooth strokes. Jayce groans, despite himself, then lets out an involuntary “Fuck!” as the heel of Viktor’s hand catches on a knot in his shoulder blade that must be deep for how much it hurts.

“Tighter than I thought,” Viktor says idly, then attacks the muscle, working his fingers in deep. It does hurt, and Jayce almost tells him to stop—until the moment he feels the muscle knot break apart, that part of his back suddenly looser than it’s been in ages.

“Fuck,” he moans again, this time with relief. “Viktor.”

Viktor shifts, swinging a leg over so he’s straddling Jayce’s thighs. “What are you doing?” Jayce asks. His words sound slurred.

“Our work is hardly finished, Jayce,” Viktor says, and, with more vigor, starts massaging the middle of Jayce’s back, up and along his spine. Fuck but it feels good. It hurts, but it’s the deep, satisfying pain of a long day spent working. Of hours in the forge, working stress out on yielding metal, his arms burning by the time he puts down the hammer.

Viktor’s hands are clearly skilled, alternately blunt or refined depending on which muscle he’s working on. Jayce’s shoulder actually clicks as Viktor digs into the muscle there, his neck spasms as Viktor presses on it with his thumbs, and okay, maybe Jayce was more sore than he realized. They’ve been a bit busy lately.

For a while Jayce spaces out pleasantly. He almost forgets that this is kind of weird, that this isn’t what they do—it doesn’t really feel weird, when they’re doing it. It feels natural. Viktor seems to have forgotten that entirely: he’s going at Jayce’s back like he does any problem in the lab, powering through with blunt determination until it’s solved.

Jayce jolts back to awareness as Viktor’s hands find his hips, thumbs digging into the muscles above the waistband of his pants. “Viktor…?” he says, but then something compels him to quiet. Viktor’s thumbs press into his lower back, long, slow strokes, gentler than before. Static prickles up Jayce’s spine, down his legs and arms, echoes of a pressure point being triggered.

“Is that better?” Viktor asks. Now his voice is rough, caught in his throat.

“Y-yeah,” Jayce says, and clears his throat. “Thanks.”

Viktor keeps pressing there, low on his spine. Jayce feels hyperaware of the weight of him on the backs of his thighs, the way he’s pinned; mouth drying, breath catching.

Should he…?

He never hesitates with Viktor where science is involved. But people, connection, friendship… all of that is a bit harder. Harder to know where he stands, easier to misjudge, misstep.

“You… have nice hands,” Jayce says, and immediately winces. But when he speaks, Viktor’s voice has a smile curled in it.

“You have very nice muscles, when they aren’t so tense,” he says.

“Yeah,” Jayce says shakily. He thinks he’d agree with anything Viktor said right now. “You… really know what you’re doing.”

Viktor’s hand slides up his spine, up his neck, digs into his hair. Jayce gasps as his head is pulled to the side—not roughly, but firmly. Viktor leans down over him; Jayce can see him out of one eye now. “Jayce…” he says, like he’s considering something. Jayce loves the way he says his name. Long, slow, and drawn out.

His voice comes out all thin and breathy. He feels drawn tight as a violin string, and he doesn’t know what will happen if Viktor tries to pluck it. “Yeah?”

“Tell me when to stop.”

And Viktor leans down and bites Jayce’s mouth.

It’s really a kiss, but it feels more like a bite. He nips Jayce’s lower lip, sweeps his tongue into his mouth, assertive and sure. In this, too, it seems Viktor knows what he’s doing. Jayce can’t say the same, but he’s hardly thinking about that—he’s thinking about Viktor’s hand still in his hair, and the heat of his lips.

Viktor pulls away, and Jayce takes a heaving breath. No part of his body is properly working, everything fizzy and startled and wanting. He can’t believe this is happening, but now that it is, it feels right. A key turning perfectly in a lock, their misaligned gears finally clicking back into perfect alignment.

Jayce’s position is awkward, but he manages to reach a hand up to clasp Viktor’s where it’s buried in his hair. Viktor waits for him to speak.

Jayce’s heart is pounding, but he says, “Don’t stop.”

Viktor kisses him again, deeper, fist clenched tight in his hair. Then when they part, he loosens his grip enough that he can prod at Jayce’s shoulder and get him to turn over, then settles down again, this time on Jayce’s hips. He barely gives Jayce a moment to cope with that before he’s leaning back down to take Jayce’s face between his hands, kissing him again, hungrier, starving.

Jayce finally gets enough control of his limbs to get his hands in Viktor’s hair. It’s softer than he would have expected, and delightful to pull on, especially when doing so keeps Viktor’s mouth pressed to his, their breaths mingling, lips smearing wetly together.

When Viktor pulls away to breathe, he stays close, looking down into Jayce’s eyes. The world is spinning, but Jayce tries to get his bearings. His hands fall to Viktor’s waist.

“Viktor…” he breathes.

Viktor traces a fingertip along his lip, as if catching the words themselves. Then, gaze intense like he’s evaluating the results of an experiment, he pushes his finger into Jayce’s mouth, laying it flat on his tongue.

Jayce is definitely- definitely behind Viktor’s curve here. Operating on little but vague instinct and supposition, he sucks Viktor’s finger deeper in his mouth, enjoying the way Viktor’s eyes darken in response. He pushes a second finger in, stroking Jayce’s tongue, and Jayce tries to breathe but doesn’t entirely succeed at it.

Viktor pulls his fingers free, saliva trailing to them from Jayce’s lips. Jayce can’t look away from them. He tries not to think about it, usually. Thoughts pushed so so so far down it’s like they’re not even there.

Now he’s wondering what else Viktor might do with those fingers.

Jayce is getting hard and wet under him, if he’s not careful Viktor will soon be able to tell, if he can’t already—but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact he shifts his weight in Jayce’s lap, grinding down, and Jayce has to bite his lower lip, hard, because he might whimper otherwise.

Viktor’s lips curl up in a very pleased smile. “Jayce,” he says, again that slow drag of his tongue over Jayce’s name.

Jayce shivers. He’s coming to realize that Viktor is… much more experienced. He’d thought they were more on the same page, as they were similar in so many other things. But he should never assume an answer, that’s a core principle of science.

“Viktor,” he says in reply. It comes out significantly more choked than Viktor’s voice.

Viktor’s expression pinches. Jayce doesn’t know what he said to cause that look.

“What?” he says.

“Have you done this before?” Viktor asks.

“Uh,” Jayce says, feeling himself flush, “no.”

“…Oh,” Viktor says, one soft word.

Jayce can’t help but feel like he’s ruining everything, even if he hasn’t actually done anything. Well, not having done anything is actually the problem. He doesn’t necessarily want Viktor to stop. “Is that— surprising to you?”

Viktor considers, then says, “Yes.”

Great, now Jayce is making it weird just with his entire existence. “I’m—”

“No, don’t say that,” Viktor interrupts. Then, softer, “Don’t say that.”

