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Febuwhump Day 26 Zaundads Week Day 7

Concealing an Injury/To the Last Drop. Little bit of hurt/comfort. Little bit of Hope.

He hadn’t been here since before the bridge. Since they were happy, since Felicia was alive. But what choice did he have now? Bleeding out, slowly, he clutched at his side, trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. Hold himself together. He wouldn’t make it to the caves, he wouldn’t make it to his own hideaways. The Drop was his only hope. And Vander hadn’t changed the keys. He could still unlock the doors, Vander hadn’t taken that from him. Like he was still welcome. And the man himself was cleaning the bar, closing up. Night was becoming dawn, but he was still working. Perhaps he had put the girls to bed, come back to clean up. Perhaps the night had been long, bar fights and demanding patrons. His head snapped up with the door, and he stilled. And Silco stilled in turn. Stared. For all Vander had changed, in the years, the lines of smiles, peppery grey beard, he was just the same. The same softness, the same strength. He just stared. Because after all this time, it was Vander. Vander, who he had loved, Vander, who had killed him. “Fuck’s sakes Sil, you’re bleeding all over my floor. Just mopped there.” Vander acted like it was normal, like there was no time passing between them. Like Silco had just been in a fight, he was always getting into scrapes. 

“I’ve had worse.” He grumbled. Immediately defensive. Immediately regretting coming here, trying to hide the severity of the wound. “Then clean up, huh.” Vander went to him, all the same, grabbed his head in one huge hand to search his face, looking at his one good eye, blackened from the fight, wiping blood from his lip, his nose. His touch was so gentle, always so gentle. His calloused hands cleaned the blood from Silco’s face, made sure he stayed standing. And with the same gentle, massive hands, he moved Silco’s hand away from the biggest wound. “Shit, Sil.” Vander urged him into one of the chairs, hesitated, over the buttons of his shirt. “Can I? I need to see how bad it is. We need to get this cleaned up.” “Do what you have to do.” Silco grimaced. Mostly over the way his breath hitched at Vander’s hands on the buttons of his shirt, at the care in his touch. The way he could no longer look at Vander, the way Vander focused so much on him.  “What happened?” Vander opened Silco’s shirt, exposed the deep stab. He ran his finger underneath it, so gentle. So careful.

“Never mind that, Vander.” He dismissed. The enforcers had been closing in on his territory, he’d ended up in a fight he couldn’t win. “Just help me get patched up enough to get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way, canary.” Vander used the old pet name, gentle, so calm, he cleaned the wounds with a clean bar rag, a bowl of water still warm from the kettle. “Should stay overnight. Make sure nothing’s infected.” He continued, cleaning until the wounds could be bandaged. Wrapped clean cloth around his waist, tight enough to close the wound. Not perfect, but it would do. He’d had worse. He’d cleaned worse off of Vander.

“I can’t do that.” He wanted to. He wanted to collapse forward into Vander, hold on to him. He wanted to feel those strong arms around him, bury his face. He just wanted to hold on to Vander, to plead for the pain to go away. To seek comfort, in the man he’d loved. The man he thought would be by his side through all of this.

Vander reached up, once more. Brushed his thumb over his split lower lip. Cradled his face. “Please, Sil. Stay.”

He couldn’t refuse the plea in those storm colored eyes. Couldn’t stay away. He slid off the chair, forward, until he was pushed against Vander. Until his head was notched into Vander’s shoulder, His hands pushed around the broad expanse of his waist. And Vander wrapped his arms around Silco, rubbed his back, just the way he had, all those years ago.

“I’ve got you, Sil. I’ve got you.”

“Just for tonight.”

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for anon

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I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell.

some last fleeting thoughts on an independent zaun

(original quote from asoiaf)

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Febuwhump Day 25 Zaundads Week Day 6

Bound and Gagged/Role Reversal. This one is... Something, Guys. Have fun with it.

