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@meepwrites
Hello I am Rei !
I am here to talk about wolfstar and the marauders anything apparently because I live and breath them Fiction.
Nice to meet you !
My art can be found on my other account : @theanxiousbeann.
Dm or reply to my posts me if you wanna chat ! I’d love to make friends 💛.
i am imagining a very funny scenario where literally everyone working on project hail mary was down bad for grace. and he is so fucking oblivious about it. and slowly, everyone (except him) realizes that everyone else is also trying to come on to him. and they start taking notes and like, have a shared google doc for what they've tried so far. treating it like some fuckass science experiment. atp they're not even necessarily trying to get with him anymore they just want to know what it takes for him to notice!!
this conversation was the beginning of this thought btw:
dubois & shapiro (trying to see if they can get grace to join them): oh yeah we were totally just engaging in fun sexual intercourse in the bathroom :3
grace (THEE aroace of all time, NOT picking up what they are putting down): ooooookay...? why are you telling me this
dubois & shapiro, later: subject does not respond to references using scientific terminology for sexual congress. future studies may observe whether colloquialisms receive better results
Hope it’s alright to reblog this with some half written thought additions but this was too funny/sweet for me not to think on it.
I am thinking about someone (Probably Ilyukhina) after a while deciding to just go up to him to finally just be like “Hey so like, we’ve all been trying to flirt with you but you’re really weird ? Which is cool we’re just really confused look !”
and she just pulls out the whole spreadsheet and for a hot fucking moment Grace is just horrified “what ?” and then after a bit of scanning (he’s a scientist and he’s been looking at excel sheets night and day for the past year. he’s quick) he just goes “THAT’S WHAT THOSE WERE !???”
and then he starts pacing “Oh my god. oh my god Have none of you ever- I-“
He bites his tongue. Suddenly. Though he is still giving Ilyukhina a very scowling and scolding look, the look of ‘I-What in the world is wrong with all of you. But ME, I am the weird one ?’
He doesn’t say any of that though.
or the question that had been making its way out of his mouth ; Have none of you EVER heard of the gosh darn LGBTQ acronym. Scratch that have none of you ever tried google- oh my gosh what happened to talking to people.
And school’s himself, deep breath, finger infront of his face, count to ten.
Because he is a teacher and it hits him that that’s just really rude of him to do (not that that’s really stopped him any time before.) and there is a chance here to educate. And maybe, for once, not be seen as a heck of a weirdo. If he does this right.
Then the fact that he is about to treat some of the world’s leading scientists and smartest people in the world like his ‘gaggle’ of school kids hits him and he actually groans out-loud, growing red.
Whatever. Sometimes it is what it is ; he should probably be glowing with embarrassment in general, for several reasons he has no time or want to think about.
“Please gather everyone involved in… *he gestures at her laptop almost with hesitation* that together.”
“Huhhh, why ?”
“I am going to give you all a lesson in human nature.”
“Hmmm.”
Grace does not breathe for the time it takes her to elaborate on that response,
“Sure ! Sounds interesting,” she begins to bounce away, well walk, but there is a spring in her step, “I’ll have everyone together in the conference room in 10 ! might be crowded though !”
“Thank you !” Grace says after her, then shouts with realisation and a fidgeting hand as she bounds out of sight - his ears burn
“And tell them to stop doing that !!”
Ilyukhina gives a signal of ‘Gotcha’ with her hand behind her back without so much as turning back - her steps are light as she fades out of sight.
Right. How quickly can one make a stupid power point presentation ?
—
Anyway.
nobody stops.
Expect they aren’t trying to pick Grace up anymore - they’re.. testing him ? teaching him ?
Yeah. it turns into a game of ‘Can we get Dr.Ryland Grace to ever understand the subtleties (and not) of flirting.’
Grace doesn’t mind as much after like a week or two because he knows there are no expectations for it.
Oh and they praise him for it, a big plus. They’re always really proud of him when he gets it, sometimes he gets hair ruffles he has to push away (though he’s giddy).
It turns into enrichment (Everyone needs something to do when they’ve been stuck a year on an aircraft carrier.)
—
I like to think Stratt and Grace were really close (whether Grace knew it or not) so when he is ranting to her and she casually tells him ‘Oh yeah, that.’ he is like “????? YOU KNEW !?”
and then obviously he will be like “why didn’t you tell me !!” and she just goes - not even glancing away from her laptop, expression and tone unchanging “it was fun.”