Jayce isn’t actually sorry about it, he just— he doesn’t want to ruin things. Being in the moment of this is making him realizing how deeply he wants it.

Viktor digs a hand into his hair again, but gentler this time. “Don’t let me push you around.”

“Maybe I like it,” Jayce says, feeling overly bold.

Viktor huffs. “Perhaps,” he says. “If so, perhaps you would like this.”

He leans back down, hands in Jayce’s hair, scratching his scalp, and kisses under his jaw, sucking a mark into his skin. Jayce makes a mortifying whimpering sound, clutching at the back of Viktor’s neck. He bites his lip as Viktor goes down, nipping his way down his neck, to the hollow above his collarbone, laving his tongue over the skin. Jayce squirms under him, feeling out of control of his body, hips grinding up involuntarily against Viktor.

It’s disconcerting to feel like that—out of control. But Viktor digs his hand deeper into Jayce’s hair, tugs hard. “That’s it,” he says, and Jayce feels, in some backwards way, that he must be doing something right. If Viktor is talking to him like that, he must be. “That’s it, Jayce. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y- yeah.” It does. Viktor knows what he’s doing far more than Jayce does, but maybe that’s good, he doesn’t have to worry as much about it. He can rely on Viktor’s experience.

He feels bold enough to rest a hand low on Viktor’s hip, tugging him closer, grinding up against him. It’s not enough, not with their clothes on, he needs more.

“Mmm, yes,” Viktor hums, lips brushing Jayce’s ear. “Go ahead and undo my trousers.”

He lifts his hips far enough off Jayce for Jayce to get his hand between them. He manages to undo the buttons on Viktor’s trousers, slips a hand in, fingers pushing inelegantly through Viktor’s folds. He’s worried he’s doing it wrong right from the start, but Viktor moans, the sound ringing through Jayce’s body like a bell. That sound, he could live for that sound.

“Very good,” Viktor praises, voice hitching over the words. “Now. Allow me.”

His hand finds the buttons on Jayce’s trousers, and he undoes them one by one, pushing Jayce’s underwear down. He slips his hand in, slim fingers exploring, circling his thumb over his cock lightly, but surely.

Jayce trembles under him. He can’t— can’t focus well enough to figure out what he’s supposed to be doing. He just stays still, keeping his hand flat, and Viktor ruts against his palm, somehow able to multitask well enough to do all that and go back to sucking on Jayce’s throat. Jayce can’t even multitask enough to form words.

“Shh,” Viktor says, though he decidedly hasn’t said anything. “You’re not allowed to think.”

“I’m not allowed to think?”

“No, you must be quiet.”

Jayce doesn’t know how to do that. “But—”

“Shh.” Viktor nudges his hand away, shifts positions, abandoning his efforts in grinding down on Jayce's hand in favor of working his hand deeper into Jayce's pants, his own trouser buttons open and showing a peek of hair leading down and-

Well now Jayce can’t think.

“Quiet,” Viktor repeats. “Quiet.” Kissing his cheek, his ear, his temple, then finally his lips.

Jayce falls into his voice. He lets Viktor’s words, his breath, surround him, holds Viktor tight by the hips as Viktor works him, finally manages to get enough of his wits about him to grind his hips up into the movement of Viktor's hand. He closes his eyes, hears himself making breathy sounds and desperate moans that barely sound like his own voice. He feels the curve of Viktor’s smile at the sound.

Viktor’s hand slides into his hair again, gripping tightly, holding Jayce’s head still as he kisses him. Not that Jayce would have moved, he’s paralyzed by the weight of Viktor on top of him. Frozen in place by the fact that this is even happening, Viktor’s tongue sweeping into his mouth and Viktor’s hand wet with his fluids and— oohhh, gods. He’s gonna pass out.

Viktor tugs on his hair. “You’re still thinking.”

“Sorry.”

Viktor grazes his teeth over Jayce’s ear. Jayce whimpers.

“Jayce.” Viktor’s voice sends shivers down the back of Jayce’s neck. “Let go.”

Jayce takes his hands off Viktor’s hips.

Viktor chuckles. “I meant it metaphorically.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want you to think,” Viktor says. “I want this to be good for you.”

“Well, what about you?”

Viktor’s lips curl in a smile. “This is already good for me. Can I move you?”

“Y- yeah.”

Viktor climbs off his lap, wincing slightly as he bends his leg, but Jayce knows better than to call him out on it. And besides he doesn’t think he wants Viktor to stop either way.

Viktor slips between his thighs instead. He tugs Jayce’s trousers and underwear off, and Jayce feels very exposed, flushed and hot, but Viktor’s gaze as he skates his hands up Jayce’s thighs is heartily appreciative, so it must be okay. Viktor bends one of Jayce’s legs up so he’s spread open, leaning precariously over him. Jayce shakes, he might be hyperventilating, he really might pass out but he thinks he’s okay with that. It’s fine. It’s worth it.

The last thing he sees is the gold of Viktor’s eyes before Viktor says, “Close your eyes,” and he does and then Viktor’s hand and mouth are on him at once. He kisses Jayce deeply, a hungry, claiming kiss, uses his slim fingers to part him, that pretty hand Jayce had been so admiring earlier now taking whatever Viktor wants from him.

And Jayce— doesn’t think. He can barely breathe for how Viktor is kissing him, and his body is strung tight, hot and and wet and oversensitive as Viktor strokes through him, thumbs over his cock, circles fingertips lightly at his entrance. Jayce’s cunt clenches in heated anticipation of him, he wonders how people even—

—the thought melts into static as Viktor pushes a cautious finger into him. Jayce feels so hyperaware of him, panting against his mouth, oh gods, that’s Viktor in him—

—more static as Viktor curls his finger, pressing the heel of his palm to Jayce’s cock in the same motion. Oh, fuck—

He’s saying it, too, “Oh, fuck, oh fuck Viktor—”

“That’s it,” Viktor says, working him with focused determination. “That’s it, Jayce, good.”

He pushes another finger into Jayce’s cunt, and Jayce gasps, clutching at Viktor’s shoulders, thighs twitching and tightening involuntarily around Viktor’s hips. Viktor pushes his leg back down firmly.

“Viktor,” Jayce pleads. He doesn’t know what he wants Viktor to do— stop? Keep going? No, definitely keep going, he’s just— he’s so—

“You feel so good,” Viktor murmurs. “I bet you will taste even better.”

“Taste?” Jayce croaks.

“Let go, Jayce,” Viktor croons, crooking his fingers hard inside Jayce with the command. And Jayce’s brain just— whites out.

He floats, spinning higher and higher, belly coiling tighter with heat as Viktor keeps claiming his insides. Viktor sucks marks into his throat as Jayce gasps for breath, wanting, wanting, wanting— “Please, Viktor—”

Viktor works his fingers in and out, in and out— Jayce feels so wet, so hot, and the pressure of Viktor’s fingers is so— he’s so close—

He fists a hand in his own hair, tugging hard. Viktor pulls his hand away, takes hold of his wrist, and presses him down into the bed.