Well, this was new. Silco didn’t often wake tied down, didn’t often wake with a bit in his mouth, biting down on a rough rope gag. Hands tied to elbows, arms tied to waist. Legs and ankles bound. Not something he was used to waking up to. Alright. Where was he last? At the water’s edge. Where Vander had tried to drown him. He’d been planning. He needed to find a way to cut Singed out, the doctor was too volatile. And the river was always a good place to think. He had been at the river, planning his next moves, thinking on what was to be done.

Footsteps. Large, heavy footfalls, he would recognize those steps anywhere. Vander. He hadn’t seen Vander in years. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. He wasn’t sure he could. And yet, there was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to hide, and all he had to fight back was a small knife. Silco was helpless. And then blackness. Until now. He recognized this floor, slowly. The Last Drop, upstairs, manager’s office. Vander’s room. Once upon a time it had been their room, shared, and the blanket on the sofa was still his. He recognized the spines of some of the books. The things that hadn’t changed. “Mornin’, canary.” He heard Vander light his pipe, smelled the familiar tobacco. It used to bring a rush to his head, make him want to wrap Vander in a deep, unrelenting kiss. Now, he tried to turn, to see the man. Vander pushed him, so that Silco could see the man who had taken him here. Vander was huge, perched in a wooden chair, pipe perched between his lips. Steel grey eyes, once so warm, turned cold and harsh as they looked Silco over. Silco just stared. He wasn’t sure what to do. What he could do. “Probably wondering why I brought you all the way here, huh?” Vander mused. Reached down, to brush Silco’s hair away from his face. “Dragged you back home. Someone had to. Wanted my canary back where he belongs. Vander bent, to cradle his face, something feral, something dangerous in those eyes. And Silco feared him, not for the first time.

“Even if that means I gotta put my pretty bird in a cage.”

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Just a pretty dhampir :>

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Inspiration for his outfit:

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"Who is-" DRACULA (1931) teaser ad

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if we’ve been mutuals for long enough i don’t even care what you post anymore. if one of my mutuals of two years suddenly gets really into competitive caber toss i just accept zenlike that half my dash is going to be gifsets of burly men hefting logs forever now. i adapt to all online conditions like an animal with high toxicity tolerance

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Febuwhump Day 24/Zaundads Week Day 5

Forced to Beg/Smoke and Burn

He could still see the bridge burning. The bomb he had thrown, the flames he had helped to stoke. The pain he had caused. He stood in the river, letting it run over him, trying to think through what had happened, thinking through what had to be done. The fighting had taken out one of his eyes. Killed Felicia and Connel, made orphans of their children. Vander would take them in, but Silco would have to help with that.  But Vander was there. Vander was there and the rage, the hate in his eyes was terrifying. There was none of the soft, kind man he had been. Nothing of the love Silco had known. And Vander was shouting at him, pushing him, grabbing him. Accusing him of killing Felicia and Connel, of orphaning Violet and Powder himself. Like it hadn’t been all of them who walked onto the bridge. All of them who fought.

But then he was under the water, and the Pilt was sinking into his bloodied, filthy, gaping eye, and water was sinking into him, and he scrabbled at Vander, kicked at him, fought. He couldn’t die here. They’d all die. The enforcers would cross the bridge and kill them all for what had happened. He couldn’t let Vander carry the guilt of killing him.

“Please, Vander, Vander please.” He spat water, tried to get away. “Vander, you don’t want this.” He was panicking, kept repeating his name, trying to appeal to his humanity. He couldn’t die here. He couldn’t lay that on Vander’s shoulders. “Vander please. I love you.”

“You did this.” Vander growled. And he grabbed Silco, all that weight, all that muscle, all that strength that Silco had so loved forcing him under the water once more.

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country hall pottery

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Febuwhump Day 23/Zaundads Week Day 4

Body Horror (Alternate Prompt)/Monsterfucking (They don't quite get to the fucking, but I guess let me know if you want me to continue this one?)