“Fun ?? It was at my- you know what, never mind. that checks out. Guinea pig *pointing at himself* I am still your guinea pig.”
“Don’t be unreasonable Dr.Grace.”
“Hmph.”
“You are invaluable to the project and our mission.”
“Guinea Pig.”
Grace continues to huff under his breath. arms crossed but after about a minute or two he can’t help his curiosity.
Leaning towards Stratt and her laptop screen - he is a scientist, they pretty much all are so he knows some kind of analyses and conclusions must have been drawn about all of his typed down reactions - even if that’s a little queasy to think on, he’s still curious.
So he asks ; “What did you learn ?”
And a glance tells him that that triggers a genuine glint of amusement in Stratt’s eye.
“That you, Dr.Grace, are unaffected by any type and amount of romantic and sexual pursuing.”
He sees her sign something off as she continues :
“You, however, have a terribly deep desire and yearning for a similar intensity of friendships.”
Grace avoids her eye, not that she’s looking at him. chewing his tongue to his cheek for a minute or so before he makes a popping sound and goes,
“Right. So, nothing new,”
Pushing away back to his own side of the desk Eva speaks almost too softly for him to catch,
“I assume you’ve always known ?”
He debates avoiding that question. That’s a lot of his life.
“Nooot that long honestly.”
“Can we save it for another day ? I am kind of still processing.”
He gestures vaguely and Stratt doesn’t push,
“Sure.”
“Thank you.”
That was… odd. Honestly. He’s never known Stratt to not be pushy.. Whatever.
They go back to working in silence side by side for the rest of the evening. Or well, Night actually.
Usually, a meeting or a conference or something else to do would have come up and interrupted - rushed off here and there and god knows where.
This time though, while alone, Grace finds himself waking up the next morning ; having been allowed to fall asleep. Covered in a blanket, a cup of cold coffee (probably dropped there waaaay too long ago) on one side of the desk on which his head had been resting.
On the other, lays a short posted note in Eva’s sharp, legible from miles, handwriting ;
’Don’t get used to it.’
I have this deep seethed belief that Gatsby believes the world is too cruel to men, granted he also understands, perhaps even more deeply that men are often the perpetrators of said cruelty.
Either way, he in turn, pampers himself and his femininity.
And later, when it is his right, he will nurture and pamper Nick too, in all his callousness .
This thought surfaced and is particularly important to me now because, while Nick doesn’t have an established past ;
I read an amazing fic where he had a rather rough upbringing - mostly psychological with those formative physical abuses here and there that have well, toughened him up.
I think my Gatsby would pair perfectly with that so I am stealing it <3
Link to the wonderful fic below the cut !! because as a fellow author I will always shout out someone any chance I get, it is a hard read but if you can please go give it some love !! 🫶
short version : Lucifer feels carnally AND romantically about his wife.
He feels deeply safe with Alastor.
That’s the contrast of their relationships.
(He of course also feels deeply safe with Lilith but he lacks the carnality with Al is the point here.)
They can still both deeply Fluster each other, usually by accident then intent though Alastor has moods where he has deep fun in riling up Lucifer.
Much to Lucifer’s frustration before his wife’s return, sometimes he completely bursts, hovering,
“You- You do realise I have urges don’t you ?? You- ugh,”
Alastor laughs composed and simply boops Lucifer, gently, lovingly on the nose the trust runs deep both ways.
“Of course.”
Lucifer huffs, so warm to the skin he might as well go sulk in the fire place and give warmth to the hotel for christmas, he is actually fairly sure the tips of his hair are blazing as they hellishly do whenever any emotion that is high enough in him,
“Insufferable.”
Alastor laughs again, clearer
“Oh I know that too.”
Sometimes they end up with Alastor cuddling Lucifer till he comes back down to earth which is Lucifer’s favourite as embarassing as it is - as much as Alastor’s hands sometimes tease the hem of his trousers and he angrily swats the radio demons hand away don’t.
and Alastor continues to incessantly laugh behind him “Alright, dear.”
the nickname purring in his chest as he places his head on top of Lucifer’s head, pulling him deeper into the soft fur of his chest, shirt unbuttoned “Whatever his highness wants.”
Other times they end up with Lucifer getting splashed with a bucket of ice water and widely blinking at Alastor in pure “why would you do that.”