Jayce comes instantly, clenching down on Viktor’s fingers and biting down hard on his own lip as heat rushes through him, flushing up his chest and throat. He presses Viktor’s hips again between his thighs, and this time Viktor lets him. He works Jayce through it, fingers stroking steadily inside him until he comes down from his peak. Then before Jayce can even get his breath back, Viktor is going down, wrapping his arms under Jayce’s thighs and pulling him in with surprising strength, pressing his face between Jayce’s legs.

Jayce shouts. Viktor hums in pleasure, the sound vibrating straight through Jayce’s core. Viktor licks up through his folds, sucks on his cock. When Jayce finally manages to open his eyes, he finds Viktor has moved his hand and is working himself furiously with it, evidently getting off just on the taste of Jayce. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Jayce pushes a shaky hand through Viktor’s hair, holding on for dear life, overstimulated from the relentless touch. “Viktor…” he says, voice thick, “gods, you’re so… you’re so beautiful…”

Viktor moans, grinding down on his own hand. Jayce pushes his hips up, grinding up into his mouth, and Viktor makes a choked sound and goes taut as he comes.

It’s so transcendent, Jayce wants to soak in that sound, that feeling, forever. He wants to do that, to make Viktor feel like that; he wants to make Viktor feel the way Viktor makes him feel. He needs to learn how.

He tugs on Viktor’s arm. Viktor obligingly goes, leaning over him so they’re face-to-face again. Viktor’s hair is mussed, his lips slick and wet. Jayce is maybe hallucinating, or maybe the screws were a micrometer too small after all and the Hexgate actually exploded and killed him and this is the afterlife.

Viktor kisses him, Jayce doesn’t even have to ask for it, and he puts his hands on Viktor’s hips again, feeling bolder, and sort of loose and warm and shivery in a much more thorough way than when he just gets himself off. Viktor’s still mostly dressed, and Jayce wishes he could feel his skin, actually slide his hands up over Viktor’s thighs and hips and ribcage and feel each bone.

When Viktor pulls away he presses warm lips to Jayce’s cheek and says, “Are you still thinking about tomorrow?”

“What?” Jayce croaks.

Viktor laughs. Jayce feels it in his chest and under his hands, from how they’re touching. No, tomorrow doesn’t exist, what’s tomorrow? What’s Hextech? What’s anything other than this?

“Good,” Viktor says. He shifts, and Jayce is briefly terrified he’ll just leave, but Viktor only slides onto his side so he’s lying beside Jayce instead of on top of him, stretching his leg out with a grimace. Still, he doesn’t leave.

“Come here,” he says.

“…What?”

“Just do it, Jayce.”

So Jayce does, with almost more hesitation than he’d felt in kissing him, in touching him, because he doesn’t know what they are. But he also knows that if he stops to think about it for even a second he will explode, and if he doesn’t touch Viktor again right now he might actually lose it.

So he hesitantly curls in against Viktor. Tugs open some of the buttons on Viktor’s shirt, and, at Viktor’s nod, slips his arm under to wrap around his waist, his palm pressed flat to the bare skin of Viktor’s back, above his brace. He presses his face into Viktor’s shoulder. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Viktor pets his hair. Digs his fingers into Jayce’s scalp and Jayce melts into him, he can’t help it. He doesn’t know what’s going on, why Viktor is being so touchy with him, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

“Viktor?” he says. “Why?” Jayce doesn’t know exactly what’s encompassed in the why. It had all felt right as it was happening, this, them. But the details.

“I… felt you needed something,” Viktor says, sounding, for the first time, hesitant. “I decided to… take a leap.”

Jayce doesn’t know exactly what it was that he needed, but Viktor must have given it to him because he feels… better. Somehow.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“I will share my theories and findings with you later,” Viktor says.

“Oh, theories and findings.”

“Of course, one must always pursue science with rigor and precision.”

“Uh-huh.” Jayce hides his grin in Viktor’s neck.

“More immediately,” Viktor continues, “you should stay here for a little while so you have time to process.”

“Didn’t want to move anyway,” Jayce says. He shifts closer, draping one leg over Viktor’s so he’s sort of half-lying on top of him. “I’m not crushing you, am I?” He doesn’t know exactly how much Viktor weighs but he’s pretty sure he’s a lot heavier.

“Mm. I don’t mind. You are comfortable. Very soft.”

Jayce laughs. “Alright.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Really good. Like. Kind of relaxed, I guess.” That's a rare feeling.

“You sound surprised,” Viktor says.

“Well. Yeah,” Jayce admits, and Viktor huffs a laugh.

“Not so much a man of relaxation,” he says, “but—”

“Oh, please don’t—”

“—but a Man of Progress,” Viktor finishes, with some glee.

Jayce groans. “I don’t know how Mrs. Kiramman even got that nickname out there before the Hexgate unveiling. We haven’t even shown anyone anything yet!”

“She has merchandise as well,” Viktor tells him.

“She has what?”

“Caitlyn gave me a mug.” When Jayce lifts his head to look at him, Viktor is smiling a rather wicked smile.

“Cait,” Jayce whines. It’s all so mortifying. “Why would she betray me like that?”

“I think she may have been teasing me. But I cherished my gift.”

“Viktor please.”

Viktor digs his hand into Jayce’s hair again. “Hush.”

Jayce hushes.

“Does it truly bother you?” Viktor asks.

“A bit?” He wouldn’t say so to Mrs. Kiramman, but— “The attention’s not supposed to be on me, it’s supposed to be about the research.”

There have been a lot of events leading up to this grand launch, and Jayce doesn’t necessarily hate it, he likes talking to people about their research, likes sharing its wonder, but after a while he starts to get kind of itchy and nervous and overwhelmed by the attention, and more than once has had to duck out to compose himself.

He can’t tell Mrs. Kiramman about that, and he can’t tell Caitlyn or she’ll get concerned and tell her mother. But maybe. Maybe he can tell Viktor.

“I just get nervous,” he says. “I get like. I don’t know.”

“I’ve been starting to understand that,” Viktor says. “Though I did not realize it was that bad.”

“It’s not!” Jayce protests.

Viktor’s silence is telling.

“Alright, fine, but I can handle it.”

“I’m certain you can,” Viktor says. “And something may be painful and still worth doing. Nevertheless, I am glad to know.”

“I— I’m glad you know, too. I think.” Jayce sighs. “Not sure there’s much to do about it, though.”

“That I don’t agree with.” Viktor lets his hand fall to the nape of Jayce’s neck and gives a light squeeze. Jayce goes still, heart suddenly hammering, like when he’d knelt in the lab to fix Viktor’s brace and Viktor had pinned him there with a sure hand.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” he admits. “But…”

“But?”

“…It feels good.” It feels actually really good, Viktor touching him like that.

“Hmm. I thought so.” Viktor keeps stroking the back of his neck, though with less pressure than before.

