#Why? No reason I just think they're neat

[32girassoisdevangogh]

AU where everything is the same except Commander Jogjebi uses this thing

[perpetualexistence]

Through a Funhouse Mirror

Alenoah Week 2024 Day 6: Amusement Park / Laser Tag

Noah and Alejandro are on an end of year class field trip to the local amusement park. Normally, Alejandro only hangs out with his girlfriend Heather in the popular clique. However, recently Alejandro has integrated himself into Noah's friend group. He's even taken charge as their leader.

He acts the gentleman, but by now Noah knows better. He doesn't have any concrete proof, but he can tell Alejandro despises most of the group. There has to be some reason he's sticking around, but he doesn't quite know what.

He would confront Alejandro, but the eel is always too preoccupied with schmoozing the rest of his friends, and people outside of his immediate friend group. Now is a good of a chance as any.

Alejandro's the one who convinces the group to split off. He insists that it's so everyone can do what they prefer, but Noah can tell it's because he wants to get away from the others. Noah volunteers himself to go with Alejandro since nobody is allowed to be by themselves, and Alejandro obliges. There are benefits to being the only other sane one in the group.

Noah looks for somewhere private to confront Alejandro, and lucks out with the house of mirrors. He tells Alejandro he wants to go in and Alejandro, ever the 'gentleman' agrees.

Noah waits until they're deeper into the maze before he starts being direct with Alejandro about his nature. Alejandro tries denying it. Noah provides rebuttal after rebuttal. The argument keeps getting more and more heated.

Noah's back is to one of the mirrors. He's trying to keep his ground, but he takes another step backward as Alejandro takes one forward. His back is pressed against one of the mirrors.

Without warning, the solid surface begins to shudder. He feels something like a liquid on his back. Nothing seems to be supporting his weight anymore, and he begins to fall backwards. In his desperate attempt to stop his descent, he grabs onto the closest thing in sight: Alejandro.

In his own shock at seeing the mirror ripple, Alejandro is unable to react in time to stop their fall. He passes through the mirror with Noah, and falls on top of the smaller boy.

Noah groans in pain at the fall and at being crushed.

Alejandro quickly stood up to recover from this temporary set back. He's the first to notice that the tacky mirrors from before now loom over the both of them like imposing walls. The floor is much, much too close.

They both hear a chuckle coming from behind him, and turn to see a man the size of an eight-story building looking down at both of them.

After a quick screaming session, they learn that this is a trickster spirit who calls himself Chris. He likes to mess around with mortals from time to time for his own amusement. And man, they just handed themselves on a silver platter.

He offers them a deal. He'll tell them how to return them to their normal size if they can find him again. He'll give them a riddle, then once they figure out where he's talking about, they have to race towards it at their new size to get to him.

Alejandro shows no fear as he does his best to assuage Chris and assure him they can absolutely finish this task for Chris. Noah, however, is pretty peeved about this situation. And oh, does he let Chris know it.

Alejandro tries to get him to stop talking, but one doesn't stop Noah from going off on someone once he's started. Noah has successfully angered Chris, though Alejandro's able to convince Chris NOT to kill them. Chris still wants some punishment though, so he magics their phones away so they can't call or text for help. And he's going to give them the hardest riddle he knows.

Alejandro covers Noah's mouth and agrees to the new terms. Chris gives them the riddle, and leaves in a puff of smoke. It takes everything in Alejandro not to strangle Noah as they get to solving the riddle.

Between their IQ, and Chris not being as smart as he thinks he is, they solve it pretty quickly. It’s the Ferris wheel. They can remember seeing it on the way in. It's in the middle of the park. Full of crowded people. Who can step on them without even trying.

They start making their way over, doing their best to be as stealthy and quick as possible. They'd rather not let anyone else know about this because who knows how any stranger would take it?

Fortunately, they do come across someone that isn't a complete stranger! It's hard to miss Owen in a crowd with how his voice carries. He's getting an absolutely obscene amount of cotton candy.

Noah immediately starts making his way towards his chubby buddy, only for Alejandro to stop him. Noah wants to know what Alejandro's doing, and Alejandro points out that Owen might not be the best person to help them out in their current predicament. He doesn't know how to keep secrets, and isn't aware of his own strength. That is a VERY dangerous combination with both of them being this small.

Noah turns on Alejandro in an instant. Owen's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's not a complete idiot. He can stop when you ask him to stop something. And not spreading gossip is a different type of secret than one that'd put their lives at risk.

There's no way of knowing if they'd find any of their other classmates who is more 'responsible' and who might, might be willing to help. Owen could be their one chance.

Also. It's Owen. Of course he's going to help them! Plus, the big guy can charge through a crowd if he's highly motivated. Noah's pretty sure saving the lives of two of his friends is high enough motivation. They'd get to that ferris wheel in an instant!

Noah's not going to have Alejandro ruin their best chance of getting back to normal because of some stupid one-sided rivalry with Owen!

"He may squeeze me within an inch of my life, but you know what I'll be? Alive!"

Alejandro still fights to keep Noah from going out to get Owen's attention. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this, especially not that oafish buffoon no matter what Noah says.

Noah tries to wriggle out of Alejandro's grasp, but he loses. Alejandro only lets go after Owen has passed them by. He sighs in relief when he can no longer see Owen, and finally lets Noah go.

Noah starts going off on another tirade against Alejandro when the wind starts to pick up. Nobody else seems to notice, but for them the wind is threatening to buffet them away.

Alejandro crouches down to cling to the boardwalk underneath him for something to hold on. Noah is blown away a couple of feet (relative to his new size) before he's stopped.

Because a stray bit of cotton candy has been blown his way and is now trapping him against the ground.

Alejandro rushes for Noah once the wind has died down. He might be annoyed at Noah for making this more difficult that it needs to be, but that doesn't mean he wishes Noah dead.

He tries digging some of the cotton candy around Noah's face free so Noah can breathe better. Which does work, but it also leads Alejandro to getting cotton candy on him. He's lucky he's strong enough to have pulled his own arms out rather than get stuck himself.

He knows any type of liquid should dissolve this, but how to get some? He looks around to spot a large cup of soda littered on the ground. He runs for it and sighs in relief as he notices that it has a bit remaining. It won't be the most elegant solution, but it will do.

