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balsamfir-fics · 3 months

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a hope redefined (part 2)

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition, some fluff

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities. she/her pronouns, but no use of YN.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family -- retelling these events through vignettes and letters to his daughter.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2

Chapter Word Count: ~6.2k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship.

Little bird, my Robin,

I’m not sure if you quite understand what a charming little one you are. I admit your burbling is beyond my comprehension despite my best efforts, but even when you are cranky and tired and screaming at us at the top of your miniature lungs, I somehow manage to find you so precious. (Though, of course, your mother and I fervently long for the days when you will allow us to sleep; I have never known this depth of frustration and I was known, before you arrived, for terrible sleep schedules).

Mama and I, we have had quite the story. I’ll tell you about it one day when you’re better able to understand what I’m saying to you, but for now I want to get into the practice of writing you letters in the same way she had written and saved many for me. I will, of course, be much better than your mother at communicating the contents and intents of each letter to you in real-time, so that you grow up only knowing love and never knowing loss. For now, I write this first letter to you. You’ll learn about the things I will tell you later on again, in history books perhaps or in your studies. But it might be interesting for you to learn about them directly from me, as well, so that you may learn about how the things in history-books tend to have real impact for real people.

Robins are cheerful little birds, signs of hope and promise after seasons of strife. You, my dear, were born in a particularly difficult season, one that Mama and I continue to live in now. To best explain the story of how you came to us despite all the odds, I suppose I should start at the very beginning.

Now that I think about how I’d like to begin describing these events to you, it strikes me that I’ll likely only give these letters to you when you come of age and maturity; I don’t think these are topics that you should learn when you first become reasonably literate. We will store these in a safe place for you, so that the pages are fresh and strong when you first look upon them; rather than crumbly, yellowed, and strained.

I digress. Where was I? Ah, yes.

It starts, my Robin, with a disaster that builds into tragedy. In the midst of it all, I was blissfully unaware of what transpired; Mama bears the brunt of the emotional fallout from this time so you must always be respectful to her, because I unfortunately had been quite rude to her in the immediate aftermath of this disaster. I’ve been atoning it for it this whole time, my dear, but I do have a secret: I think you are a large part of my absolution, especially because whenever Mama is irritated with me these days she tends to look at you, see how much you look like me, and is a little less grumpy after basking in your company. Let’s keep it that way, little Robin.

(I fear that your feeding schedule and its interruptions to my rest have left my thoughts unsorted, I apologize for the side-tracks.)

When your teachers tell you about the attack on the council, take care to consider the events beyond words on a page or facts to memorize for a test. We have all been impacted by it, and you are here in part as a result of the things that happened that day.

It was a tense time. I… was in very poor health, and near the very end of my tether to this mortal plane. Nevertheless, I came to the Council with your Uncle Jayce (who, at them time, was beginning to feel like a stranger to me despite our years of partnership), because he and I wanted peace in a world that seemed to disagree. Imagine! Me, a frail and deteriorating Zaunite, crushing myself under immense guilt, and Uncle Jayce, strong in body and conviction but wavering under the pressures of entire societies. But we were doing what we thought was right; Uncle Jayce had made choices I never thought he would make and we both were seeking the abundant optimism and encouragement we wanted to bring to the world through our research in our younger days.

I’m not sure what they’ll teach you about Jinx. It depends on how the future shapes itself. I’m inclined to think that we are all complex beings that are subjected to chaos both inside us and around us, and even choices we are confident in may have the ability to grow into monstrosities we never anticipated. That happened to your uncle and I; I believe this, too, happened for Jinx.

I’ll spare you the details that you will no doubt learn in school. It was a missile attack, and the outcome was devastating. This was especially so since in those fleeting moments after I spoke to the Council and relayed Jayce’ plans, he and I were filled with that hope we were once so aflame with (and this hope, Robin, was in spite of the anger we incited instantly amongst the Councilmembers). It was radiant, my darling, with the bright light reflecting the explosive aspiration we held in our hearts. As you will know later, of course, everything broke mere heartbeats later.

————————————————————————————

The first thing Jayce noticed was shrill, all-encompassing ringing in his ears. He tried to brush it away with his mind, but his body did not obey this command. Then in a panic he realized he noticed nothing in sight; merely black and grey and clouds billowing. His heart seized; where had he been last?

Finally the picture before him came into focus, in streaks of visibility between billowing, noxious clouds.

The other sensations followed quickly after, assaulting his nervous system with acrid stinging in his lungs, shocks of pain in his body, and the increasing awareness of other sounds beyond the internal ringing. What were those? They were screams of anguish, of pain, and of terror.

As he tried to physically orient himself, Jayce realized he was not where he had been before. Wasn’t he standing? He’d purposely put himself between Viktor and the Council, if only to metaphorically shield his dying friend from the brunt of the Council’s fury. Where was Viktor? Where was —

Mel. Mel! Jayce scrambled to his feet, a feat that took nearly a minute in the confusion but felt like milliseconds. His mind quickly began to sort events into a timeline; he vaguely understood this to be a fight-response, a survival tactic in disaster. There must have been an explosion, judging by the jagged edges of curled steel and broken glass he could see in pockets of clear air. If there was an explosion, it was from outside, given the direction of debris and decay. If it was from outside — Jayce shuddered, all the while staggering forward towards where the window once hang — then Mel had been the first to be hit.

He found her after tripping over objects that should not have lined his path; objects that were pieces of the ornate Council desks, shards of glass, gnarled metal, and also people. He screamed her name, maybe, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. She was slumped over a section of broken desk at an awkward angle, but to Jayce’ relief she appeared whole, if not unconscious and likely severely injured. It was impossible, really, based on what he knew about ballistics and explosives and physics, but he would receive any miracles that the gods would allow. He thought to shake her, but managed to remember that this would be unwise — she might have internal injuries — but he checked for a pulse. With confirmation that she was, in fact alive, he yelled for a medic, before realizing his voice was not the only one doing so. Instead, Jayce then set his jaw and glanced frantically around the room.

The dichotomy between Mel’s relative lack of being harmed and the rest of the room was jarring; the hall was completely unrecognizable and nearly everyone in it had been sent far from their original seats. Then Jayce noticed an odd pattern in the path of destruction; the people closer to the window and the main circle of desks seemed reasonably intact, but the building and furniture in that same radius was most certainly not. Attendants and assistants, most of whom had been standing near the periphery and the elevators, seemed to be in much worse shape (Jayce found his stomach rising in his throat at the sight he saw, but stepped away in time to vomit further away from Mel’s unconscious form); but architectural structures there only saw streaks of soot and flame and far less impact.

A wavering light caught his eye, but he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just the reflection of flickering fire or something emanating from the golden patterns on Mel’s back. He ignored this, instead lifting Mel’s body onto his shoulders with as little disturbance as possible. Jayce brought her past the elevators, past the carnage and into an unaffected corridor deeper in the building. He lay her to rest by the wall, whispering for her to stay alive even if she couldn’t hear him, then stumbled back into the fray.

Viktor. He had to find Viktor; no matter what miraculous defense Jayce suspected Mel had mounted, Viktor had already been on the precipice of death.

Jayce first spotted the mangled remains of Viktor’s crutch; scanning that area, he found his friend crumpled beside debris. He quickly took stock of the smaller man’s injuries, wincing at what he recognized as serious impalement, but found Viktor’s condition reasonably safe enough to move out of the chaos. With Viktor’s impossibly thin frame in his arms (and taking care not to jostle the debris embedded into his friend’s body), Jayce struggled back to the corridor. Flashes of the terror around him seared themselves into his mind that night; he later remembered Councilwoman Kiramman lying beneath a frighteningly large panel of destroyed stone, or pieces of Bolbok lying far away from the Councilman’s main frame, but he focused on getting Viktor to safety before returning to assist other less-injured people with rescue.

He rode in Mel’s ambulance, of course, in part because Heimerdinger had materialized shortly after the blast to watch over Viktor. The rest of the evening came only in fragmented blurs; Jayce suspected a concussion, but considered himself to be lucky if that was the only injury he would get away with. He kept Mel’s hand in his and made it a point to be grateful for the fact that it was still warm.

—————————————————————————————————————————————

The peace we called for was obviously fractious. We hadn’t known then that Silco was no more and that Jinx was behind the attack. Rather, I knew nothing. I only came to later, then promptly entered the darkest fury of my life as I only knew that I’d been betrayed by Jayce through your mother’s assistance. This, in hindsight, I regret, but nevertheless there will always be a part of me that wonders what might have happened if the Hexcore had been destroyed completely — and a part of me that secretly longs for that alternate universe to the suffering so many have endured since then.

Of course, I am now mostly grateful for that ‘terrible decision.’ My mixed feelings do not negate the very real truth that I can be your father today because I was saved by your mother and Jayce. I have decided to not let this gratitude go to waste, but it shall forever be a cautionary tale for others.

In those first few weeks, Zaunites and Piltovans fought fiercely, though in smaller, renegade groups. We were all fearful that either side would escalate into all-out civil war. It was a very real risk, back then. With nobody sure who started what, and families vengeful for their own fallen, any slight overreaction could have blown up the whole powder keg. We hadn’t known that there were greater threats beyond, but we could only see what was in front of us, what was local. And yet we couldn’t remember, for some reason, the shared origins of our two cities. We only saw the differences and the hurt.

Many people made bad decisions then. In fact, I was quite worried about those that your Uncle Jayce might make with his power and influence. We are lucky he’d chosen to attempt peace before the attack, because even if Jayce struggles to find the right answer, he does, fortunately, try his best. It’d been his decision to offer Silco what he wanted, and in those early weeks, Uncle Jayce tried to hold to that as much as he could even in the face of dissenters. I imagine he was still reeling from his own sins, and trying to hold onto his own hope — or better yet trying to emulate Auntie Mel’s measured stances. Regardless, we had a fragile stability despite many citizens entering into altercations. Or should I say that the ups and downs averaged out to something more even? It seemed that every other weekend we were promised a war between the two cities, and there were many weeks where we came very close. I think it is a miracle that the many battles fought didn’t tip over into much longer, formalized conflict; at least, between our two cities. We knew it would not hold for long, however, and when your Auntie Caitlyn’s mother finally succumbed to her injuries a few weeks later, we were incredibly concerned.

——————————————————————————————————————

You couldn’t recognize the woman before you. What happened to the little sister figure who you’d watched grow up? Where was the fierce, intelligent girl who (like you) sought to break free of the shackles of upper-class decorum and instead work for a better future? No, the person staring back at you from the printed posters around Piltover was someone hardened by loss. It was someone who cut their teeth on the blades of their own hurt, and used their pain to fuel their development.

Caitlin had always been a serious markswoman, but you would never have expected her to rise in the ranks so quickly. How much if her meteoric rise had been due to the absence of her mother’s influence, or her own dogged pursuit of power, you’d never know. She was too young to be a sheriff, you thought. Not because she was immature but rather because she should have had more time to enjoy her twenties. You supposed that there were much smaller spaces for leisure and entertainment in those times; though most life went on as a hushed normal at the surface, the simmering resentments and fears underneath were never far from mind.

While the cities had not yet sought the other’s total destruction, festivals and the like had been cancelled for safety concerns. Fewer people wandered in the streets without company, especially after dark, but people still needed to eat and to sleep and to live, so children likely hadn’t noticed the suspicion and concern in adults’ eyes.

You glanced to Caitlyn’s right, surveying her personal hire to her investigation team. Through your father, you’d heard more about this Violet — or Vi, though you’d never met her. You tried to ask Jayce more about what had happened in the weeks leading up to the Council attack, but he’d been tight-lipped and more concerned with preventing societal collapse. It wasn’t possible to blame him, however. Mel was still comatose, though stable, and you knew Jayce was trying to keep Piltovan warmongers at bay while tamping down his own grief and rage. He slipped every so often, particularly if it’d been a bad day and he’d come back from visiting Mel’s bedside. With Viktor long gone to sequester himself away in Zaun, you took it upon yourself to remind Jayce that the previous undercity was not a monolithic hotbed of crime and terrorism. Heimerdinger tried as well, but he, too, disappeared frequently — and you suspected he had gone down into the depths in his own efforts to rebuild peace.

He certainly had no time to tell you about a former prisoner he’d made a tenuous ally of, much less one that appeared to be the sister of the attack’s primary suspect. You squinted at the poster again, frowning in reflection of Violet’s own conflicted expression. Your gaze flicked back to Caitlyn’s hardened gaze, and you realized that both young ladies were wrought with their own grief. In Caitlyn, you saw the tortured guilt of someone who’d long argued with her mother and now broke under her father’s mourning. In Vi, you saw a clearly uncomfortable Zaunite looking for any opportunity to find the remnants of the little sister she once knew, forced to join the Piltovans who had tried to subjugate her. At least, that was the best you could come up with given the shreds of information you knew on this new Caitlin and this stranger Vi.

You had no immediate sympathy for the woman named Jinx, especially not within the first few weeks after the attack when you discovered Viktor’s dance with death and he lay, unconscious and severely injured, in his hospital bed. But your rage needed somewhere to go, and since you were by no means a fighter, you channeled your anguish into providing aid directly. It was just as well; wealth Piltovans were not in any mood for philanthropic deeds, especially if any mention of Zaun was involved — thus you had little fundraising to do. You stayed local in those weeks, helping the poorer Piltovans who might have been targeted in smaller skirmishes, if only to stay close enough for any news of Viktor’s recovery.

You hadn’t expected the extent of his anger when he regained consciousness, but you’d been equally as furious that he’d hidden his prognosis from you until he was finally on death’s door. Viktor directed most of his fury towards Jayce, who knew the risks involved and the threat the Hexcore posed, but you were still surprised when he decided to move out of Piltover and into the new Zaun in the middle of this odd detente.

On worse days, you blamed the mysterious Jinx for your woes, but over time — and as Viktor’s mood began to thaw — you learned more about her through Jayce’ intel grapevine. Now glancing again at Vi’s tortured expression in a fading Piltovan sunset, you considered the splintering of their sisterhood and recognize the heartbreak in that uncomfortable gaze. Could those two (and their team) accomplish what they set out for? You weren’t quite sure. Jayce insinuated that there was a relationship between the two Enforcers, but you worried that the overlap between their investigatory objectives might wear thin. You wrote to Viktor in his absence, relaying your thoughts, but he’d only given inscrutable references to a former mentor of his who he suspected of being involved with Jinx.

Lost in thought on the steps of city center, you didn’t notice when your adoptive father pulls up beside you. Heimerdinger patted your hand, leading you to jump back in shock, but once you realized who it was and settled your nerves, you picked up on the weariness in his face.

"She’s likely a bright young woman,” he sighed, shaking his head in sorrow. “Her sister, I mean.”

You balked at that. “You’ve met Jinx?”

“No,” Heimerdinger replied. “Prior associates, perhaps, but not her. I—“ He paused. “I remember when our two cities were one, and I’ve watched brilliant young minds in both triumph and fail under the circumstances they never asked for.” His expression grew long at that, and you realized he was thinking of Viktor’s own time under his care.

Your wounds still raw, you bristled. Your father knew about Viktor’s death sentence and failing health, and yet he never deigned to clue you in. He’d given you excuses that he was under Viktor’s instructions, but that hadn’t mattered to you. It shouldn’t have mattered to him, and you felt betrayed by your father’s discretion. He seemed to understand where your thoughts drifted, and remained silent for a few beats more.

“My dear,” Heimerdinger tentatively began again. “I am gravely concerned. There are more threats than those from between our two peoples.” He took your hand in his, patting yours gently. “There are those who would take advantage of our strife to bring both our cities to their knees.”

You told him he was being cryptic, and started for the gates of the Heimerdinger Estate. But his words remained in your mind, always at the edge of your uncertainty and concern, and it would not be till much later that the premonition he anticipated would come true.

————————————————————————————————————————

But never mind all that; by the time you read these letters I hope we will be living in a vibrant, thriving world and not one besieged by war. Thus I turn to the silver linings from that period.

I angered your mother very much when I left for Emberflit Alley. I don’t know if we’ll be living there, or at your grandfather’s estate, or somewhere in between, but I hope that by the time you see this you will have been to my little laboratory in the Entresol. I have many fond and not-so-fond memories there, but all the unkind memories are long in the past now that you are in my world and my heart. Your mama visited me as soon as I allowed her to. I recall that reunion with great clarity; it was a very exciting few days back in each others arms, but after the excitement faded away we were still left to grapple with my guilt, her hurt, and an uncertain future. I sent her away several times after that, and moodily so, so if you end up rather impetuous I might be to blame for that part of your personality (though Mama is as well). Still, we’d been apart for so many years that we couldn’t help but keep gravitating back to each other even when we tried to stay away for safety, self-healing, and individual growth. Your mother says she wanted to have you as early as then, but I was in no shape for that.

You see, the reason I’m alive today is because of a peculiar technology and the greatest sin of my life. You’ll likely have seen one of my Hexcores by the time you read this, but the one I’m referring to was the first — and it was corrupted. I carry deep grief as a result of my stubbornness with that Hexcore specifically, and thus I promise to teach you everything I have learned from my mistakes so that you will never have to experience them.

With this one, something was gravely wrong. We hadn’t known that at the time, your Uncle Jayce and I, and it is only in retrospect that we know about the Void and its corruption of this specific Hexcore. Your papa was very foolish back then, little Robin, but I was also quite desperate. This Hexcore wanted to control me, to use me as its vessel, but at first I’d only seen it as a gift. I realized later that it must be destroyed; I asked your Uncle Jayce to do so but after that disaster — that tragedy — your mother asked him to use it to save me. And so he did.

It became a part of me then, a part of my survival and part of my story. But it couldn’t stay; I knew that it would consume me and then I wouldn’t be the papa you will get to know. I learned many things in those months, because I worked hard to figure out a way to stay alive but be rid of that corrupted Hexcore. That’s where I learned to be a surgeon of sorts, and I studied feverishly to find a way out of my predicament. I also continued with engineering, just like your Uncle Jayce, and through the technology we developed I made Blitzcrank what he is. In Emberflit Alley, I built a great many things to help our fellow Zaunites; some things to clean the air more affordably, other things to make work easier for weak bodies, and more to bring prosperity to those who had little of it. Some of Uncle Jayce’ Piltovan colleagues were not pleased about this, and even some Zaunites (who, you should never ever interact with, little one — stay far away from chembarons and their people, even if they are your fellow citizens) truly disliked my work.

All of this progress, however, was not enough to ease my concerns over the Hexcore. Yes, living conditions improved for others, but I never felt safe with that first corrupted prototype. And if I wanted a future — a real one, not just borrowed time — then I needed to be in control of it myself. So with great effort I replaced the void-touched parts with mechanical ones I built myself. That may sound scary, but living with the Void was much more frightening and I couldn’t bear with myself if it endangered your mother in any way. Besides, if you saw those parts you’d laugh; they were clunky and ugly, but by now they’re much improved.

You may have been told a number of things about that time period. Not everything you’ll hear will be the truth, from either your Piltovan or Zaunite friends and teachers. Remember that you are always welcome to ask me or your mother, and we will carefully tell you the truth we witnessed with our own eyes.

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Viktor was backed into a corner. What madness was this? The little Kiramman girl, emerging from the shadows with a hard look etched into the lines of her face, seeking to take him in?

He figured her investigation had turned up his name; Heimerdinger kept Viktor appraised of the topside Enforcers’ campaign against this Jinx, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the new sheriff in town connected the man called Singed to both himself and the blue-haired fugitive. It was odd, though, as it had been Caitlyn herself who had provided Jayce and you with a small vial of Shimmer when he stood with one foot through Death’s Door. She would have known about his involvement and his research and how benign it must be, but why would she have been looking for him now of all times, weeks after her campaign was well underway, and weeks after Viktor had sequestered himself in the Entresol with his golem, his tools, and his loneliness? If anything, Viktor was grateful he’d made it a point to send you back topside when Emberflit Alley became suspiciously quiet. Having you by his side in this specific moment would have been disastrous.

As he surveyed the look in Caitlyn Kiramman’s eye, he knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to put the members of her own circle under surveillance if it would help move along her objectives. He glanced to his peripherals, noting several cloaked Enforcers circling towards him at the end of the alley. Not ideal, but he would be damned if he was taken in on nothing more than a paranoid suspicion. Now was not the time to be separated from his work in Zaun; with a dogged sheriff on the chembarons’ tails, the innocent civilians of Zaun needed medical assistance without strings attached more than ever.

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” he warned, fingers tightening around the latest prototype of his Hexcore-powered staff. (‘It’s a deterrent, not a weapon,’ he’d told you when you first saw it. But he was decreasingly convicted in his own definition; whatever deterrent effect he’d hoped the Hexcore would have seemed not to be working as intended. “I am no traitor, and you of all people should know that.”

“Forgive my inability to take your words at face value,” Caitlyn replied steadily. Her finger remained on her rifle’s trigger; eyes still squinting through the scope. “First you run from Piltover, then I learn you’re one of her—“ The sneer in her voice made apparent to whom she was referring. “—known associates? You’ll need to come with me, Viktor, if you want any semblance of a topside future with Heimerdinger’s daughter.”

He flared up at that; how dare anyone threaten the fragile hope he held onto for decades?! His emotions ran wild and angry, and the Hexcore — damn, he hadn’t yet managed to completely purge his biomechanical connection to it still — responded with its own flicker of crackling energy. Viktor sensed the whole alley tensing at the sensation, and he knew then that there would be no saving his insistence that the Hexcore wasn’t a weapon of destruction.

