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upsidedowncities · 2 years
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I wonder what the words saw before they reached me. the lips they spilled from, before cascading down into the earth. What ancient magic is this. For your thoughts to cross oceans, black turbulent water and storms, sun soaked beaches. And then across the stand and stone they stumbled, through dense wood and urban jungles. through the back alleys of a city once mine, and along the pavement and farmland of a highway paved with tears.
Was the intention, to smooth over the drips of my hurt as they wandered the desolate flatlands? Did you send them to find echos of my screaming? Do you know how quiet my ghosts are, for having them?
They travel father still, across windy bluff, and fossils of trees from before the great flood. they kiss the wind and taste the roadburn I left behind. They heal the earth as they rush through. Suddenly sun scorched canyons don't seem so bleak. They chase my footprints through the fast approaching tide. Through feilds of turbines, they pause with the same wonder I had.
Do they wonder of the one they're about to meet? Are they curious as to why their journey leads them through dank gas station bathrooms and airy prairie? Do they see eagles return to airees and seagulls return to their docks and wonder where their home is?
They find me in a dark corner. They find me while I make myself small, pretending if I don't believe I'm real, then I will escape the enormity of it. They are magic or perhaps you are because they shine like sunshine. They follow the tear tracks up my eyes and into my brain, flowers grow from the cracks they pass over. They dance and sing and laugh their way into my lungs, and expel the swamp sitting heavily at their base. They trace my spine as they move, underneath hips that carry too many scars. They pause and soothe each one. Finally they reach their destination. A small entry behind the corner of my knee. They slip into my bones and with that the fabric of my very being. They fill my bones with starlight, and they sing stories in a language I don't know. They thread themselves in my DNA and as I feel myself change, even minutely. I cannot help but ask, did you know?
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upsidedowncities · 2 years
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The Eye that See’s and The Heart that Beats - Chapter 2
I do really quick wanna give you guys a bit of a warning for some pretty extreme violence, its cannon typical, and since violence is very prevalent in the show, it will be prevalent in the fic. OK NOW ENJOY LOVE YOU!! ALSO @ink-and-dagger hi ily this is for you, im not even joking literally the ONLY reason im also uploading to tumblr
It took Hasson a few days to stop looking like you were a walking corpse every time he saw you. It took your boss a lot less time to fire you. 10 minutes after you walked into the restaurant later that week to be exact. Apparently there were people lined up out the door to take your job and after your first no call no show EVER. You had proved yourself to be not up to snuff. That and word spread quickly that you had been taken in by one of Silco’s goons, that immediately made you trouble. And you frankly just weren’t worth that. They handed you your last shifts wages and sent you on your merry way. This time on the way home you didn’t stop for anything. Love nor money could have stopped you from getting home.
You closed the door to the tiny damp apartment and as soon as the orange light from the hallway was gone, a sob broke through your throat. No good deed goes unpunished in the undercity, and that finally caught up with you. You sat in the dark apartment and cried until you ran out of tears. You hadn’t known who the kid was, you hadn’t known she would have been safe. You did what you could to help but in doing so you created trouble for yourself. No one wanted to hire someone associated with silco in the sense you are now. You weren’t important, just caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Never let them see you bleed.
You collected yourself and wiped your tears. Crossing the room to the bag you had set down when you got back from your encounter with silco and hadn’t touched since. The heavy fabric was expensive, and felt forgien in your hands. You untied the drawstring and poured out the contents of the bag. There was enough coin to cover your rent and expenses for at least two weeks. Your hands shook as you noticed a small card tucked into the bottom of the bag. You pulled it out and observed it. It had Silco’s seal embossed on one side, a sharp s with some sharp jagged marks at the top and bottom. It shone when you shifted it in the dim light. You turned the card over, and read what was written in neat sharp script on the back.
Consider where you are putting your efforts.
That was all. Money and a cryptic note. You tucked the note into one of the pockets on your jacket. Not inclined to let Hasson see. And you moved the money into the money box. It’s best to put this behind you. Don’t linger on the memory of tall men and mismatched eyes. Forget it. And forget the flash of blue hair you would see outside your window from time to time.