“Yeah, your theories and findings and all.”

“Precisely.”

“…Is that all it is?” Jayce asks. Gods, he’s not usually this insecure, it’s so embarrassing. But it’s Viktor.

“No,” Viktor says, “it’s not. You know that, I think?”

Jayce does know that, though it’s still a comfort to hear Viktor say it. If it was just experimental, it wouldn’t soothe him so much. It wouldn’t make him want to crawl inside Viktor’s clothes. It wouldn’t make him feel like all his disjointed machinery has suddenly fallen back into proper alignment. It’s Viktor. Viktor could never be just anything. Viktor is everything.

“Yeah,” he breathes, resting his head on Viktor’s chest. “I do.”

[thebestjjenthusiast]

carolina’s children

01 | 02 | 03

“mike.” i said furiously as the blonde entered the garage the rest of us were patiently waiting in for the past one hour

“hey princess” he winked as he put his jacket on a chair near the entry as i rolled my eyes

“that was the last straw” i stated crossing my arms, everyone’s attention shifting to him

“what does that mean now?” he scoffed as he walked closer to us searching for his mic

“dude we have a concert tomorrow” chris stated, sat on his drum chair twirling the sticks between his fingers

“concert” mike repeated mockingly “it’s not a concert”

“see it as you like, i dont care. but i had told you, if you leave us hanging here waiting for you one more time, even for just one minute im kicking you out” anger now being even more audible in my voice

“youre not doing shit y/n. we have a concert tomorrow” he smirked as he pulled the mic close to his mouth “not doing shit” he sang as his voice echoed in the room earning a shove from pope

“why dont we just-“ pope was about to begin, but was quickly cut

“mike youre out.” i stated, no more anger in my voice, saying it as if it was easy

“what?” was all he could form out

“you heard me” i shrugged my shoulders

his mouth dropped, his voice disappeared and his gaze kept looking around for more reactions

“she warned you to be fair man” chris added

and just like that, mike left, leaving us without a singer for tomorrow’s performance.

it was a hard move to make, but i really like to stick to my words.

and besides, how hard could it be to get someone to join our band? we were getting quite popular around the island. all we needed was a quick audition for any possible volunteers.

“john b, please just hear me out man” Pope was protesting, trying to get our friend to sing for our tomorrow’s show

“pope” john b started, his hands forming a prayer “and y/n, as much as i love you, im not singing infront of all those people” he finished

both of us knew he wouldn’t agree but it was worth a shot, right?

“alright, its okay, we’ll try to find someone else” i said looking at pope who gave up on this

then suddenly i remembered, we hadnt asked Rafe, who obviously would disagree (but no risk no story), and JJ, in whom i did have a little faith.

“let’s not panic people” chris said, fully relaxed causing me to crack a smile

“yea chris thats the vibe my man” i high fived him, clearly sarcastically but he didnt seem to realise that.

i felt doomed, and i was sure pope felt that too. about chris, i dont think he is here with us mentally but he will soon realise the seriousness of the situation (i hope). i knew it was stupid to kick mike out now, literally last minute, but boy has he been a pain in my ass these last months. my only hopes are hanging on Rafe and JJ this moment, one of them has to agree.

taglist: @rafeysworldim19, @amterasuu, @bee-43, @eviepostssometimes, @imsiriuslyreal

an: okayy i know it seems too soon to kick out mike but trust me here okay😓

[the-crimson]

(All talk about the characters not the ccs)

I’m finally watching bbh’s June 19th stream (day after Father’s Day) and he’s talking about removing everyone’s access to his base. I’ve seen people talking about how this could cause problems and lose him Forever and Bagerah’s trust but I think people - including Forever and Bagerah - are forgetting a crucial fact

Bbh is a single parent and has been from the start.

He has to be incredibly paranoid to keep Dapper safe. His paranoia is the only reason Dapper -and many of the other eggs - are still alive.

He can’t rely on other people to keep Dapper safe. He can’t tell Dapper to go live with another parent if his house is compromised. That’s why he has five different houses and keeps building more when too many people gain access.

I don’t think Forever or Bagerah have a right to complain about this considering they have 3/4 other parents/houses to keep their egg safe. They have a family structure that allows them a sense of safety that bbh has NEVER had.

Like yea, I understand why they would feel betrayed but from an objective pov, they have zero ground to stand on to protest because they have NO idea what bbh has gone through raising dapper alone, how could they? They have always had 3/4 other parents at their beck and call.

Trust doesn’t mean letting someone run rampantly through your house/safe space just because they feel entitled to it. Trust means having faith that if bbh is closing off his/Dapper’s house to you, he has a legitimate reason that doesn’t have anything to do with you personally.

Bbh has done so much for team friendship and taken down so many of his walls and boundaries for them that the fact THEY don’t have faith in him makes me sad. I trust team friendship and the q-ommunication smp to work everything out but I just hope Bagerah and Forever come to respect bbh’s boundaries a bit more :D

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just read the new mutants issue where Charles chose to stay behind in space and my god the juxtaposition between Charles trusting Erik and Erik joining the hellfire club and wondering at his own trust worthiness. I wonder how much of Charles decision was him ultimately trying to avoid the fact that his first class had seemingly betrayed mutant kind and not be willing to face them and how much of it was Dani and Illyana's reaction to him having Karma mind control Illyana. the fact that Illyana was depending on him to ease her mind through limbo and in choosing to stay he forced karma to do it instead, probably fucking up their relationship in the process.

I love him, this is crazy, how much of this is him trying to runaway and how much is this him not trusting himself to fix things and how much is it just him trusting Erik?

i keep trying to put into words my exact thoughts about the sitch but there really is a lot for one issue aintit... oh charles you and your brain...

[4lexnilsen]

“a monster.   oh,  boo-hoo,  i’m a monster now because i don’t do as you say.”   daddy would be here if he only knew she needed him.   she simply didn’t have the time to send him an S-O-S.   he rolls his eyes,  biting the comment back when these dark brown eyes flicker up to meet his with an emotion that he can’t quite decipher…   rage?   betrayal?   train of thought lost on him as she delivers a mike tyson worthy punch,  nearly making him trip.   his hand immediately flies up to touch the sore spot,  the thick fabric of his puffer jacket served as a cushion,  an additional layer of protection,  but his muscles are still burning underneath.   nerve endings on fire.   his eyes well up with unwanted tears.   “what the fuck’s that for?!   i was just trying to make you look presentable.   right now you could pass for pennywise’s little sister,”   he sneers,  rubbing his arm and blinking away his tears.   “stop it,”   he mocks in a high-pitched voice,  shaking his head because she’s just too dramatic.   he hasn’t done anything to her.   