“I fail to see how I might be a known associate if I’ve never met Jinx,” he replied. It took every bit of his personal pride to keep his temper stable. “So without reasonable suspicion, I believe I will not be joining you.” Movement to his left caught his eye. “And I wouldn’t take another step closer, if I were you,” he warned the Enforcer.

“I have no time to dance, Viktor,” spat Caitlyn. “Lower your staff, now!”

Viktor remained where he stood, amber eyes glaring out at her from beneath the dark fabric of his hood. He kept silent, attuning his senses to the several Enforcers eyeing him warily with weapons raised. He wouldn’t hurt them, not first, and not unless it was a last resort. What he feared was being backed into his final corner.

Caitlyn began to pull on the trigger, a minute movement that Viktor noticed through instinct alone.

So be it. He couldn’t be taken; people needed help and protection, not only from criminals within Zaun but from unwarranted topside aggression. He couldn’t be taken; he needed to continue his work on severing his physical connection to that angry, disturbing Hexcore — months imprisoned would impede any hopes of progress. He couldn’t be taken; his arrest, no matter how unjustified, would irreparably damage Heimerdinger and your reputations by association alone, and he’d worked too hard to let his family, topside or not, be taken from him.

When the Enforcers nearest him lunged, Viktor exhaled, closed his eyes, and allowed the Hexcore to release a burst of pure, radiant energy. Then he ran, ignoring the cries of surprise and fear and squinting past the blinding light he’d unleashed on his adversaries. He bounded past Blitzcrank’s hiding place towards the opening of the alley, beckoned along his golem, and darted into the nearby safe house he’d kept anonymously registered for this purpose.

You’d hear about this, certainly. But Viktor hoped that your faith in him would help you see past the propaganda and widespread fear, and trust in his character. It was a weak hope in fraught times as these, but Viktor hoped nonetheless.

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Once I was confident that the void was gone from the Hexcore and it could be developed in complete safety, I let Mama stay with me for good, and I stopped pushing her away. She was much happier about that, but we were mostly relieved that I could stay alive, healthy, and strong without the corrupted core. Lots of things happened before then, many difficult things, but I was very happy to be safe for Mama eventually.

Even so, our relief was short-lived. The fragile peace we had was broken by external threats, and many bad things began to happen to everyone in Valoran. These problems are not yet fully resolved, I’m afraid, but everyone in your life is now committed to fixing them for the betterment of your future.

In the midst of the sheriff looking for me and everything being quite scary for the regular people in both our cities, Auntie Mel’s mother was incredibly cross with Uncle Jayce and how he responded to the big disaster. Remember, Robin, Auntie Mel wasn’t healthy as she is now. She was in the hospital, stable but unable to wake or to fully recover, and she was there for many months. Auntie Mel tried to save all of our lives because she believed in diplomacy and peace, and she saved mine even though I imagine many of the other Councillors wouldn’t much care about my life. But while your Uncle Jayce was very angry with Jinx, and very worried about Auntie Mel, Auntie Mel’s mum was even more angry. She wanted revenge, and in Uncle Jayce’ decisions she saw weakness. She interpreted that to be an opportunity; one for her people to exploit.

It was chaos, little bird. Your grandfather stopped appearing in Piltovan public, too distressed at the warmongering he saw. In fact, your brave grandfather met me often, in secret, to help me care for the injured Zaunites and yes — sometimes Piltovans too — in all the fights that were to come. I, regretfully, had to fight too, as did your grandfather, but we did our best to only do so when the alternatives were worse. I hope that by the time you can read this letter that I won’t need to fight anymore; you deserve a future that lets children play in the streets and enjoy a life without fear. Where was I? Ah — Ambessa. (That’s Auntie Mel’s mum’s name. I imagine she’ll be in your history books…)

Noxus, where Ambessa and Auntie Mel are from, is a strong but frightening place. I’m lucky I’ve never had reason to visit myself, but they are a rather proud, fearsome people who value strength immensely. Remember when I said that Ambessa saw weakness in Uncle Jayce’ decisions? Whatever Uncle Jayce and his colleagues said was what Piltover was saying, and Ambessa thought that Uncle Jayce was being a bit soft in trying to find the woman named Jinx. As unforgiving as Ambessa is, Auntie Mel is still her daughter; I believe in some sort of way, Ambessa loves Auntie Mel just as much as we love you (although Mama and I will never try to hurt thousands of people for you. You have our promise). Because Auntie Mel was very badly hurt, Ambessa wanted to catch the culprit and felt that a strong military response from Piltover to Zaun was necessary. When Uncle Jayce didn’t do this to the extent she expected, Ambessa brought Noxus down upon our two cities.

This was very scary for everybody; remember, lots of people kept fighting between Piltover and Zaun, too! But of course the most troubling part was that the very rich, very powerful, and often very corrupt were the ones who stayed the most safe through this all; they could afford better medical care or hiding places or all of the above. No, the people getting hurt the most weren’t even the ones behind what happened to me, your uncle, and Auntie Mel on that disastrous day. It was regular people, just like you and me and mum; people who just wanted to eat their meals and enjoy their time together in Valoran like every other day.

In fact, it was humans specifically who suffered most. Unlike your grandfather, or Councilman Bolbok, survival for these regular humans was very difficult. Many sick people were pulled into fights or injured on accident; they often weren’t strong enough to recover, if they didn’t have good health or money or a safe place to live beforehand.

Blitzcrank tried to protect a lot of them, but when I went to these people and helped stabilize broken bones or reattached limbs, it became very clear that what they wanted was their own strength — not to rely on groups with questionable incentives like the chembarons to keep them safe from Ambessa or Enforcers. I started using my new skillset to help them, too, the way I started to mend myself.

Lots of people didn’t like that. People who hadn’t known why I was doing what I was doing thought I was doing very bad things to the people I tried to help; they didn’t understand the benefits of mechanical augmentation and thought I was trying to change people into something they were not. Uncle Jayce was very uncomfortable with it as well, but we didn’t talk much then so I didn’t have to hear him argue with me about it. I was trying to do what he and I wanted all along; use Hextech for the betterment of society. But I understand; progress can be scary and foreign and it was even difficult for us to have Hextech accepted by the public. I didn’t expect most people to accept physical modifications that quickly, but I did often think that many disagreeable opinions were driven by fear and uncertainty.

Mama, you must understand, did the best she could to accept and comprehend my work. She did really well; even if she was unsure about man-machine supplantation, she knew that I was only trying to help people who wanted it. But I made her really mad one day, Robin. I learned a lot that day about how I might perceive my life’s work and discovery, and how others might as well; it was an important experience for me, and I was deeply humbled by her.

Well, I say this now. But I was just as mad at Mama back then. Adults aren’t perfect or smart most of the time, but we do our best.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane x reader #viktor smut #viktor arcane smut #viktor fluff #viktor arcane fluff #viktor arcane x you

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eternal-armin · 1 year

Text

ii. SO, HOW SHOULD i begin this?

part two woo. hopefully i'll be able to catch up on this and maybe publish some other stuff now that i'm home a lot more often (yay pain and mobility issues), maybe some arcane stuff since that would be fun, branching out into my last hyperfixation again lol. i've proofread so it should be good :>

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader [he/him pronouns]

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where : after trying and sort of succeeding to get on the hargreeves' good side, five and [y/n] try rationalizing the situation and figuring out something, anything, to do about it.

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warnings : mentions of trauma, threats [of physical violence and murder], reader is still totally exhausted because how could he not be, depression, dissociation, pain, bits of shouting, not necessarily a warning but viktor is always viktor in the multiverse because the boy deserves it okay, existentialism, philosophical nihilism, family issues.

five adjusted his clothes in the mirror. although he wouldn't be able to have a proper retirement, he could look like a retired old man, couldn't he? who would've thought that someone could get so excited for beiges and tans. he got an amused look of subtle approval from you. beyond that, it wasn't very hard to look past your façade if he was being honest, you looked hesitant; though could he blame you? there were probably millions of worlds where his family fucked you over or just straight-up killed you. and yet, you also looked too tired to care. he couldn't blame you for that, either.

he touched your shoulder again. in a flit of light, which once again made you feel horribly nauseated and woozy, you were downstairs. surprised exclamations roused from his family.

"anyone know where vanya and allison are?" five asked, glancing with narrowed eyes across the lacking table.

"nope." and after that short reply diego went back to finishing off his meal—for someone who often scarfed his meals down, he seemed to be taking his sweet time. either that or your fun conversation with five had not taken as long as you'd thought; either possibility was equally likely at this point, really.

"nuh-uh... sorry."

"not a clue, unfortunately. something wrong, tiny dancer?" klaus asked.

"well, we have a new problem."

"who's this guy?" luther pointed at you wish his thumb, not caring to cover his mouth; your nausea was worsened to see someone talking whilst eating. diego looked at you then, and you hated how his glare bore straight through your soul. he really, really didn't seem to appreciate your presence. how both of them could so willingly ignore the phrase 'we have a problem,' especially from five, was unknown to you.

"this is [y/n]. he's one of the sparrows."

you waved once to everyone. whether the sluggishness of the motion, and the weak smile which accompanied it, was due to shyness or exhaustion was incredibly murky and unclear.

"so now we're getting all buddy-buddy with the enemy? do you know how stupid that is?"

"i'm sorry, diego, did you not hear me say that we have a problem?"

"well, you say that a lot, little brother!" klaus leaned forward to see you clearer, giving you a smile. it didn't really placate your anxieties or your strong desire to run, however it was appreciated. he waved, and you again waved back politely, still feeling very... guilty for your earlier flub. it wasn't a new thing, either, and that made you feel even worse. "hello, little enemy! how do you look so young? do you use those, like, '10 years younger' face creams? i didn't know they worked that well—"

"that is not a relevant question, klaus, now can someone please tell me where allison and vanya are?"

you cleared your throat slightly. "vanya is most likely getting a haircut. allison is trying to get to claire, but she's... not going to find her." it left a bitter taste in your mouth to refer to viktor in such a disrespectful way, but you couldn't take that from him. upon receiving suspicious stares from the younger hargreeves brothers, you mumbled a quiet "maybe."

"mind telling us what the hell is going on before i deck this mini-muffin across the lobby?"

"hey, hey, do not use mini-muffin as an insult! those are beautiful things, there's nothing better than mini-muffins when you're on a bender at, like, three in the morning!" klaus got a confused and heavily judgmental look in return for that... beautiful insight.

"[y/n] has the ability to see all other timelines, so he can usually find out the most probable events. okay? good. now i need to find allison, so can one of you fetch vanya, please?"

"no, not good, and no thanks! after all we've gone through, we deserve a proper explanation!" klaus objected. after a second or two of awkward silence, and a scowling glare from five, he gave in with a curt sigh. it sounded more like a groan. the brothers looked at you; klaus was the only one to seem patient, showing the approval of a parent understanding a kid's fear of giving a speech; luther stared at you with a puzzling mix of intrigue and subtle impatience; and diego stared at you with a raised eyebrow, leaning his head in slightly as if to say 'i'm waiting.' five's glare, although still quite characteristic, was a bit softer when aimed at you. you could never feel more put on the spot.

"you've gotta say something, little man, we can't read your mind," klaus encouraged.

"well, uh... i don't know exactly what it is yet, but something is wrong."

"aren't you omniscient or some shit? you can see literally every reality!"

the shouting scared you quite a bit and certainly made your headache worse. you put one of your hands to your head, mumbling, wishing you could just get some painkillers. if only five had given them back.

"don't shout, for fuck's sake," five grumbled, annoyed in his own right.

"i'm not omniscient. if no other worlds know something, then i can't, and... no other world knows yet. but something is wrong." your quiet voice was juxtaposed to diego's, still loud and stubborn like back in the academy. around 79.4 percent of every single alternate world which had diego in it found him like this, angry and short-tempered; it was very interesting. "you aren't supposed to be here. you guys, as you are, don't exist here. i don't think reality appreciates you showing up all of a sudden. and if versions of yourselves already exist in this world, then something will need to... iron out the wrinkles, i guess." you pursed your lips for a second. "not to be too brash or anything, but, to really, really dumb it down, you're a mis—you're mistakes."

"seriously? five, i thought you said that this timeline would be safe to stay in." luther looked like a scolded puppy. you felt bad. he was far too sweet—naive? yes, naive—for this kind of life.

"yes, that's what i thought, but second opinions are pretty valuable in my line of expertise. turns out it was sorely needed." his brows pricked up a few times while he spoke. "but, like you said before, it may be a problem we can solve."

diego remained, unsurprisingly, unswayed. "you better not be including this wad of chewed gum in that 'we,' five."

"what is with you and insulting him? he wants to help. jesus christ."

"last time i checked, his entire family just kicked our asses out of our own house, i have a right to be pissed, and he's lucky i'm in no killing mood."

"i don't agree that he should be killed," luther began in solidarity, "but we have a reason not to trust him, right?"

you took a little breath and exhaled it in a quiet sigh. "i know my family can be... extreme. and bad sometimes. trust me. and i totally understand how you can be angry with them and with me and think that i'm not honest. but i never hurt anyone, and i want to help you guys. you're eccentric yourselves, but usually you're good people. you're, like, an actual family," you added, trailing off, "not a group forced to stay together for monetary gain."

five squinted at you slightly. was that one of the reasons you chose not to grow up? you couldn't be associated with the sparrows if you were half their age. throw on a pair of sunglasses and nobody could recognize you.

jeez. didn't that sound nice.

"you guys really deserve a place to rest. a stable place to live, even. and if we can figure this out, then maybe you won't have to live in constant fear of coming into contact with your doppelganger or something. live, like, normal lives. as normal as they can be, anyway."

diego, much to your surprise, seemed to listen to what you were saying. sure, he still looked quite ticked-off and impatient, but you couldn't really ask for too much from him, could you?

"and you're sure that this is a problem we can actually solve? for good?"

"i'm not exactly sure what the problem even is yet. all i know is that something is wrong. but every problem has a solution, even if it seems impossible sometimes." there was a twinge of sage, melancholic hopelessness somewhere in there, some subtle disbelief. "five is quite the expert in timelines and time travel-related problems and paradoxes, and i'm an expert in alternate realities and manipulating reality itself. if anyone can figure it out, i'm sure we can. and i have no doubt that all of you will also play large parts."

luther's face was screwed into an expression of brazen confusion. "so... we're, like, completely blind, and need to fight an enemy we know absolutely nothing about."

"pretty much," you mumbled.

"surprisingly poetic way to put that, luther, i'm impressed," five mused rather sarcastically. "unfortunately, however, it seems we're gonna have to do something terrible and unprecedented." perhaps for dramatic effect, perhaps to quell his own annoyances, he paused and sighed out a breath. "we're going to have to work together." he did not need to specify the parties specified in 'together.'

"well, personally, i think this is a splendid idea. perfect opportunity for family bonding, i'd say! we're surrounded by decent chinese food and competent beds and cable television. decent music, too! and diego can finally figure out some self-discipline by not constantly threatening to kill [y/n]! marvelous idea little ones." admittedly, klaus's unique way of talking and gesturing was quite calming to you. you were very grateful for him. oddly enough—maybe you should've stopped saying that when it came to the umbrellas—klaus seemed to be that pillar of tranquility for you. viktor as well.

"calm down, calm down. you know that he won't turn against us or whatever? you're sure?"

the question was directed at five but you answered for him. "i'm not strong and i've never been in good health. even christopher, without his powers, would be better at fighting you than i would."

"the fucking cube?" you nodded. he plastered a grin over a pouting scowl. he sighed, giving into the plan. perhaps some remaining distrust still lingered, however, he could deal with it. "we've gotta clue allison and vanya in now. i'll go get vanya."

"finally," five huffed, shaking his head. "i'm going to find allison. you said she's going to try and find claire? i'll go to her old house." and then, the next second, he was gone. a few seconds of... incredibly awkward silence passed, where luther was staring at you whole-heartedly.

"go on and take a seat, young whipper-snapper. do you have any dietary restrictions? or allergies? we've probably got something here you can eat, if you want."

you had asked to walk back home with five.

"why with me?" "it's a little bit selfish, but i really don't want to be alone right now, and you're the number one person i trust right now." "flattering," he muttered. "then why walk?" "i think better when i walk."

admittedly, walking was taxing for you right now, so it may not have been your brightest idea, but after this entire day you needed a nice break; the picturesque city sunset was nice, the breeze was subtle and sweet, and it smelled like food out there on the streets. viktor had offered to talk with marcus and try to make a deal; you'd asked him to be very, very careful. "i don't know if purposely seeking out the anomaly would be more effective, or if allowing it to reveal itself would be better. maybe we should seek it out."

five nodded slightly. "allowing it to reveal itself could mean that it becomes too powerful to stop."

"that's kind of what i was thinking. we don't know how it would reveal itself. what if it destroys something, or changes something? what if it hurts people?" your voice was quieter with that last proposition. it was the worst possible option in your mind; buildings could be rebuilt. changes could be undone, with enough time and patience. but people could not be undamaged, and they could not be brought back to life.

well, not permanently, anyway.

five's pace slowed a bit and he peered at you, strangely, for a moment. you avoided his eyes.

"surprisingly enough, i don't think this is the... worst outcome." "forgive me but i don't really believe you. we've got jack all on either side. essentially, we're alone." "you're used to it, five." "hmph. and you aren't?" "not in this way, i guess." there was more he wanted to say but you would not give him the opportunity to dig too deep. "there are worlds where your family is on board. trusts me, even, after some convincing. and there are also some where we narrow the options down. i'd love to be in one of those. but at least we aren't at each other's throats again, or diego's choking me to death." your voice soured. if you got too close, you could feel that pain. there your mind went then, trying to save your other selves out of some ethereal desperation you could never claw yourself away from.

"ow!" you hissed, clapping a hand to your neck where it had stung, sharp and sudden. "what was that?"

"you were seriously so spaced out you didn't see me?" five asked, though it barely sounded like a question. he sounded just barely concerned. you had looked like a glove without a hand. "jeez," he scoffed, shaking his head. "did you see anything helpful, at least? anything at all?"

your mind was still seared and shattered across uncountable realities and he could see that struggle to ground in your eyes. hear it in your breath. you had little mental fortitude left to respond. "sorry? can you repeat that?"

five didn't roll his eyes. unfortunately, he knew dissociation. he carefully took your hands in his, rubbing your knuckles like he'd seen you do before, and that seemed to give you... some amount of usable energy. it was also sort of difficult not to notice him, of all people, doing it, even while he sported an expression of general distaste for the situation; you couldn't tell if it was falsified or not. slowly, you were returning to your body, and it felt heavier than ever before. "what did you see?" he repeated, just as you asked, meticulously annunciating each word and using a decent pace.

you nodded slightly. "i saw a few other timelines. less fortunate ones." you didn't need to elaborate for five to understand what you were referring to. the broad strokes, anyway. "nothing really useful, though," you added after a second in total defeat.

"shit. well, that's alright." and though it clearly wasn't, you didn't say anything.

"how long have we been standing here?"

"... a minute or two."

"oh, great," you mumbled, shaking your head to yourself. your record was around two hours, sure, but it still sucked. "the... we should seek it out."

"wow. you remembered."

"we were having the same conversation a whole lot. given i was still alive and actually grew to trust you." it was a half-joke but it succeeded in getting a bare grin out of five. "we can't risk hurting other people."

"or destroying something," five added.

"or destroying something," you agreed, then furrowing your brow slightly. a cafe nearby was playing pleasant music; that was something keeping you tethered to this world in particular, as if five wasn't enough, but even he was quiet sometimes. "the only problem is we don't know where it is."

"or what it looks like. if it even looks like something at all. it could very well be invisible or incomprehensible." he scowled for a second, though not out of irritation, thinking rather loudly to himself. "we should start where we appeared, i think." you nodded in agreement. "if your... 'family' decides to work with us, all of us, then we can search a whole lot more. but we should get the basics out of the way."

"the beginning is always the most logical place to start."

"quaint way to put it, did you write the sound of music in another universe?"

"what part about 'literally any possible, feasible universe' do you not understand?" you joked, managing a small smile of your own, and five would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little bit relieved to see you humoring yourself again.

"i deserve that." he paused for a second. "i know you said that walking helps you think, and you definitely need to do that more, but you look like a dead man standing right now. i'd rather just drop you off at the academy and get back to my own family. are you okay to teleport?" you did not respond at first, taking careful account of how you felt and how you may feel after. eventually, and rather subtly, you nodded.

"my room is klaus's old room back in your universe."

"wow, that... makes it easier. safer, probably." that was the closest you were going to get to 'thank you' so you took it. you shut your eyes tight and breathed deep through that half-second nausea-bomb. you were happy to see your room when you opened your eyes; smelling like home, looking like home, feeling like pure comfort. five glanced about your room. somehow it looked exactly like what he expected from you, which was a compliment. it was cozy. well-lived—especially the bed. there were many blankets and pillows and a few stuffed animals, unmade, probably because you barely left it. he couldn't blame you, either.

looking at you, you seemed totally relieved and excited to be back home.

"are you going to let go of my hands now?"

five stiffened for a second, mumbling a hushed apology before letting go, shoving his hands in his pockets. you couldn't help but grin a little, tiredly, and he scoffed when he saw it. "don't look at me like that. i was helping you ground, since you evidently can't do it yourself sometimes." not that he could blame you, really. he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be... you.

you ignored the jab. "i'm surprised you're willing to wait to take care of this," you mumbled, hanging up your scarf and sweater, lazily rifling through your dresser to find something decently comfortable to pass out in. "you always insisted on getting things done quick. if not immediately."