He drags the soda to Noah and jumps onto the cup. Soda sprays out of the straw to douse Noah, freeing him. Noah is coughing and snorting out cotton candy and soda, but he's breathing.

Noah reluctantly thanks Alejandro for the whole, you know, saving his life thing. Alejandro was going to tease Noah about it to get some semblance of familiarity back when he hears an extremely loud bark coming from behind.

He turns to see a large dog behind him.

This is fine. Animals love Alejandro! He has a commanding presence that they admire. They fawn over him. He can tame this beast and convince it they're not chew toys.

Turns out his commanding presence doesn't work when he's smaller than the thing he's trying to command.

The dog reaches down and bites onto the back of Alejandro's shirt. He's shaken about, grasping for anything to free himself, when he hears a familiar voice in a strange tone.

"Here boy!" coos Noah in a cutesty tone Alejandro didn't think was possible. "Drop the disgusting eel and come to me! I've got treats!"

To Alejandro's shock, the dog immediately drops him. He falls to the ground in a heap. The dog eagerly bounds towards Noah and begins to sniff him. The dog licks Noah, mostly for the soda and cotton candy he's drenched in.

"¿Quién eres y qué has hecho con Noah?" Alejandro asks himself as he hears Noah giggle at being licked.

Noah digs into one of the many pockets in his khakis that Alejandro had assumed were just to show off his poor taste in fashion. He digs his hand out with a small plastic bag filled with dog treats.

"Come on boy, let's get you a treat that won't kill you in the long run."

He gets the dog to sit, then lay down. Then begins to climb on top of the dog.

"...You tell no one what just happened, and I'll let you get on Shadow. I don't know if I can get him to go fast, but I can at least get him going in the right direction."

Alejandro knows better to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he puts all thoughts about how cute that was away as he gets atop of the newly dubbed Shadow.

It turns out that Shadow has two speeds: none and all. They both have to cling onto the dog as he bolts through the crowd towards the ferris wheel. They can only hope everyone is so focused on the dog that no one notices the two small humans desperately clinging to its fur.

Shadow takes them a good distance towards the wheel. However, he is a dog. He notices a seagull within his line of sight and begins to chase after it in a different direction. The two of them let go before Shadow can steer them too far off course, and land behind one of the prize booths.

With them being in the back of the booths, they can see a path of relatively safety so long as none of the workers make their way back here. The ferris wheel isn't much farther off. So they begin walking. And talking.

"May I at least ask how you made a dog much larger than us eat out of the palm of your hand?"

"I trained my dog when he was a puppy. I figured it might be the same with another dog no matter the size difference."

"Still, I will admit. That was impressive."

"Huh, so you can give a genuine compliment. Didn't think you had it in you."

"I absolutely do give genuine compliments!"

"If you want to prove you're genuine, tell me the real reason you started befriending Team E-scope."

Alejandro sighs. Because at this point, he's tired, and he already has a piece of blackmail over Noah. If they don't survive this, he might as well get this off his chest.

Alejandro admits that the real reason he wants Noah and his friends at his side is because he needs them to get revenge on Heather for him. He's done his best to keep this out of the gossip circle, but she actually dumped him rather recently. He didn't quite listen to the reason why because she did the dumping instead of him. He can't just let that stand.

He knows 'Team E-scope' and Owen is because he knows they're the most chaotic group among them. He planned to trick them into pranking Heather for him so that he didn't have to get his own hands dirty, and no one would find out the reason he wanted revenge on the first place.

Noah can't help but laugh at Alejandro.

"You seriously went through all of that trouble so we could get back at your ex for you?"

"It's a very elaborate plan!"

"That's why I'm laughing! You did all of that for nothing!"

"Getting back at Heather is not nothing."

"No. That's not what I mean. We would have done it if you just asked."

"...What?"

"Eva hates Heather's guts, Owen's always down for a good prank, Izzy's Izzy, and I love to watch shitty people get their just desserts. You didn't even need to give us a reason. All you had to do was ask us to help you pull a prank on Heather. We'd do it because it'd be funny."

Alejandro has to re-evaluate a lot of assumptions and life decisions that he's made recently.

As they get close to the ferris wheel, they spot Chris walking into one of the carts. They immediately make a run for the cart before the attendant can close the door. They both land on the sticky, popcorn riddled floor at the same time.

Despite this, they each find themselves alone with Chris.

He spends the first few minutes laughing at them, confessing to having watched them the entire time. Then he says to each that he can tell them how to get back to normal, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work and they’re almost out of time. He can un shrink one of them right now, guaranteed. …But in return, they have to give up the other to Chris as an entertainment piece. The other will be fine! Mostly. They’ll be big again at least.

Once he gets the consent he can take the other away to do whatever. It’s an exclusive offer, so they better act fast.

Neither believes this is exclusive. They’re both pretty sure the other is being offered the same deal. It’s the classic prisoner’s dilemma. If they give each other up, they’ll probably both be subject to Chris’s whims for the rest of their lives.

Logically speaking, the right thing to do is to try to betray each other. But it requires a considerable amount of trust in the other. Noah would have to trust Alejandro not to be a selfish bastard. Alejandro would have to trust Noah not to be paranoid. 

...Noah doesn't think he can trust Alejandro. He has seen Alejandro put himself first time and again. He refused to get help that they clearly needed because of his stupid pride. He's been more honest with Noah, but now Alejandro is by himself, being offered a deal almost impossible to resist. If he's going to take Noah down, then Noah might as well take Alejandro with him.

And yet. Alejandro's first instinct had been to save Noah when he was trapped, despite proving that he'd be difficult to work with. There was something good there in that shriveled, dark heart. Taking Alejandro down would give him a sense of vindication, but he doubted that would last long with whatever punishment Chris had in store. At least with Alejandro free, someone would know what had happened to Noah.

Besides, there is a part of Noah that does want to believe that Alejandro has some standards. It's a small part. It's a stupid part.

But Noah would rather be a fool than be cruel senselessly.

So he denies Chris's deal.

…To his surprise, Alejandro thinks he can trust Noah. With how loyal Noah is to Owen, he doubts Noah would choose to subject someone else to Chris. Alejandro could easily take advantage of this. It won’t be his problem afterwards. People would ask questions about Noah, but he could lie his way around them. Alejandro could finally rid himself of an annoyance set on ruining his good name.