He had made a beast of Vander. It had to have been him, had to have been the doctor, the hallmarks of his experimentation were all over the monstrosity staring Silco down in the mines. Invading the place he had been hiding for these past months. Recovering. And now this monster, made of the man he killed. The man he loved. The man whose blood he knew as well as his own. Who stared him down, eyes burning into him, and Silco recognized Vander. He would know this man anywhere, no matter what they made of him.

“Sil?” His voice was warped around this new body, but he reached for Silco all the same. Brought his face close, breathed him in. And Silco went still, not sure what the monster he made of Vander was going to want with him. But it seemed like all he wanted was to be close to Silco. To breathe him in, to rub his muzzle against him, almost purring his name. 

It was still Vander. No matter what. And Vander could make heat pool in Silco no matter how long it had been, no matter what monster had been made of either of them. Vander crowded him against the stone of the mine shaft, pushed his muzzle, his jaw against the column of Silco’s throat, his name broken in his new form. And still, Silco held him. Pushed his hands into the coarse fur that covered his body. Held him. “It’s me, Vander. I’m here.” He murmured, tucked his face against the monster, his Vander. And he breathed him in just like Vander had, committed him to memory once more. Like they had once, in mine shafts just like this one, clinging to each other. Memorizing the scent, the feel.

The taste. Vander dragged his heavy tongue up Silco’s throat, along his jaw. And it wasn’t the best kiss, it was filthy and their mouths were no longer made for each other, but Silco kissed him like a lifeline. Clung to him. He had his Vander back. And his Vander, his monster, his beast wanted him.

And Janna help him, all the gods and dark beings help him, Silco wanted his beast.

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our hextech dream 🦋⚙️

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yeah i drive the truck that isekais all those lonely 20yo NEETs and bored salarymen. it’s a really hard job. they keep sending me to workplace counselling after each hit. “it’s normal to feel guilt at ending someone’s life,” they say. how do i tell them that’s not what makes me feel guilty? “but it’s okay. he’ll live a better life in another world.” yeah, with 100 girls who could have lived normal lives but got drafted into being in these boring dudes’ harems. how many women’s lives have i ruined. and they don’t even know. they don’t even know

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Day 22 of Febuwhump, Day 3 of Zaundads Week

"Grab the Little one"/Loyalty

“Get the little one!” The enforcer yelled, as Silco careened after Vander down the side of the bridge, launching himself down the brickwork towards the filthy river. It was the safest option, the best way to get away without ditching the loot. And they couldn’t afford to ditch the loot again. If they did, no one was going to be eating. 

He felt a yank at the back of his shirt, flew upwards. His head snapped forwards, he couldn’t grab on to the bag, watched it fall, fall. Their loot. Their source of money, their source of food.

“Got’im!” The enforcer pulled up, dragging Silco along the brick, cutting up his back. He watched Vander flail, grab the bag. Tried to signal to him to leave Silco, let him get sent away for a little bit. It would be fine. Not his first stint in a jail cell, certainly not his last. They needed this heist. Vander needed to keep going.

But he didn’t. He let the bag go, let it fall into the murky waters, gone forever, and he began to climb. Launching himself up, and up, and up as they dragged Silco kicking and feral back over the side of the bridge. And Vander was on them, launching his whole, massive form into the man who had dragged Silco up. “You idiot! That was our food money!” Silco spat, but he grabbed the baton off of the other enforcer, swung it into their mask. Gave him enough of an opening to make a run for it. “Yeah well I wasn’t going to let them take you!” Vander yelled back, grabbed Silco by the wrist and dragged him, pulled him along until they were in the narrow, smoke clogged alleys of the undercity. “Couldn’t let them take you, Sil.”

“You’re an idiot. Loyalty isn’t going to feed us, Vander.”

“We’ll manage. We always do.” Vander smiled. His large hands came up to cradle Silco’s head, checking him for injuries, traced a hand through his hair. “Long as it’s you and me.”

Silco leaned up on tiptoe, dragged Vander down to him. Kissed him, deep, unrelenting. Bit, pushed his tongue into Vander’s mouth to kiss him harder. Deeper. “You and me.”

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