Idk, they have fun your honour 💗.
And once Lilith returns she can have a lot of fun with her pre-riled up husband - it’s a team effort.
Nothing gets under Lucfer’s skin (okay that’s a lie, a lot of things probably do but who can help him, he will never stop feeling like a sinful angel here, he was never supposed to know pleasure like this.) like Lilith tilting his chin up - with that sultry voice of hers and lidded eyes going “Alastor got you so pretty for me, didn’t he ?”
knowing - that if the radio in his room is listening then Alastor’s ego completely grows under the indirect praise and he preens, sometimes he even tunes in to say a “Oh it was my pleasure.” to Lilith - gosh they are strange aren’t they ?
Genuinely think it’s so funny to imagine Lucifer just pouting to his wife - they love him so much, he’s so silly and pathetic.
Lilith often knows what he wants but just for the sake of it will go
“Word’s, love.”
and Lucifer splutters “Alastor.”
and she perches an eyebrow high just for the sake of it - holding back a laugh with effort,
“Alastor. Yes, of course, should I get him ?”
Lucifer groans and hides in his hat “Noooo, I just left him.” - he will have to give more than that.
—-
Ps : Absoloutely need everyone to know that Alastor’s purely childish and soft response to ‘why would you douse me in a bucket of water.’ is “You were flaming.” which triggers Lu into a “WELL WHOSE FAULT IS THAT.”
some of the hotel residents always giggle - oddly enough its angel dust (gosh I miss him.) who looks at them in pure intrigue and goes “Hell, they’re really weird aren’t they.”
frankly because he’s seen a lot but never this.
Husk is gruff about seeing the literal owner of his soul play around like that and huffs “beats me.” which paired with Lu chasing Al always does make him innocently giggle into a drink and turn to husk to softly, flirtations purr “Oh don’t be like that now.”
Lucilith + QRP radioapple thought dump
I like to think Luci is a lot more childish/playful with Al - which results in him catching Al off guard more than he catches Luci off guard (be assured it does happen though.)
Lilith is much more teasing with Luci which ends up in a lot more gulps and flusters for Luci (he loves her.)
Also a testament to their different relationships !!
I am still more on the 90 if not more % non sexual radioapple and whatever romance they have going on if anything it’s more a Queer Platonic than your classical relationship.
which also leads back to the silly idea of Lilith coming back to Lucifer having taken Al as his executioner and being like “who is this ?”
I have the silly idea that while Lucifer tries to pretend like it’s nothing because Alastor is annoying + he thinks his wife would be annoyed,
she gets up close to shut him up and goes “That’s hot.”
and Lucifer stops functioning.
Lilith then teasingly enquires if Lucifer likes Alastor (I will always Polycule over love triangle actually) and Lucifer goes beat red, tail fanning behind him wildly and goes back to sputtering nonsense because he doesn’t know how to explain and like maybe, kind of ? but he hasn’t even REALLY gotten to talk about that with Alastor he THINKS Alastor knows and they have agreed not to think about it, to settle on this weird respect where Lucifer knows Alastor isn’t touch fond and Alastor lets him cuddle every once in a while, and like they have made out at least twice but it’s always always on Alastor’s terms and that’s fine that’s more than fine and Honestly Lucifer is pretty sure Alastor doesn’t do relationship like that and-
Alastor pops over his squabble to calmly chuckle over him and go “No, your majesty, our relationship isn’t-“ looking at Lucifer’s wide eyed look, now he coughs, a slight colour in his cheeks - ear flicking as he averts his eyes perhaps realising only now that he really is talking to the king of hell’s wife herself but they have talked about her,
“- Whatever Lu feels for me is his business,”
he throws him into the deep end and Lucifer feels it wash over him like he’d been dumped right into the ice cold ocean oh he’s going to fight him,
“- I,” he emphasis “don’t do things like that, simply keep him company.”
Lilith is mostly amused, huffing, glancing between them, cocking her head ”Lu ?”
Lucifer laughs, smile growing on his face God he wants a kiss, will she kiss him now ?
“Haha, a lot of people are unfortunately on a first name basis with me now Darling-“ “Quite” Alastor echoes “Think nothing of it.”
Lilith giggles again, hearthy and quite and secret and behind her hand and Lucifer can’t stop his tails flicking if he wanted to - he loves her, so much
“Oh I didn’t but you, you are interesting.”