And yet. Noah's not just an annoyance. He can be useful when he wants to be. He saved Alejandro from his own overconfidence. Noah has potential to be more. Not just to Alejandro, but to others as well. He's a fool not to see it in himself, but Alejandro could guide him along the right way. With their minds combined, they could conquer any challenge. Including Chris'.

Besides, the world would be a worse place without Noah in it.

So he denies Chris's deal.

The two are suddenly besides each other in the cart staring up at a petulant Chris. He whines that he's disappointed in the both of them. Where's the drama in neither of them taking the deal?!

Unfortunately, he's bound by his own rules, so he does tell them that the only way to get back to their normal size is to go through the same mirror that shrunk them in the first place. (All of Chris's game was pretty much a distraction to trick them into giving themselves up to him or else be small forever, either way being entertaining for Chris.)

They have until sunset, which if he had to guess is about thirty minutes. With a huff, he vanishes.

The two just look at each other for a moment as they comprehend what just happened.

"...You didn't give me up." Noah spoke aloud.

"No. I didn't."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Alejandro admitted. Which was the truth. He knew he told himself it was to keep Noah around as a benefit, but there was a part of him that also just liked having Noah around. And he wasn't sure which was more true. "I can't believe you trusted me."

"I didn't."

"Why wouldn't you give me up when you thought I would?"

"I don't know," Noah confessed. His heart and his brain were too battle-torn to give a more truthful answer. His heart was winning when he spoke again, "I'm sorry. For doubting you."

"No. No, you were absolutely right to. I didn't refuse to betray you out of the goodness of my heart."

"But you did."

"...Sí. I did.

"So take the apology. You're not getting another one."

"No."

"Are you seriously arguing this right now? Why?!"

"Because you still chose to spare me anyways!" Alejandro snapped. "You know me better than anyone else. You know I'm not 'a good person deep down'! There was no reward in this for you! I would punish your loyalty for myself. And you'd still show me mercy! I can't-No entiendo-"

Alejandro pinched at the bridge of his nose as he desperately attempted to calm his thoughts before he spoke again. "...Thank you."

After a pause of his own, Noah replied. "You're welcome."

The sun got in their eyes as they both remembered Chris's new thirty minute deadline. The ferris wheel is currently stopped at the top. Even if they could scale down it quickly, it would take far longer than 30 minutes to get back to the house of mirrors by themselves.

Fortunately for them, they're crafty, and they're high enough to where they're at the height of seagulls flying about. They manage to get a seagull's attention by throwing popcorn out of the cart. When it comes to investigate, Alejandro remains pressed against the wall of the cart while Noah is in the middle, egging the bird closer.

The bird goes in to attack Noah, and Alejandro leaps onto the bird from behind. The bird attempts to fly away and shake Alejandro off. Alejandro holds it in place long enough for Noah to get on.

The two wrangle the bird into a dive bomb for the house of mirrors. All three of them are screaming as they crash land. The two quickly scamper inside before the bird is aware enough to get revenge on them.

They split off to cover more ground since neither one quite remembers where the mirror that shrank them is. Alejandro is the one who manages to find it first as he goes through it to become his regular size. He went in one mirror, though out another, and can only guess he's on the side of the maze that Noah went down.

He immediately speedwalks to find Noah. He can't run or he'd risk stepping on him. When he hears Noah shout his name, he immediately runs, grabs Noah, and races back towards where he believes the entrance to be.

Noah guides him back to the entrance, and he races towards the mirror once he recognizes where he is. He shoves Noah through the mirror, though his own hand meets a solid surface.

He runs back towards the other side, only to meet a regular sized Noah in the middle, panting. The two immediately hug and laugh in pure shock and disbelief that they're finally back to normal.

Chris is nowhere to be found or heard, though they do wish they'd be able to get some form of revenge on him.

For now, they're both content with leaving the park and never setting foot in it again.

They finally catch up with the rest of their friend group who ask where they've been the whole time.

Neither of them has a response prepared, so Izzy provides them with one: They were clearly making out the whole time.

The two try to beat back the allegations, but to no avail. It's still better than having to explain what ACTUALLY happened.

It does mean they'd have to be together more if they're going to lean into this lie.

Neither one minds it as much as they pretend to.

[philcoulsonismyhero]

I've accidentally gotten Way too invested in some characters I've been playing with for a 'one of my beloved early 2000s crime dramas but this time people are actually queer' type story, so here, have some middle-aged gays

George is a detective, Tim is a forensic pathologist, they're an established couple because I don't really write romance but I do enjoy a bit of domesticity, and any resemblance you may notice to other characters that I've drawn a lot is probably entirely deliberate, this is an exercise in self-indulgence

[reiisyung]

i sometimes can't wrap my head around the fact that these three used to be teammates

[asterdaydreamer1020]

All of the members of Starfire and what TF2 class they'd play.

(Bonus: why they would pick that class)

Pip: Pyro

Mari: Scout

Andre: Engineer

Opal: Soldier

[cranephdr]

Sinestro corps Jon you will always be famous to me

[seaside-lovers]

watched venom with the family tonight. i was trying to go flip my laundry but i started thinking about how hot venom is and completely forgot what i was doing.

get out of my head, you stupid, sexy symbiote >:(

[our-inspire-verse]

Me, already laying down: i need to go lie down

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than sickness

Lost Caverns of Ixalan is coming out on Arena tomorrow and I've avoided looking up any spoilers, aside from a few individual cards I stumbled across that didn't have any reminder text, so I have no idea what the new mechanics are. I looked up a list of the NAMES of the mechanics on the mtg fandom wiki, and I decided to make mechanics based on those names to see how close I get and also because it's fun.

Also I made this card for the descend mechanic at first but I didn't like the mechanic. How dare WotC make such a parasitic mechanic, they should really hire better designers smh. Also I realized that craft would probably be more interesting with artifacts that have tap abilities.

[astralbringer]

I don't really ever get to do anything with my mom unless it's like I guess for the sake of Having To Do It rather than for the fun memories and learning experiences, so it's extremely nice getting to have those stuff with M.

[devourmist]

Which starter Pokémon is your muse picking from the five generations of the Pokémon games? You can only pick 1 per gen!