Months passed and you settled into your new routine. You had started running supplies for various businesses in the Lanes. Your size and speen made you good at it. You were able to slip in and out relatively unnoticed, and your voice was starting to lose its naturally soft tone, and transformed into a confident bark. You kept your hood up, your voice sharp and your eyes keen and you did alright. Between your work and Hassons mine wages, plus the gift from Silco you weren’t nearly as bad off as you feared you would be after losing the restaurant job. You came home late and saw Hasson less and less. You would occasionally notice the feeling of eyes on the back of your head as you moved about the city. And occasionally spot the woman from the alley. But she never spoke to you, and no one interfered with your day or business so you dismissed it. Who were you to ask the king of the underground if he was having you tailed. You didn’t matter enough for that.
One day you were crossing the plaza, pointedly avoiding looking at the Last Drop when you noticed something, strange. Pulling your hood closer over your yead you glanced to the other end of the Plaza where the mine workers were returning from. And suddenly you felt a shove to your back. You stumbled to the side and spun around, hand on the knife set in your sheath on your leg. A group of enforcers were emerging from the alley between two of the buildings, and more emerged from the alley behind the miners. They lifted their guns and pointed them at the group. You watched in horror as you recognized a face among the workers being penned in. Hasson.
You through the hood from your face and moved closer to the enforcers from the crowd that was beginning to gather.
“Officers is there a problem?” You asked the nearest one.
“Yes,” he raised his voice now addressing the crowd of workers still being held at gunpoint “You are under arrest for aiding in the creation and distribution of illegal substances.”
The miners bristled, and the energy in the square shifted from confused to angry.
“Who are you calling a criminal” one of the miners shouted
“You can’t do this! We didn’t do ANYTHING!” another shouted
A man stepped forward and you shook your head at him violently. Hasson.
“Officers we haven’t done ANYTHING and you know this.” he said stepping towards the enforcers.
“Hasson back up!” You pleaded. “Just stop!” tears began flooding your eyes. Hasson looked at you from behind the barricade of armed enforcers and you could see him set his jaw. He looked away from you and back at the enforcers. A young man was directly infront of him and clearly nervous.
“Son, you have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Hasson asked the boy.
“Back up! Im warning you!” the kid shouted back. His voice cracking with fear.
“Son you dont have to do this.” Hasson pressed, taking another step forward.
“I’m warning you!” the boy said, cocking his weapon.
“Please!” You screamed, trying desperately to will Hasson to stand down.
A tear rolled down your fathers cheek as he reached a hand out to the enforcer. One last step.
BOOM
Your entire world exploded. The young enforcer pulled the trigger, and as if in slow motion, Hassons body fell to the ground, part of his skull flying back. His head made a sickening crunch on the city stone. A roar sounded both in your head and from the miners. They rushed forward and the enforcers opened fire on the group. You ran forward, trying desperately to reach your father. But the enforcers had cornered the miners, stepping on and over the bodies of the fallen in the street. You watched in horror as the crowd that had gathered retreated into the shadows. And the miners fell under the bullets of the enforcers. The gunfire eventually stopped, and the square quieted as the enforcers filed out.
You tried to draw yourself up to your feet, unsure of exactly when you hit the ground but your knees wouldn’t hold. So instead you dragged yourself on hands and knees to your father. Like the street rat you were, and like the animal he was shot as. You barely registered the hoarse sobs you were making, you barely registered the way the rough streets cut your palms and knees. You certianly did not register the pair of mismatched eyes on you as you collapsed onto your fathers body. He was still warm. You closed your eyes and laid your head on his chest. You ignored the distinct lack of heartbeat and took a moment.
The sun filtered through the smog onto the square, and you closed your eyes. You felt the warmth seeping from your fathers chest. You closed your eyes and pretended. Pretended he was just sleeping. Pretended you were breathing clean air. Pretended you weren’t about to lose your home. Pretended you were in the sun. Somewhere kind. Somewhere safe. Somewhere with your dad. And he loved you and would wake up and tell you so. He would wrap his arms around you like he did when you were small and whisper songs and stories and everything would be okay.