Alastor does a little bow of sorts, leaning down to Lilith’s shoulder as she kneels by Lucifer’s height - his wings flutter,
“Thank you, your highness,”
“Lilith.”
“Mnm, Lilith,”
A wicked grin over takes the radio demon then, voice a whisper,
“You should kiss him.”
he teases “He's missed you an awful lot."
and the look on Lilith’s face is sweet and dangerous and wicked “Oh I plan to.”
And Lucifer get’s his kiss at last <3
Not entirely sure how he feels about Alastor watching him fall apart at his wife’s feet but he settles on being teased to death being better than the two people he cares so deeply about tearing each other apart - not entirely sure if he will survive well however, oh well, they will catch him, won’t they ? Put him back together.
BBC Sherlock is in love with Mary and John I am speaking my truth.
Sherlock Holmes was nervous, jittery, unsettled.
Three words, three emotions, that he would never, not even if the world should end;
admit to possessing, taken a grip of him, ever since the announcement of John’s wedding.
And it had only, as many of Sherlock’s emotions ever had, grown worse with the passing of time - a curse that was not a healer for he but a ticking time bomb counting down to when his heart would have had enough to bare.
It began small really, unnoticeable, an awkward grimace, a joke that didn’t land, a fumble of an experiment then, his focus had totally shifted, from his own person to.. whatever weddings were meant to be.
He left behind sleeping and eating as if he were hot on the trail of a case, clicked from website to website, flitted through the pages of books, incessant obsession with getting it right, with not letting a thing go wrong - collecting knowledge he had never before deemed necessary. The renowned Sherlock Holmes and not the first thing known of weddings, a useless procedure made all but for false pretences of the masses.
Still, now, he was letting it seep between the cracks of information stored on murders and wounds, on methods of manipulation and of which poison to administer for the quickest death, he let it seep through the cracks and it grew. Blue little flowers, unfitting in the rumbled mess of his mind, growing from the ruins of a mind palace askew.
And It was beautiful, if he had only spent any amount of time walking through it.
It would have been beautiful had it not been the imagery of melancholy, the flowers couldn’t survive, not in such a place. (there was no way, bring back later than once more = they did survive, despite Holmes’s pessimism)
——-
He had spent more time planning, writing, than John and Mary had.
He had organised it all, the tasting of cake, the selection of wine, the shape of the serviettes, the…
The invitation, he had written the invitation, for heavens sake, well no, okay, John had handled that one.
But he had been there overlooking it with Mary by his side, getting a say in it all.
It had been naught but shortly after, that Mary, always the ever preceptive one between her and John, had caught a sight of his fears and practically flung John into taking him out on a case, a good old spirited ‘things won’t change’ (child, yes they will) and an action of sentiment to which at the time Sherlock had been (naught but) completely blind to.
The case itself that they had agreed upon was fine on its own, a murder, with no weapon, no witness,
A life nearly taken and saved by no one else but John. H.Watson himself - Sherlock Holmes’s fateful companion.
Had it been left solely to Sherlock the life would have slipped away, right under everyone´s eyes. Sherlock Holmes was a hound for crime, notoriously so.
For solving the puzzles left behind. But not a Doctor for the present, for noticing the desperate cling to life, for reaching out to save such a delicate thing. He thinks he would have done nothing but broken it even if he had tried, a hound chewed up any life laid before them. They were trained hunters after-all.
So it was good, that there was a companion to stand by his side - to be the balance that granted Sherlock Holmes any sort of credibility within his title as the hope of the people/ordinary person.
—
The case had been unsolved, the third stage of Sherlock’s unsteady stand in emotions.
One unsolved case after another, slipping away between the cracks of his fingers, a thing that he hated to permit.
To admit that he was human, that he made mistakes, that he messed up and found himself in predicaments deemed mysterious or difficult even to him.
Who was he if he failed to solve the crimes? who was he without the excel of his mind.
He had even, for fucks sake, turned to alcohol, a vice not unlike drugs expect that he rarely ever found himself in its clutches.
Never let himself get close enough, drunk enough, for it to muddle his senses because that’s all that alcohol did. Where as drugs took him beyond the confines of humanity, of his vessel, enhanced how he thought and what he saw. Alcohol took all that away, lowered and made disappear every sound reason he knew.