"i'm desperate for one damn moment of peace. the world isn't being decimated just yet. i just want to sleep decently for once."

you smiled slightly. no one could work while exhausted, especially not when it came to your quandary. "go on and sleep then. i'll meet you at the obsidian again tomorrow."

"yeah. oh, uh, just remembered something. close your eyes for a few seconds."

"why?"

"just do it."

you scoffed, though without any sort of animosity or annoyance, shutting your eyes tight like he told you to. you heard the familiar sound of his blinking once, twice. "alright. you can look. here." he held out to you your bottle of painkillers. "nearly forgot to give them back."

"oh, sh—thank you." the relief on your face was quite plain and sort of comforting as well. he mustered a slight hum in response.

"good night."

"night, five. sleep well."

"hmph. we'll see."

#number five #five x you #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #five x y/n #five x male reader #tua x reader #tua x male reader #tua x y/n #tua x you #the umbrella academy s3 #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x male reader #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua netflix

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shimmerforall · 2 years

Text

All Nighter

Happy Secret Santa/Viktor birthday celebration to @literary-potat0

I hope you enjoy the little piece I wrote for you about our lovely soft little meow meow. I have a blast writing it and I hope it meets your expectations :) Thank you for @therealtendercrispstendercrisps for putting this together!

Pairing: Viktor x F!Reader

Word Count 1.5K

Warnings: I am not too sure but just to be safe, Sleep snuggles, one person is asleep and the other is awake. Both parties have respect for each other and no one is forced upon anyone.

Prompt: Unresolved romantic & sexual tension, Female reader falling asleep in the lab pulling an all nighter to help with his research, he tucks her in or convinces her to move to the couch, perhaps she sleepily pulls him down with her.

It was late, how late you really couldn’t tell anymore. At this point, time was a construct as you sat on your stool in the lab, scribbling down possible solutions to a problem you were trying to solve.

Your body jolted for the nth time as you accidentally nodded off again.

“You really don’t have to be here, you should go home,” you heard your lab partner tell you.

“And let you get all the credit?” you yawned, “I can’t allow you to take all the credit once again. Your ego is already as large as this room.”

He chuckled as he pushed his stool away from the desk and walked over to you gently resting his hand on your shoulder.

You tried to hide the warmth that spread throughout you at the sudden contact. It was just a simply, friendly gesture, you mentally slapped yourself.

“Come on, you should go to sleep.”

You looked up at the man who stood beside you. His lean frame hovered over yours. You took a moment to glance at his messy brunet locks and the dark bags under his eyes. Even though he looked exhausted, he still had that spark of wonder in his eyes. That was the reason you were silly enough to take on this position when he asked, you had never seen someone so dedicated.

Unfortunately, for your sake, hormones had a lovely way of getting in the way of your professional relationship. You couldn’t put an exact moment when your heart started lurching every time he smiled at you or how flushed you became just being within feet of him. It came naturally and organically and thus you didn’t have any special formula to shake it.

You shook your head, leaning ever slightly towards him, “Your ego is already as large as this room.”

“I think in your delirious state you seem to be mistaking me for Jayce,”

“Please, we all know who the brilliant one is here,” you smiled, “It’s cute how you try to hide that you don’t think so.”

An awkward pause encased the room as you both stiffened at your words.

“You think I am cute?”

Dear Janna! What did you just say?!

“No, I mean, yes but no! I am going to take a small nap on the couch” you pushed his hand away as you stood up and walked over to the worn plush couch that the three of you had dragged in one late night when your request for a cot was denied.

With your back facing him, you squeezed your eyes shut, praying that sleep would take you away from this reality.

***

Viktor had stood there awkwardly for a moment as he watched you move to the couch. He had not meant to tease you like that. It was very unprofessional of him and he mentally kicked himself for it.

He had been doing that a lot lately when it came to you. You caught his attention the moment he met you in the hallway between sessions. You were introduced by the other professors as someone who liked to think outside the box, who was passionate in whatever it was that you were doing.

After spending months together, he became drawn to you in a different manner. He felt guilty how he felt his heart jump in his throat every time you smiled at him. He couldn’t explain why it was happening all of a sudden, Jayce teased him endlessly as his pale skin would flush when you brought him a coffee or complimented him, even if it was for the most minute reason.

Shaking his body of his current state, he sauntered back to his desk, trying to resume his work.

Half an hour had passed and it was clear to the universe that his attempts had failed. He only wrote two lines of a new formula as he kept looking over his shoulder back at you on the couch.

Your quiet snores, told him that you were still asleep. He really should wake you up and bring you home. It wasn’t healthy to sleep on something so flimsy.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to get any work done, he walked over to you. In your sleep you had turned over, using your arm as a pillow, mouth open as your jacket that you were using as a blanket had fallen to the floor.

He knew if you could have seen how you looked, he would probably need to find another partner. Seeing as you were asleep though, he concluded to himself that you were simply adorable. Seeing yourself in a total state of relaxation had him wishing he could sleep as well as you were.

Oftentimes he slept at odd hours, for little moments at a time as his brain worked overtime on every conceivable thing in his life.

Reluctantly, he bent down to shake you awake.

***

You felt yourself being pulled from the wonderful world of slumber by a gentle shake.

You groaned in protest as you grabbed the arm that was shaking you.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“I am sorry, my dear but I think we should both go home to sleep.”

You murmured incoherently as you pulled the arm you were holding onto towards you, “We can both sleep here,” you sighed contently, being blanketed in a new warmth.

A thick blanket must’ve been tossed over you as you felt a new weight on you.

“Mmm, thanks.” you said as you snuggled closer, taking a deep breath in before going back to sleep the last thought was that the blanket also smelt really nice.

***

Viktor was, how to say, stuck. In an attempt to wake you, you somehow managed to pull him down to the couch with you.

You had your arms wrapped around him and a leg thrown over one of his own, sound asleep.

He was totally lost in what he should do. He didn’t want to wake you as it was evident you needed the rest but the situation was quite uncomfortable.

Okay, that may have been a slight lie, it was the complete opposite. It was very, very comfortable. Despite the size of the couch, you two were able to fit by having you lie partially on top of him.

Your hair tickled his face as you brought your head to his chest. He felt you sink more onto him as he heard your contented sigh.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he took notice of how nice this all felt. You and him fitted perfectly together, it just all seemed right.

Brushing some loose strands of hair stuck to your face, he memorized the softness of your skin and the scent of the shampoo that you used. (In a non-creepy way of course because we all know Viktor is a gentleman like that)

Wrapping his lean arms around you, he decided to give himself this one special moment with you. He would never be able to put into words how he had become attached to you and would never admit to anyone that he had moments of where he thought about being close to you.

"Just five more minutes," he whispered to himself, resting his chin on your head. Your deep breaths lulling him to sleep

***

"Really, you two? On the couch?"

You groaned loudly as you were awoken by Jayce's deep voice.

"What are you talking about?" you murmured, trying to open your eyes.

"Honestly, Jayce, there are better ways to wake me," you finally opened your eyes as your heard Viktor, his voice vibrating in your ear. Why did he sound so close and how were you so warm?

You looked at your current state, looking up you stared directly at Viktor, a sheepish smile on his face, "Good morning?"

You let out a yelp as you jolted upright pushing yourself off of him.

"What happened?! I am so sorry, I don't know what happened! I should've just gone home."

You continued to apologize to him profusely, not realizing that you were still holding one of his hands.

"Yeah, yeah, save the act," Jayce chuckled, "You two are so obvious. Get a room next time, though. I am going to grab us some coffee."

Your heart was going to burst out of your chest as heat flushed your body.

"I should be the one apologizing, you grabbed me in your sleep...and I must've dozed off," Viktor explained, not able to look at you as a deep blush was painted on his cheeks.

"No! It is me, I usually hug a pillow or something when I sleep...I am sorry."

"There is no need to apologize," you shivered, feeling Viktor brush his thumb over your hand, "As unprofessional as I worry it may look...I haven't slept so well in a while."

You coughed, trying to get the panic out of your throat, "Admittedly...same," you smirked.

You were now both smiling at each other wondering who was going to speak first.

"So I-" you both said at the same time, breaking out into another awkward group laugh.

"You first," you insisted, inching a little closer to him.

"So I was wondering," Viktor took in a deep breath, before leaning over and cupping your cheek, "Your place or mine, next time?

#viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor #secret santa #i hope you enjoy <3

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eight-cats-in-a-box · 11 months

Note

You take requests???? Because I would love more just a little creepy but well meaning Viktor Humphries if you have more for him. X GN!Reader, imagines, headcanons or otherwise I just love just a little creepy but in a cute way Viktor Humphries.

You're my first request ever! I have no idea how well I actually captured the cute-creepy, but I made this! Hope you like it! Feel free to tell me if there's something you don't like about it, and I'll do my best to change it!

Viktor Humphries x GN reader

Word count: 1297

Un-beta'd, we die like me- I don't think there's any egregious spelling errors/etc, please point them out if you see any :)

Viktor first met you through the Range Exchange. You were so kind, always getting him whatever he needed. And when you met him for the first time, his silly little joke made you laugh! Truly the best sound he had ever heard.

He wanted to hear more. So he started inviting you over more- even if it was just to work on something. And when you invited him to your ranch("to hang out for once," you teased), he was ecstatic. He was getting closer to you, learning more about you!

The day went by all too fast, the two of you talking about nothing and everything all at once. At some point, Viktor had gone on a tangent about his work, and upon realizing you weren't talking or replying much, looked over at you, nervous. But when he saw you looking at him with the sweetest, most awe-struck expression, urging him, "Tell me more, please, Vik?"... He was so glad his datapad would record everything, so he could play back this moment.

Later, he would use the footage to reconstruct your ranch, bit by bit. This process was made all the easier by you, albeit unknowingly- inviting him over more often, and when he finished with your ranch, he started on making... Well, you.

Bit by bit, week by week, he constructed an AI that talked, walked, even acted like you- from the way your nose crinkled when you laughed, to the way you picked at the dirt under your nails absentmindedly. And when it was done, he backed it up. Multiple times. Viktor had spent far too long on this to lose it.

Over the months following, Viktor ran simulation after simulation, trying to figure out how to get closer to you. And you noticed. Well, you noticed something was up, anyway. He was more tired, the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten bigger, and he made more mistakes- silly ones, that a not-exhausted Viktor wouldn't have made.

His surprise when you confess to him is... Simultaneously hilarious and sad. How could you have not fallen for the adorable, pun-cracking dork that is Viktor Humphries? How could you not love him? He admits, rather sheepishly, that he had never, in all his simulations, even considered you liking him back.

All his... What now? You're confused. He explains that he had wanted to test the Slimeulation, expand it. Make it more... accurate. Given how the copy of your ranch was never seen by you, that seems doubtful. But... You're flattered. He had done all this, simply to get closer to you.

You pull him in for a gentle hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. He stiffens, but just as quickly relaxes into the warm embrace. The two of you stay like that for god knows how long, and you eventually ask if maybe... He'd like to swing by for supper? He grins, ecstatic. "I- I'd like that," he says, that soft, sweet smile you adore so wholeheartedly spreading across his face.

But when the two of you step through the teleporter, you hear a crrk-pfoom, and look behind you...

To see the teleporter a smoking pile of junk on the floor of your Lab. And he's panicking, asking if you're okay, if you were hurt (you weren't, just rather startled) and all you can muster up is- "I guess we're having a sleepover, then?"

He looks... Shell-shocked, for lack of a better term. You backtrack, apologize, but he stops you with a fragile hope in his eyes and asks a question that...honestly hurts a bit.

"Do you...Do you mean it?"

Of course you mean it, you assure him! He's wonderful company, and you adore his banter. As you head to the house, passing by corrals of bouncing slimes, you ask about the recreation of your ranch. He blushes, and you snicker.

As you cook (he tries to help, but one very stern "Sit your cute ass down and let me cook," later, he's perched on a stool.), you jabber on about whatever comes to mind, and this time, it's his turn to stare with heart eyes as you ramble.

You finish cooking, and plate up the food. It's delicious, and probably the first real meal he's had in years. You admit that you always have just enough for two people, being rather used to cooking for yourself and another. He smiles softly. He remembers you saying something about that-he listened to the clip of your soft, sweet voice on repeat.

The two of you finish your food, and Viktor insists on doing dishes, but you manage to convince him to let you actually wash the dishes, and he gets drying duty. You banter all the way through it, playfully jabbing at each other as you finish the chore.

Later on, when you're preparing to go to bed, you ask him where he wants to sleep. You can take the floor, you tell him, but he's not having any of that nonsense. You're grown adults, sharing a bed is not the worst thing that could've occured.

You fall asleep first, and Viktor rolls over to watch you sleep. He's curious. He watches all through the night, and when you cuddle up to him, he tenses. He's unused to physical contact, but this...this is nice. He raises a hand, stroking your hair gently. As he reaches for his datapad, feeling blindly in the dark, you grumble and scootch closer to him. He makes sure the flash is off, and takes what is probably his favourite picture of you.

The next morning, you wake up next to him, and the sweet scientist is passed out cold, holding you in his arms. You smile softly, and begin trying to extricate yourself from his arms without waking him.

It's no easy feat, but you get it done. Checking the time, you're right on schedule, and you decide to get started on breakfast. An hour later, you've got food and a sleepy Viktor on your hands.

After breakfast, the two of you go your separate ways to start various chores. You follow your normal routine, and Viktor heads to the Lab to see if he can fix the teleporter.

The routine repeats for a few days, and slowly but surely he fixes the teleporter. You'll be almost sad when he does, because this has been wonderful. Waking up beside him, being around him in general, all that domestic shit you never thought you'd get out here.

And he asks you for help, and who are you to deny your favourite scientist? The two of you are covered in bleugh, but the teleporter works. And the two of you step in together.

You're surrounded by the familiar crackly vwoosh, and when you're greeted by the familiar sight of Viktor's Lab, he pulls you into a passionate kiss that leaves your head spinning. He pulls back, grinning brightly and realizes what he did. And you're looking at him like he hung the moon and stars- hell, like he hung the whole damn galaxy.

And you're kissing him again. And everything is perfect- the sound of something whirring, feeling you pressed against him, the taste of honey, probably from whatever you ate this morning, you in general.

You're kissing him, and in all his simulations, he never saw this coming. But then again, he never saw you coming- you, who helped him out even with no real reward. You, with your silly little Hunter slime pin. You, who he found buried under Tabby slimes and protested when he tried to help you up. He adores you.

"Stop thinking and kiss me."

"Gladly."

And who is he to deny his favourite person in this universe? He tells himself to shut up for once and kisses you.

Hope you like it!

Masterlist

#leo writes #leo answers #viktor humphries x reader #wrote this one p quick actually :3

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cheeriecherrymain · 2 years

Text

The Bottom Of The Inkwell [Chapter 7]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Chapter Warnings: like one swear word Proofread: god no, no beta we die like men Chapter Summary: You have a nice conversation with your mother, which immediately turns sour when she tries to get you and Viktor to attend the winter gala together. Later, V finally lets you know that he wants to meet you, and it causes more anxiety than you thought would.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re cozy and warm.

Still addled with sleep, it takes you a couple moments to register the fuzzy blanket tossed over you, and the soft hum of a space heater set up nearby. It’s strange, you think, because you don’t remember having gone to be with either of those things.

You also don’t remember falling asleep on Viktor.

But apparently you did, because once your senses come back to you, you’re very obviously not alone on the couch: you’re tucked up at his side, your head resting on his chest, and a soft blanket is arranged over both of you.

He wouldn’t have been able to do it, squished under you like he is.

You stare blankly at a spot on the wall as you remain frozen where you are, memories of the previous night coming back.

After dinner, the two of you had gone back down to the workshop, in hopes of ironing out a few more details of your project. It had already been late by then, and both of you were drowsy from the hot meal you’d had - you hadn’t managed to get much done.

But you’d kept at it regardless, attempting in vain to understand lightbulbs.

It had taken another couple of hours for either of you to give up, but as soon as your vision had started going blurry, and you’d burned your finger on a soldering pen, Viktor had called it a night. You’d whined, trying to convince him that you were still fine to keep working, and he-

Oh. Right.

You’d been petulant in your exhausted state, and he’d only managed to get you to sleep because he’d wrapped his arms around you and held you down.

Both of you would have been more comfortable in a bed, you think, but you understand his intent: if either of your parents found you sharing a mattress, regardless of your clothing status, they’d be…displeased.

Considering the blanket and the space heater, though, you wonder if you’ve not already been found out.

It takes a couple of tries, but eventually you manage to pry yourself out of Viktor’s arms, taking extra caution as to not wake him. You know that his sleep schedule is worse than yours, even if only marginally, and while the dorm beds were comfortable, they weren’t perfect. You want him to get as much rest as he can, while he can.

—

When you wander up to the main floor of the manor, all the lights are off. Dim brightness filters in through the multitude of windows in each room, but you suspect it’s still early in the morning - it’s too dark to be long past sunrise.

You wonder if you’re wrong, though, when you take a peek out the glass. The sky is solid grey and overcast, and from the cloud tumble fat snowflakes, which gather upon the ground and stick to whatever else they touch.

A short burst of excitement courses through your body, and you can’t contain the smile that tugs at your lips. It hadn’t snowed in Piltover for years! The last time you remember such copious amounts of white fluff, you’d been young enough that you’d still enjoyed running around in the fresh air to build snowmen.

You have half the mind to pull on a jacket and go for a walk, before the city truly wakes up.

But your growling stomach apparently has other plans.

You wander quietly towards the kitchen, wondering to yourself if it was still too early to make breakfast. Or maybe there are leftovers from last night, you think, though you’re not sure you can palate something so rich after just waking up.

“Is that you, dear?” a soft voice calls from another room, as soon as you get close to the fridge.

You turn in surprise, only to find your mother peeking around the archway that leads to her study. How she’d managed to hear you moving through the house, you had no idea, but you turn your attention to her anyways.

“It’s me, mama,” you say, coming to stand just inside her office.

She’s out of her motorized chair for once, settled on a well-cushioned chaise. She has a book in her lap, illuminated by a warm lamp, despite the large window that sits just behind her.

It really strikes you, then - just how frail she looks. When you’d arrived last night, she’d seemed more lively than she had in years prior. She had been happy to see you, full of excitement and hugs and conversation.

But now, in the silence of the drowsy morning? She looked…older. She isn’t even fifty, and yet you can see a deep sense of tiredness behind her sunken eyes; creases where there hadn’t been any before, a deep downward curve in her shoulders, silver hairs sprouting out of her head in clumps.

She smiles at you when you enter, and beckons you closer.

“Quiet as a mouse, you are,” she utters fondly, pulling you down onto the chaise beside her. “What are you doing up so early?”

You tuck your feet up and fall sideways, until your cheek comes to rest in her lap. “I don’t know,” you admit, “Maybe I’m used to it by now? Classes start pretty early in the day, and I don’t like to be late.”

She hums in consideration. “You and Viktor were up quite late. I was sure we wouldn’t see either of you until past noon.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “We weren’t up any later than usual,” you tell her. “I guess it’s just become a habit? It’s probably not a bad thing, though - I honestly don’t miss the fact that I used to sleep the day away.”

Her hand comes to rest on the side of your head, fingertips gently stroking the soft hairs by your temples.

“You’ve grown so much since you left, you know?” She sounds as sad as she does proud. “It feels like so short a time ago that your father and I would tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight, making sure to leave the door open just a smidge, so you could have some light.”

“We always wanted you to have opportunities. You know that your father was the youngest of nine - his parents never really had time for him or his interests, no matter how he tried to get their attention. And I…” she trails off for a moment, and you wait silently under her touch.

“ I never had anyone,” she finally says, voice barely a whisper. “No family, no friends - I lost them all, one by one as I grew. It was a miracle your father and I even met once, but to have met him again and again after that? I am no believer in the divine, but sometimes I wonder if perhaps fate exists.”

A strange feeling flutters in your stomach, settled somewhere between dread and despair - not quite anxiety, not quite fear, just…resigned. Resigned to an inevitable grief that you are suddenly all too aware of.

“ I wanted you to have more than I ever did,” she murmurs, “and I think that maybe, in my attempts to give you more, I…pushed you too hard.”

You frown.

“You didn’t push me, mama.”

“Didn’t I?” she retorts. “Forcing you to socialize with people you despised, always making you look pretty and fit the part of debutante? I was too strict with you, and I pushed my own ideals down your throat, completely unaware of the fact that it might not be what you wanted.”

Your chest tightens, thinking of how only months ago, you couldn’t wait to be on your own - away from your overbearing parents, and able to make your own choices.

“I didn’t want you to be alone in life, like I had been.”

“You’re not alone, mama,” you creak, blinking away the tears budding in your eyes. “You’ve got papa. You’ve got me.”

She considers your words for a couple of seconds.

“This is true,” she nods, drawing gentle designs on your scalp with her nails. “But you have your own life to live, and your own people to meet - like that Viktor boy. He has a good head on his shoulders.” And softer, “Not many folks from the undercity get chances like he has.”

All at once, confusion replaces your overwhelming dread.

Viktor was from the undercity?

True, you considered him a great friend, but he’d never…told you about any of that. He’d always been somewhat shy to share details of his past, and you had never pressed him on it. You’d supplemented his quiet nature with your own boisterous stories, filling in any blanks he drew with a glimpse into your own life.

You supposed it made sense, then, why he’d been so hesitant to tell you anything.

“You didn’t know?” your mother wonders, and you shake your head.

“I suppose it takes one to know one,” she sighs. “Don’t judge him for it, darling-”

“I would never,” you cut her off quickly, tilting your head so you can look up at her. “I would never judge him for something like that. I don’t care where he’s from, as long as he’s Viktor.”