You opened your eyes again and saw his face. Mangled and bloody from the force of the bullet that passed through his brain. You could see shards of bone, and grey matter dusted around his face. And suddenly every semblence of peace you had pretended your way into was gone. You retched violently. Your lunch spilling onto the pavement beside your fathers head. Mixing with the gore on the street. You couldn’t tell if you were shouting. You couldn’t tell if you were crying. All you knew was the way his body smelled. Coppery and wet. And that there was blood on your hands, yours, his, the others around you. It hit you all at once. You were curled around the corpse of your father in the middle of a street full of death. All because of topside. All because of Piltover.
“Fuck you.” You said quietly, your voice shaking. You lifted your head to the sky and screamed the curse again.
“FUCK YOU” you cried as if your voice would carry above the filthy air to the city above. You damned them. You cursed them. You screamed as though your pain validated you to be judge jury and executioner. And they were guilty.
The people who had retreated to the shadows when the shooting started slowly returned. But they left the carnage a wide birth. You remembered when you were little a womans baby died. She cried in the street until two men stepped up and took her away. You had nightmares for weeks, her piercing wails inhabiting your dreams. And here you were.
Never let them see you bleed. But you wanted them to. You wanted them to see the small girl they knew. See their neighbor. See the girl who helped where she could. See how I hurt, you dared them. See how I bleed. See how we all do. Every minute of every day.
A hand rested on your shoulder and you turned and saw him. Fire and water. He looked at you with the same calculating expression. Showing nothing. Giving nothing away. But there was something else in his eyes. A fire, a passion. Your wet, puffy red eyes met him. You breathed hard rage still flowing through your viens. He regarded you, but you regarded him.
“Would you like to make them pay?” He asked softly. You puffed sharply out of your nose. You looked a mess, snot and tears and blood smeared across your face. Your hair a mess from your hood. But he didn’t look disgusted. He looked… excited.
“Yes.”
Turns out, Silco had a place for you. The bar in the last drop was an important part of his enterprise. Not only did it provide static revenue for his operations, it also was a fountain of information. Loose lipped drunk patrons spilled secrets all the time. And secrets according to Silco are what makes the world go round. It also turns out, that Jinx had asked for you special. So when you lost the apartment later that week as you had assumed you would. Hassons name was on the lease, and there were others willing to pay more than you for that place. You fell directly into Silcos ranks.
The woman who had saved you in the alley those months ago, Sevika turned out to be a good friend. Sure she was gruff and rude, and slightly prone to violence. But she was kind to you in her own special way. She would bring you things. Little trinkets she found while she was working that she thought you would like. Soon your little room below the Last Drop had a shelf lined with various things. And the girl, Jinx turned out to be very bright and very sweet. Jinx would follow you around the bar, helping you in the ways she could. It was clear to you that Jinx was also lonely. So you taught her how to wash glasses, and how to help you serve the day patrons. You paid her in a sugary concoction she had come to call The Sugarbomb. You liked her company, she was funnier than anyone gave her credit for, and worked hard. She would come down in the afternoon, while the Drop was closed, and help you do maintenance tasks, and ask for help with her schoolwork. Then the club would open, she would vanish back into the compound and you would mix drinks, schmooze with the patrons, and turn a blind eye to the viles of shimmer you saw passed around. Later after the bar closed, Jinx would return and the pair of you would eat before you retired to bed. You fell easily into this routine.
It hurt the worst at night. When you would be half asleep and hear someone in the hallway and expect it to be Hasson. You had tricked yourself a number of times into believing he would walk in and hold you and apologize for being gone so long. But he never came. And Silcos goons continued to walk the hallway. Eventually you stopped missing him so much. The sharp pain that made it hard to breathe dulled into an ache that reminded you of the ache in your lungs from the air.
You fell into your new routine. And were shocked at the softness it afforded you. Silco paid you well, and you had people you cared about. It made you feel more centered to have people to take care of. You were as close to happy as you could be.