It inconvenienced him at the least, scared him at most.
So he stayed away, stayed away until he didn’t, until he initiated it. that god forsaken Stag Night. (A stupid name, a stupid night.) - another human created triviality/frivolity.
It had been, precisely just six days to John’s wedding and nothing settled his nerves any longer, so he ignored any written rules about what a stag night should be, when it should be held, how and with whom and let himself be careless just with one thing, just with this.
He sought Molly, convinced her to set up an experiment, practice for John’s actual stag night, their tolerance for alcohol, a front of the perfectionism he’s been carrying for this entire thing, tense in his shoulders. And he should have known, know that John would spike their drinks. He did know.
Bonus bits I didn’t know where to put under the cut :
JEGULILY + WOLFSTAR DOUBLE WEDDING HEAR ME OUT.
HEAR ME OUT OKAY HEAR ME OUT Lily and Remus getting ready together !!!
SIRIUS AND JAMES GETTING READY TOGETHER.
(Word vomit/Half writing under cut.)
The hell the Machine Herald would raise if anyone brought harm to Jayce without his knowledge :
The announcement read in a newspaper, almost a day late, the one time he fails to keep an eye on Jayce and-
or perhaps it’s Naph, left to his own devices who comes running to him, panting and devastated and ;
About as nervous and blanched as he was that time 10 years ago when he first stepped foot by dare into Viktor’s abode,
This time, rather than handing him a vial of emotional suppressants, the Herald freezes,
“Naph ?”
It’s a blur from there, the now teenagers tongue tangled in his own mouth,
The Herald’s impatience fighting against his care ;
Explanations, and shouts, stuttered words and frantic desperation, a stool that clangs to the ground, matching just behind the resounding sound of a screwdriver that had met the floor moments before,
A dismissal of Naph, cold, angry - a call for Blitzcrank and the Herald is gone, door left open behind him.
He marches, marches his way past amberflit valley, through half of Zaun,
Past the people who watch him, mixed in horror and awe,
A rare sight he is out in broad daylight,
Until there he stands, in front of that dreaded door,
Usually knocked on, for the past 20 years, now gets thrown open so hard it meets the wall behind it,
“who hurt him.”
The herald demands, of the woman who from he never does,
fists clenched at his side,
“who- which of your Lackeys dared to lay a hand on him !”
Even with the modulator, his voice is below even, pitched and furious, echoing off of the walls, rising in volume as he spits the words like he’d much rather have his hands around Renata Glasc’s throat than clenched by his sides.
“We had a deal,”
He barks, until he is by her desk, baring his weight on it,
leaning in against her unaffected frame so he can spit the words right in her face where they belong.
“He was mine.”
His sponsor doesn’t flinch, like she had more than expected his fury and something about that crawls deeper under his skin ;
Simply steeples her fingers by her chin,
“You took too long, Viktor.”
And he knew somewhere,
that there would be a day this came.
Their contract was clear ‘eliminate the man of progress.’ the only string attached to her unlimited funding, for his freedom of his vision, of his glorious evolution.
And he had let it go unmet long enough, drawn it out long enough.
He doesn’t know when 10 years had turned to 15, then 20 and-
It was unavoidable,
That Chem-Baroness, Renata Glasc, who led her region of Zaun with an iron fist, would not eventually take matters into her own hands.
Still, he saw red, snarling a repetition straight from his throat.
“HE WAS MINE.”
The words were snarled, like a wild animal off its leash, and then, he felt her orders more than he heard them - chemtech soldiers who came up behind him, reaching to restrain his arms,
He whirled around with it,
cocky was she to think that her inhuman soldiers would be able to perform a sneak attack, something that in all their years not even the man of progress had ever succeeded at.
“Don’t touch me !”
He was anything but a machine then, a wild, cornered animal, the laser of the hexclaw the equivalent of his teeth bared,
He didn’t dare look back at Renata Glasc, as her smooth even voice continued,
“He was getting in our way, Viktor.”
“And you’re being irrational.”
“Don't tell me what I am, I don’t belong to you.”
He said as evenly as he could,
Of course, that wasn’t the truth,
he did in every sense of the word,
every part of him ;
She made him what he was, as she so often liked to remind him.
Still the words felt good to say.
“You promised me better than this”
and she was quite right, again, of course.
When did his emotional suppressants wear off ?