You pause for a few moments, letting your cheek come to rest on her thigh again. “I didn’t know you from the undercity,” you admit, somewhat surprised. “You always said you met papa at the fanciest place in the area.”

“Fanciest place in the undercity,” she laughs, as she recalls the memory, “Poor man got lost and turned around, and had no idea how to get back to the academy. He may have been a little intoxicated, out for the night with his mates.”

You smile at the image your mind conjures.

“I happened to be the poor soul that took pity on him, and showed him the way back. Never expected to be more than a memory to him, but then…the fool came back. With flowers. Said he wanted to thank me for the help the other night, and offered to take me to dinner.”

You stare up at her incredulously. “And you said yes?!”

“Heavens no!” she chortles. “I told him to leave me alone and let me do my job. But he was persistent! He kept coming back to where I worked - offered to fix up parts of the building that needed repairs, free of charge. My boss couldn’t say no to a deal like that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “He kept asking you out?” you wonder in distaste, eyeing her carefully from the side. “Even after you said no?”

“He didn’t,” she clarifies swiftly, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. “He never mentioned it again - not even once. He worked hard to help improve the place where I worked, so that more people would come around and I might be able to make more money. He was polite to me, but he never expected more. He just…wanted to make my life easier, as a way to thank me for a small kindness.”

She continues her story in good humour, regaling the tale of how your father had consistently made a fool of himself, all in an attempt to repay your mother for having a kind heart. How he would trip over himself to aid her, offer assistance whenever something was no more than a mild nuisance.

“ I eventually let him know that he could take me out to dinner, if the offer was still on the table.” she finishes. “He almost fell off the ladder he was sitting on when I told him! We…got married three months later.”

You’re strangely comforted by the story of your mother’s past - now knowing that everything she’d done, she’d done because she wanted you to have a better life than she had.

Of course, it didn’t erase the fact that she’d been tough on you in your youth, pushy to the point of silencing you…but maybe it was just what she was used to. You had been growing up, and turning into your own person, but she had been growing and learning as well.

You’d had differing ideals, and you had both been coming to terms with it.

She’d always loved you, though, and the realization brings you a sense of peace you hadn’t even known you were looking for.

But then she continues speaking, “All of this is to say…that you seem very close to your Viktor.”

“It’s not like that!” you speak, staring up at her with wide eyes.

“I never said it was,” she teases, looking down at you with the most shit-eating smirk you’ve ever seen her wear.

She pinches your cheek slightly, and leans down to press a kiss to the offended area. “In any case, I’m glad you’ve made a friend. Your father and I were always so worried, watching you hide yourself away in your workshop, all alone.”

You smile.

“I love you, mama.”

—

It takes a few hours, but eventually the rest of the house wakes up. The sky lightens considerably, though it still remains clouded, and a sense of warmth and coziness arises.

You take over the task of cooking breakfast for everyone, much to your father’s displeasure. You would hardly call yourself a chef, but you’re no stranger to making your own meals - in the past, it hadn’t been strange for you to scrape your own dinner together in the middle of the night.

But the way he hovers over you is somewhat frustrating.

“Papa, if you don’t go and sit down, I’m going to purposefully burn your potatoes,” you threaten, causing a comical look of horror to stretch across his face. He grumbles a bit about your cruelty, mumbling all the way over to the table, where he sits with a pout.

You can see Viktor and your mother hiding their smiles from the corner of your eye.

The four of you chat amicably while you crack eggs over a frying pan, updating both your parents on how your classes are going, and sharing the stories of whatever antics you and your friend got up to - most of which are unexciting tales of staying up too late in order to finish your homework.

“You two are peas in a pod,” your mother sighs wistfully. “Truly academic, and focused on the future.”

“Are you calling us boring, mama?” you quip, feigning offense.

“No, nothing like that, darling,” she mumbles, “though you could stand to let loose from time to time. Go to a party, meet some people, relax.”

You scrunch your nose up at the thought of being squished into close proximity with any number of your classmates, forced to make smalltalk and drink disgustingly dry champagne. “No thanks.”

“Leave her be, love,” your father says, laying a hand on her shoulder. “There aren’t really any parties at the academy anyways, save for the winter gala. Small gatherings are…ah…discouraged, we shall say.”

Your mother looks puzzled.

“Dorm parties are considered gross misconduct,” Viktor supplies. “Any non-official events hosted on campus will typically be grounds for dismissal.”

Even with his explanation, your mother only seems more confused. She doesn’t say more on the matter, but it’s clear that she has some thoughts about it.

Only once you’re finished making everyone’s meals, and have set the plates out on the table to eat, does she speak out.

“So the only social events you get to attend are…galas?” she questions, carefully choosing a couple pieces of fruit from the bowl in the center of the table. You confirm her suspicions, and she’s nearly incredulous with disbelief. “That’s hardly enough time to wind down! Love, didn’t you say that the galas were networking in disguise? How is that meant to be a decent time?”

Your father pauses. “If it’s still the same as when I was a student,” he says, around a mouthful of potatoes.

You watch in amusement as your parents begin bickering back and forth, nitpicking little things and arguing about your curriculum.

“I promise they don’t usually argue this much,” you whisper, leaning over so Viktor can hear you. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them this morning.”

But instead of looking upset by their actions, your friend is smiling.

“It’s charming,” he assures you, and the two of you go back to eating.

It takes a couple of minutes for your mother and father to calm down, having talked themselves in circles so badly that they didn’t even realize they were trying to argue the same point. Neither of them have the decency to look embarrassed by their outburst, and you can hardly fault them for it - it adds a lighthearted air between the four of you.

“Do they even still have the winter gala?” your father asks after settling.

You screw your face up in distaste.

“They do,” you admit, “but it’s more exclusive than it used to be, I think. Only the top ten students of any class get invitations, now - something to do with sponsors ‘only wanting the best’. Needless to say, I won’t be going.”

Everyone sours slightly.

“Are you not at the top of your classes?” your mother questions with a frown, certain that you’d told her otherwise.

“No, I…am…” you grumble. “I just don’t want to go.”

You wince as soon as the words leave your mouth. You can see the way her eyes light up at your admission - the same look you’d seen countless times as a child, when she was trying to corral you into some poofy, stuffy dress so you could socialize among high society.

You shoot her a withering glance, but she pays absolutely no mind to it.

“Darling, why won’t you go? Imagine the people you could meet!”

“I don’t find the idea of being squished into an itchy dress for hours on end to be fun,” you protest, stabbing your fork into a piece of fried potato. “The shoes are pinchy, and my classmates are snotty, and I’ve no interest in making polite conversation with people who are judging my every breath.” Softer, “I’ve no one to go with, anyways.”

The table falls into silence.

And then into chaos as a wry smile stretches across your mother’s lips.

“Why not go with Viktor?” she wonders.

The two of you choke on your food.

“What?!” you squeak, at the same time Viktor says, “Pardon me?”

Your mother immediately starts listing off all the benefits of attending the winter gala together - having each other to lean on, having someone to talk to, having someone to dance and get drunk with.

“Mama,” you groan, slouching back in your seat, “You know I’m not the dancing type.”

“Nor am I,” Viktor adds, and you swear you can see pink dusting across his cheeks.

“Besides, neither of us have any kind of formal wear - and yes, mother, I know you could make something for me, but I’d rather you not.”

She opens her mouth to say more, but you cut her off.

“I’m not going.”

—

Evidently, your mother bribes you into going.

She goes on a tangent the moment you put your foot down, trying her hardest to convince you that you’ll have a good time. It’s a far cry from the comforting talk the two of you had earlier, and the sudden change in personality throws you for a loop.

But no matter how hard you’d tried to resist her - disputed her claims of how much you would love the food and music and pretty dresses - she gets you. She ropes Viktor into the discussion, promising him that if he escorted you to the gala, she’d find some suitable clothes for him.

In his defense, he’d also tried to decline her offer, albeit more politely than you.

But your mother is, at her core, a very convincing woman. Stubborn and hardheaded, she always gets her way - that’s just how it is.

She finally lets you and Viktor go from the table after you agree to let her dress you for the party, and the two of you skitter away to the basement to continue working on your final project.

You spend a good portion of the afternoon apologizing to him for the way your mother was stepping out of line. He doesn’t seem incredibly bothered by the situation -if he is, he doesn’t show it- and in fact only looks a little bit awkward.

Which makes sense, the more you think about it. In all your time knowing him, he’s never been particularly socially inclined, preferring to work on his own and keep to himself. He’s not terrible at conversation by any means, but being from the undercity, you highly doubt he has much experience with fancy parties.

If he even has any.

Still, he assures you that he’s mostly alright with it, and promises that if worse comes to worst, the two of you can always skip the party and say you went.

—

V, I have had literally such a terrible day.

Now, close to midnight, you’re hunched over the old desk in your bedroom to complain to your best friend.

You and Viktor had worked on your project throughout the day, and had hammered out a lot of the details. You’d run some tests on the first iteration of the lightbulb and noted the results, pointing out things that you wanted to change, or that worried you.

It functioned well enough, but you wanted to tweak the brightness just a little - which would involve rewiring the diodes and making them bigger by four percent, which would mean you’d have to alter the amount of metal you coiled in the base, which would mean taking the entire thing apart and re-casting everything, which would mean…

You could go on for hours.

What happened?

You stare at the words as they appear in your journal.

Well. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst day - just hectic. I’m at my parents’ place for the weekend, and I brought my partner with me. We needed some stuff from my workshop in order to complete our final project. Which…if I’m being honest, we’re probably going to have to repeat, in order to finish.

Repeat the project?

No, no, I mean we’re probably going to have to come back next weekend. Gah, not only for the project, though. My mom coerced the two of us into attending the winter gala, and she put up the biggest fuss about it.

That sounds less than pleasant. I didn’t know you even got an invitation?

I wasn’t going to tell you, initially. I figured it might suggest who I am, and you said you weren’t ready for that yet. But I’m so frustrated, I just needed to tell you, before I ripped all my hair out.

Ah…well, I appreciate the consideration, nonetheless.

Sorry. I just…my mom and I had such a good conversation this morning. I woke up before everyone else, and she was reading in her study, and we sat together and had such a good talk. She apologized for being hard on me, growing up, and gave me a lot of context for the way she acted. But then just a couple hours later, it was like a switch flipped in her head, and she was back to her usual overbearing self.

Maybe she’s just trying to push you out of your comfort zone? The winter gala is a fairly big event for the academy, and a lot of sponsors will be there - she knows that. Maybe it’s her way of saying that she wants you to have a different future than the one she initially planned?

I- what do you mean?

Well, you’ve said in the past that she wanted to marry you off. First as soon as you were old enough, and then as soon as you finished school. Maybe she considers the networking opportunities as a way of…I don’t know. Deciding your own future?

I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’m still annoyed with her, but…I guess I can go easy on her. For now.

In any case, I’m…actually kind of grateful that she’s enticed you into attending.

What? V, why?

Because I’ve been thinking. My life has calmed down a lot since I came to Piltover - nothing is as new and stressful as it used to be, and I’ve fallen into a pretty comfortable routine. The only thing that still causes me grief is the fact that you and I have yet to meet face to face.

Are you…saying what I think you’re saying?

I want to see you. I want to know your name, I want to hear you laugh, and see your smile.

Veeeeeeeeeeee

I wasn’t going to be attending the gala, but now I think it might be a nice place to get together, don’t you think? Food, drinks, music - and if we don’t like the atmosphere, we can leave and go somewhere else. You said you know all kinds of little restaurants all over the city.

I do! I know so many restaurants, and all the food is so tasty!

So what do you say?

I’d love to meet you! We can sort out the details another time, though. I still have no idea what I’m wearing.

That makes two of us. But I’ll be looking forward to it.

Me too!

—

You’d been thinking about sleeping, before you’d started speaking with V. You and Viktor had gone to your roms earlier than the previous night, in hopes that you might sleep a little better than on a lumpy old couch.

You hadn’t taken into account the fact that you weren’t sleepy. And now, knowing that your friend of so many years finally wanted to see you? Face to face? In real life?

There’s no way you’ll be able to lay still and rest.

So instead of curling up in bed and inevitably staying awake for ages, you decide to tiptoe downstairs for a cup of tea. You boil the water in a pot instead of a kettle, lest it wake someone up with its incessant screaming, let it steep with loose lemongrass, mint, and dried citrus chunks.

You complete the brew with a teaspoon of honey and tiny bit of milk, and then wander into the sitting room, where you find a seat in your favourite bay window that overlooks the street below.

The room is cast into shadow for the most part, with only the barest hints illuminated by the glow from outside. It’s enough to avoid bumping your knees on the furniture as you weave over to where you settle.

You sip your tea.

Is the winter gala really a good time to meet V, you wonder. Your mother had all but forced you to attend, but you weren’t the only one she’d bribed. Viktor had been one of her unfortunate victims as well, and he was even less inclined to the party than you were!

You didn’t want to abandon him for someone else - he was your friend too, and you were the one responsible for his reluctant attendance.

But would V be alright if you brought someone along with you?

The two of them were so similar, you have to believe that they’ll get along. There’s no way they wouldn’t! Especially with their similar backgrounds, they’d have a sense of understanding with each other that they probably wouldn’t get from anyone else.

But what if V didn’t understand?

What if he wanted the night to be just the two of you?

You sip your tea.

Months ago, that would have been your dream, but now? Now, you can’t help thinking that such a sentiment would hurt Viktor, and hurting Viktor is the last thing you want to do. You care about him. You like him - you like spending time with him, and you like talking to him, and you like laughing with him. He makes you feel lightheaded and comfortable, like you’ve never been around so many others.

You sip your tea.

V cares about you, you know. He’s your best friend. He’s reasonable and supportive.

He would understand that you had a previous engagement, right?

But fuck, you’d already agreed to mett him at the gala.

You sip your tea.

“I thought you went to bed?”

You spill your tea, when a soft, lilted voice speaks from just behind you.

“Viktor!” you squeak, turning to him with wide, startled eyes. He looks apologetic in some sense, though the sparkle in his eyes only suggests amusement. “Look - I’ve gotten tea all over my sweater.”

“My condolences,” he smirks, taking a seat across from you.

You fix him with the most deadpan glare you can muster, but as things usually go with him, it’s only a few seconds before the corner of your mouth tugs upwards.

“I can’t sleep,” you admit, “I thought a cup of tea would help my thoughts.”

“And?”

“No such luck.”

He hums in agreement, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Staring out the window at the snowy cobbled road below, watching as the fat flakes continue to tumble from the sky. It’s peaceful.

“Have you ever been in love?”

It’s less peaceful.

“Pardon?” you ask, glancing over at him.

Viktor continues to watch the weather, and repeats himself, “Have you ever been in love?”

That’s what you thought he said.

“I…” you stare into the depths of the mug in your hands, contemplating. “I used to think I was…”

You sip your tea.

“I had a friend, growing up,” you explain quietly. “He was…kind of of my only friend, actually. He’s actually the one who got me into technology and machinery! We could talk about anything and everything - no topic was too strange or taboo for us.”

You sip your tea, and continue, “I used to think I was in love with him. Our situation is kind of…complicated…but I was positive I had feelings for him.”

Viktor’s gaze flits over to you. “What changed?” he asks, and you shrug.

“I set foot in the real world?” you suggest. “I dunno. I’ve never actually met the guy - we just…wrote letters to each other. And don’t get me wrong, I do love him, but now I just. I don’t know if I’m in love with him. He was never ready to meet me face to face, and I understand! But I’ve met other people now, and the feelings…feel different.”

You sip your tea.

“Sorry, that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

To your surprise, Viktor shakes his head. “No, it does,” he agrees, “You know this boy very well -better than most, probably- but it’s only in writing. You don’t know each other’s nuances - the sound of laughter, skin blemishes, nervous habits. You know his mind, and his thoughts, but not…not the rest…”

He trails off.

You sip your tea.

“What about you?” you ask. “Ever been in love?”

He’s quiet for a moment, then, “Yes.”

“It’s complicated,” he extends, “But yes.”

You’re not sure why your heart sinks so heavily in your chest, falling from its usual resting place all the way into the pit of your stomach. You don’t like it.

You sip your tea.

“Whoever they are, they’re lucky,” you say. “You’re a good person, Viktor, and you’re going to do incredible things in life.”

Nothing could have possibly prepared you for the way his gaze bores into you with such a raw intensity - full of unspoken passion and a drive to change the world, fuelled by warm, ever-present compassion.

“So are you.” His tone is resolute, as if he has the utmost confidence in his words. “Whoever your friend is, whoever it is that you feel for - they’re fortunate to have you be a part of their life. You are…a ray of warm sunlight, breaking through the clouds in the cold recesses of winter.”

And like they have so many times before, the words he utters makes your heart rise back into your chest, fluttering quickly against your ribcage. You can’t explain how you feel about him, but you’re certain it goes beyond the love of a friend. Could you spend your life with him? Could you love him? Do you love him?

You set your tea down on the windowsill, and roll forward onto your knees.

“Viktor,” you murmur.

He glances away from the window, a pleasant pink dusting his pale cheeks.

You reach for him, and take his face gently in your hand, watching for a moment as the pretty colour blooms further over his skin.

You kiss him.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #The Bottom Of The Inkwell #now kiss

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cheeriecherry · 2 years

Note

hello,dearest writer!If you still have some creative juice left,what do you think about Viktor with a S/O that makes some effort to learn a few conversation phrases in his mother tongue as a surprise?Thank you so much for your work here!

You had meant for everything to be a surprise; your boyfriend had had an especially busy schedule for the month, which had been the perfect opportunity to put something together for him. But this? You had not expected this: your beloved partner staring at you furiously, his tone of voice accusing and hurt.

For weeks now, you'd been disappearing at strange hours, and forgetting to drop by the lab like you usually did. Viktor had figured that perhaps with exams coming up, you'd been taking extra time to study...but the he'd stumbled upon you in the library, and you were not alone. He wasn't a jealous man by any means -most of the time- though he had been known to have a somewhat possessive streak when it came to you. Still, he didn't want to jump to conclusions; you were allowed to make friends, and talk to people, and study with them, regardless of how touchy said person was being towards you.

But then he'd offhandedly mentioned it a couple nights later as you were crawling into bed, and you'd flat out told him you had no idea what he was talking about. You had clearly been comfortable enough with the unknown woman, to let her grab your hand and throw her arm over your shoulders...why would you lie about making a friend? But he lets the subject drop for the night, too tired to press on it and start a potential argument.

It all comes to a boiling point on the evening of your second anniversary. He had unexpectedly gotten the night off, so he'd made a beeline for your apartment to share the news with you. Except when he walked in the front door, he heard...laughter? No, not laughter: giggles. He follows the sound all the way to your bedroom, and stands for a couple moments in front of the door, unsure of what he'd find on the other side. Were you with someone? In that way? He decides that he needs to know, and that it is perhaps better to rip the proverbial bandaid off quickly. He throws the door open, and you go silent. You're on the bed, in your pajamas, surrounded by papers and the same woman he'd seen you with in the library. The woman who -as if sensing the tension that has suddenly arisen- excuses herself and says she'll see you in class. Even after she leaves, Viktor remains in the doorway. "I thought you didn't know her?" he mumbles sharply, and you wince. "If she's not an issue, then why lie about it-"

"She's been teaching me your language," you say quickly, cutting him off. Viktor freezes, because more notably, you have said so in his native tongue. He stares at you with wide eyes, and you continue, "It was supposed to be a surprise for you, so we could share something, but...I guess it looked kind of suspicious." All at once, Viktor relaxes, and ushers you towards him and into his arms, muttering apologies and praise alike -and perhaps a couple suggestions on your accent.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #five somethings prompts #i had to throw some classic misunderstandings #also i apologize if grammar is weird #im on my phone laying in bed instead of on my pc

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whisperprime · 2 years

Text

Hob had been honest when he said that he’d lost the majority of his network. Anyone who wasn’t immortal had died off with his imprisonment lasting as long as it did and he had yet been unable to rebuild a new one.

But that did not mean he was without connections altogether.

It was one such connection that he was currently seeking out.

With the new semester officially having kicked off, he’s only going to get busier as the weeks go by. It is with this in mind that that he knows that if he wants to get this task done, he needs to do it soon.

Rounding the corner on what could be any street in London, Hob approaches a building that reads “Bernie’s Barbershop” in pealing, faded red and white letters. Contrary to the age of the sign, a modern, red light “OPEN” sign beckons anyone walking past to come in and get a haircut.

Hob feels a sense of relief upon seeing it. His memory of his contact’s location in this time period had been iffy at best. He had a few other possible ideas, sure, but he’s glad he won’t have to go on a walk through of all of London to find his target.

A door bell rings over head as he enters, announcing his presence to anyone inside. Hob takes in the mixture of old and new, from the older, brick walls to the newer furniture. He’s just inspecting the display of products, when a slim, red headed woman slips out of the back.

“Welcome, do you have an appointment?”

Hob pulls away from the display. “No, sorry. I’m here to speak with the owner, if possible. He wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”

He knows full well that the man in question will be here, but it is polite to ask.

The woman, who’s name tag proclaims her to be Sherry, blinks at him. She eyes him up and down for a moment, as if trying to figure out if he’s a disgruntled former customer.

“May I ask who’s looking for him?”

“Tell him Robert Gadling is here to see him.” Hob continues to smile presently at her, to try and show he was here on good terms. “I’m really just an old friend.”

That seems to ease her concerns a bit, but not entirely. Turning on her heel, the moment causing her poofy dress to puff out with the moment, she disappears into the back.

Hob contends himself to another wait.