One evening you decided to venture out to the market. You wanted to get a gift for Jinx. The girl had been talking about running out of several colors of her oil pastels and you wanted to see if you could replace them. You made your way to the market before you felt the familiar sensation of being watched. This time it wasn’t the semi-friendly presence of Silcos hires. It was malicious and intense. You moved through the stalls cautiously. You got the pastels you came for and started to leave before a rough hand grabbed you and pulled you into the alley. Before you could scream another grubby hand moved to clamp over your mouth.
“I recommend you don’t struggle” the man pinning you to the wall said. “I have a proposition for you.”
You bit his hand.
“You little bitch! I’m going to pretend you didn’t do that. My name is Grives. And you, you are in a position of particular use for me.” he said, moving his hand to trap your jaw.
“Go to hell.” you spat at him
“Oh that’s not very nice, you don’t even know what I’m going to ask.” he paused.
“You’re close to Silco, and his daughter are you not?” he asked.
You set your jaw and didn’t say a word.
“A little thing like you, I don’t need much from you. Just, leave the back door unlocked this week. And you’ll be compensated greatly for your trouble.” He pressed a large and heavy bag of gold into your hands.
“And if I don’t?” you growled at him, your blood boiling at the implication of what he was asking you to do.
“Well, lets hope you don’t need to go to the market again!” He answered cherrily. Pulling a knife from his pocket he held it to your face. “It would be a shame if something happened to this pretty face of yours.” He pressed the blade against your cheek. You felt a small warm drip fall from the cut.
“I’ll see what I can do.” You said, praying that to him, your words meant confirmation.
“Thank you, that’s all I ask.” he gave you a wolfish smile and you could see blackening teeth in his mouth. You resisted the urge to retch.
He released you, not before flicking his knife once more and nicking your eyebrow. You hissed slightly and waited for him to leave. When he finally stalked back into the shadows, you broke. Fear flooded your system and you sank to your knees. You knew people wanted to kill Silco, you hadn’t realized people would view you as a tool to do that. You also didn’t know how you were going to deal with it. Silco hadn’t spoken to you since he brought you back to the compound below the drop. He was busy, and you didn’t expect him to think of you. But he had taken care of your fathers body, didn’t even give you a chance to worry about it. He also had your stuff brought to you. And he had given you time. The week after your fathers death all you could do was stare with a vacant expression. He had let you. He let you make the first move before Sevika came to train you on your new position. He was patient with you in subtle ways you hadn’t expected.
And Jinx. The way the man had spoken you feared for her as well. You knew initially Jinx had been sent by her father to be a companion of sorts to you. Jinx had told you herself. And while your friendship was real, it was at the urging of Silco. This strange Grives, had threatened to take all of that from you, and acted like you should thank him for asking you to help. You filled with a strange sort of defensive rage. Silco had been there for you when you lost everything. You quickly hurried out of the alley and back to the drop.
Sevika tried to catch you in the main pub to say hello, but you just pushed past her. Rage simmering just under the surface of your face that you had schooled into neutrality on the way home. She moved out of your way and said nothing else. You first stopped by the back door. Locking it firmly. Then you found your feet carrying you up the stairs to Silcos office. You were slightly amazed at your own courage as you found yourself knocking on his door. You heard a shuffle and a brief exchange of words before the door opened. Jinx emerged, looking slightly crestfallen. But her face lit up as she saw you, and her arms went to wrap around your middle.
“I’m glad youre back! I couldn’t find you!!” she exclaimed
You looked down at her with a soft smile.
“I went to go pick some things up! Can I find you after I speak to your dad, little bird?” You asked
Jinx grinned larger “Yes but I want one of your special drinks!” she exclaimed.
“Deal, I’ll be down in a couple of minutes!” you ruffled her hair and she giggled before turning and sliding on her butt down the stairs vocalizing with each bump. You chuckled at her antics for a moment before turning back to Silco.
Who coincidentally was smiling vaguely.
“She has taken a particular shine to you.” He commented, motioning for you to come in.
“I’m glad cause I quite like her myself. She’s a good kid.” you said fondly.
Silco smiled ever so slightly wider, and you had to beat back the notion that he was very handsome when he did so.
“I can’t imagine you came here so boldly to simply speak well of my daughter.” he said
“I wish I had.” You grimaced, crossing the room and placing the sack of money on his desk.