“i was just trying to help you,  you priss!”   he says loudly,  laughing when she grabs a fistful of his sweater and pulls him down to her level.   it’s only when she takes a hold of his other arm,  moving so fast that he can’t even react before it’s too late,  that he shuts up.   giggles turning into screams of pain.   electric current racing through his arm,  radiating from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder.   he begins to squirm and considers stepping on her foot to make her let go,  but she’s loosening up.   this time,  he just stays quiet,  rubbing his abused limb and glaring at her.   fucking bitch.   she could have broken his arm.   “you think you can just threaten me?”   he feigns confidence to save what’s left of his pride,  even if deep down he’s pretty intimidated.   “i’ll say what i want and we’ll see who gets to keep their teeth.”   what if he said that she’d been sleeping around with him?   yeah,  okay,  harry might try to punch him,  but he’s not really all that scared of harry…   besides,  something tells him that ugly boar would direct his anger at her rather than him.

lingering beside the raven-haired girl’s side as she lunges at one of harry’s idiot friends next,  alex can’t help but lift his brows and whistle at the revelation.   harry leaving with another woman?   what a surprise!   his arm is still burning,  joints sore where she’d twisted them,  and he should feel no compassion towards her but…   suddenly,  it all begins to make sense.   so harry really is cheating on her.   must be why she assumes she’s doing sarah a favor by exposing his behavior.   must be why she thinks he’s incapable of staying faithful.   it makes his heart feel all weird,  heavy and fluttery at the same way.   his stomach twisting when he catches a glimpse of her expression.   “give me that,”   he grumbles,  unceremoniously slipping his hand into the pocket of her coat,  pulling out her car keys.   it might be her father’s car,  but he refuses to trust her to get them to wherever harry’s having his fun at safely.   he’s not letting her drive.   “hey,  you!”   he calls out after the guy,  whatever his name is.   “where’d he go?   where can we find harry?   her father has some really urgent message to pass on to him.   it really can’t wait till tomorrow,”   he fibs,  unsure why he’s still here,  trying to help helena uncover her boyfriend’s infidelity when he should be on his way back home.   he doesn’t even have to say anything,  looks like their relationship’s about to get flushed down the drain.   there’s his payback.   too bad it doesn’t taste so sweet,  after all.

"is daddy here, right now, helping me deal with a monster? no." the raven haired girl snaps, eyes immediately become widened at gravity or alex's strength yanking her back. as if that wasn't enough to get her blood pressure sky rocketing– the material of his shirt is roughly digging into her skin causing her face to hurt and burn that she's shoving away with a quick turn of her face. at this point, believing he's trying to suffocate her. her fist balling, SLAMMING it into his bicep once they're inside the lounge blaring loud pop music that he's dragging her into by her arm. "STOP IT," yelling over top of it, eyes serious and angry as she seethes and stares up at him, "i'm not your rag doll you can just SHOVE around," hand clutches onto his shirt, yanking him down here. other hand grabbing his hand that's wrapped around her small arm and twisting his backwards, pressing hard on that sensitive pressure point she knows where to dig her thumb into thanks to a lot of time put into self defense to bring a lot of pain, "put your hands on me one more time and i will snap your wrist like a twig." it's already been thought about, no one else would've hesitated this long and she shouldn't even do so now after he had the audacity to put his grimy hands on her like that and jerk her backwards by her coat. "it would do you better to keep your mouth shut." still twisting hard, teeth gritting, "harry's not going to believe you anyway and if you open your mouth... you might lose a few teeth." when she rams her fist in his jaw, that's not a threat, that's a promise.

"hey helena! what are you doing heree?" a drunken slur of one of harry's friends gets her attention, having her quickly spinning on her heel. "wait. you are helena..." the blond points out and causes her confusion, "yeah?" what does that mean exactly? "oh, that's weird." he chuckles, holding his drink in hand, "why's that weird?" she questions, to which she earns hesitation before he finally comes back and blurts, "beee-cause. harry just left. some time ago. can't 'member... with another dark haired girl. juss' like you?" that causes her heart to drop, feeling the heaviness of it SINKING deep into the pits of her belly. "what do you mean? when?" then he pretends he didn't just unload that on her and starts to turn, to which helena reaches out and yanks her next victim by the shirt for the second time tonight, "when?" she demands this time. "ohhh jee-sus, okaay. okay. umm," swallowing, harry's going to kick his ass now, trying to squirm out of his feisty girlfriend's grip. her hands just grip TIGHTER. "ten! ten minutes ago but don't tell 'im okay? don'ttt." letting his shirt go now, he runs off and she's left silent with mixed emotion creasing her brows. calculating what to do next. after one more second of thought, taking her phone out of her jacket, contemplating if she should call, text or... another option.

[anderfels]

anyone that puts ratonhnhaké:ton and "boring" in the same sentence is not to be trusted. do not trust them.

[timeclipsed]

♡ ?? ( change attraction to cool level or smthing idk whatever you like best <3)

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours (status — accepting!)

●○○○○ | AESTHETIC ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●○○○○ | TRUST

[fleetsonourgecentral]

So how do you think Scourge would handle the events of the fugitive arc of STCO?

To give context, some guy (a wolf named Kane) starts tearing down him in the media by bringing up stuff like "he created Robotnik, he transforms into Super Sonic, he's a bit of a dick (even if everyone already knows that so people don't pay attention to this part)" which makes almost everyone in Mobius but his friends hate him, then after a while there's some mega mack bombings across the zones and Sonic tries to figure out who it was but gets knocked out by a sneak attack and his friends get attacked too and then the attacker reveals itself to be "Sonic", Sonic tries to stop one of the missiles but they set him up and cut off the Kintobor computer while he was helping him disarm it so it explodes, he's arrested and when his friends (Amy, Knuckles and Tails) come to bust him out "Sonic" attacks the and left them to die (though they survive obviously) and escapes, later it's revealed he's the the Metallix Mark IV (basically the Neo Metal Sonic of the Metallix) who framed Sonic for all those crimes and swapped him after they run all kind tests in him to confirm it is him so everyone does think Sonic did all that, Sonic manages to escape the volcano he trapped him in and gets Metallix destroyed by the Lava, then right after that Grimer appears as an hologram (because he is in another dimension were Sonic can't get to him) and tells him he's behind all of it because he drove Robotnik crazy, so he seeked revenge and made Sonic despised by everyone to the point he had to leave the planet.

And Sonic does try to leave after not finding anything to prove his innocence, but Robotnik comes back so he decides to stay and help, but has to do it while being a fugitive hated by everyone with the exception of Tails...

Kay sorry for the wall of text, I tried to get the important bits (or what I think are the important bits), it's hard to explain it to people who haven't read it.