The owner, however, doesn’t make him wait long.

“Well, I’ll be! Robbie Gadling, as I live and breathe!” A tall, tan skinned man appears in the doorway leading to the back of the shop. He crosses the room in mere strides, throwing his arms around Hob when he reaches him. “It really is you!”

Hob laughs as he allows himself to be pulled into the hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Viktor.” He grips the man’s forearms as Viktor holds him out at arms length to look him over. “I was hoping you’d be in today.”

Viktor laughs, a jolly booming thing. “Ah, you know I practically live at work.” He releases Hob in order to sling an arm over him, directing him towards the back. “You’re going to have to catch me up on all your latest mad adventures.” Over his shoulder, before they pass through the door, he throws over his shoulder, “If anyone asks for me, Sherry, let them know I’m unavailable.”

Hob catches a glimpse at the blank look on Sherry’s face, hears the muttered, “Sure thing, boss,” before they’re through the door.

Viktor leads him down a hall to a door to the end of it. Once they’re inside, the man shuts the door behind them. The moment the door clicks, Hob feels the tingling feeling of he thinks might be some form of magic roll over the room.

Viktor directs him to a chair into which he takes a seat as he says, “You can speak freely while the door is closed.” He moves around a deceptively cheap looking desk to have a seat, himself. “We can hear those outside, but they will not hear us.”

Hob glances at the door. He’s never been certain if Viktor is any kind of practitioner of the mystical arts, but he knows the man’s wards are nothing to sniff at. He turns back around. “Seems a bit much, when you don’t know what I’m here for.”

Viktor snorts, pulling open one of the drawers of his desk. “We are good friends, Robbie,” he states, reaching into the open drawer. “But not so good you visit without a reason.” Out of the drawer, he pulls out a cheap bottle of malt scotch whiskey and two crystal shot glasses, all three of which he sets on the table.

Hob feels a pang of regret for the truth in those words. It’s easy to take people for granted when you know there’s still a good chance you’ll see them in a hundred years.

He accepts one of the two glasses when Viktor hands them to him, bringing it up to take a sip as the other man points out, “But worry not, I’d still love to hear the latest strop you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hob laughs. “Aw, that’s not fair. My life isn’t that interesting.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “This coming from the man who spent a month in a ghost town.” He leans forward, pointing at him with a finger from the hand still holding his glass. “And it wasn’t a ‘ghost town’ because it was abandoned.”

In his defense, he had been out of it between the deaths of his nuclear family and near getting drowned for being a witch. A kind hand had been seemed like a god send at the time when the old woman helped pull him from the river.

The fact that the old woman had been a ghost looking to take advantage of his in between state to try and trick him into becoming part of the town indefinitely so they could feed on his life force for all eternity?

Well. Maybe the man had a point.

Hob hums as he savors the whiskey. It’s cheap, but still a good brand. “Sadly, I can’t talk much about what happened without talking about why I’m here.”

Viktor sobers a bit. “You’ve been gone a while. It have anything to do with that?”

Hob takes another sip of his drink. Partially to stall. He nods and looks Viktor dead in the eye as he says, “Yeah, I’m looking for a crew. Discreet and not bothered by a little property damage.”

The taller man of the pair leans back in his chair. He studies him for a long, several minutes. “What kind of property damage?”

Hob smiles. Knows it’s not a nice one. “I want to destroy a house.” He finishes off the whiskey and places the drink back on the table.

Viktor whistles, a little something dark entering his own eyes. “And what did this house do to you?”

Hob studies the other man for a moment. Viktor was a warlock, an immortal one at that. He had no need for houses that curtailed one’s aging, as the man had stopped aging long before the Gadling name was a word on people’s lips. And even if he should show interest in it, he strictly stayed away from sites of deals struck with demons.

He taps the glass on the table, once, twice, and then lets it sit again. “The owner of the house has wronged me and is a threat to those I care about.” He leans forward to hold his cup out, which the warlock refills. “A demon has promised that as long as the roof stands, the owner will not age. I wish to inconvenience the owner by destroying the house.”

That darkness in Viktor’s eyes takes on a shade of disgust. “Hm. And what is the name of the owner?”

Hob raises his glass to his lips, utters, “Roderick Burgess.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this one. Pompous idiot.” Viktor snorts. “The man everyone says caught the devil in his basement.”

The phrase brings a vicious twist to Hob’s gut. Funny how some things persist. He takes the sip, more to fortify himself this time. “He had a demon in his basement, alright. But the demon wasn’t the prisoner.”

Viktor stills, understanding like lightening across his features. Hob is touched by the anger and outrage he can see behind the shock. “I’m sorry to hear of your misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Hob waves it off, even as he accepts the condolence. It’s hardly water under the bridge, but he isn’t here to talk about it. “There’s one more thing: I want to be part of the crew.”

The warlock doesn’t seem surprised, but he does seem concerned. “You sure you want to go back in there. Any crew I put together will be able to do the job just fine.”

Hob hears where the concern really lies: Viktor doesn’t know what level of trauma he has nor how much it might effect the success of the crew. If Hob wants to endanger himself, that’s one thing, but the warlock won’t let him become a liability to anyone else, both for his own good and the good of the others.

It’s a fair concern, but unnecessary. Hob will not fall apart for the job itself.

Afterword? Well, that’s a different story.

Still, Hob seeks to ease some of the other man’s worries, “I’ll only be in and out.” He finishes his drink and then places it on the table. Waves off any more. “Burgess is a shame, but he has something of real danger. He can’t be allowed to keep it.”

Viktor keeps silent, waiting for Hob to elaborate.

And Hob thinks Viktor is indeed a good friend, but he’s also a very real and very powerful warlock who is only mostly a good man.

Everyone has their weaknesses and who knows what all is contained in the Magdalene Grimoire?

Hob keeps his silence.

After several long minutes, the taller man takes the cue that Hob will not budge on this. Chooses not to take offense and instead nods to acknowledge the fact that the shorter man doesn’t mean anything personal by it. “Well, you’re in luck, Robbie, because ol’ Magus is having party next weekend.” To show the source of the news, he pulls a out a pamphlet, which proclaims the day and time of the event. “Celebrating his 150th birthday, he says.”

Hob snorts. Good to see the man is just as arrogant as ever and still hasn’t learned a thing. It’s that kind of brazen that gets people riled up into mobs and coming to burn you at the stake.

Still, he’ll take the in. “I’ll be there.”

Viktor drags the pamphlet off the table. “Now that that’s settled, what do you say we do a little more light hearted catching up?”

Hob laughs again. They spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, Viktor telling wild tales about the events that led up to the building of his barbershop and Hob talking about his new Inn (”You should come by when it’s finished. The first drink is on me.”) and his new teaching position.

They only realize how late it’s getting when they hear a knock on the door. Sherry’s voice filters through as she says, “Place is all locked up, boss. I’m headed out.”

Viktor rises from his seat and crosses over to the door. He opens it up and leaves it to signify that he’s open to visitors again. Hob can feel the dropping of the wards the moment the door handle turned. “Thanks, Sherry. I’ll see you next Monday?”

She nods, eyeing Hob from behind her boss. He can tell she’s a little curious as to why he’s still here, but not enough to stay and find out. “See you next Monday,” she returns, before heading out.

Hob remembers the shop closes around six and takes it as his own cue. He stands and starts for the door. “Probably should be heading out myself. Still need to make certain everything is all set for the week.”

Viktor pats him on the back and Hob is thankful he doesn’t flinch. “It was good to see you, Robbie. Drop me a line when the New Inn is open and I’ll swing by.”

Hob waves at him as he heads out. Calls over his shoulder, “I’ll save a good one just for you.”

He hears a laugh and, “Always knew you were one of the good ones!”

Over the following week, Hob tries to distract himself with his classes, but finds himself too restless and uneasy to concentrate fully. According to their surveillance, this party is mostly for his inner circle - Burgess and the people who have helped financed him over the years. There’s even talk of a main event that sets Hob’s inner warning bells ringing. He knows it is very unlikely that Burgess will ever catch his true target, but all it would take is the right circumstances and a little luck, and he might catch something that causes the same level of damage as he did the first time. Even if it wasn’t something of real power, anything he caught wouldn’t deserve it.

On top of wanting to bring that damn roof down, if only fuels his need to get that spell book out of Burgess’ hands once and for all.

When the time comes, Viktor's people have been shoe'ed in with a crew that are in charge of delivering the decorations. Flowers, the cake, and other necessities are to be brought in before the party is to kick off. Hob feels not unlike he’s going into a potential minefield. He likely shouldn’t be involved in this. Really should leave this to Viktor’s men, but he can’t chance the book disappearing in the chaos that will undoubtedly follow the destruction of the manor.

He puts some effort into confusing his appearance. Puts on a quality blond wig that doesn’t look half bad once he has it on with the uniform cap. Uses some makeup to lighten up the tan he’s only just recently gotten back. Some padding in his clothes changes his body shape. It would only need to hold up long enough to meet up with and switch places with someone of similar looks and build, who would step in once the spell book was retrieved and could finish the rest of the job.

When the day comes, Hob watches as a picturesque manor comes into view from the windows of the van the crew are driving in. If he had never set foot in this place again, it would have been too soon. He can only imagine what returning here might do to his subconscious that night when it was time to sleep.

Beside him, one of the women of the group, is leaning forward to get as good a look at the manor as she can without unbuckling herself. Hob thinks he heard someone call her ‘Millie’ at some point. “Seems a bit of a shame to tear it down. Place some interesting history.”

Across from her, an olive skinned man groaned in the way people do when they’ve heard something before. Under his breathe, he mutters, “And here we go...”

Millie gave him the finger. “You just don’t care about history.”

Beside her, another man laughs good naturedly. He’d introduced himself as Tom. He was also one of the only people who’d introduced himself. “Only when history gets me a big paycheck!”

The first man laughs with him and Millie turns back to the window with a disgruntled frown.

Hob, taking pity on her, asks, “What’s so interesting about it?”

Tom’s buddy snorted, but Millie ignores him. She looks like she would have pounced on Hob, had that been the polite thing to do. “Not much is known about it before the 1700s, but it used to be called Blackwood Manor. Rumor has it, King George III gave it to a Lady Johanna Constantine in exchange for Pandora’s Box.”

Hob is too stuck on Lady Constantine’s name to contemplate if Pandora’s Box is real or not. “Is that so?” He side-eyes the Manor, wondering if he’s destined to keep hearing about this woman every couple hundred years. Perhaps her footprints on this Earth were deeper than he’d thought.

Millie nods. “She’s the one that gave it the name, ‘Fawney Rig.’” She frowns. “Funny name that.”

Hob, still distracted by the first bit of information, off handedly states, “It’s a ring dropping trick.”

A few of the people in the van turn to look at him. The weight of their gaze is what pulls Hob back to himself. Causally, he explains, “I’m a history teacher.”

It has the effect he’s hoping it would. Most of the people, especially the two who had proclaimed a dislike for history, go back to attempting to ignore them. Millie, however, has leaned forward curiously. To her, he further explains, “Someone would drop a small trinket, often a ring. When someone else picked it up, the person who dropped it would pretend they’d seen it first. The person would offer to take their share of the finders fee and let the second person have the trinket. By the time the swindled realized they’d been swindled, the swindler was gone.”

Tom snorts, the sound tinged with a hint of respect.

Millie wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Quite the character, then, this Lady Constantine.”

If only she knew.

Seeing as they were about to pull up to the manor, Millie quickly wrapped up her story. “It passed through a few hands before it came into the Burgess family. Supposedly, the Roderick Burgess now is the same Roderick Burgess who bought back in the early 1900s.”

Tom’s buddy doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t truly seem to care either way. “Probably some grandson taking advantage of their similar name.”

Hob decides not to comment, which is just as well, as the van in coming to a stop and everyone is getting their things together. All of the supplies are situated in the back and waiting to be collected. Each of them have been given a task, with Hob’s leaving him on the first floor, where he is most likely to encounter a study.

As they begin to unload, Hob pulls his cap down a touch further to make it easier to hide his eyes. He’s handed two large vases of flowers as a member of the staff he’s never seen comes up to direct him over to where he’s to set them. Hob subtly watches for anyone that might recognize him and finds himself relieved when the few members of the Order that are out and about in the house are too busy to pay attention to the bustle of the decorators.

The member of the staff leads him to an area further back in the house. Hob forces himself to walk past a seemingly ordinary door he has not seen in the Waking world, but would still recognize anywhere. One of the other doors they pass is ajar and within it, he can see his prize: Burgess’ study.

Burgess’ study, where Roderick Burgess himself is currently talking with another man.

Hob catches sight of Burgess beginning to turn in response to the sound of him and the staff member passing. Shifts the vase, as if getting a better hold on it, which incidentally puts the flowers between his own face and Burgess.

He worries for a moment that this could complicate things, but some deity of luck seems to have taken favor with him today, because he can hear the sound of the two men exiting the study - “They never get the decorations right unless you see to them yourself” - followed shortly by the sound of a door locking.

Hob places the first vase where directed. It’s during the placement of the second one that he ‘accidently’ fails to place it properly. They both manage to save the vase and the flowers are only slightly damaged, but most of the water from the vase is now on Hob and the staff member.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” Hob makes himself fret. “I don’t know what happened. It seemed steady enough.”

The staff member sighs, exasperated, but somehow not surprised. He has clearly dealt with much, much worse in his day. “I’ll get more water for the vase.” He waves a hand down the hall, back the way they came. “There’s a bathroom around the corner, if you want to towel off.”

Hob tilts his hat in thanks. He makes his way back down the hall, waits until the staff member is out of sight, and then steals off in the direction of the study.

He finds the area devoid of staff, decorators, or members of the household. Most everyone is busy with the setting up or are hiding out of the way. Hob glances around, before trying the knob.

It’s locked.

He’s not terribly surprised, having anticipated this could happen. He doesn’t have much need for the kind of skills one gains with banditry or thieving these days, but he’s never let himself forget them. The times was always a-changing and he never knows who he’d need to be in his next life.

It’s almost painfully easy to get the door open. He slips inside without a sound. The room is light with the sunset outside, which gives him enough light for his search. The study is old fashioned, with a stone fireplace, wooden desk and various cabinets and other such oddities he’d expect in a rich man’s home from the 1900s. Few things have been updated over the last century.

He doesn’t see much that screams hiding place for a priceless book, until his eyes lands on a wooden cabinet tucked in the back of the room. It’s a dark wood thing, sturdy, and with a decent lock on it. Without the key or a set of picks, someone would have to make a lot of noise to open the thing.

The lock opens as easily as the study’s for him. Inside, dimly light by the last rays of the sun through the window, he finds a hefty amount of cash, some jewels and other valuables. He ignores them all in favor of- yes. There it is.

Sitting on top is the Liber Fulvarum Paginarum that had given away the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Death herself. From underneath it, he pulls a book, bound in dark leather decorated with gold tooling. It has no name, and he has only seen it once, but he recognizes it.

It’s also a bit heavier than he thought it would be, but not so much he can’t work with it. He’s thankful for the padding, which is only slightly damp from the water, as it makes a good place to hide the book on his person. It’s a bit awkward and won’t hold up to close inspection, but it will do for the short term.

Hob locks up the cabinet. He pauses at the door, listening for voices. When he hears none, he slips out, locking the door as he locked the cabinet. He forces himself to walk as casually as possible down the hall and towards the doors. He’s almost to the door, when he hears: “Excuse me, sir, can you help me with this streamer? Just need a tall person to help set the ends in place.”

Hob almost carries on as if he hasn’t heard, but there a light tap on his shoulder. Heart pounding, He turns enough to see a young woman too nicely dressed to be part of the staff. She must be a guest or one of the permanent members of the household, having come out to help decorate. She’s holding up a streamer in her hands. Beyond her, he can see more decorating one of the sitting rooms.

Hob weights his choices. If he stays, he risks getting caught. If he refuses, it might seem odd. Memorable even. He glances at the door, which is wide open and tauntingly close. Turns back to her and smiles good naturedly. “Maybe with one. I still have other things to bring in.”

Her smile brightens and she ushers him over to where she wants the thing. He’s putting up the other end, when she looks over his shoulder and calls out to someone in the entrance. “Mr. Burgess! Is this how you wanted it?”

Hob freezes, horror turning his blood to ice. His heart skips a beat and he can’t seem to draw any air. He holds absolutely still as the sound of footsteps come up behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck rise up when Burgess comes to a stop behind him.

“Hm.” A long considering pause. “Yes, that will do, Darla.”

‘Darla’ grins, pleased to have done something for the master of the house.

Hob can feel Burgess’ eyes on the back of his head. He doesn’t dare move as the man of the house offers a hand out to Darla, who takes it. Burgess beckons her away, saying, “Let’s leave the decorations to the workers. There’s no need for you to do anything.”

He can hear their footsteps retreating as Darla pouts. “But I wanted to help.”

Burgess hums at her again, placentally. At what might be the doorway, the steps pause. “I apologize for the interruption to your work.” The old man hardly sounds apologetic, and there’s a clear warning in it. “Please, return to your duties.”

Hob manages to rouse himself enough to nod, although he has no clue if it’s seen or not. He doesn’t dare to move until he’s certain that Burgess and Darla are gone. He has to fight to get his breathing under control and knows he absolutely must leave now.

The sun has set outside, casting more than enough shadows to allow Hob to slip away unseen. The man he was to meet with to switch places with meets him once he’s past the line of sight of the tree line. Hob takes off and then hands him the damp shirt and padding he’d been wearing (sans the book), which the man puts on with only a little grimace. He doesn’t need a wig, as he’s already blond. Hob takes fresh shirt and slips it on. Nods to the man as he makes his way out and back into the party preparations.

Hob, himself, makes his way in the opposite direction, towards where a motorcycle has been stashed for him. He doesn’t allow himself to start to relax until he’s miles away from the Manor, and even then, he doesn’t fully relax until he’s locking the door of his flat.

Near gasping, Hob sinks to the floor. He doesn’t care that the mat his sitting on is dirty. He curls himself up, around the book that has caused so much pain and misery. He wants to throw it away from himself. To start a fire and throw it in. For the moment, he simply sits with it until his heart stops hammering and he no longer feels like his breathing through a narrow tube.

When he finally feels a little like himself again, he rises from the doorway. He places his wretched prize in a safe he’s bought to hold his valuables. It’s barely big enough to hold the book, if place in at an angle, and he’s happy to shut the door and have it out of his sight.

Book secured, he goes straight for the brandy. He drinks straight from the bottle, desperately needing something to calm his nerves. Does so until he can feel the edge coming off enough he can stand to go clean up and change. He’s gotten the make up cleaned off and is just putting on a new shirt when his phone pings at him.

There a single message from Viktor that reads: “Set up complete. Now we wait.”

Hob is equal parts too wired and too tired to settle. He still tries to go through his evening routine. He eats something light, not really feeling hungry, but knowing it’s not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, immortal or not. Everything seems to go by in a blur, until he finds himself in bed. He’s got a book in his hand he doesn’t remember picking up and he hasn’t read a line from.

Leans his head back against the pillows propping him up and closes his eyes.

He thinks he won’t sleep until he hears this is over.

He falls asleep, despite his resistance, his exhaustion winning out as it inevitably always does.

Part 15

#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #who is taking a turn as sir not appearing in this film this time #he'll be back in the next part #i need to find more excuses to have him stick around #dreamling #my fic #title: carry you back into the light #i've never written any sort of heist or otherwise #so i have no clue how believable any of this is #just hope this didn't totally suck

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kokomis-writing-pile · 9 months

Text

A Warhammer 40k FanFic

Author's note: This is strictly for fun. I have my Warhammer nerd husband proofread and edit my chapters. It may not be 100% lore accurate but I'm not writing a novel. [Chapter Archive]

Chapter 3: Trouble On Neridus

Recovering from his injuries did not take long as he got used to walking, running, jumping, and every other maneuver under the sun again. Reid had built his strength back up from the ashes of his previous battle and right as rain once more. The soldier was punctual when he was called upon by the sororitas that helped him through it eagerly awaiting his role in the Inquisition. Truthfully, he could not wrap his mind around that even after a couple of weeks. It was as if it were just a dream but no, it was reality.

Making his way to the briefing room, he was met with his new team. There was an ogryn, the massive being towering over everyone scratching his head and ruffling his gray-black mohawk. There were two psykers, one that stayed near the team looking eager to please in a very odd style of clothing and another stood farther from the team leaning on a wall with his arms crossed. He looked exhausted but there was not a soldier in sight that escaped exhaustion. Though it could have been the age catching up with him, he did look older than the others that caught Reid’s eye. Of course, he saw Sister Lyra, the Explicator, and a couple more guardsmen.

“Ah, Reid. Glad you could join us this time. Explicator Renley was about to brief the team,” Lyra called to him as she waved him over.

The guardsman wandered over and stood silently at Lyra’s side at attention. He listened with vigor itching to get back to what he was born to do and serve their God-Emperor but was immediately shot down when he heard what their assignment was.

“Something simple, unfortunately,” Renley started. “We need you to visit one of our allied planets and check on supplies, the people- you know, routine check-in, that sort of thing. Lyra, Reid, Boris, and Viktor, you all will be taking this one. As for the rest of you…”

The Explicator trailed off as the four of them got together and waited to be dismissed. The room had become silent once more and Renley moved everyone on, Reid looked at everyone only knowing Lyra in the group. Not that that was out of the ordinary. Soldiers were quite used to not getting chummy with each other.

“Tiny man recovered well, yes?” the ogryn asked.

Reid nodded. “I suppose I have, yes.”