“What’s this?” He asked, his smile falling. His eyes flicked to the pair of fresh cuts on your face.
“Somebody paid me to ‘leave the back door unlocked this week’” You said softly. “I’m not well versed in vague threats, but it sounded like they wanted me to help orchestrate your death. And Jinx’s.”
Silcos smile was completely gone. His eyes boring through your person.
“What do you mean by, and Jinx’s” he said, fury barely concealed behind his words.
“They said I was awfully close to ‘Silco and his daughter’ and then asked me to leave the back door to the pub unlocked. Paid me. And told me if I didn’t cooperate it would be a shame if something happened to me.”
Silco stood from his chair, and you swallowed dryly. He was tall, and admittedly terrifying. He stepped around his desk to tower over you. His hand coming up to your cheek. Fingertips barely ghosting over the cuts that had only just stopped bleeding. You held his gaze, and even though you trembled slightly at his proximity you didn’t move. His eyes searched you. Trying to find hints of deceit, or fear.
“Did they do this to you.” he asked softly
You nodded, and his eyes burned. You could see him thinking, you knew you should be scared. But you weren’t. You couldn’t tell if you should be concerned about that. But all you could feel was the way his hand was hovering above your cheek. And the way that the anger in his eyes made you feel safer than you ever had been.
“Give me a name.”
He was so close, totally in your personal space. You breathed in and the scent of cigars and coffee and something so distinctly Silco filled your nose. You would never admit it to yourself, but that smell soothed your stomach which had been churning since the interaction in the alley. You didn’t know if that was something you should be afraid of either.
“Grives.”
Silco seemed to recognize it, because he stepped back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He moved back to sit down. He took the moneybag up into his hands and considered it.
“This is a lot of money.” he said.
“Yes.” you agreed.
“More than I pay you.” he prodded.
“Yes.” You agreed again.
“Did you consider it?” He finally asked.
“No.” you answered immediately.
“Would you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He shuffled the coins before holding it out to you. You looked between him and the bag before shaking your head.
“A reward for your loyalty.” He clarified as if you didn’t understand.
“I don’t need it.” You responded. “My loyalty is not bought.”
He regarded you silently for a moment before putting the bag into his desk drawer.
“Very well then.”
The two of you continued to regard eachother a moment longer. His eyes had stopped burning so fierce, and his shoulders had sagged slightly. He looked almost tired. Almost.
“I imagine Jinx is waiting for you at the bar. You should find her.” He said, breaking the silence.
You nodded and smiled unconsciously at the mention of the little girl. As you turned to leave you saw an emotion flash over silco’s face, and if you knew anything about reading people you would say it was fondness.
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upsidedowncities · 2 years
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Zaun Underground Champion.
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upsidedowncities · 2 years
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The Eye that Sees and The Heart that Beats
The undercity was never kind to people who had something about them that could be exploited. It would take and infect and pollute and spit you out with nothing. The very air reminded those trapped within it with each breath that they were less. They didn’t deserve to breathe clean air from above. In the eyes of Piltover the people from the undercity were too far gone to be saved. So they were left to choke on the filthy smog.
Hasson had taught you from day one that family wasn’t blood. Blood was a luxury you couldn’t afford. Family were those whose backs you watched, and in turn they watched yours. But as much as his lessons of independence and not relying on anyone were what he spoke out loud, what he did told a different story. He loved you, and he had loved you since the moment he pulled you half drowned out of the river. You knew he suffered more hardship for the sake of protecting you. Two mouths were much more expensive to feed than one, so often he fed one. And growing up you never starved. As you got older you saw the toll it was taking on him. So you began to work, as most children of the underground did. You started off choking in the mines, but then at the urging of Hasson, found something in the Lanes. You worked in a small restaurant. Bussing tables and washing dishes at first, and then ultimately ending up the bartender. Hasson also taught you that you could never let them see you bleed. He taught you how to defend yourself, and gifted you a knife that you kept strapped to your thigh. It was a little thing, like yourself. Easily underestimated. But it was lethal. Just like the undercity.