// ooh! ok but like,, only from gen 1-5? ur limiting me here my mannnn esp. bcuz froakie would be one of noah's favorites! but ok

gen 1: bulbasaur

gen 2: totodile. and his top favorite! would pick this one if he had to out of all of these.

gen 3: treecko

gen 4: piplup

gen 5: oshawott

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[returnofismasm]

Given how much of the immediate backstory to Dragon Age: Inquisition was found in Asunder and the Masked Empire, I think some people might be wondering if any of the short stories, anthologies, or comics are also "homework" for The Veilguard. Obviously, the game's not out yet, so I can't be 100% sure, but here's my best recommendations based on what we know about the characters (done in alphabetical order because why not).

Bellara: She's new! The Veil-jumpers are in a single issue of the Missing, but she's not any of the ones named there. They investigate magical disturbances around Arlathan forest, and that's kind of all we know.

Davrin: Also new! The reason he seems to have a juvenile griffon (or at least, why there's a griffon at all!) is covered in the events of the novel The Last Flight, but it's hard to say how much any of those specifics are relevant to Davrin.

Emmrich: Emmrich (and Manfred!) is in Down Among the Dead Men in Tevinter Nights, and another, The Eternal Flame released during a Dragon Age Day and archived on the wiki. We learn he's a senior member of the Mourn Watchers, somewhat eccentric, and capable of talking to the dead. Also he's got a last name, Volkarin, so that's neat. All of that seems pretty easy to catch people up on in-game. (Down Among the Dead Men is really good though).

Harding: Harding is in the Missing, accompanying Varric on his hunt for Solas. Her buddy-cop-comedy-ing it with Varric is apparent from the trailer. Her apparent magic powers are completely new though!

Lucanis: He and Neve probably have the most backstory in Tevinter Nights of the bunch. Lucanis's story is found in the Wigmaker Job and he's mentioned in Eight Little Talons, both in Tevinter Nights. A Dragon Age Day short story called the Wake seems to have implied that he died, so mayhaps he faked his death? To hopefully set some people at ease, even though he's advertised as "The Magekiller," the mages he's killing are Venatori, so it's all good. I doubt he'd have beef with Neve or Emmrich or a mage PC JUST because they're mages. Also he's got a last name, Dellamorte.

Neve: Neve has a last name too! It's Gallus. Neve is the viewpoint character of the Streets of Minrathous, where she stops a Venatori plot to unleash a giant sealed demon underneath Minrathous. Her story is very Noir-vibes in a fantasy setting. She's also in the Missing for an issue, where she meets Varric and Harding and they work together to help escaped slaves avoid recapture by the Venatori. The giant sealed demon business did feel very "preview of a boss battle" but who can say if it actually is.

Taash: Like with Bellara, Taash herself is new, but the Lords of Fortune have featured elsewhere. They're in a number of stories in Tevinter Nights, as well as in Dragon Age: Absolution. The group doesn't seem to have a formal role, they seem to be sort of "adventurers for hire." Side note though, Ataashi is Qunlat for dragon, so I wonder if that's where Taash got her name.

[canisalbus]

Why are you so drawn to canines specifically? Is it an aesthetic preference or something to do with their symbolism?

I’m fascinated by other people’s fascinations!!

It's hard to pick specific reasons, I guess I just think they're neat.

I obviously like how they look, to me they're proportionate and anatomically flexible animals with pleasing shapes. They're fun to draw. Dogs in particular have an immense level of visual variation, so many head shapes, coat colors, fur textures and body types, and you can mix and match them to your liking. Designing dog characters is wonderful because there's so many options. They're naturally expressive and people tend to have easier time reading their faces and body language than, say, that of a rabbit or a crocodile or a duck. When it comes to drawing anthro stuff, it's reasonably easy to adapt human facial expressions to fit the features of a dog in a way that seems believable and natural. Dogs can look cute, they can be friendly and goofy, but they're also armed with sharp teeth and strong jaws, and I find that contrast compelling.

And of course there's the rich dog symbolism. Humans and dogs have been together for so long, we've become practically inseparable. They're the blueprint for domestication, they predate agriculture, they were with us when we started to figure out concepts like architecture, written language, religion and various forms of art and creative expression. Humans wouldn't have developed the way they did without the help and presence of dogs, and dogs themselves wouldn't exist at all without humans. Dogs are claimed to be man's best friend, while wolves, technically the same species, are still vilified and treated as our sworn enemy in many cases. The domestic dog is an aberration of the natural canine form, a manmade creation, carefully and intently molded to fit the human way of living like a little puzzle piece. Dogs famously show unconditional love and devotion for their human packmates and most people respond with same kind of care and adoration, but it's not uncommon at all for people to treat dogs badly and view them as dirty, dumb, dangerous and disgusting, which just seems terribly thankless and cruel. I dunno, I just feel like there's a lot to think about when it comes to dogs and what their place is in the world.

[crustaceousfaggot]

An outsider's knowledge of The Locked Tomb series, based on what I've seen from Tumblr.

So it's a series of books. Idk how many they are (at least 3? And they're still coming out) but I'm pretty sure they all have the suffix "the ninth". Idk what this means.

One of the books is called "Nona the ninth" but I feel like I never hear people talking about a character named Nona so idk what that's about

The two protagonists are Harrowhark and Gideon. They're very much in love but also I think there's some elements of Toxic Yuri at play. Not like enemies to lovers but more of like a codependency thing I think?

At some point one of them eats someone I think?

Harrow is the little goth one and she's like. Angry and bitey and very wetpathetic like a gutter cat.

Gideon is the taller ginger one who's a bit more butch. She's also angry and bitey but less so? I am attracted to her.

Harrowhark and Gideon are part of like... An order of space nuns who do necromancy. It seems like Harrow takes this responsibility more seriously and Gideon just wants to fuck around and look at tits.

That's why they have the skull makeup. Because they're Necro Nuns

Idk why Harrow is always drawn with the Bone Corset thing but Gideon isn't. Idk if this is just because she's Like That or if it's like... A separate uniform she has for whatever reason.

There's a lot of angst derived from how Harrow is like... Indoctrinated and controlled and lacks agency in her own life.

Harrow and Gideon are separated at some point and fans are very keen to see them reunited. Maybe. I might be making that part uo

There's a blonde woman named Ianthe? Idk what she does though. That's the only other character I know about.

As far as I know there are no men. Or at least no men worth talking about.

I'm not sure what the titular Locked Tomb is all about. Presumably something to do with necromancy.

You know for a series that people call the "lesbian necromancer series" I feel like I rarely hear people discussing the necromancy parts.