Oh man oh man. So like. I know it would be really sweet and whatever to believe Scourge would believe in Sonic no matter what, but honestly? I think he'd fall for it. Scourge is used to betrayal, he grew up around it. Betrayal was expected on Moebius, the only way to ensure loyalty is through fear, and Scourge has to actively work to trust people won't betray him at the slightest convenience. It doesn't come easily to him. Trusting Sonic is a choice he makes every day, built on the foundation that Sonic has - somehow, against all odds - proved he has no interest in betraying Scourge. It helps a little that Sonic is upfront about it when he doesn't like someone - Scourge is used to people being rude or cruel, and Sonic is so, so fucking rude, which, to Scourge, is a symbol of honesty - but it still isn't easy. It still takes work. And as nice as it would be to believe Scourge would believe in Sonic's innocence against all odds, in reality, I feel like his predisposition to be prepared for betrayal would actually just make the situation hit even harder. He doesn't, and never will, have the endless faith and trust in his friends that other Sonics have. Letting his guard down is a conscious choice, and one he'll revoke at any time if he feels threatened

So as for the fugitive arc? I think it would hit Scourge, and hit Scourge hard. The initial stuff wouldn't bother him - what does he care if Sonic created Robotnik? If he can turn into Super? And the whole reason Scourge likes him at all is because he's a dick. Being attacked would make him hesitate, but it's not the first time someone has impersonated Sonic to ruin his reputation, so he cautiously holds out hope. But after all the tests "confirm" it really is him? Any hope he has shatters. He doesn't care about what happens to Mobius, but he does care about their relationship. To hear Sonic never actually cared about him, that he was being played for a fool (which, from what you described, I imagine is the angle the Metallix would go for during the whole "attacks them and leaves them to die" thing) would be a deep, deep wound. He trusts Sonic more than he's ever trusted anyone, and this is how he's repaid? Stupid. He should have known this Sonic would be no different than all the rest. He should have known better. He never should have let his guard down

Needless to say, he wouldn't take it well. He'd lash out. Yell at Tails for being an idiot for continuing to believe in Sonic's innocence. By this point he's probably developed enough of a relationship with the rest of the freedom fighters to still consider them... if not friends, then at least allies. They were attacked too, after all, and they're angry, just like him. But he'd pull back from them, become a little harsher, more on guard around them in case they betray him, too. Maybe he'd even take over the position of leadership, although I'm sure he would butt heads with Amy over that whenever they disagree on something, and those disagreements would be far worse than her disagreements with Sonic, because Scourge is hurting and is, at all times, two steps away from completely revoking his trust in everyone, so any disagreement from Amy feels like a personal attack and a potential warning sign to him

He'd probably try to hunt Sonic down. Idk what the priorities of the rest of the freedom fighters are - probably trying to un-fuck the world - but his priority is definitely getting revenge. It's probably one of the biggest reasons he clashes with Amy when they don't agree on how to lead the rest of the freedom fighters, and could even lead to him going off on his own if he's challenged one too many times by her. Scourge the Hedgehog doesn't take betrayal lying down. He gets his revenge no matter what

(It's made worse by the fact his anger and hurt don't erase the fact he still loves Sonic. Loving Sonic is habit, and those feelings don't go away so easily. Betrayal isn't enough to erase them, and the fact that they still exist makes him feel like his feelings are betraying him, too. He's hoping that getting revenge and being angry will crush the feelings he has for someone who no longer deserves them. It's why he can't slow down, can't stop, can't control his anger like everyone is asking him to. If he does that, he'll keep loving Sonic, and he doesn't want to do that after Sonic hurt him so badly)

TLDR: he wouldn't handle the events of the fugitive arc at all

[my85volvo]

Part 3! I'm still working out how Tumblr works so I'm not sure if I have to tag @renmackree again? Or will you just see my update? God, I'm old.

The priest banged his head against the bed frame behind him in his scramble to move away. Simultaneously, the new follower sleeping in the bed jolted up and whipped his head around to stare directly at Derek before recoiling against the wall.

Derek was taken aback by the boy's hostility. Even the new follower seemed upset. Did he not do exactly as was asked? He left at the boy's command. He wore clothes befitting of his status--he had been more than accommodating. If this were 3,000 years ago, he would have easily found another to fill his role. But, as it stands, the old god needed him. And judging by the state of the accommodations in front of him, the boy needed him, too.

“Dude, do NOT wake me up like that anymore,” said the priest.

“Why are you so upset?” Asked Derek. “I did as you requested.”

The new follower was the next to respond.

“Um, what?”

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes, annoyed that these humans were so vexing.

“It's him, Scott. My hallucination,” the priest explained.

“He's wearing clothes.”

“That's all you have to say about this? He teleported into your room!” The priest flailed his arms for emphasis.

“He probably walked through the door!”

“How did he even know where I was?”

“Dude, you only go to, like, 3 places. You're not hard to find.”

“Eh-hem.” Derek cleared his throat to get their attention.

They looked like grown men, but apparently, it was acceptable for men of this era to bicker like children in front of a deity.

They both looked up at him expectantly.

“Now, today you are to receive my blessing as high priest. And you--"Derek looked at the new follower on the bed. “You may receive a boon as well since I am feeling generous. Though you will not delegate my priest to the floor again, as his station is far above yours. Understood?”

The new follower looked at him as if he had brown two heads.

“Amazon slipper orchid,” the priest declared, still seated at his feet.

“Pardon?”

“Prove to me that you're a god. Find me a living Amazon slipper orchid from the Rainforest.”

Derek crossed his arms and scowled.

“I am not an errand boy.”

“You asked what it would take to build my faith. This is it. no more tests.” The priest seemed honest, so Derek acquiesced.

“Fine. And then you will receive my blessing?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Very well.”

Derek closed his eyes and concentrated on the beauty and lifesource of the flower. The last time he walked the earth, the people called it Lady's Moon, but its loveliness had not dwindled at all since then. When he willed himself to appear before one, the crisp forest welcomed him under a canopy of verdant leaves. Gingerly, he uprooted the flower from the remnants of a decaying tree, imbuing strength into the roots and protection through the stem.

When he stepped through the veil to return to his meager flock, he found the two men bickering. Again.

“I'm just saying, you can't trust him, Stiles! You don't know anything about him!” Cried the new follower.

“Dude, he's magic. Real, bona fide, hogwarts-level magic. How is your mind not exploding right now?”

“What if he wants to sacrifice you to his dark master or something? What if–”

“Eh-hem.”

They were both seated on the bed now, and at Derek's interruption, they both whipped their heads toward him. Their expressions were wide-eyed and weary, as if they were children caught stealing sweets before supper.

His priest was the first to speak.

“...you found it. You really found it,” he said with a chuckle.

“Did you doubt me, priest?”

“Yeah, actually. I kinda did.” The priest reached out to touch one of the delicate petals, but he thought better of it at the last moment and withdrew his hand. “And it's Stiles. My name, that is. Not priest.”

“Stiles,” Derek repeated with a smile.

“Um, excuse me, but we don't want anything to do with gods or magic, okay?” The new follower glared at him in defiance. “So you can go find some other priest and leave my friend alone.”

“That's Scott, just ignore him,” said Stiles with a wave of his hand.

“Stiles!” Scott threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Hey, could you conjure up a pot or something?”

“You said no more tests,” Derek said, eyeing him with suspicion.