No- when did he last take them, that morning-
No, no, better yet when did his emotions become too grand for them to work, and when did he stop caring, when did he stop upgrading them-
when, why-
Why did he, the Machine Herald, feel and why was this stinging emotion now carving open his chest and eating the remnants of his heart alive,
why did that make him want to care again-
Oh..
It was why he stopped feeling in the first place, wasn’t it ?
Because everything had hurt.
Everything… hurt.
He clenched his jaw behind his mask, strong enough to break his teeth had they still been completely human, A slip of his modulator, a tinge of his accent, a hard effort to keep his emotions out of his voice, to keep it as even as Renata had hers.
“You will regret this.”
“Will I ?”
With that, failing to install any fear but overtaken by his vengeance, the Machine Herald had turned, walked out and vowed to never come back,
to obey anyone,
to be so pathetic as to give himself over, to be under anyone’s control again.
A two times broken heart was quite enough.
The way you write is so satisfying to me this was quite pleasant thank you
!!! Hey that makes me so happy to hear, I always try my best to write in a way that flows in a nice to read way, thank you too 💛
The hell the Machine Herald would raise if anyone brought harm to Jayce without his knowledge :
The announcement read in a newspaper, almost a day late, the one time he fails to keep an eye on Jayce and-
or perhaps it’s Naph, left to his own devices who comes running to him, panting and devastated and ;
About as nervous and blanched as he was that time 10 years ago when he first stepped foot by dare into Viktor’s abode,
This time, rather than handing him a vial of emotional suppressants, the Herald freezes,
“Naph ?”
It’s a blur from there, the now teenagers tongue tangled in his own mouth,
The Herald’s impatience fighting against his care ;
Explanations, and shouts, stuttered words and frantic desperation, a stool that clangs to the ground, matching just behind the resounding sound of a screwdriver that had met the floor moments before,
A dismissal of Naph, cold, angry - a call for Blitzcrank and the Herald is gone, door left open behind him.
He marches, marches his way past amberflit valley, through half of Zaun,
Past the people who watch him, mixed in horror and awe,
A rare sight he is out in broad daylight,
Until there he stands, in front of that dreaded door,
Usually knocked on, for the past 20 years, now gets thrown open so hard it meets the wall behind it,
“who hurt him.”
The herald demands, of the woman who from he never does,
fists clenched at his side,
“who- which of your Lackeys dared to lay a hand on him !”
Even with the modulator, his voice is below even, pitched and furious, echoing off of the walls, rising in volume as he spits the words like he’d much rather have his hands around Renata Glasc’s throat than clenched by his sides.
“We had a deal,”
He barks, until he is by her desk, baring his weight on it,
leaning in against her unaffected frame so he can spit the words right in her face where they belong.
“He was mine.”
His sponsor doesn’t flinch, like she had more than expected his fury and something about that crawls deeper under his skin ;
Simply steeples her fingers by her chin,
“You took too long, Viktor.”
And he knew somewhere,
that there would be a day this came.
Their contract was clear ‘eliminate the man of progress.’ the only string attached to her unlimited funding, for his freedom of his vision, of his glorious evolution.
And he had let it go unmet long enough, drawn it out long enough.
He doesn’t know when 10 years had turned to 15, then 20 and-
It was unavoidable,
That Chem-Baroness, Renata Glasc, who led her region of Zaun with an iron fist, would not eventually take matters into her own hands.
Still, he saw red, snarling a repetition straight from his throat.
“HE WAS MINE.”
The words were snarled, like a wild animal off its leash, and then, he felt her orders more than he heard them - chemtech soldiers who came up behind him, reaching to restrain his arms,
He whirled around with it,
cocky was she to think that her inhuman soldiers would be able to perform a sneak attack, something that in all their years not even the man of progress had ever succeeded at.
“Don’t touch me !”
He was anything but a machine then, a wild, cornered animal, the laser of the hexclaw the equivalent of his teeth bared,
He didn’t dare look back at Renata Glasc, as her smooth even voice continued,
“He was getting in our way, Viktor.”
“And you’re being irrational.”
“Don't tell me what I am, I don’t belong to you.”
He said as evenly as he could,
Of course, that wasn’t the truth,
he did in every sense of the word,
every part of him ;
She made him what he was, as she so often liked to remind him.
Still the words felt good to say.
“You promised me better than this”
and she was quite right, again, of course.