I'm also unclear on the time period and setting. I think it's set in space but idk if it's like a far-future thing or an alternate universe or...?

There's a lot of perspective-hopping. I think it also switches between 1st and 3rd person POV which is neat I suppose

I heard somewhere that it's loosely based off of a Homestuck fanfic but idk if that's true

[aspenmissing]

I'm so happy your requests are open again!! But I'm glad you closed them for a while since you get so many and write so much for each one.❤️❤️

Could I, pretty please with a cherry on top, request arcane characters (specifically viktor, jayce and steb, if you write for him if not that's ok) with a reader that's usually well spoken and composed, think before they act kind of person. But once they're comfortable and let their guard down, they start stuttering and stumbling over their words because their mind is quicker than their mouth, and they keep getting frustrated because they can't say what they want. Kind of like an autistic person automatically unmasking when they're around someone that makes them feel safe, but they weren't planning on unmasking so they're frustrating with themselves.

Hopefully, I managed to explain what I mean😅, please do take your time. You can write it whenever.❤️❤️

~🍒

ᴛᴀɴɢʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ? || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5306 ��ᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ! ʏᴏᴜ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛʟʏ! ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ꜱᴛᴜᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ! ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ?

JAYCE

Piltover adored control. It thrived on meticulous planning, on rules and order, on minds that could bend chaos into something neat and palatable. You had spent your entire life mastering that balance, shaping yourself into something sharp-edged and refined, a presence that commanded respect in every room you entered.

You had learned early that precision was power. People listened when you spoke, when every word was deliberate, calculated, and polished to perfection. You were the kind of person who could dismantle an argument before it was fully formed, who could read a room and adjust accordingly, who never let emotions cloud reason.

And then there was Jayce.

Jayce Talis, all boundless enthusiasm and effortless charm, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions lead him before logic ever caught up. He was brilliant, yes, but he was also reckless, a man of impulse and grand gestures. You should have found him insufferable.

Instead, you trusted him.

That was your first mistake.

And now, you were paying for it.

=

"Y/N?"

Jayce’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, low and filled with something dangerously close to concern. You blinked, refocusing, only to find him watching you intently. His head was tilted slightly, brows drawn together, his lips pressed into a soft frown.

"You okay?"

No. No, you were not okay.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as heat pricked at the back of your neck. Your mind was still racing, but your mouth had completely betrayed you.

You had been explaining something—a theory, something important, something that had been circling your brain all day like a restless storm. The words had been there, clear and coherent in your mind, but the moment you had let them out, they had tangled, tripped, collapsed into a jumbled mess of half-formed sentences and stammered syllables.

Jayce had been patient. He hadn't interrupted, hadn't tried to fill in the gaps. He had just waited, listening, giving you the space to get the words out.

But you hadn't been able to.

Your stomach twisted. You were used to control, to confidence, to certainty. But now—now your tongue felt heavy, your thoughts moved faster than your mouth, and the more you tried to push the words out, the more they refused to cooperate.

Why now?

Why him?

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding against your throat. You had spent years perfecting this—honing your speech into something unshakable. And yet, in the presence of Jayce fucking Talis, your brain had apparently decided to throw itself off a cliff.

“I— I was t-trying to say—” The words broke, stumbled over themselves, catching on your tongue like jagged stones. Your breath hitched. Your hands twitched. You could feel the frustration rising, tightening in your chest like a vice. “It’s— it’s not— ugh! It’s in my head, I j-just can’t—”

Your jaw snapped shut, teeth clenching hard enough to ache. The silence that followed was deafening.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You couldn't even look at him.

Jayce didn’t fill the silence.

He didn’t push, didn’t try to smooth over your faltering words, didn’t do anything except stand there, watching you with an expression that was far too soft.

That, more than anything, made something in you crack wide open.

“I’m s-sorry,” you muttered finally, jaw tight, frustration burning beneath your skin like wildfire. “I d-don’t— I d-don’t usually—”

Jayce smiled. Not the politician’s smile, not the confident smirk he wore for the world. This was different. Smaller. Softer. Real.

“I know,” he said simply.

You froze.

Your eyes snapped up to his, searching—for what? Mockery? Pity? Some kind of forced reassurance? Something that would justify the knot of shame twisting in your gut?

But there was none.

Jayce just knew.

The realization hit like a punch to the ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs.

How long had he noticed? Had he always known? You had spent your entire life perfecting the mask, ensuring every word was polished before it ever left your lips. But somehow, without even trying, Jayce had seen through it.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. "I mean, I figured. You’re always so careful with your words, but sometimes, when you get comfortable, you just... go."

His smile widened, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "It’s kinda cute."

Your brain completely short-circuited.

Cute?

You could have handled pity. Could have handled irritation or even indifference. But this? This stupid, easy, genuine affection?

Your stomach flipped violently. Heat crawled up your neck. You stared at him, wide-eyed, caught between mortification and something you didn’t quite have a name for.

Jayce shifted, suddenly uncertain. “Not that it’s bad! Or— or weird, or anything. It’s just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I just mean, you don’t have to force it with me. However you talk, however you think—I want to hear it.”

Your throat tightened.

You had spent years forcing it, shaping yourself into something the world could understand, something presentable. You had never expected to find someone who didn’t mind the unfiltered version of you—who actually liked it.

The thought was terrifying.

The thought was freeing.

Your hands twitched again, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration. Slowly, cautiously, you let yourself breathe.

Jayce grinned. "There it is."

You scowled, heat creeping up your neck. "Sh-shut up."

Jayce laughed, bright and easy, like you hadn’t just had a full-on existential crisis in front of him.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to rehearse what came next.

Maybe—just maybe—some things didn’t need perfect words.

Maybe you didn’t need them.

Not with him.

VIKTOR

The laboratory was quiet, save for the gentle hum of machinery and the rhythmic tapping of Viktor’s cane against the floor. The scent of parchment, metal, and something faintly ozone-like filled the air, the ever-present signs of scientific discovery in motion. Y/N sat perched on a stool beside one of his many workbenches, her hands moving animatedly as she tried—emphasis on tried—to explain a theory she had been mulling over for weeks.

Usually, she was composed, articulate, the kind of person who measured each word before releasing it into the world. A person who never spoke without intention. A person whose thoughts were always carefully curated before they left her lips.

But that version of her had been left behind the moment she grew comfortable in Viktor’s presence.