The older psyker wandered up to them with his hands in his pockets not even giving so much as a hello or introduction. He just wanted to go and be done with it, at least that was what his demeanor said.

Lyra gave Reid a pat on the back leading the team from the briefing room to the hangar in near silence. The only thing coming from any of them was the ogryn, Boris, mumbling to himself no one could understand. It was not until Viktor spoke up telling the brute to quit whatever it was he was doing; that it was annoying. The hangar was not too far from where the briefing room was located on the ship and upon getting there, Lyra was met by her pilot, Moz. They exchanged greetings and loaded up for the ride without another word; straight to the point was Moz’s policy. The ride was long and boring as no one wanted to interact with each other. Viktor kept his eyes closed the whole time, Boris kept looking as if he wanted to have a conversation but would get frustrated before he even had the chance to say anything. Reid and Lyra sat next to each other in silence while she looked over some logs for the inventory they were meant to investigate. Their assignment location was a small agricultural world inhabited by imperial citizens that would often send supplies up to the ship but the shipments had been lacking a bit. It was not uncommon for these things to happen and sending a small group down to check in was not necessarily a bad thing. The people had not sent out a distress call of any sort so it was assumed that they were still functioning.

Once they had reached the planet, they entered the atmosphere and found a place to land close to their desired city. It was more or less rural and less gargantuan buildings given that the majority of the planet was a farm in itself. To have any outlandish architecture would be a waste of ground. Lyra and the team left the ship stepping out into blinding sunlight and warmth. It was a drastic difference from the blood-red skies and dusty winds. The world was a lavish paradise to those who lived and thrived there as trees towered in the sky and fields of green as far as the eye could see, fauna and flora flourishing.

Lyra led the team toward their destination coming across one of the many cities this planet had. It was nothing fancy but it was an intricate network of houses connected by fortified rock walls and that was only the area above ground. Often the houses above ground housed the inventory, tools, and anything else needed for work and storage. Underground was a bustling city. Today, however, a couple of people were tending to some of the stock and had noticed the soldiers approaching. A hesitant warm welcome left the settler’s lips as they got closer.

“Welcome, we didn’t expect a visit today. What honor. How can I assist you, Sister?” an older lady asked, looking up at the woman dressed up to her neck in armor.

“We’ve come to check in with your settlement. Tithes have been a little lackluster as of late and we haven’t received any communication about any issues. Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. I regret to inform you that a lot of our crops have died due to some pests. We are trying our best to accommodate, it’s just proving difficult,” she replied solemnly.

“Pests?” Reid spoke up before seeing Lyra look at him. He went back to being silent before seeing the woman nod.

“Yes, dear. Apparently, our deterrents haven’t been preventing the pests from eating up the crop this year. Nothing we can’t fix for future crops. It’s just…” she trailed off. “We won’t be able to meet the quota this year, I’m afraid.”

“These pests aren’t…” Viktor started.

“Oh, they’re just the fauna here,” she replied, waving her hand. “There’s been a spike in some of them for the past few months.”

Lyra jotted down what she was told and asked if she could wander around the area to take a look for herself which, of course, the old lady allowed. She was not going to say no regardless, but if it eased their suspicions then by all means. Walking around the area, she took a closer look at the plants seeing the damage from small critters. Surely there had to be a bigger reason. Even a spike in the planet’s fauna should not have been enough of a problem to take out so many crops on a grand scale. She jotted the findings down as well. Turning her head, she could see the old lady giving each of the other teammates a plump piece of produce that fit in two hands. She had given the ogryn three.

“Ah, you’re too kind to us,” Viktor finally spoke up as he looked at it in his gloved hands.

“What this?” Boris asked.

“Why, it’s a water sheweatine. A sweet fruit, but we don’t grow much of them. They are usually reserved for nobility,” she answered with a smile.

When Lyra rejoined them, she was handed one as well. She gave a slight bow to the old woman and looked it over for a moment. It was a dark purple and smelt sweet. Taking a small bite, she gave a gentle hum. Its’ inner flesh was a pink color with different sections and its’ juice was certainly tasty. After watching her take a bite, Boris and Viktor did the same and were delighted to have something other than corpse-starch and recaff to hold them over. Boris licked his fingers, juice getting caught in his beard exclaiming that the taste was delicious, fumbling on the word. Viktor had to agree with him on that note. Reid, however, had paused just staring at it contemplating eating it. Turning away, he removed his mask and took a bite. His whole body froze. Lyra and Viktor stared at the soldier as he scarfed down the fruit and looked at his hands.

“R-Reid? You okay, buddy?” Viktor asked, getting closer to him.

Reid sniffled and let his hands fall to his sides. “That was the fraggin’ best tastin’ thing I’ve ‘er eaten,” he choked.

“Are you crying, little man?”

“No! I’ve just. Somethin’ got in my eye, that’s all!”

Lyra and Viktor looked at each other and smiled before the old lady got their attention with a small sack filled with them. “This is for you and your team, Sister. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“Thank you, and no I believe that will be all for now. We’ll send a team down to investigate further. Make sure there’s nothing else causing these issues for you all.”

“Very well. I wish you a blessed day, dears.”

Reid, Lyra, Boris, and Viktor wandered around the area some more, taking note of anything out of the ordinary. There was absolutely nothing from what they could gather but there just had to be something else. Such a large portion of crops would not just die due to a fauna spike, at least that is what Lyra thought. Handing a kit to Viktor, she instructed him to gather a sample of the dirt in which the crops grew, the water nearby, and some of the plants to test back onboard, given that her scanner was not picking up anything abnormal at all. Reid offered to take out a small creature to take back with them too or take a blood sample but Lyra shot that idea down fast. Who knew what would happen if they aggravated the fauna on this planet? She did not want to find out without a full group and did not want to jeopardize the locals. Rounding up the team, they met back up with Moz and headed on their way back to the ship to report their findings. Little did they know, they were being watched by beady yellow eyes.

The trip back was a bit more lively as Lyra had to play keep-away with the gifted fruits all the while listening to Boris talk about how good it was and how he could have “eaten a thousand of them.” There was no doubt about that. It was nice seeing the guys lighten up and let their guard down even if it was over something as small as a treat. They just had to remember to harden up once again before getting back to the ship.

Upon their return, the guys exited the craft first and Lyra followed behind looking over the scans she ran while on the way back. Their return had caught the attention of an engineer who had been working on one of the Valkyries. The man tilted his head as he saw them carrying a sack, the ogryn looking inside licking his lips.

“Hey, big man. Whatcha got there?” he asked, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

Boris looked at the man. “A shovel,” he replied, holding it up, not realizing he was talking about the sack he carried.

The engineer stared at him for a moment and decided he was not going to bother asking again for it was not his place to question. Shrugging, he went back to his work.

As the others began walking off, Lyra froze for a brief moment before telling the others she was going to report her findings and for them to go do something useful all the while looking at her pad. She carried the kit that had the samples and wandered off, the other three watching her. She looked and sounded so serious that they almost wanted to follow her.

“Someone or something is poisoning the water supply,” she thought. “Of course. Time to launch an investigation.”

#warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #death korps of krieg #adepta sororitas #wh40k

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mangoshorthand · 2 years

Text

Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 5 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates) Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

Five has a complex plan to communicate to his siblings...just not to you. Perhaps if he had, he might have been able to do less damage.

Chemical testing below. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter 5: Mess Spectomentator

“-And once it’s through this column, the separated components go through an interface to turn it into something the vacuum in the MS device can deal with. After that it’s through the mass spectrometer and that’s how we detect substances. At that point, I need the software to actually analyze it.”

Luther is clearly lost. Klaus watches with polite, dreamy interest and Viktor’s forehead is wrinkled with concentration Only Sloane looks like she’s following him. Five stands by the blackboard still frozen in a gesticulation towards his ridiculous diagram.

“How long does it take”, asks Viktor, clearly not sure if this is the right question.

“If I were a real chemist- probably a two month study- but I don’t have that time and this is just a pilot- a primer to get public attention. If I had the solvents at home I can probably knock myself up the HPLC device with all of Dad’s old shit, but maybe not the mass spectrometer…”

“Uncle Viktor!”

Five is gone when you wake up. No morning training today, apparently. You shower, dress, put on makeup and still see no sign of him. Downstairs, you stick your head round Santi’s bedroom door. He’s still asleep. Five has usually got him up for school by now. You gently wake him.

“Where’s Uncle Five?” he yawns.

“He must be making breakfast, come on buddy, let’s get dressed.”

You help him choose an outfit for school that’s partway appropriate, vetoing his initial choice of Bermuda shorts and dress-shoes.

Together you head downstairs, hearing voices from the living room.

“Uncle Viktor!” gasps Santi, recognising his voice. He runs through the living room doors and you follow.

It’s more than Uncle Viktor: he, Klaus, Luther and Sloane sit on one of the sofas. Five is standing before them, clearly paused in the act of explaining something to them.

On a blackboard beside him is an incomprehensible diagram drawn with coloured chalk. Arrows attach a crudely-drawn jerrycan to a complex machine upon which two bottles stand. The output of this first machine filters into one arrow, flowing into a box full of what looks like test tubes. SAMPLES is scrawled next to these. The arrow then follows on from a vertical tube (labeled HPLC) to a horizontal one, by which is scrawled something that looks like MESS SPECTOMENTATOR. Finally, the arrow leads to a box reading DETECTION/ANALYSIS.

When you enter, Five is still pointing his chalk at the ‘mess spectomentator’, but he hastily drops his arm. Santi receives quick hugs from all while you address the adults.

“Hey, you guys are here early." you turn to Five, “I didn’t know Santi needed getting up.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I can see that. Is this about the soda?”

He nods but doesn’t elaborate. He looks at you and jerks his head a little. A dismissal: Once you’re gone, I can continue.

His brothers and sister-in-law notice his attitude. You see Klaus look from you to him and Sloane shifts uncomfortably. When you don’t obey his looks, he says:

“Can you get Santi breakfast and walk him to the bus stop for me today?”

You know you’re being dismissed, but you don’t have to like it.

“Yeah.” You say, stiffly, “Catch me up later, ok?”

“I’ll tell you what’s necessary.”

His tone makes it clear that this won’t be much.

“Ok”, you respond.

You’d given him an out that allowed you to retain at least some dignity in front of his siblings, (some sort of illusion of equality). You're good enough to suck his dick but not to tell his plans? You feel absolutely no guilt in being passive aggressive now. Fuck him.

"I’ll just keep my eye on the domestic matters and then I'll sit by the door waiting for you to get home. Like a faithful labrador, yeah?"

The sting lands. You see the darkness flash in his eyes as he remembers your comments on the night of your fight. He's hurt and angry. And you're glad.

Smiling at him sarcastically, you summon Santi with an outstretched hand and leave the living room.

Klaus makes a noise of mock-horror.

“Oooooh you’re in trou-ble.”

Five exhales, “I’m used to it.”

“Maybe be less of an asshole then?” Luther mutters, just as Klaus says:

“Oooh! Are you doing the whole,” (he puts on a staccato Christian-Bale-batman voice) “‘Uhhhhh you don’t understand the burden of my power. I was in the apocalypse forever and nobody understaaaands- thing? I love that look on you!”

“No,” says Five, clearly annoyed but keeping his voice in check, “I’m doing the: Don’t want to drug myself to stay awake for several days -thing.”

Klaus smiles and gestures as if Five agreed with him.

“Exactly!”

Five ignores this and turns back to the group, his forbidding tone clearly conveying that the interruption is over.

“Up until the detection phase, the process takes an hour at most but that’s where it slows down. I need the proper software and it could take hours to produce the chromatograms. Once I have those it's a matter of interpreting them and then cross-referencing them with the compounds that are actually listed on the ingredients list.”

He puts his hands in his pockets, brow furrowed, and stares contemplatively at the diagram.

Luther, not entirely sure he’s getting this, ventures a question:

“Where can you access the software and get the…chrom-to-grams?”

“I was thinking the Chemistry department at the college. I’m going to have to break in.”

“Ooh, I’m coming!” says Klaus, eyes aglow.

“No,” says Five “I don’t need someone trying to smoke anything not nailed down.”

“But you never did any of this before, right? What if there’s some old ghostie chemist dude we can pump for information?”

This is revelatory to Five.

“That’s…actually not a bad idea…”

He considers and then discounts it.

“But I’m banking on getting in by stealth. I have the advantage of at least looking like a student.”

Before Klaus can protest to this implied slight, Sloane speaks for the first time:

“I don’t understand why you’re talking about building a device when you’ve got to be in the college lab for hours anyway. Why not just use theirs? Won’t it all be hooked up together anyway?”

Five points at her, “True. I'm overcomplicating it. What’s eight hours instead of seven?"

He exhales and sags a little, hips canting backwards and foot tapping as he thinks.

"So this meeting is more of a…reconnaissance thing?” His hands dart into his pockets again, “Has anybody got any contacts at the college?”

They all turn to Viktor, the only one of them who had been to college.

“There wasn’t exactly much need for a chemistry department at the School of Music.”

“Okay. So, I’m just going to have to go in blind. I’ll do what research I can about the building layout, but I go in tonight.”

“Can’t you just…blink right in?” asks Sloane.

“Not when I can’t see where I’m going. I don’t know the rooms well enough.”

“What do you need from us?” asks Luther

“To be honest, I just wanted to run it past you. I didn't want to go maverick and not keep you guys informed. If anything happens, you’ll know why and you’ll be able to pick up where I left off.”

Five did not tell you the necessary. Unless you count a hastily scrawled note stuck to the front door before you took Santi to the bus stop.

The asshole.

Now, with Santi asleep, you and Klaus are sitting in the living room sharing a couple of drinks. He’s so understanding, so good-humored and so effortlessly beguiling that you forget he’s Five’s brother. Though you tried not to confide in him and tried not to cry, it had happened anyway.

He looks over at the now-erased blackboard and lays his head back on the sofa.

“He’s a prick.”

You nod.

“What’s he doing?”

Klaus waves an airy hand.

“Chemistry stuff. Dressing as a student, breaking into Colombia's labs and doing experiments on two cans of JUICED. One from the school, one from the store. He's trying to work out whether there are funky ingredients in there that aren’t on the label- you know, the sort of thing that might cause kids to sprout tumors. Then he's maybe going to a frat party for all I know.”

“Why couldn’t he tell me that?”

“Because he’s a prick.”

You raise your hands in a gesture of angry disbelief, “I have a friend who’s a PhD chemist there!”

Klaus breaks into giggles “Oh that’s too perfect. That asshole’s probably staking out, stealing keys and you could have got him in fine all along. He really is a prick.”

When he calms down, he becomes uncharacteristically serious:

"You know it's because he loves you, right?"

"Of course," you reply, laying your head back too, "I just wish he didn't show it by being so...patronizing."

"He used to be the same with me. When I was 'over-medicating',” he air-quotes, "He kinda still is. He can be mean. It's how he deals with wanting to protect someone he thinks is..." he trails off.

"...A liability?" you finish for him.

"Yeeeah."

He turns to look at you and his eyes fill with sympathy. Then, tenderly he asks:

"You wanna go take a shit in his underwear drawer?"

You laugh for the first time in a while.

"Y'know Klaus, if we didn't share an underwear drawer, I might take you up on that."

Klaus clasps both hands to his heart.

"You share an underwear drawer? Awh! That is too sweet... And it's so convenient for his panty-stealing thing!"

You both enjoy the hilarity for a few moments, you unsure how he knows about the pair of panties Five had 'liberated' from your apartment that time. Then a thought seems to strike him and his eyes glint with more mischief.

“Did you see the papers today? I usually don't but I saw the headline and I had to get it.”

“No.”

He jogs from the room and returns with a newspaper which he throws onto your lap.

“They’re all like this, but I think this one got his good side.”

'UMBRELLA ACADEMY: MYSTERY MAN IMPERSONATES MISSING MEMBER,' screams the headline.

Beneath this is a picture of Five, looking surly, captioned: 'The public is warned to approach with caution: the man claiming to be Number Five, spotted in a Manhattan bar'

You look up at Klaus and he nods towards the article itself:

'NEW YORK- A man claiming to be the Umbrella Academy's lost Number Five has shown 'disruptive and antisocial behavior in a recent incident at Holbrook elementary school A witness claims that a young man disrupted a meeting held by the school's principal to inform parents about student support measures. "He was crazy," says David Wilson, father of a third-grader, "[he was] talking about pedophilia in the Catholic church, getting my kids tested for all kinds of illnesses. I think he's one of those flat earth nuts. He certainly said the name Hargreeves to me." Reports suggest that the unknown man attended the meeting at Holbrook Elementary and caused disruption with 'unhinged' behavior. A source close to the Hargreeves family has confirmed that this man has been seen entering and leaving their New York City-based compound, but no verified members of the now-disbanded Academy have been reached for comment...'

You've read enough and look up at Klaus.

"What the hell is this doing on the front page?"

He shrugs. You furrow your brow and look back at the paper.

“You think this is the soda company?”

“I guess so." says Klaus, "Looks like they got their tentacles in a lot of pies. It shows he’s at least onto something while being an asshole.”

Luckily for Five, the plans and blueprints of the chemistry building had been available via public access. Even more luckily for his purposes, the specifications had to be detailed due to the nature of the experiments that needed to take place there.

He sat in the library poring over these until he knew them by heart. He was hoping to simply hide in plain sight and be a student doing an experiment. He had been to a convenience store on the way to the college, grabbing himself a second can of JUICED.

It was easy getting into the lab. All he had to do was lurk until he could follow someone in, walking with the confidence of someone who knew where he was going and had, of course, been here many times. Now he knew the floorplan well, he could have blinked in, but didn’t want to startle any unsuspecting students. Staying under the radar for now, at least, was paramount.

Instead, he kept close behind a scholarly-looking girl as she used her swipe card, simultaneously trying not to spook her by getting too close. As they stepped into the elevator together, she looked him up and down.

He had changed into a pair of Viktor’s jeans and a flannel shirt open over a t-shirt. He carried a backpack containing the two cans (provenance labeled). He feels awkward, as usual, but the outfit helps him to look the part. Or at least more like the part.

“Hey,” says the girl.

“Hi.”

He nods a little tersely, placing his hands into the jean pockets. He tries not to engage in conversation but she’s inconveniently loquacious.

“I’ve not seen anyone else in the labs at this time of year.”

This is great news for getting in and out undetected, but the fact that she’s taking such an interest is inconvenient.

Who’s your supervisor?”

“Professor Kaufman,” he says, his cursory faculty research allowing him to choose a plausible name.

“Cool. I’m under Doctor Evans.” He nods as if he knows who she’s talking about beyond a name printed in the department prospectus.

The elevator reaches the right floor and he’s thankful to be leaving her presence, although he knows from his research that they will likely be going the same way. He follows her into a PPE room, where they both don protective equipment. Inconveniently, she continues chatting to him.

"I'm Sarah, by the way."

She gives him a small, cheery wave.

"Nice to meet you Sarah.”

It's all he intends to say but she smiles at him expectantly until the awkwardness gets to him.

"I'm Kieran,” he says.

He has no idea why he chooses this. Though, while he thinks this, he realizes it wasn’t entirely random. It was one of the names Grace gave him to choose from when he was young: Kieran, Michael, Shane, Daniel, or James. All were common in Ireland, his birth country, but he’d never connected with any of them.

He sidelines the memory and hurries on.

"The HPLC is down the hall and to the right, right?”

“Um- I think so.”

“Thanks.”

Now he sits in front of the computer screen as the machine hums and purrs with his two sets of samples. He brought Persuasion with him to pass the time but he hasn’t yet touched it. It’s coming time for the long detection and analysis phase and he didn’t think about logins. Logins! So simple but so frustrating. He's tried all the tricks he knows, but he simply doesn't have the requisite knowledge of the college intranet. He drums his gloved fingers on the work surface.

His mind revolves to the only solution.

He pops his head around the door of the neighboring lab-space, wishing the PPE had pockets he could put his hands into.

“Hi again Sarah”

“Hey Kieran”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I’m a transfer here from University of Chicago and the IT guys never really got my login to work. It's a real pain in the ass. I can’t login to the computer to analyze my results…could I maybe borrow your login?”

He gives her his fake, shark-like smile and she eyes him suspiciously. She's too clever for her own good.

“I’d- if you don’t mind, I’d rather not.”

“It’s just,” he tries, “it took me so long to prepare my samples. They’re in the machine now and they’ll be wasted if I can’t produce output.”

“I can find you the number of the IT desk if you like?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to give me the login- I’d ask you to type it in.”

“Still…”

Five sighs. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but, since it has, he may as well turn it to his advantage.

When Sarah comes round, face down, Five is bending over her. He has her arms and legs tied together and behind her with wires he’s pulled from lab equipment in the room she was in.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says to her struggling, terrified figure, speaking as if he’s accidentally nicked her car in a parking lot, “I don’t want to hurt you but I really am going to need those logins.”

Her cries would be noisy but for the gag he fashioned from the flannel shirt extracted from beneath his PPE. He gives her a while to calm down, trying not to show any impatience.

She tries to talk, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Promise to be quiet?” he asks. She nods vigorously and he loosens his shirt.

She doesn’t even attempt to dissemble, telling him her login without him having to ask again, tears streaming all-but silently down her face. Once he’s in, he opens the software and sets it to analyze the output of the spectrometer. Thankfully, the machine he’s using is fairly intuitive to the impression he’s gained from research and a little prior knowledge.

“Can…can I go now?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. I’m going to have to keep you here for a few hours. I may need your help interpreting the output once I’m done.”

“Please!” she seems to cast around, desperate for an out, “I-it's not a specialism of mine!”