When did his emotional suppressants wear off ?
No- when did he last take them, that morning-
No, no, better yet when did his emotions become too grand for them to work, and when did he stop caring, when did he stop upgrading them-
when, why-
Why did he, the Machine Herald, feel and why was this stinging emotion now carving open his chest and eating the remnants of his heart alive,
why did that make him want to care again-
Oh..
It was why he stopped feeling in the first place, wasn’t it ?
Because everything had hurt.
Everything… hurt.
He clenched his jaw behind his mask, strong enough to break his teeth had they still been completely human, A slip of his modulator, a tinge of his accent, a hard effort to keep his emotions out of his voice, to keep it as even as Renata had hers.
“You will regret this.”
“Will I ?”
With that, failing to install any fear but overtaken by his vengeance, the Machine Herald had turned, walked out and vowed to never come back,
to obey anyone,
to be so pathetic as to give himself over, to be under anyone’s control again.
A two times broken heart was quite enough.
Jayvik headcanon’s (Part 2) :
Tempers,
Like wild tempests, both Viktor and Jayce have quite the temper to speak of, expect that those tempers are very circumstantially different - Viktor’s temper and tantrums are most likely to flare within the lab, cusses against calculations he can’t solve or a desk he stabbed his toe on, or a frustration of his onsetting illness.
With people he’s rather more composed, whether by force of nature or will.
Jayce is the opposite, they balance each other well, but what I am getting at is more of Jayce’s lack of high upper society skills, he gets frustrated when someone doesn’t understand him, he gets frustrated when they try to derail their goals into something else - walking that fine line in when to correct and when to reel himself in was a learning experience for him.
Now now, :Something he did a lot was admire Viktor’s collected nonchalant behaviour both with people in general but also kids.
During the summer months, back at the beginning of their journey, Viktor and Jayce would - no matter how busy they were, create toys and collect books and little gadgets that they’d take down to the undercity to give out to any and all children who simply asked.
And that right there was the biggest learning curve for Jayce, both in patience, admiration and privilege - he may have been kind and nothing but a middle ground house name but he was still raised with manners he still belonged to Piltover.
Dealing with the little ruffians of the streets of the undercity were nothing short of exciting, exhilarating. exhausting and an inherently new, irritating, inconvenient experience.
During these sweaty summer months is where Jayce unlearnt a lot and equally learned a lot, finding love for little troublemakers (more or less.).
He had also, flabbergastedly ended up finding out just how much that shop, Benzo’s, had used to scam him back when he’d visited them for odds and ends,
he told this to Viktor,
who had spent an entire day laughing, clearly and as genuinely Jayce has had ever heard him then, at him about it,
with directing, snickering/teasing comments along the way such as :
“Careful Jayce, That kids about to pick your pockets.”
“That’s an explosive Jayce.”
“!? *Handmade little toy given by a kid proceeds to explode in Jayce’s hands* Of- of sparkles, could you not have started with that !?”
“Eh *shrugs in amusement* still an explosive.”
*Irritated sighs*
and eventually :
“You do know that kid just scammed you don’t you.”
*Jayce who’s counting how much money they have left in his wallet.* “Yes, actually, this time yes, they’ll uh, they’ll make better use of that than us, it was, extra.”
“Was it ?”
“Uh, *slight wince* yeh more or less.”
Last little snipped but Jayce also found out about what it was like to breathe in the undercity through this and, a little more :
When he tried to, during the very first time, to put on the masks, protocol, or so he thought - that he had back when he had been somewhat of a mentor to Caitlyin Viktor immediately seized his wrist and shook his head,
“You’ll only scare them that or,”
Viktor made a face half way between a frown and a one sided smile,
“We’ll be turned into throwing practice, since we won’t be acting very scary.”
Jayce, skeptical but trusting obliged - of course, it’s not like Viktor wanted Jayce to suffocate nor like he was quite as used to the air as he used to be so they’d always kept a mask behind their little makeshift cart and if needed they’d take breaks to use it.
Mostly Jayce,
mostly during their first week,
(And they stayed in the upper parts of the fissures !.)
There had even been a time where half delirious he’d blurted,
“How can you breathe like this !”
Coughing and eyes red at the corners.