“It’s not a test. I just don't want the flower to die while we wait.”

“Please, Stiles, can we just–” Scott interrupted.

“The flower is strong. It will be fine for many days,” Derek spoke over him. “You can place it upright in one of those empty tins if you like.”

Derek nodded towards the beautifully painted, deep red canisters stacked on the ground near the window.

“Alright, Dr. Pepper house it is.”

Stiles grabbed a can and shook out a few drops of liquid into his mouth, then motioned Derek to help him transfer the flower into its new home. Scott continued voicing his grievances while Derek ignored him.

“Dude, come on, you can't seriously be listening to this guy! He's dangerous!” Scott whined.

“He's hot, and he brought me flowers. Best first date I've had in a while, honestly.”

Stiles was still carefully stuffing the long roots into the can while he spoke.

“What if he hurts you?”

“I would never,” Derek growled. “He is my anchor to this world. To hurt him would be akin to cutting off my own arm.”

“Really? That's so sweet,” Stiles smiled.

Derek felt a grin come unbidden at the priest's words. Finally, Stiles was beginning to trust him.

“STILES!” Scott yelled, frustrated at his lack of influence.

“ENOUGH,” Derek boomed.

He spoke from deep within his body, letting his power bleed into the command. The window rattled, and the stack of painted cans toppled over at his voice.

“You may not command my high priest, boy. You are but a follower, not a ruler. Know your place.” Derek wouldn't tolerate the mistreatment of his own, no matter how ignorant they may be.

“I'm not your follower,” Scott said with a quiver in his voice.

He was clearly afraid to stand his ground, but he was still fiercely loyal to his friend. Derek admired his loyalty, though this misplaced tenacity was frustrating.

“Okay, let's all just take a breather here,” said Stiles. He had finished placing the orchid and was now holding his hands up as if to separate him from Scott. “Wolf of the Wool, please don't be mean to Scott. He's my best friend, and he's just looking out for me.”

Derek glared in response but said nothing.

“And Scott, I will literally explode from curiosity if I don't hang out with this guy and get some answers. Magic is real. This is my life now.”

Scott cast his head down, defeated. The three of them sat in uneasy quiet for a brief moment before Derek broke the silence.

“It's Wolf of the Wood,” Derek said.

“What?” Asked Stiles.

“You called me Wolf of the Wool. I am the Wolf of the Wood. You should know the name of the god you summoned.”

“Oh yeah, that makes more sense. But I definitely didn't summon you, dude.”

“Don't call me dude. And you swore an oath to me, then left an offering at my altar. What was your purpose if not to revive me from my slumber?”

“Did you…summon me by accident?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Derek cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Stiles was silent for a moment, staring at the ground and appearing to be in deep concentration. He finally looked up with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Whoops?”

Derek felt his face fall. All his excitement over coming back to earth and...he wasn't even wanted? Did Stiles believe in him at all?

"Did you ever want my blessing?" Derek said, his voice despondent.

"Um, not particularly?" Stiles must have felt pity for him, because he quickly amended his statement. "But I'm sure it's a great blessing! The best blessing! You can totally bless me, if you want. I'd be honored."

Stiles looked up at him, hopefully.

"You probably don't have anything prepared."

"Okay, what do I need to do?"

"This is stupid," Scott interjected.

"Different ages had different ceremonies, usually involving the whole tribe," Derek started, ignoring Scott's comment. "At the very least, there would be some sort of goblet or bowl of special significance that you would use to drink my blood--"

"Hard pass," Stiles said quickly.

Derek frowned.

"I mean, um, is there like another way to get the blessing? One that doesn't involve me swallowing your bodily fluids?"

"Of course. We can copulate."

"No way," Scott said.

Stiles was silent, but his face was turning a furious shade of red.

"That's, um, well...it might be worth a try," said Stiles, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Stiles, you can't be serious."

"Scott, did I get in your way when you were adamant about taking home Allison Argent even though she's definitely in a crazy murder cult? No. So don't cock block me."

"That was different, and you know it. She wasn't going to hurt me."

"She had a crossbow and handcuffs in her car. At school. At least this guy doesn't have any weapons. You don't have any weapons, do you, Mr. Wolf God?"

"I have no need of weapons."

"See Scott? It's fine. But...I'm not really, um, experienced with that stuff, so can we get to know each other first?"

Derek scoffed, as if the idea was beneath him. Honestly, this entire situation was beneath him. Since when did he have to beg to bestow a piece of his power to a lowly human? Would it be better if he just left, waited for the human to die, then went back to sleep? A part of him hated that idea. He yearned to experience this world with his new priest.

While he should be furious that humans were treating him with such insolence, he found that he couldn't fault Stiles for long. The boy was honest and pure, and Derek could tell that he had no selfish motives for power whatsoever. It was refreshing to have a high priest that didn't lust after position or status. It was...entirely new, actually. As frustrating as the boy was, Derek couldn't deny that he wanted to keep him close.

"Listen. If you won't take my blessing, at least take this."

Derek withdrew a small vial from his jacket pocket, plucked a hair from his head, and carefully closed it into the small tube.

"Having a piece of me close will connect us. You can call me, and I will come. If you are injured, swallow it to heal yourself."

"Um, thanks?" Stiles took the offered gift with some confusion.

"I was serious when I said I would not harm you. As my high priest, my blessing would protect you from aggression or disease. Without it...then it falls to me to protect you."

Stiles gave him a look that was somewhere between longing and sadness. Perhaps he was finally understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Yes. Until you choose to receive the blessing...if you choose to at all."

"So, now what? You just hang out in the woods until I call you?"

"Sounds boring."

"Yes, a bit."

Derek waited patiently while Stiles chewed his lower lip in thought, and Scott continued to scowl at them both. After a moment, Stiles seemed to muster up the courage to speak again.

"So, ummm...wanna go out for breakfast?"

That's it for now, I think! I really liked this prompt, and now I want to go back and rework a few things from the earlier parts. I’ll be adding this to my Ao3 WIP list, because I am physically incapable of writing something under 10k words, and it's getting a bit long for Tumblr. I was really happy to get some encouraging words in the tags, so thanks!

Derek is the old god of the forest, forgotten and unworshiped for centuries. Towns were built around his forests and the alter where once offerings were laid has been overgrown. Derek believes himself to be lost and resigns to an endless slumber.

That is until a college kid stumbles on his alter and offers the large stone wolf a piece of his sandwich.

Now, awake and once more worshiped, the god must protect his new high priest Stiles at all cost. Which means blending into a world he knows nothing about. And going to college.