“It's identifying compounds. You could do it in your sleep. Hell, I could probably do it in my sleep but I want another opinion. I just want to cross reference them with an ingredients list to identify anything that shouldn’t be in there. In one or both of the cans I'm using.”

He tries to give her a friendly smile, but it doesn't have the desired effect. She sobs a little, but not loudly enough to make him reattach the gag.

While the software does its thing, he picks up Persuasion and begins to read.

After nearly two hours, he notices her shifting. His eyes dart upwards from the book, suspicious that she’s attempting to escape her bonds, but she’s just uncomfortable having been in the unnatural position for too long.

He marks his page, jumps down off the work surface he’s perched on and pulls over a sturdy lab stool.

“Let me fix that.”

She shrinks from him as he bends over, but he ignores this, loosening the wires so that she can move her legs. He pulls her upwards and lifts her onto the stool as gently as he can. He leans her against the work surface so she doesn’t topple over and then reties her ankles to the stool’s legs and her wrists behind her back.

“Better?”

“Yes.” She whispers.

She looks terrified. He doesn’t like to see this. He regrets that he’s probably giving this bright young academic the crowning trauma of her short life. He sighs.

“Sarah, I promise you I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. In case you haven't guessed, I'm not a student. I think the soda I’m testing is giving children brain tumors. Four so far. ”

She doesn’t reply, starting to cry a little again.

“Just a few more hours,” he says, picking up his book again.

At hour four, her stomach rumbles. He reaches into his backpack, which makes her panic until she sees he's only holding a party size pack of Ruffles. These, he shares with her silently, freeing one of her hands. He makes sure that she has over half the pack, (it only seems fair given the circumstances). Afterwards, he pours her coffee from his Thermos too.

When at last the software is ready to produce output, he drags her beside him, both hands retied, being careful to support her on the stool.

“So: here’s our ingredient list and here’s our two sets of output. Some of these are easy to check off and are in both cans.”

They work through it together; Sarah co-operating better than he could have hoped. At last, they have identified all the ingredients save one, present only in the sample he gathered from Holbrook Elementary.

“So…what is it?” says Five, squinting at the screen, “This must be the thing I’m looking for.”

Sarah leans forward, “I think…it should be pretty accurate but I think the software has…guessed. Like it can't recognise the compound. It's indicating ethylmethane but that error margin is huge."

“What can you tell me about ethylemethane?”

“Erm…I think…I think...if we're talking cancer then...it's a mutagen.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

Masterpost Alternatively, join me on AO3. Here is a link to the whole series

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cvrsedslytherin · 3 months

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All My Woes || Sebastian Sallow

Chapter Two — Getting to know you

“Go on then you two, I’ve got papers to do now.” Viktor sauntered back to his chair to get to work and Sebastian motioned to her.

“Shall we begin the amazing tour?” He teased slightly and her eyebrows raised a little. “And maybe you can tell me more about yourself along the way.”

“Amazing huh? We shall then. ” Lilith softly replied as they walked out together, “as for more about myself? Not much to tell. How about we trade though? I can’t be the only one talking about myself.”

“Ha, fair enough, of course. How about the basics… I’m assuming you weren’t born in America?” He questioned gently while sharply watching down on her as they started walking through the hall.

She looked forward and slightly around as they walked, taking in the place as it was all new to her. Plus with her short height, it would be hard to constantly keep her head craned up to look directly at his face.

“And how did you figure that out?” She said.

He shrugged, “honestly, your features upon further inspection. You don’t really look American. Only sound so but a hint of an accent has slipped out already. Plus… you went to Ilvermorny then finished at Durmstrang. I take it, you may be Eastern European?”

That got her to crane her head up to look at him as they continued walking. When she saw he had already been looking at her, she felt a bit strange or …something else. She was surprised though and he smirked. He kept going, “I take it, I’m correct. You’re Eastern European.”

That smirk.

That smirk made her feel a slight hint of a twist in her tummy. One she couldn’t quite understand yet.

She cleared her throat, “yes. Your observation skills are quite something… you pay attention, don’t you? I am Eastern European. I moved to America at a young age.”

“Why did you move?” He looked intrigued.

She shrugged, “my country has a history of bloodshed plus for personal reasons, just wasn’t the best place to grow up.”

He was curious but knew boundaries. He nodded, sensing maybe a sore topic, “didn’t mean to press. I hope America was nice… don’t know much of it.”

“Can’t say America was so wonderful but Ilvermorny was a decent experience… though it lacked some challenge for me.” She replied, looking back on the path. This place seemed to be huge. The hallway felt never-ending and only doors to other offices have appeared.

“You’re Scottish… by the way?” She asked, hearing the slight accent when he spoke at times.

He frowned a little when she said that America wasn’t so wonderful; her answers were slightly vague but he was glad she somewhat enjoyed schooling.

“Is that why you ended up in Durmstrang? And indeed, I’m Scottish. I come from Feldcroft originally, ’s small wizard hamlet in the Highlands of Scotland. Close to Hogwarts.”

“Is Feldcroft cozy?” She genuinely asked before continuing to reply more, “hm, sort of? I always planned to come back to Europe eventually and Durmstrang was considered one of the best schools. I was curious about Hogwarts though. Heard a lot of stories.”

They had almost lost track of the area from the conversation; Sebastian realized his office door was close by and soon, they made it there.

“Ah wait, here.” He opened the door once he stepped in front of it and gestured her to come in. He had books upon books stacked in so many places… papers with notes, etc. Artifacts also seemed to be collected by him. She couldn’t help but look around.

“This is going to be our office now that we’re partners, though we’ll rarely ever use it since our job requires lots of travel. The second desk and chair should arrive later today.” She nodded at his answer.

“And to answer you from before, Feldcroft was cozy… yes.” He sounded slightly sad saying that last sentence and she noticed, snapping her head back towards him but he quickly recovered before she could question it. She got the message.

“Hogwarts was definitely something. A castle full of secrets… I think all of us who went enjoyed it. Though I bet it’s nothing compared to Durmstrang.” He walked to his desk to rummage through the cabinets, mostly to distract himself from staring into her soul. It was hard to keep his eyes off her and he didn’t want to come off as an accidental creep. He wanted her comfortable.

And he wanted to keep his sanity because the more he listened to her voice and watched her graceful beauty, he felt like a teenager all over again. Wanting to smack himself.

‘Calm down, Sebastian… she’s just a woman. Albeit, a beautiful and seemingly intelligent one— who’s making me feel… things and why does it feel so nice talking to her already… damn, no, focus!’

She noticed him go to rummage and didn’t think much of it, she went back to glancing at all his books and walking near some shelves, inspecting all he had.

“I assume Hogwarts is quite the experience too. Durmstrang was just a tough school… I’m sure you know it’s rigid and harsh. Probably a very controversial school too, considering what we learn.” She paused for a moment and decided to share a little more, “I think I would have liked Hogwarts actually. Sometimes I really wish I could have went there instead.” The words just felt like coming out on their own and she mildly regretted blurting that little bit out.

His eyebrows raised at that, looking at her now and how she sounded; he was starting to feel some sort of kindred spirit vibe with her. Her tone and all… she also had things perhaps bothering her as well? As if she’s been through stuff. Though she was covering it up well but Sebastian felt it. He wanted to know why she didn’t go to Hogwarts then… why Durmstrang and was Durmstrang a bad experience?

Then he also noticed the way she was eyeing certain books of his. He made a mental note to remember that little detail in the future.

“What were you in Ilvermorny?” He wanted to make the topic light despite his curiosity. He knew now was not the time. That would come later. He did want to know this too. It worked out.

She paused scanning his books and turned to look back, she smiled. “You probably think Horned Serpent or Pukwudgie, right?”

He sheepishly smiled a bit, he knew what Ilvermorny houses were the Hogwarts equivalent. “Maybe… I admit. Horned Serpent is what I was leaning towards at first but I know there’s more to you. I can sense it… so, was it Thunderbird?”

She grinned a little as well, “yes. Thunderbird. I believe that would be the equivalent to Slytherin? And I’m going on a limb here to assume, you must have been a Slytherin?”

“Ha! Indeed I was a Slytherin and look at you, a fellow would-be snake. I think we would have been good friends at Hogwarts. Two unstoppable Slytherins.” His gaze grew a bit soft as he really enjoyed talking to her. It had been too long since someone gave him this feeling & slight giddiness.

She almost blushed but didn’t, her grin had grown though. “Oh yeah? What makes you think that?” She stepped closer to his desk.

He had to fight the urge to not rake his eyes all over her when she walked closer to him. He trained his eyes to focus on hers. He shrugged, “Just a feeling, really. Disagree?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t. Internally, she had started feeling a similar vibe to Sebastian as he did with her. She got a sense about him though it was confusing and shocking her secretly. She barely knew him yet it feels like she kind of did know him already.

“No… I think, maybe… that would have been the case. Perhaps, I’ll be more sure of it when we start working together.” She added that in, to not sound too open. After all, this was the first meeting. Although he seemed to have no problem letting these little thoughts out.

“I see…” He suddenly had a small smile to himself, “we will definitely see. But I’m already certain, we’ll make a great team.”

Before she could respond to that, he took out a book that had clearly been used and moved around his desk to step in front of her directly, handing it over.

He ignored how small she looked when he got this close; ignored the twisting little feeling in his stomach as if butterflies started fluttering in.

“Here. Since you’ll head straight to working on missions with me… I assume you might have already done some training prior? But this is a guide with my notes, just in case. You can have it. Not saying you won’t know anything but I figured, maybe it’ll help at times.”

She brightened up that; clearly appreciating his thoughtfulness. “No, it’s fine. I know you’re not downsizing me. Thank you, Sebastian. I did do some prior training but I know there will be on-the-job training too that I need. I’m sure this will be useful.” She carefully grabbed the book he held; their hands almost brushed which caused both of them to notice & play it off.

Though he wished… he could feel that hand again for a moment.

He liked that look on her right now. The way she understood him quickly & appreciated it. He nodded, “of course! Anything to help along the way.”

He continued, “shall we get on with the rest of the tour for this place? Hopefully by then, your desk will have arrived & we can get you all set up.”

“Yes, good plan. Let’s get back to it then.”

And so, the tour continued. Although he had a bit of a hard time not staring at her while he explained and showed her things. She was focusing so well on it all… but in his mind, all he could focus on was her.

He doesn’t know how he got through the tour not stumbling over and accidentally blurting out a thought. But he did it and her desk had come and it was moved directly across from his. The office was quite big, fits two working people.

‘But Merlin… having her across from me… on the very rare days we’ll be here and not traveling. I can handle that, right? I just met her. I’m not some thirsty schoolboy.’

He gave her a glance as she sorted her desk… feeling a small knot in his throat.

‘What is wrong with you, Sebastian… you just met her! Relax!’

She perked her head up and caught his glance. He cleared his throat (probably for the hundredth time today) & quickly spoke, “everything going well? Need help organizing?”

She didn’t think anything of his glance when he spoke, “everything’s fine. Not much to sort but thanks.”

She thought he was a gentleman.

He certainly was one though.

Especially for her.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

It’s starting slow… apologies 😅

Click here for chapter links!

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x original female character #sebastian sallow x oc #hogwarts legacy original female character #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #slytherin #fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #writeblr #romance #fiction

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triptychgrip · 3 months

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Yuuri and Tohru: Main characters who don't fully grasp their profound ability to be forces of change/inspiration

This isn't the first (and won't be the last) time that I draw connections between my two favorite anime, but upon my recent rewatch of the 2019 Fruits Basket reboot, I was once again struck by a major similarity between Katsuki Yuuri of Yuri!!! on Ice, and Honda Tohru of Fruits Basket.

While we don't see Tohru struggle with anxiety in the same manner that Yuuri does -- though, we do see her grow anxious/overwhelmed several times in the manga and the anime -- Tohru, like Yuuri definitely suffers from self-esteem and self perception issues. While it might be easy to pass off her repeated underminement of how special she is as mere humility, there are several instances in which we see that she truly does not realize her effect upon those around her, and can't quite grasp the positive light in which other people see her.

In this way, she reminds me a lot of Yuuri: the top Men's Singles figure skater in Japan, yet someone who often refers to himself as a "a-dime-a-dozen". In his first ever Grand Prix Final, Yuuri comes in last place, but, at least from his internal monologue, we never hear him acknowledge what an amazing accomplishment it was to even make it to such a selective competition in the first place (for those unaware, only 6 skaters are eligible to compete in the December Grand Prix Final: the culmination of a series of fall skating events known as the Grand Prix series).

Yuuri is a textbook unreliable narrator, and in the first few episodes of Yuri!!! on Ice, there are many times when we get a glimpse into how he perceives himself during his career slump. When Yuri Plisetsky arrives in Hasetsu, we get the sense that Yuuri believes a vast "chasm" in skill exists between himself and his younger peer, which is why it always makes me emotional when I think of the beachside "Viktor Nikiforov is dead!" encounter between Yuri and Viktor.

After Yuri stalks off like the dramatic (and lovable) little gremlin we all know him to be, Viktor's internal monologue notes how much of an impact Yuuri has had not only on him, but on Yuri, too. He notes that Yuri wouldn't be so motivated to "fight" (i.e. compete at his best during his Senior debut season) without Yuuri's drive. And he's already noted how much "life and love" Yuuri has brought to his own life. In this moment, we see so clearly that Viktor is able to perceive Yuuri as the hugely profound (and inspirational) force of change that he really is.

While there are many moments from Fruits Basket that I think illustrate a similar kind of parallel -- one where someone other than Tohru is able to "read" her in the way she deserves -- the moment that most readily comes to mind is the one from Season 2, specifically, the episode in which Tohru and the Sohmas are at the beach during their summer getaway to stay at the Sohma vacation house, and about to set off the (huge) collection of fireworks that Momiji bought.

Yuki makes the comment that before Tohru, the Sohmas didn't really get together to spend time "like this", and we see a shot of them all clustered together, laughing and enjoying one another's company.

Think about how ironic Yuki's statement is, though: in a family united by the zodiac "curse", and one where its members are all supposed to be spending time at an "eternal banquet" -- only looking to one another in the insular fashion that Akito demands -- Yuki notes that until Tohru, they really didn't spend time together. In more ways than one, she is a profound force of change, causing the Sohmas to break free of the isolation that the zodiac curse emprisons them in.

And, of course, given her nature, she isn't even able to see how much of an influence she has until later. I love this parallel arc for both Yuuri and Tohru, where by the end of canon, they are able to grasp (maybe not fully, but at least more than before) how deep an impact they have on those around them, thus forming a clearer (and more affirming) picture of themselves as the sources of inspiration they really are. It's an idea I'm really excited to explore in my YOI x Fruits Basket crossover!

#fruits basket #furuba #yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #fruits basket meta #yuri on ice meta #tohru honda #yuuri katsuki #honda tohru #katsuki yuuri

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mortal-song · 2 years

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the relationship between superpowers and trauma + healing in the umbrella academy

in the umbrella academy, each characters’ relationship with their trauma and healing is intrinsically linked to the nature of their powers. their powers start out as a representation of pieces of their own trauma and fears, and every time they learn to heal themselves, they gain not only a sense of personal autonomy, but control and autonomy over their powers as well.

so let’s start by talking about each of the umbrellas + lila, and what the relationships between their powers and trauma were before they began to heal.

luther has long dealt with feelings of inadequacy, the fear of being “weak,” of not being enough. after his transformation was forced upon his body, it was almost as if a spotlight was being placed on his weakness, and so he’d hide himself, cover his body up, and when hiding didn’t work, he’d instead make himself loud, make himself something to be intimidated by and listened to so that no one would see the fragility within him. despite his fear of being perceived as weak, his power is strength and enhanced resilience. (his own powers probably felt like a mockery when he felt as if he was anything but strong and resilient.)

then we have diego. his trauma is rooted within feelings of being out of control, and to deal with that, he became a self-proclaimed “lone wolf” -- independent to a fault, shut himself within a cold and sturdy exterior, never letting himself get too close to anybody. people are unpredictable, and if he can’t control the people around him, he’ll suffice for controlling his environment instead. and his power is trajectory manipulation, something that literally allows him to control the objects around him.

allison, you could say, is diego’s inverse in this respect. she also fears being out of control, because her environment growing up was so tumultuous. unlike diego, she focused her energy more on herself and the people around her rather than her environment alone. she made herself palatable to others, caring, loving, sturdy -- made herself into all of the things other people could adore, and then when she wasn’t, she forced it onto people. if she can’t change her environment, then she’d change the people around her, and that’s exactly what her power -- mental manipulation -- allows her to do. in season 3, after new traumas had shaken her, she’d learned her powers’ greater extent and stopped hiding herself behind the prettier side of them, allowed them to be controlled by her rage and grief alone.

klaus’s power allows him to commune with/conjure the dead and also traverse the afterlife. but he fears his own past, his own experiences, so for a long time he drowned them out in whatever ways he could, especially through drugs. he once said himself that his “demons are literal,” and he was right. he is literally haunted by the ghosts of his past and his fears, and the worse his mindset is, the more the ghosts have power over him.

five’s power is time travel and space manipulation. but his trauma is rooted in isolation, and always feeling “out of time.” he’s constantly up in a battle against time, trying to save himself and those he loves before it’s too late. and before that, he was stuck in an apocalypse, lost and alone with no feasible way out for decades on end. his physical body is stuck at the age he was when his trauma reared its head, and now he is somebody who both grew up too fast, and was never able to grow up at all.

ben is a little different. we have two different versions of him, and neither version really got to heal. umbrella ben was tied to klaus in death, and there’s only so much you can do when you’re in a position like that. that being said, ben’s power relates to “the horror,” a beast inside of him that only he has the power to control. umbrella ben, of course, was terrified of this power. as a child, this fear turned him into someone passive, isolated, the “invisible child” next to viktor. this became literal after he died and no one but klaus could see him. sparrow ben, however, had a different relationship with this experience. he may have felt “invisible,” never good enough to be number one, so like luther, he made himself loud and boisterous, and instead of fearing his power, he tuned himself into it so that he could be admired.

viktor’s power is essentially converting sound waves into energy. his trauma stems from growing up ignored, never seen and never heard, never valued. but his powers are big. he was never seen growing up, so once he realized his powers, he made sure no one could look away. it’s sort of similar to how luther was, but whereas luther did something similar to cover up his own self-perceived weakness, viktor did it to prove he was never weak, to prove that never seeing him was a mistake. where luther knew he’d be seen either way, so he may as well make himself intimidating, viktor thought that he could ONLY be seen if he was something to fear, and so at his worst moment he utilized enough power to end the world he was in.

lila has the ability to mimic other people’s powers, and her trauma is rooted in being used and manipulated by the one person who was supposed to love her. similar to diego, she became a lone wolf, not necessarily because she wanted to be, but because, like five, she needed to be. there was something fragile inside of her, something lost and afraid, so she did everything she could to fit into a world she felt she had no place in -- mimic other people’s ways of being so she could try to find her own. after meeting the umbrellas, she used their own powers against them for her own self-preservation, and even then, it was only because she was manipulated into it. an unhealed lila can utilize her powers to use and manipulate others the same way she was.

in unhealed versions of every sibling, their relationship with their powers is just as tumultuous as the relationship they have with themselves. some of them fear their powers, some of them use their powers for self-serving reasons, some of them make their powers loud and in-your-face to cover up the weaknesses they think they have, etc... the ways they deal with their own pains are related to the very nature of their powers.

things change when they begin learning to heal, however. this became apparent especially in seasons 2 and 3. season 2 saw the siblings taken away from the place their trauma began -- the academy. for lila, we saw her with others who are like her for the first time. this was the catalyst to their healing journeys.

we saw luther working for jack ruby, and while he was still searching for approval in men old enough to be his father, he was learning self-acceptance. we saw him wearing less sleeves and using his power to his own advantage in circumstances where it wasn’t necessary, but allowed. we saw him drop his intimidation tactics and switch them out for tenderness. he apologized to viktor, he started working with diego, and at the end of s2 he used his strength to protect his siblings. by s3 he’d fully embraced this, he was openly affectionate with his siblings, understanding that carefulness and tenderness did not make him weak at all. he also, for the most part, refused to let reginald control and manipulate him, and was able to even see most of said manipulation tactics for what they were, and his own newfound self-respect never wavered in spite of it all. he was becoming strong and resilient in every sense of the word now.

in season 2 diego was still trying to find his footing and his own place in the world, trying to find control in places that were impossible -- he set his mind on saving JFK, because while the feat was nearly impossible, achieving it would have been -- in his mind -- the ultimate realization of control. like luther, however, he also began opening himself up to his siblings more, and to lila, as well. whereas before he would have been too afraid to hold a serious relationship in both hands, he allowed himself to be vulnerable with lila, even knowing that she may break his trust. we saw him use his powers a little less (holding a knife toward viktor before putting it down), and when he did use them at the end of s2, it was to change the trajectory of bullets that surely would have killed him or his siblings. by s3 he had reached a place where he learned he didn’t have to hold control over every aspect of his life to feel safe, and in turn, he was only using his powers when necessary. he had relinquished control and let things come as they are, choosing to deal with problems head-on. he wasn’t perfect, he had his moments, but he’d come a long way from the diego we knew in season 1.