Now, words tumbled from her lips in an erratic cascade, her thoughts outrunning her tongue like a stampede she had no hope of controlling.

“So—so, if you, um, if you factor in the—the—ugh, the—okay, okay, wait—if you consider the way—ugh, no, that’s not—” She groaned, gripping her hair in frustration as she tried to catch up with herself. “Okay, what I’m trying to say is that—oh, never mind.” She threw her hands in the air and slumped forward, practically melting onto the workbench.

Viktor chuckled softly, the sound warm and indulgent, like he was enjoying a particularly amusing scientific observation. “You were doing quite well. Please, continue.”

Y/N shot him a glare, though there was no real heat behind it, only the kind of irritation reserved for someone she trusted not to judge her. “I was not doing well.”

“On the contrary,” he said, leaning slightly against his cane, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “I quite enjoy watching you speak when you are truly invested. It is… animated.”

She let out a dramatic groan and buried her face in her hands. “It’s infuriating is what it is. My brain is working faster than my mouth can keep up, and now I sound like an idiot.”

He hummed, a small, knowing smirk playing at his lips. “Ah, but I think it is quite endearing.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His smirk widened, and he tapped his cane lightly against the floor. “Just a little.”

Her groan was muffled against her palms, and Viktor chuckled again, watching her with the same quiet, unshaken patience he always had. She never had to apologize for her words with him, never had to fear looking foolish. He listened, even when she made no sense, even when she grew frustrated with herself. And worst of all, she knew he wasn’t just humouring her—he actually liked watching her get lost in her own excitement.

“Would it help,” he mused, “if I attempted to guess what you are trying to say?”

She peeked at him again, skepticism written all over her face. “…What, like a game?”

“Of sorts.” He tilted his head, his grin taking on a teasing edge. “Let us see if I can translate your brilliance before you become too flustered.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips now. “Alright, genius, give it a try.”

Viktor straightened, adopting a faux-serious expression. “You were trying to explain a new variable in your experiment, something that has been overlooked in traditional calculations. However, the implications are complex, and you are frustrated because you want to articulate the exact significance without losing momentum.”

Y/N blinked at him. Then blinked again.

“…Damn it,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “That was almost exactly what I was trying to say.”

Viktor’s grin turned victorious. “I will take that as a win.”

She huffed but couldn’t stop the warmth from creeping up her neck. Despite her frustration, there was something undeniably comforting about the way Viktor simply listened, the way he never seemed annoyed by her occasional verbal trainwrecks. If anything, he found them charming.

And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t mind that so much.

JAYVIK

The Piltover gala was as extravagant as ever—glittering chandeliers, golden champagne, and an overwhelming crowd of scholars, council members, and socialites who seemed more interested in flaunting their wealth than discussing anything of substance. You had attended these events countless times before, always maintaining your polished demeanor. Your words were measured, your posture poised, and your mask of composure carefully crafted.

At least, until you got comfortable.

The night had started smoothly. You moved through the crowd effortlessly, engaging in discussions on politics, technology, and academia with the same ease as a seasoned diplomat. It wasn’t that you were pretending to be someone you weren’t—you were intelligent, well-spoken, and composed. It was just that keeping your thoughts neatly packaged and your speech precise required effort.

And then, a group of scholars approached, intrigued by your involvement in the latest Hextech advancements. The conversation drifted toward the complexities of stabilizing arcane energy in compact devices—an area of research that you had poured your heart and soul into. Excitement sparked in your chest. You leaned in slightly, eager to share your thoughts.

That was when everything began to fall apart.

“Well, uh, s-so, the—the thing about Hextech, right, is that it’s—um, it’s volatile, but not—uh—ugh, no, I mean—so, like, if you—okay, okay, let me—” You gestured wildly with your hands, words tripping over themselves in a desperate attempt to keep up with your thoughts.

The scholars exchanged puzzled glances. One man furrowed his brows. “I’m… sorry, what exactly are you saying?”

Embarrassment hit you like a freight train. Your stomach twisted, and frustration burned at the back of your throat. You knew the answer. It was so clear in your head. But the words wouldn’t come out the way you wanted them to.

And then—

“She means,” Viktor’s voice cut through the awkward silence, smooth as silk, “that the instability of raw energy makes miniaturization particularly challenging. The frequency shifts unpredictably, which is why traditional containment methods fail.”

You blinked as he appeared beside you, leaning lightly on his cane. His amber eyes held amusement, but his tone carried an unmistakable warmth, as if he found your struggle endearing rather than embarrassing.

“Exactly,” Jayce added, stepping up on your other side. Ever the charismatic presence, he offered the group an easy grin, effortlessly slipping into the conversation. “That’s why we’ve been experimenting with precision-tuned matrices. We’re trying to stabilize the fluctuations instead of suppressing them.”

Relief flooded your system. The scholars’ expressions shifted from confusion to comprehension, nodding along as Jayce and Viktor elaborated on your idea with the same excitement you had intended to convey.

Your shoulders relaxed slightly, but the residual embarrassment still prickled at the edges of your composure. You turned your face toward Viktor and Jayce, lowering your voice so only they could hear.

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling warm and a little sheepish.

Viktor’s lips curled into a smirk. “No need to thank us, můj drahý,” he murmured, his voice teasing but undeniably fond. “It’s rather charming, watching you get flustered.” (My Dear)

Jayce chuckled, reaching over to brush a thumb across your cheek in an affectionate gesture. “Yeah, you should let loose more often,” he mused, his grin widening. “You’re kinda cute when your brain short-circuits.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “I hate you both.”

Viktor tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming mischievously. “Oh? Then perhaps we should let you fend for yourself next time?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his in horror. “Don’t you dare.”

Jayce laughed, sliding a warm, strong arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Relax,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got you.”

Viktor let out a soft chuckle before reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a gentle squeeze. “Always.”

With them beside you, the night didn’t seem so unbearable anymore.

VANDER

Vander always admired the way you carried yourself. Composed, measured, deliberate. A mind as sharp as a dagger, words chosen like the perfect hand in a game of cards. It was part of what drew him to you. In a place like Zaun, where chaos ruled and emotions ran hot, you were a steady presence—unflappable, always thinking before speaking, always in control.

That was, of course, until you let your guard down.