It was spring when you were walking home from the restaurant. If you could even call it that. Spring in the Lanes was not heralded with clear fresh air or flowers. Rather a couple extra hours of yellowish light that filtered down through the fumes from above. You were grateful for it in a small way. Because if you held your breath and closed your eyes the sun would warm your skin, and you could pretend you were somewhere else. Somewhere kinder. You never dawdled though. That was a good way to get hurt. So you passed quickly through the towering spires of stacked buildings, and over the fissures on your way home. Usually you didn’t stop once.
But today you heard a sound, a high pitched whine. It sounded like a kid. It sounded scared. You stopped and turned to face the alley. And sure enough, there was a kid. Maybe 8 or 9 with bright blue hair. Being backed into a corner by two grown men maybe twice her size. You debated a moment before setting your jaw and stepping over. Your boots made a sizable splash in the puddle at the entrance to the alley before you passed over.
“I really hope I’m not interrupting something important.” you fawned, your voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Actually you are, so get lost.” one of the men said, shifting his stance to face you. It was obvious they hadn’t planned on being interrupted.
“You see I already am, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the Last Drop.” You picked the name of the most well known pub in town, one they would be stupid to not know the name of. You smiled sweetly.
Your plan had been to distract the men long enough for the kid to slip away. But the kid didn’t move. And one of the men took a step towards you, clearly aiming to swing.
“Ugh, no need to be rude about it.” You pouted just before stepping to the side, feeling a slight shift in air as his fist sailed past your head. You pulled your knife from its  place and moved to slash the mans arm. He grunted as blood rained down onto your cheek from the sizable gash in his arm. You had to be fast. There was no way you could match these guys in strength so you had to be quick. And say a prayer.
Sinking low to the ground you lashed out again, your knife finding its mark on the tendon on the inside of the man's knee. You jerked your knife back towards you from behind his knee until you felt a snap and heard his scream. His tendon was completely severed and his leg useless.
“Get out of here kid!” you grunted and that's all it took. A moment's hesitation and that would be your undoing. Can’t hesitate down here, that's when the undercity will kill you.
The second man catches you by the hair. You feel a vicious yanking and cry out as your head is brought up. His knuckles collide with your stomach and you curse the big bulky rings he's wearing as your breath leaves you. Tears well up in your eyes from the impact and your breath is leaving you in shaking coughs. He drops you to the ground and you feel a piece of what must be glass imbed itself in your forehead. Your left eye is red and all you can smell is the coppery scent of your own blood pouring down your face. You curl in on yourself and prepare for him to start kicking. Praying to whatever god who must have abandoned you long ago that it's quick. Everyone hopes to go quickly. But the kicks never come. You hear shouting and the sound of a struggle. The man's shadow leaves your body and you can vaguely hear him fighting someone else. Blows are exchanged for a moment and then there is the sound of mechanic whirring followed shortly by the sound of bones shattering and the thump of what can only be a lifeless body. You didn’t hear any screams. You lift your head and see a tall woman with a metal arm standing above you. And the girl. The little girl you came here for. She is crying and something inside you twists painfully. She says something to the woman but you can’t hear. There's a ringing coming from the base of your skull that seems to be drowning out all other sounds. The last thing you see is the woman bending over you before your head falls to the concrete again and the ringing turns to a piercing shriek and then nothing.
You wake to find yourself in a bed, it's not comfortable. But it is also decidedly more comfortable than most beds in the Undercity. It smells clean, and the sheets have a slightly scratchy unused quality. It’s strange. You look around the room, trying to gather your surroundings. You seem to be in a shoddy hospital. Its shoddy because it's dark, and clearly never meant to be a medical facility. Pipes criss-cross above you, and the air has a wet stale quality. But it's been converted into one. There are a few mismatched shelving units bearing medical supplies. And a few other curtained cubicles, clearly containing other cots. A noise to your right alerts you to the presence of the woman from the alley. She is dozing in a folding chair next to your bed. You shift and she startles awake.
“Well if it isn’t sleeping beauty.” She says gruffly
When you respond with nothing she sighs.
“You really should be more careful. Good deeds are a bad idea.” she says, softer this time.