[asweetprologue]

at first I thought that the game had sold my house to some random woman (thank u Clavia for sweeping but you scared the shit outta me) and then I was relieved to know that it was still link's, but then you get inside and all the stuff has been replaced w Zelda's stuff and her journal is in the bedroom and her secret well is down below. I know a bunch of people have said like oh they were living together and I thought that too at first (despite the one bed), but the more I hang around the village the more I'm convinced that Link just gave Zelda his house and kinda fucked off a little. it would go a long way towards explaining how everyone knows zelda but no one knows Link (though that seems to be a common theme), but the greatest evidence imo is when you talk to one of the kids from the school who's waiting for Zelda to return near the house. she asks link if he's going to "zelda's house" and says that zelda often leaves the village but always quickly returns. it seems based on this and the interior décor that the house now firmly belongs to zelda, and link was maybe a non presence in the village after the events of the first game. I wonder if he gave her the house as something of a retreat, a place where she could be alone and recover while also being close to Purah - one of the few other people she knows from Before - and the lab. meanwhile it doesn't seem like there's any space made for link in the house or the village. idk what it all means but I do have enormous feelings about Link giving up the one space that was really his so that zelda could have a home again after hers was destroyed

[lisbonsteresa]

they make me so

[yellowocaballero]

I just realized b&l was Brad and luida and not some other obscure terminology... I feel dumb now (and sad that while knives was growing up w parents vash just had Conrad... Somewhere out there is an au where both twins get to grow up with Brad and luida... Tho idk if both would survive the process... 😨)

EXTREMELY LATE REPLY SRY

Vash is partly Like That because nobody has ever told him 'no' in his life. Rem and Knives were indulgent, Conrad pulled an Alfred and never saw himself as Vash's parent despite being the only adult a little kid had and as such never tried to discipline him or control his behavior, and the GHG are all yes-men who worship him. Vash is spoiled and gets whatever he wants, and expects himself to get whatever he wants. You have to contrast the entitlement to canon Knives, who also gets what he wants because nobody can tell him no. I wanted to make it clear that 14yo Knives was very close to being the actual, canon Knives - that he was a murderous jerk who hated humans and thought they were a scourge on humanity too. Knives is good instead of bad because of B&L & the choices he made, just like Vash is bad instead of good because of Conrad & the justifications he gave himself.

All that to say - B&L would have absolutely prevented Vash from going so bad. They couldn't have stopped the voices, but they could have taught him how to cope with them and make the right choices. Humanity's biggest problem could have been averted if Brad just grounded him. It was important to me to establish that Vash didn't do the things he did because he was sick, because that's a super shitty message to send - he did what he did because he wanted to hurt people, and decided to believe whatever he needed to believe that would allow him to keep hurting people.

But yes, Vash was a troubled kid who deserved a B&L. Vash's story is ultimately a very sad one. It's why I couldn't bring myself to kill him - it wouldn't have been satisfying at all to punish him so ultimately. Even if he probably deserved it. Thanks for reading & the ask!!!

[jack-of-heartstrings]

The issue with this is that it's not just "plot armor". It's about characterization. Ladybug "could" risk her life to protect Chat but that's not Ladybug's character.

Chat being reckless and chaotic and constantly throwing himself in danger is a character flaw, and it's also part of his core strength. He is brave and loyal, and when Ladybug asks for blind faith, he rarely has any trouble giving it. He doesn't stop to question, and sometimes that's exactly what's needed to take decisive action. When there's no time to stop and deliberate, he's the guy you want on the job.

It's just that when there is time, and he's being impatient or having trouble regulating his anger or taking on a martyr mentality putting faith in her she didn't ask for, then it can become a problem. And it's been a while since we've seen much issue or consequence with that, but... I'll come back to this.

In the same way, Marinette overthinking everything makes her a trainwreck in her daily life and it's literally her strength as Ladybug. Being able to figure out how to use something absurd is a direct result of her brain racing 10 million miles a minute analyzing every possibility.

But even as Ladybug, she can be overly cautious and overthink. She can be too slow to act and miss opportunities, and when she does try to push herself to act fast, she's often bad at it. That's how you get "no, today HAS to be the day, I'll deliver this gift as Ladybug!" and hello Chat Blanc. That's how you get "I'm not being a good girlfriend if I can't figure out how to become friends with my boyfriend's friends and oh no now she's gonna think I'm a liar so I need to act fast" and oh there go her legs. And in a different way, trusting her gut more than her head is how you get "we can think and work out a solution on our own, human scale" but he already had his solution, Marinette.

Everyone is a mess right now. It's not just the lovebirds nervous about their new relationship. Gabriel's looming presence as shown in the new intro is still deeply impacting things on both sides. It's in how she now has a much worse Secret driving her to try harder than ever to never allow herself any missteps with him, because in her mind she "owes" him more than she can ever repay. But it's also in Adrien.

Adrien is exploring freedom for the first time in his life, but he was still quietly grieving his mom when he also lost his dad. The one time he decided he COULDN'T be there for Ladybug, his dad died, and without the fully story, in his mind, maybe he could have made a difference.

In what world would he NOT be regressing back to being his most impulsive protective self? Under what circumstances would it make sense for him to be behaving calmly and rationally right now? When he stops to worry, he gets scared, and bad things happen. When she doesn't constantly worry, she makes stupid choices, and bad things happen. They're both overcompensating to cope.

For the antikumas specifically:

I DO agree it would be nice to see Carapace take that hit sometimes too. (Minotaurox might need to become the designated shield, since his power is specifically invulnerability to magic, so he might be the anti-antikuma? But we'll see. If not, him too.)

But I doubt they're just "worfing the cat" for cheap drama. Since it keeps happening, I'm expecting him to get antikuma'd several times over the course of the season, to get us to a point where we expect it, but then to make something of it. Either it builds to a point where that recklessness has MUCH WORSE consequences and it's a major plot event, or he keeps doing this to a point he gets more competent helping without powers and becomes more of a badass because what's crippling to his teammates has become an expected inconvenience to him. Possibly both. Either way, give it time.

Ok so the daddycop trailer shows cat getting antikuma'd mid air... and let me just say:

Can we stop Worfing the cat? Like, at every opportunity?

I get that "hero takes a hit" and "hero goes down" are dramatic narrativs beats, and that for structural "shes the healer" reasons these beats cant go to marinette. But in a post-team era? Can those beats please go to other people on occasion?

We literally have 2 heroes with dedicated "meatshield" powers (invulnerable Ivan and nino the shieldbearer). For the "just protect mari" scenario's, and we have an entire b-team that is just as easily resurectable as Adrien.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

analyzing hermes, emet-selch, the ancients and ascians, how they're written, and the fandom's reaction to them be like hm. emet-selch's role in this fuckery is compounded by the fact that his backstory as a genocide survivor is incongruous with his ruling a huge genocidal colonialist world power in the present da [ANTISEMITISM BLAST]

[syncast-err0r]

i need to write a slasher x reader thing where they don't actually love u n are just using u for their own gain bc I'm way too into that n there's -69000000 content on it </3

[arolesbianism]

Every now and then I remember that oni in fact will eventually have more lore added and I get so excited and scared for a moment and then I remember that it could take months until we see any of that and I proceed to forget abt it again and the cycle repeats