He’d noticed it the first time you'd lingered in the bar after hours, long after the usual crowd had stumbled home. A few drinks in, boots kicked up, letting yourself relax for once—and suddenly, words tangled on your tongue, tripping over themselves in their rush to be spoken. You’d furrowed your brows, lips pressing together in frustration, trying to force them into order. It had been endearing, to say the least.

And, apparently, the kids had noticed too.

Now it was a game.

=

"Come on, just one little ramble," Vi grinned, perched on the counter of The Last Drop, arms crossed with a knowing look. "Tell us about, I dunno, the history of Piltover’s trade routes or something."

You shot her a glare, but it lacked any real heat. "I—That’s not—"

"Or maybe about how different alchemical components react to heat," Mylo chimed in, a wicked smirk on his face.

Claggor, the more merciful of the bunch, just shook his head, though even he was biting back a chuckle.

You inhaled deeply, steeling yourself. "I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t—"

"You sure? You’re already hesitating." Vi dangled her legs over the edge of the counter. "Bet you can’t explain somethin’ real fast without trippin’ over yourself."

You narrowed your eyes. "I—"

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. You had the words in your head—so many of them—but as soon as you tried to get them out, they jammed up in your throat, stumbling over each other like a pileup in the middle of the bridge.

Your jaw clenched.

Vander chuckled from his spot behind the bar, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that amused, knowing smile.

"Don’t encourage them," you huffed, turning to him with exasperation. "They—They’re doing this on purpose!"

"Oh, I know." His grin deepened. "But I gotta admit, it’s kinda adorable."

Your face burned. "It’s—it’s not adorable, it’s—frustrating!" Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to string together a proper retort, but the words kept getting away from you. "Infuriating!"

Vi and Mylo were grinning ear to ear, fully enjoying the spectacle.

Vander, on the other hand, just walked over, resting a heavy, warm hand on your shoulder. His touch was grounding, like solid stone beneath unsteady feet. "Take your time, love," he murmured, voice low and warm, meant just for you. "Ain’t a race."

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment, letting his presence settle you.

The kids, of course, weren’t satisfied with that.

"You should’ve seen her the other day," Vi snickered. "She was tryin’ to tell Benzo about some new Piltie security measures and nearly short-circuited. Just—" she waved her hands dramatically— "total breakdown."

You groaned. "Vi."

"And you get all fidgety, too," Mylo added, grinning. "Like your hands try to talk for you when your mouth can’t keep up."

"Probably ‘cause she’s gotta keep up with that big ol’ brain of hers," Claggor said, nudging you gently. "Nothing wrong with that."

That earned him a little glare from Mylo, but you—despite your frustration—sighed and relaxed slightly.

Vander gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting his hand fall away. "You don’t gotta be perfect all the time," he murmured. "We like you just fine the way you are—even when you trip over yourself."

You huffed. "You say that, but—"

"But nothin’," he interrupted, tipping his head slightly. "Ain’t gotta have every word come out polished. Sometimes the best ones don’t."

You glanced at him, and despite yourself, your heart softened. Damn him and his easy way of making you feel seen.

Vi, of course, ruined the moment.

"Bet if Vander asked you somethin’ real nice, you’d really start stuttering," she teased.

Your stomach flipped. "I—That’s—"

And, as expected, the words tangled up all over again.

Vander laughed, and this time, even you couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing a hand over your face in resignation.

The kids cheered in victory.

SILCO

Silco had always admired your composure.

In a world teeming with chaos and deception, you were a rare creature—one who wielded words like a scalpel, precise and measured. Whether negotiating with smugglers or diffusing tension in The Last Drop, your speech was always deliberate, your tone unwavering. It was something that set you apart, something that made you invaluable.

And then there were moments like these.

Moments when your guard slipped. When the walls you so carefully constructed crumbled, not from fear or anger, but from something far more dangerous—comfort.

Sitting across from him in his office, with a tumbler of whiskey half-forgotten at your side, you were completely at ease. It was a rare sight, one he relished. The tension that usually sat in your shoulders had eased, and for once, you weren’t calculating your every word before speaking.

Which meant—

“I j-just—ugh, no, wait, I—wh—wha—”

Silco watched with a bemused smirk as you stumbled over your words, frustration flickering across your face as your mind outpaced your tongue. Your fingers curled into your lap, gripping at fabric as if that might help slow your thoughts down enough to articulate them properly.

A lesser man might have laughed. Might have teased you for the stammer that had replaced your usual eloquence. But Silco was not a lesser man.

Instead, he simply raised a brow. “Having trouble, my dear?”

Your lips pressed into a firm line, cheeks heating in frustration. “I—I know what I want to s-say, it just—” You huffed sharply, shaking your head. “It won’t come out right.”

Silco hummed, swirling his whiskey before taking a slow sip. He let the silence settle, his gaze steady, patient. “I don’t mind.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, uncertain. “Y-you don’t?”

“If I wanted idle chatter, I wouldn’t have chosen you.” He leaned forward, placing his glass down with a soft clink. “Your words have always mattered. Stammer or not.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Silco never wasted words, and he certainly never offered empty reassurances.

Something in your chest warmed.

But of course, peace never lasted long in Zaun.

=

The room was dimly lit, thick with the scent of smoke and whiskey. Shadows clung to the corners, pooling in the cracks of the old wooden walls. A lantern flickered overhead, its dull glow barely penetrating the haze. The air was heavy, tense with the weight of yet another exhausting supplier meeting—one of many that drained your patience. You preferred efficiency, precision, but men like Varn made that impossible.

Varn was one of Silco’s smugglers, a man who carried himself with the kind of arrogance only emboldened by ignorance. He had been droning on about the Enforcers, about how difficult it had become to slip shipments past their patrols. Complaints, excuses—never solutions. You listened, expression unreadable, even as irritation prickled at your composure.

Still, you remained poised. Even as frustration coiled tight in your chest, even as your thoughts outran your tongue, snagging your words before they could fully take shape.

“The—Th-the next s-shipment will—” You clenched your jaw, closing your eyes for half a second. Breathe. Focus. Try again.

“It will arrive t-tomorrow. Docks. Late.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Varn scoffed. He leaned back in his chair, his smirk carved deep with mockery. “Didn’t realize Silco was hiring broken records now.” He tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythmic pattern. “Maybe if we give you a minute, you’ll get through the whole sentence, yeah?”

The words hit like a slap.