“I couldn’t just leave her.” you say, your voice coming out less words and more hoarse croak.
“She would have been fine, I was nearly there.” she says, irritation rising in her voice.
“Well good thing, cause I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Thank you.” you said quietly, turning to stare at the ceiling again.
Your head swam with thoughts. Where were you? Why did the little girl have a guard? Whose kid was she to be that important? Did Hasson know where you were? How long had you been gone? Where was your bag? Among a few at the forefront of your mind.
The woman cleared her throat, startling you from your thoughts.
“You’ve been out for about a day, your shit is safe, it's upstairs. I am supposed to give you painkillers and ask where you want to be dropped off.”
You paused, hesitant to tell her where you lived. After a moment you settled on telling her to drop you in the square, you could wait for her to leave and then head up to your and Hasson’s apartment. She would never know which it was.
“Can you drop me off at the square by the Last Drop?” you asked
“Oh that’s easy. We’re in the basement now. I’ll help you upstairs to get your stuff and then you can just go.”
“What do you mean we’re at the drop?” you asked, voice shaking slightly with the implication.
“She means, that girl you saved? Was my daughter.” A smooth voice came from the other end of the room. The woman next to you stood up quickly.
As you turned to see where the voice had come from, blood drained from your face. There in the doorway stood Silco. The king of the Undercity. The man everyone feared enough to have some semblance of law down here. He was corrupt, and a murderer. But he did provide structure. And under him the undercity had seen economic growth unlike the time of his predecessor who was more content hiding than seeking more. You were of the persuasion to be inclined to respect this man. He came up from the mines and made something of himself. He was proof that maybe they had a chance. But he was also of the persuasion to kill people who crossed his path. And here you were, caught like a deer in the headlights.
“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I meant no insult on your guards capability, nor did I try to hurt her. Please forgive me.” Your voice shook as you spoke.
He stood there a moment, before the corner of his mouth quirked up into the ghost of a smile.
“Relax girl. Jinx told me everything, it’s not often I run into those who do something just cause it is right.” He said, and while the words themselves were kind, his tone was measured and calculated.
“I wanted to pay you back for the services, and any wages you may have lost while unconscious.” he said, his mouth settling back into his clearly schooled expression of neutrality. He crossed the room in only a few strides and dropped a small sachet in your lap. You didn’t open it. Silco stood at the foot of the bed and observed you. From your vantage point you could see he was tall, and lean but not thin. He was clearly strong. And his eyes. Everyone knew about his eyes. One a striking green that could be considered quite pretty, the other wide and scarred. Orange set in a black void. You wondered how it happened, and if it bothered him at all.
You shook these thoughts from your mind. He’s Silco, not some dog to ogle at on the street. You pointedly removed your gaze from his face and stared at your hands.
“Thank you, it’s unnecessary but very appreciated.” You said softly as you toyed with the string on the bag in your lap. The bag alone was nicer material than anything you owned.
“Don’t speak of it.” And with that he turned and left.
The woman who was still standing by your side waited until his footsteps before moving to help you up. You winced as you moved your torso. It was slow going. But eventually you were dressed and your items were returned to you. Plus the money and medicine from Silco. As she walked you to the door the woman turned to you.
“Word to the wise, kind is stupid. Don’t be stupid.” She said roughly.
You nodded once and offered a small smile. She looked away from you and opened the door. You stepped out onto the street and looked back at the Last Drop in enough time to see the door swing shut. You exhaled a shaky breath and walked across the plaza to your apartments entrance, cold gray dawn light barely filtering down from topside to the Undercity street at your back.
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upsidedowncities · 3 years
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my dad likes to call the stretches of time where you’re not creating “dreaming periods” and says that they’re meant to allow you to absorb all of the beauty, life, and inspiration from the things around you so that when you’re able to create again, you will have fanned your spark back into a flame. sometimes its hard to see those moments as anything but stagnation, but he always says that they’re natural and healthy and needed—things that should be embraced rather than feared.
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upsidedowncities · 3 years
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ok finale aside I was clicking through pedro pascals insta story and NEARLY DIED
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upsidedowncities · 3 years
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space dad to the rescue!