allison was a little different. we saw her trying to heal in s2, and she made a lot of progress. she was now using her voice alone to make a change, not the rumor within her voice. she was searching for everything she had to offer, despite being in an environment where her superpower could have done a lot. she was becoming self-assured and learning & earning genuine love for the first time. she was still in a very traumatizing place, however, so in s3 she had taken some (understandable) steps back, and will have to begin healing again. that being said, allison’s relationship with her powers is much different in a healing version of her. due to the innate malicious nature of her powers (this isn’t to say she is inherently malicious -- she isn’t. but the nature of her powers are, and always will be), a healed allison wouldn’t have autonomy with her powers like the rest of them, but rather she’d have autonomy despite her powers. a healed allison will always have the potential to control anybody she wants, and would fight the urge, choosing to instead seek understanding within herself and the people around her. she’d realize that she can use her powers whenever she wants, and would still choose not to, unless absolutely necessary. a healing allison would also be able to properly discern whether or not the use of her powers is necessary or not.

for most of klaus’s time in dallas, he was sober. however, he was still indulging in escapist behaviors, doing things to keep him from addressing his fears and issues. he was trying to find control in every area of his personal life (the cult, keeping ben away from everybody). he didn’t make a lot of progress until season 3. when he did, however, it was substantial. in season 3 we saw him looking inward. his powers have always been a much more literal depiction of his trauma + healing journey than the rest of the siblings, and so as he learned and accepted more about himself, he was able to banish the ghosts for the first time (this also tells me that maybe it was never the drugs alone that kept the ghosts away, but rather his mindset on the drugs, but that’s another conversation). as he gained more autonomy over himself and came to terms with his past, he was able to more freely traverse the afterlife, and it grew to be more colorful each time he did, and by the end it was saturated in color rather than just black and white. he used his ability to die to his advantage in the end, meeting death before he was blitzed and then coming back and conjuring luther. like everyone else, he was far from perfect here, but the progress was clear. now, the ghosts still exist, but he gets to decide whether they have power over him or not.

five, in season 2, was still under a lot of stress. still constantly feeling “out of time,” working tirelessly to help his siblings. his relationship with his power grew to be more refined, however. at the end of season 2, he was able to rewind time just a few seconds, and pulled everyone out of death. for the first time, he had time-traveled and hadn’t faced any immediate consequence -- quite the opposite. five had never had the time to heal, his life was a constant race against time. so his healing looked a little different in s3. he resigned himself to the time he had left, stopped using his time-travelling powers, and instead focused on his siblings. he was out of time, and so he worked with it rather than against it in this instance. he bonded with his siblings, sang with them, danced with them, gave them sappy, drunken speeches. he made sure they all knew they loved him in the ways he knew how to show it, and he allowed himself to be loved by them in return.

ben, as i said before, is a bit of a different case. in a trying-to-heal umbrella ben, he used his “invisibility” to his advantage when the opportunity allowed for it. he did have a few moments where (after being ‘conjured’ by klaus), he let the horror loose to protect his siblings. aside from that, he mostly observed his siblings, observed the issues they were facing and communicated with them through klaus, when klaus allowed it. but now it’s sparrow ben we’re dealing with, and he’s only just scratching the surface of the beginning of his healing journey. in my mind, however, a healing sparrow-ben would look kind of like diego and luther. he’d become someone who allows himself to love and be loved for what he is, no longer needing to make himself intimidating to feel seen.

then you have viktor. of course, he ended the world again in season 2, but those circumstances were borne of self-defense rather than the need to be seen. now, he was allowing himself to be seen for what he was, rather than for the power he had. he found love for the first time, found companionship, and learned more about himself, too. like some of the others, he was learning how to use his powers for good. by s3, he was building friendships with his siblings and with lila (and losing one with allison), and he no longer saw the need to make himself something to fear. he no longer resented his siblings, and he was learning to lead. he accepted them, and they accepted him. he gained control over his power, only using it in defense of himself or his siblings, and when he did, he ensured that he wouldn’t go overboard. he was careful, cautious, learning the fine line between power and destruction, and he built relationships with his siblings by trying.

finally, there’s lila. reeling from the truths she learned about her childhood, she shut herself down, reverted back into the manipulative nature she’d grown so accustomed to. she hung around the others just enough to observe them, gauge their intents, but wouldn’t open herself up to them yet. she was desperate to love and be loved but didn’t quite know how. slowly, she began working with them, starting with five. she tried mimicking his powers, not against him, but with him, and when she realized that he had no ulterior motives, she dipped her toes in the water with the other siblings, slowly but surely. she began to come into her own, her truer self. she left herself vulnerable to diego, and this vulnerability was not only reciprocated, but reconciled. she was learning genuine strength, no longer using it as a facade. she used her powers now with the others, not against them. she mimicked viktor’s powers to fend off the guards, she mimicked the others’ powers to consolidate the kugelblitz, etc. by the end, she was accepted as another piece of the whole family.

every time each sibling learns to heal, their powers change with them. whereas in the past, these powers represented the things they were burdened by, they now represent the ways in which they deal with those burdens respectively. we also see them use their powers to defend and protect each other, rather than to protect themselves against each other.

things are a little different now, of course. none of the siblings have any power at all. this could be a good thing, it means they’ll have to do a lot of self-reflection and heal the deepest pieces of themselves, the pieces they’d kept hidden beneath the powers. and if/when they do get their powers back, they’ll be the most refined versions of themselves, no longer seeing their powers as weapons or burdens, but as tools alone, extensions of all they’ve learned.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua meta #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

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hexcoremagician · 11 months

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ARCANE - MAIN.

In my canon for Viktor, he is Silco's son and is brother to Jinx. If the Silco or Jinx I am writing with it is okay to explore those storylines, that is awesome. If not, we don't have to ever write around that. He is the creator of Blitzcrank, the pet project that, along with a tailored uniform from his father, allowed him to steal into the Academy. He is also a scientific tutor for House Heimerdinger after being adopted into the House so he could become Cecil's assistant. In an attempt to assimilate him into Piltover customs, Heimerdinger gave him a full name, adding the "Cornelius" aspect to his name, whereas Viktor himself chose "Abraxas" as his middle name.

original name: Viktor of Zaun.

Piltover name: Viktor Abraxas Cornelius of House Heimerdinger.

alias: The Machine Herald/The Machinist, the Co-Father of Hextech.

pronouns: he/him/his.

age: verse dependent.

15-18 Years Old (Academy Years)

18-20 (Dean's Assistant Years)

20 Years Old (Act 1 of Arcane)

21-32 Years Old (Act 2-3 of Arcane)

Frozen in his 30s permanently due to augmentation of the HexCore (After Act 3 of Arcane)

orientation: bisexual; masc-leaning.

marital status: verse dependent. single, typically.

species: human (cyborg).

location: Piltover/Zaun. (Moves between the two nations.)

archetype: The Magician, The Hanged Man.

cyborg info:

Almost all of his body has been replaced by HexTech (Shimmermetal), save his head and neck. He wears many clothes to hide this fact, and also wears gloves.

He lacks many human weaknesses, is suspectable to death somewhat, and has somehow bonded with the Hex Core in such a way that its sentience and his consciousness are blurred together. The Hex Core wishes to be in total union with Viktor, and that is why he augments himself so much.

abilities:

plays the cello.

Inventor: A brilliant mind, Viktor is able to invent numerous contraptions, especially those made to utilize hextech gemstones. As the person who perfected hextech, he is one of the leading scientists in hextech innovations.

Hexclaw: Permanently attached to his back, the hexclaw is an additional arm that's also able to shoot a ray of concentrated magical light. Originally intended as a crafting tool, it's currently used as a death ray as well as an instrument used for fixing Viktor's cybernetic augmentations.

Hex Core: It is a self-learning and evolving hextech device. It is able adapt to any situation and has the potential of becoming a sentient and sapient being.

biography:

Viktor is an ambitious Zaunite inventor who resides in Piltover, working as the partner of Jayce Talis. Once brought into the Academy as the assistant to Heimerdinger, Viktor worked his way up from the undercity in hopes of improving lives, but his research was complicated upon discovering he was terminally ill. Nevertheless, Viktor does not let his disease stop him and he remains steadfast in finding a cure.

personality:

Viktor has an obsessive, idealistic personality, and is a workaholic. He is a self-described methodical, logical and thorough person, and is implied to previously have been emotional. He is interested in how techmaturgy could help society.

mannerisms & quirks:

Still has his cane/crutch/ even when he has completely changed to HexTech and no longer needs it. It evolves into his staff.

appearance:

During his time as a non-augmented person, Viktor was a white skinned, golden/hazel eyed and brown haired human with a scrawny build. Since his birth he had a deformity preventing him to walk and run naturally, needing a walking stick to move (later a walking crutch). During his time exposed to Zaunite pollution, it would greatly worsen his health conditions.

Since he started to dabble in self-augmenting hextech experiments, Viktor would slowly start replacing his body parts. First magically altered by the powers of the Hexcore with the aid of Shimmer (his right leg and hand specifically), he would eventually transition into mechanical augmentations, completely replacing most of his body parts, save his head.

#verses.#headcanons.#viktor.#machine herald.#v: machine herald.#out of machines.#bonds. jayvik. love is a bloodsport. but i understand i am all yours. futureforged.#bonds. caitvik. always there for you. ferinehuntress.#bonds. silcovik. father dearest. shimmerbeasts.#bonds. jinxvik. sister dearest. shimmerbeasts.#v: main.#bonds. jinxtor. crawl inside where i am most ruined. love me there. jynxd.

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celestias-selfships · 10 months

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Promo

The old Anastasia can’t come to the phone right now.

Why?

Oh, cause she’s dead!

Hi, I'm Anastasia, I'm 19, and I love selfshipping. I left the community and kept this blog for a while because I was not mentally ok and I was healing. I wanna be here and make friends here. I don't care about politics. I don't care what views you hold, I just wanna make friends. I'm a huge Swiftie. I'm down to share F/Os, if you don't want to and you don't want me to interact, let me know. If you have rules for people who have the same f/os, let me know and I'll follow them and tag.

turbulent INTJ, Hufflepuff (not supporting JKR, just liking the vibes of the hufflepuff common room and the double entendre), Reputation stan, harbinger of chaos, princess

Favorite artists: The Doors, Taylor Swift, Palaye Royale, Elle Lexxa, Siouxie and the Banshees, The Cure, Nine Inch Nails

Self insert: Celestia, an ex disney actress turned popstar.

tag: #I'll be the actress staring in your bad dreams

Celestia's wiki

F/O list with tags (in case we share, you can filter those tags if you want) and statuses (if no status, assume we're still dating)

Geralt of Rivia (not Liam Hemsworth, married, The Witcher) #linked by destiny

Alucard (Hellsing) #Hells Bells

Jareth (Labyrinth) #dance on fire as it intends

Damon Salvatore (weird on/off again fling, The Vampire Diaries) #maybe we got lost in translation

Enzo St. John (The Vampire Diaries) #with every guitar string scar on my hand

Elijah Mikaelson (The Originals) #never let me go

The Darkling/Alexsander Morova (Shadow and Bone) #Moonlit Drive

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) #november flush and your flannel cure

John Reese (Person Of Interest) #my knight in shining armor

Silco (Arcane) #we got the love in automatic

Viktor (Arcane #Gold Rush

Malcolm Bright #brighten up my life

Leon Scott Kennedy (Resident Evil) #whiskey on ice sunset and vine

Reno Sinclair (Final Fantasy 7) #aint it funny

Ferid Bathory (Seraph of the End) #nocturnal serenade

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer on Netflix) #Don't blame me

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) #the archer

Astarion (Baldur's gate III) #i was enchanted to meet you

Undertaker (Black Butler) #angel of small death and the codeine scene

Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler) #carnations you had thought were roses

Connor (Detroit Become Human) #Can we always be this close

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil Village) #a shot in the darkest dark

Killian Jones (Once Upon A Time) #today was a fairytale

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) #is it cool that I said all that

Robert Montague Renfield (Renfield) #a love for the ages

Blade (Honkai Star Rail) #love the void

Patrick Jane (The Mentalist) #crazy = genius

August Ruthven (The Case Study of Vanitas) #red are the arms of luxuriant chairs and you won't know a thing until you get inside

Noe (The Case Study of Vanitas) #good old fashioned lover boy

Vanitas (The Case Study of Vanitas) #mr doctor man

Dwayne (the Lost Boys) #wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Jerry (2011 Fright Night) #take the highway to the end of the night

Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) #like snow on the beach

Tartaglia/Childe (Genshin Impact) #Ocean blue eyes looking in mine Alhaitham (Genshin Impact) #life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

@canongf Hi, I'm the anon who is returning after a bit. thank you for letting me tag you!

youtube

#selfshipping #selfship community #selfshipping community #selfship promo #selfshipping promo

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airadam · 11 months

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Episode 173 : ...after all this rain.

"...kick rocks or kick rhymes..."

- Jean Grae

The seasons are most definitely changing on this side, and the heavens have been pretty open the last couple of weeks while I've been putting the show together. Unfortunately during that time, we lost a couple of respected DJs and producers, DJ Mark the 45 King and Groove Damoast, both of whom are included in this month's mix. May they rest well. The selections for this month span a time period of almost fifty years, from a 1975 funk classic to a brand new release from one of Manchester's finest, making stops in the 80s and the independent Hip-Hop wax era of the 90s - something for all the heads!

Don't forget - you can always get an up-to-date list of my next few upcoming streams and gigs @ events.airadam.com!

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Mastodon (because Twitter is basically on fire) : https://mastodon.me.uk/@airadam

Playlist/Notes

DJ Muggs, Roc Marciano, Meyhem Lauren, and Rome Streetz : 67 Keys

Two MCs I've seen live recently with another (Rome Streetz) I would have seen if it wasn't for work's on-call schedule, talking pure drug business over some thriller film-type production courtesy of DJ Muggs, who has constructed an amazing second act post the Cypress Hill classics that everyone knows him for. Everyone gets busy on the mic on this new single, with Meyhem killing that last verse.

David Cutter Music : Upstart

UK beat action here with this London beatmaker cooking up a quintessential boom-bap type of beat with a little of that DJ Premier flavour and heaviness - I might need to blend this with some M.O.P! Get this on the recently-released "Follow Dreams" LP.

MF DOOM : Lickupon

I went back to the "Viktor Vaughn Vaudeville Villain" LP after being gifted an amazing alternate cover for display recently, and this was a standout on my first listen in a while. The producers (Heat Sensor) work the same sample as Biggie's "Warning" but with all sorts of other stuff going on, and DOOM just goes nuts from beginning to end. Bars upon bars with no hook, purely the sounds of someone who loved to flip words every which way.

Doo Wop ft. Raekwon : Castle To Castle

You've got to be brave to hop on a track with the crime-rhyming slang master Raekwon if MCing isn't your full-time gig, but Doo Wop (one of Biggie's favourite DJs) gives a good account of himself here as well as holding down the production! A classic jazz sample is the basis for this track from "The State vs Doo Wop" which is also available on a 12" if you need the clean version and instrumental.

Little Brother ft. Rhymefest and Supastition : Do It To Death

A personal headphone favourite I could have sworn I'd already played on the podcast, but which somehow missed the selection for the last fourteen-plus years! All four MCs kill it, but my favourite is absolutely Phonte on the opening verse, with his "American Pie" reference never failing to make me smile! Focus... is on production and those drums are absolutely smacking here, making this track a highlight of "...And Justus For All".

Marley Marl : Hip-Hop History #4

Short and sweet, with a chunky and bouncing beat from the godfather of sampling as we know it today, and no rhymes - just a few words about his own history in Hip-Hop. Find this one on the 2000 "Hip Hop Dictionary" release, which I thought might be a big hard to find but is actually available digitally.

Kev Brown & Dre King : Black Champions

Tough, tough instrumental that I've had on repeat this month, taken from the seven-track "King Kev" project from these two musical masters. Dre King is, amongst other things, a sample pack producer who provides top-shelf instrumental pieces for producers to sample, and his work is used to great effect once Kev Brown gets it into his MPC. No hi-hits on this, just the kick and snare smashing through the whole beat, giving you little spaces where just the bass and keys play before the drums kick you in the head again!

Pharoahe Monch ft. Jean Grae and Royce Da 5' 9" : Assassins

An appropriately named track from the "W.A.R. (We Are Renegades)" album, with all three MCs fitting perfectly into the roles of Hip-Hop assassins (check the full version to get the intro), since none of them have ever encountered a beat they couldn't kill. M-Phazes is on the beat, and it's appropriately loud and dramatic - not something that blends into a mix naturally, because so many things don't sound quite like this.

[DJ Premier] Westside Gunn, Conway The Machine, and Benny The Butcher : Headlines (Instrumental)

I was surprised to find I hadn't played the vocal version of this Griselda track before, but DJ Premier's instrumental provides a nice bridge here between a track with no outro and one with too little drum intro - coming in hard with the aggressive stabs before transitioning into string-led production.

Redman : Bricks Standup

A short freestyle-ish expedition from Redman's "Ill At Will Mixtape Vol.1", which sees one of the all-time greats killing it over the instrumental for Jay-Z's "What More Can I Say?". That instrumental was produced by Brooklyn duo The Buchanans, who somehow cooked this up as one of their first creations and got it placed on "The Black Album" - talk about coming in hot!

Peanut Butter Wolf ft. Rasco and DJ Q-Bert : Run The Line

Taking it back to some late 90s underground Hip-Hop that brings back memories of the tail end of my time at university in Manchester, and especially the time when turntablism was starting to break out of the preserve of only the absolutely most in-the-know to the wider Hip-Hop world and beyond. Q-Bert obliterates it on the scratch as he does literally every single time, with all kinds of flaring action that might as well have come from outer space to many of us! Stones Throw founder Peanut Butter Wolf is on production of course on this track from his debut solo LP release "My Vinyl Weighs A Ton", and the all-California lineup is completed by Rasco on the mic. Cleveland-born, but as one of the Cali Agents...he counts.

Tyler Daley : These Cards

One half of Children of Zeus and a certified triple threat, Tyler shows off his singing, rhyming (in case you forgot), and production skills on this bumping new single. And he's 100% correct...he's done alright, to say the least.

The 45 King : Meganizm

While The 45 King is best known for his 80s productions, he was also the producer of tracks like Jay-Z's "Hard Knock Life" and "Stan" for Eminem as well as a number of far more underground collections of beats, like 2006's "Grooves For A Quiet Storm" from which this track is drawn. A chilled head-nodder with a straightforward and clean drum track on top of some summery keys and bass, this fits just as well at a BBQ as on a mixtape!

SoulChef, Steph Pockets, and DJ Groove Damoast : When It Comes To This

RIP Groove Damoast, who passed away this month. I didn't know the full extent of his work, only knowing his name as a DJ on Twitch, but he was a well-regarded DJ and producer out of Philadelphia who is deeply missed by many. Having heard this 2021 single on one of the many tribute shows, I decided I wanted to share it here. New Zealand's SoulChef is on production, Groove Damoast is the man on the turntables cutting it up with precision, and his Philadelphia compatriot Steph Pockets controls the mic from start to end. Quality Hip-Hop.

Dynamic Syncopation ft. Mass Influence : 2 Tha Left

Early 2000s pick here that I encountered on the Ninja Tune "Xen Cuts" compilation, but was also on the 2002 "In The Red" LP by the combo of producers Loop Professor and Jonny Cuba. As much as this breezy, acoustic guitar-laced track could have been a great instrumental, they stepped it up by drafting in Mass Influence, an underground crew of MCs out of Atlanta who sound very different to what would come to most people's mind when they think of Atlanta Hip-Hop! Apparently some people know this from an advert for Adult Swim segment of Cartoon Network, so it's interesting to know that stuff like Ninja Tune had that kind of reach within the generation who are not making the decisions :)

Fred & The New JB's : (It's Not The Express) It's the J.B.'s Monaurail, Pt. 1

(Not my apostrophe placement, by the way!) I had a bit of a play with the cue points feature on Serato to extend this live-drummed intro a little bit, just because those hi-hats are so fire. A classic funk workout from Fred Wesley and the rest of James Brown's famous band of that era (from the "James Brown's Funky People" LP), and one that has been sampled on at least three tracks I can think of - I don't know if the sample was cleared on my favourite usage, so I won't mention it here even though you might have heard me play it in the past...

EPMD : Let The Funk Flow

I'll be real - this is far from my favourite of the tracks on EPMD's classic debut "Strictly Business", but I couldn't pass up the chance to blend into it off the back of the original sample! Listening to the cuts on this makes me smile, performed by the group's original DJ K La Boss (who is still working today under the name Dj4our5ive) in his early years.

[Rashad Smith and Sean "Puffy" Combs] The Notorious B.I.G. : One More Chance (Hip-Hop Instrumental)

In a then-contemporary example of the new school calling back to their Hip-Hop inspirations, Rashad Smith and Puffy essentially lifted the monster Marley Marl beat for Craig G's "Droppin' Science (Remix)" for this drastic remix of a track that was already a remix...ok, stay with me on this. The original "One More Chance" was on "Ready To Die" and was pretty raw on the X-rated rhymes, and was then essentially re-recorded with Faith Evans on the hook with a bit of a bow tie on the production, sampling DeBarge's "Stay With Me" for radio appeal. However, the winner for many of us was taking the lyrics from this version and putting them alongside the undeniable break that Marley used seven years before!

Latee : This Cut's Got Flavor

Closing with a DJ Mark the 45 King production, a real classic for heads of a certain age that you don't hear often enough nowadays! This 1987 single has an absolutely monster drum track highlighted by those heavy kicks, and the slowed-down guitar riff is a perfect era-appropriate backing. Latee only had a few releases under his own banner, along with a decent number of guest appearances, but these to me will always be the rhymes that come to mind whenever this Flavor Unit MC is mentioned. This track just makes me want to put on a Dapper Dan suit and drive an AMG Benz somewhere. To my desk job, I suppose 😁

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

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