Viktor simply hummed, re-arranging the toys they had on display and took an alarmingly big whiff of air,
It choked even in his lungs a little, wrecking his body with a little cough, but it was nothing compared to the struggle Jayce had faced, most especially in their previous couple days,
“It had been worse when I was younger.”
Viktor simply said, matter of factly, tasting the words and the air on his tongue again, grimacing in a way Jayce couldn’t quite read yet
“That is, before Piltover took the executive decision to clear the air.”
“we’re clearing the air !?
Jayce has spluttered at him then, past the mask, in utter disbelief and with a pitiful look that came only with deepfounded innocence and equal amounts privilege,
“Eeh,”
Viktor made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hands and bore the same grimace as he had the day they had first gotten Hextech to work, when Jayce had asked him ‘if he knew what he was doing.’
“More or less,”
“there is a ventilation system in place, the chemicals of the fissures are being redirected but as you can see,”
He gestures about, joking and bitter all the same
“It’s not like they’re planting trees down here.
this far below, there is nothing to provide us with fresher air.”
“It’s.. a useless show or nicety. A mockery.”
So, I started watching Arcane- Jayvik headcanon’s time (Part 1) :
Contrary to popular belief Jayce was never very good with ‘high society.’
Long ago, back at the very beginning, Viktor used to accompany him, closely, to speeches and balls and whatever else or, if they skipped out they’d skip out together, disappearing half way in, hiding from Heimerdinger and barely holding laughter in as they supported one another in whatever hiding spot they’d found.
Anyways as I said though, Jayce was never particularly good with impressing or speaking with high society, what he knew best was to rattle off, excited about their ideas and theories and the future they were building.
Before Mel, it was Viktor who’s guided Jayce.
Viktor who’d molded and formed himself among scoffs and disdain in a way in which he, ‘the undercity cripple’ , could be seen fit enough to stand next to the dean of the university as his assistant - this time, he must stand next to his partner.
He guided Jayce, or else, spoke for him, over him when his excitment got the better of him and Viktor could see, with an exasperated sigh that Jayce had long lost their possible sponsors and a change of topic or a glass of wine was well overdue.
That is, before Mel came along.
Despite his soft spoken speech, it’s not like Viktor hadn’t continued to be disdained towards, by those who founds his disability to be a sin or knew of his upbringing - not that that was hard to guess once last name’s were placed on the table, in a conversation ;
Jayce in a high moment of irritation had once claimed that he, that is, Viktor, belonged to the house Talis, which had left Viktor about as much a gaping fish as their esteemed guests, they agreed, later, after disagreeing once, clashing twice and disagreeing once more that, that just wasn’t the way to go about it, not if they wished to build any hope of a future besides they couldn’t just make liars of themselves-Jayce sheepishly relented and Viktor dropped the topic on the promise of it never happening again and on accounts of shoving away the funny feelings in his chest.
Back to our topic though, once Mel saw more potential in them, in Jayce, than she had at the beginning, potential that was actually at last beginning to to life, she took over.
Became Jayce’s forceful right hand, in Viktor’s eyes, dragging him more wherever she wished to place him than guiding him as he had been but it didn’t really matter.
What mattered was that Jayce was blinded by the stars in his eyes and followed her like she was doing them a favour and in the end when biting back like a wounded dog and scuffling against her earned them nothing but trouble,
Viktor let her speak over him and began to draw away, dismissing invitations and sticking to what he knew best, equations and science and.. their laboratory.
I don’t think we talk enough about how the entirety of Wicked is built on the irony of No One Mourns the Wicked. The musical exists because Glinda feels the need to tell Elphaba’s story, because she is in mourning and entirely alone in that. Glinda’s love is what creates the musical because no one mourns Elphaba except her, and that is an incredibly lonely place to be. She’s just lost two of the most important people to her, and all she’s trying to do is make someone, anyone else see how important they were.
HOLD ON, HOLD ON BECAUSE THIS IS SO REMUS AFTER SIRIUS GETS SENT TO AZKABAN CODED ACTUALLY HOLD THE PHONE.
having feelings over just a little guy early teen Remus with big ears and round brown eyes hiding in the shadows of his taller friends, then growing into a long awkward noodle with still just as much little guy energy but now also with acne and more scars, plus bad posture because he still tries to melt into the background while hoping his friends will take all the spotlight
The eyes of the Moon and the Star
Was Remus' boggart always the moon, or did it only become that when he no longer had to fear losing everyone he loved?