+bonus:
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upsidedowncities · 3 years
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I am, in fact, the glubgogubgalub
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upsidedowncities · 3 years
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Finished all my finals today, the American school system is GARBAGE I literally paid to take a class on how to Google.
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upsidedowncities · 4 years
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Im re-reading asras route. and poor baby. he's got so much trauma that he's just ignoring. I just want to protect that lil dude, my whole heart HURTS.
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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This really butters my eggroll
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I live for this domestic shit omg
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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Consider this for a moment
a tragic accident occurs after the upright ending, which ultimately ends in MCs death
a panicked and grief-stricken Asra leaves Faust in the care of Muriel as he sets off to once again seek out the Devil to make another deal
“You know the only thing of worth you have left to bargain is the final half a heart, magician.”
“Take it. As long as they get to live again, take it.”
Asra goes on to give up the final half of his heart, knowing Faust would be in good hands with Muriel, and sacrificing himself in order for MC to have new life again��
while knowing full well that MC would have no memory of him at all, no reason to ever go to the shop where his ghost is bound
many lonely years go by as Asra’s ghost wanders the shop aimlessly meanwhile MC has built up a new life and has found a new love
the shop had become abandoned over the years and is now eventually sold
moving day comes and Asra’s ghost watches with curiosity as the door opens and the new owners walk in
MC
with… children and a spouse
and no recollection of all the memories he had made with them in that very shop
but Asra remembers
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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“Is it morning already… ?”
Have some bed head morning Asra ! (click for closer view)
he is so relaxing to draw and perfect for coloring training (=^・ω・^=)
Link to my instagram : https://www.instagram.com/jammy_sketchbook/
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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I've never wanted anything more!!
If the Arcana released a dollmaking app where you can make your apprentice in their art style I would … die probably
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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every single person who reblogs this
every
single
person
will get “doot doot” in their ask box
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upsidedowncities · 5 years
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Faust tho... Where's the lie
The main 6 if they had a Snapchat
Julian:
Username: leachdoctor69
Is really bad at keeping streaks
Hardly remembers to post on his but when he does he’s usually reallllllyyy drunk
Then it’s a ton of selfies of him feeling him self and drunken snaps to Mc about how much he loves them
Asra:
Username: magicalsnakecharmer420
Could keep streaks but feels like they’re pointless
His story is 90% cute pics of Faust 5% cool ass picks from his adventures 5% weed smoking vids
Never misses 11:11 but uses cute pictures of mc
Advertises what’s in his shop, sometimes subtly, sometimes not
Lucio:
Username: CountDaddio
Has a streak with everyone and if you lose it PREPARE TO FACE HIS WRATH
His story is always either pics of himself shirtless or pictures of his amazing life that will make you jealous
Also loves taking pics of his dogs
Pics are captioned with too many emojis
Has to approve who’s on his and Mc’s snap
Sends Mc nudes at THE WORST TIMES POSSIBLE
Nadia:
Username: lovelyGodess101
Only keeps streaks with people important to her
Her story always looks like a professional photographer took them probably did
Outfits of the day on her story and close ups of her makeup
Like Lucio, post pics that make you jealous of her life
Story also has pics of her and Mc on dates or just beautiful candids of them
Portia:
Username: CatMother360
Would keep streaks if she wasn’t so busy
Story is full of videos of Pepi being cute and her pulling pranks on Julian
Post pics/videos of Mc sleeping or doing something dorky like singing or dancing with cute ass captions
Does 11:11 post but uses terrible cutouts of Mc’s face
Does those annoying Snapchat story spam things
Muriel:
Username: Muriel1234
Doesn’t post
Was forced to make one by Mc and Asra
How does he delete it???
If he does breakdown and post, it’s just pics of inanna and the chickens
“Don’t HMU. I’ll leave you on read”
Bonus:
Faust:
Username: SlipperyBoi420
How does she use a phone?
Does it matter?
Story is a lot of memes and close up pics of her face and pics of Asra from the worst angle ever
Takes cute sneaky pics of Mc and their LI and sends it to them later
Ssssstreaks
11:11 is always Asra
Helps Portia prank people
~Ses
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