Not because they were the worst you had ever heard. Not because they were new. But because he said them here.

In Silco’s domain.

The air shifted.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. It slithered between the bodies at the table, curling around throats like an unseen noose. The temperature hadn’t changed, yet a cold dread settled in your stomach.

Because Silco was watching him now.

He had not moved, had not even spoken. But the weight of his gaze was enough to send a chill down your spine. His fingers traced the rim of his glass in slow, deliberate circles, the rhythmic motion a stark contrast to the simmering menace behind his mismatched eyes.

Varn, still oblivious to the razor-thin ice he had stepped onto, chuckled. He expected others to join in.

No one did.

Silco’s voice cut through the silence like a blade slipping through silk.

“Broken record?”

Varn hesitated, his bravado flickering. “I—I only meant—”

Silco stood.

It was an unhurried motion, almost lazy, yet it sent a ripple of unease through the room. He didn’t need to rush. The sheer gravity of his presence filled the space, a silent warning wrapped in elegance.

“You talk too much, Varn.” His tone was smooth, deceptively calm. “And yet, somehow, you still say nothing of value.”

Varn swallowed. The confidence that had bloomed so easily in his voice a moment ago had withered under Silco’s scrutiny. “I didn’t mean any offense, boss.”

Silco exhaled slowly, tilting his head as though examining a specimen under glass. “Ah, but that’s the problem, isn’t it?” He took a measured step forward. “You didn’t think.” Another step. “Didn’t stop to consider the weight of your words.”

Varn flinched as Silco came to a halt beside him, his hand resting lightly on the back of the chair, fingers idly drumming against the wood.

“You see,” Silco murmured, leaning down so his lips hovered near Varn’s ear, “I detest people who waste my time.”

The room was still. Deathly still.

“Do you know why I keep her by my side, Varn?” His voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it sliced through the air with precision.

Varn’s breath hitched.

Silco let the question linger, then turned his gaze toward you. Something flickered in his expression—something softer, something almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless.

“Because every word she says matters,” he continued, voice smooth as glass. “She does not waste them on arrogance, nor on fools.”

The message was clear.

Varn was a fool.

And Silco had no use for fools.

Without hesitation, Silco retrieved the knife from his coat pocket. He did not flourish it, did not draw attention to it. He didn’t need to. The soft glint of steel against the dim light spoke loudly enough.

Varn stiffened as the cold tip pressed just under his chin, tilting his head up ever so slightly. His pulse jumped beneath the blade’s edge.

“If you ever speak of her that way again,” Silco murmured, voice silk over steel, “I’ll make sure the only sounds you’re capable of are whimpers.”

Varn’s breath stuttered. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, as if fighting the urge to tremble.

Silco leaned in closer. “And those who whimper in my presence,” he mused, almost thoughtful, “don’t last long.”

A moment stretched—sickening, suffocating.

Then, just as smoothly as it had appeared, the knife vanished. Silco straightened, slipping it away with practiced ease.

“Get out,” he said coolly.

Varn bolted.

The door slammed behind him, leaving nothing but the distant echoes of his hurried footsteps. The silence that followed was deafening, your own heartbeat the only sound pounding in your ears.

Silco settled back into his chair as though nothing had happened, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a measured sip.

He glanced at you, an amused glint dancing in his gaze. “Something on your mind?”

You swallowed, still processing what had just transpired. “I think...” You inhaled sharply, pressing your lips together before continuing again. “You just scared the stutter out of me.”

Silco smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in something almost affectionate. “A pity.” He leaned back, exhaling contentedly. “I was rather fond of it.”

Your cheeks burned, though this time, frustration had nothing to do with it.

STEB

The cobblestone streets of Piltover stretched ahead, glistening under the dim glow of the hextech lamps. The city was quiet at this hour, a far cry from the usual midday bustle of merchants, students, and enforcers barking orders at troublemakers. Now, only the occasional carriage rattled over the stones, the faint hum of distant machinery threading through the silence.

A quiet evening patrol—just another night of keeping order.

Y/N walked beside Steb, hands tucked neatly behind her back, each step measured, uniform pristine. Composure was something she valued, something she cultivated. Every action was deliberate. Every word carefully chosen. In a city like Piltover, where reputation carried more weight than gold, she refused to be anything less than precise.

But somewhere along the way, she had grown comfortable.

And comfort, she was learning, came with its own set of problems.

Because comfort made her talk.

And once she started talking, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“…and it’s just, you know, ridiculous that the new regulations say we need approval for every hextech enhancement when—no, actually, it’s not ridiculous, I get the safety measures, but—I mean, does it really make sense to lump minor repairs in with full-scale augmentations? Like, say you have a gauntlet with a minor power fluctuation—”

Her words tripped over each other like a pile of toppled playing cards. She exhaled sharply, trying to recalibrate, but the second she opened her mouth again—

“—and, and it’s like, I get it, okay, regulation is important, but if we’re—ugh, damn it—if we’re patrolling and need—ugh—if we need to—gah—words!”

She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples as if she could physically force her brain and mouth to work together.

Steb, who had been walking beside her in comfortable silence, turned his head slightly.

His eyes flickered over her face, unreadable, calm. He had the kind of quiet presence that never demanded space but occupied it effortlessly. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was never more than necessary. A sharp contrast to her current mess.

Y/N let out a defeated sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “I swear I’m not an idiot.”

A pause. Then—

“…It’s okay.”

Two words. Simple. Steady. But there was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t just an automatic reassurance, like he meant it.

When she finally forced herself to look at him, he was already gazing ahead, his usual neutral expression softened by the faintest curl of a smile. Not mocking. Not pitying. Just… there. Steady.

And that was somehow worse.

Her heart lurched painfully in her chest, and she hastily turned her face away, rubbing at her temple as if that could chase away the heat creeping up her neck.

“…Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. “I know.”

They kept walking.

She tried to keep her mouth shut. She really did. But silence felt so much heavier now. And despite her frustration, despite the way her brain constantly outran her mouth, she didn’t mind talking to Steb. It wasn’t like talking to anyone else—there was no pressure to fill the quiet, no expectation of a response.

So before she could stop herself—before she could consider if it was wise—her lips parted again.

“Y-you—” She winced at the stumble, frustration already bubbling up again. “Ugh, damn it—you never talk much, huh?”

Steb didn’t react right away. He simply existed beside her, steps never faltering, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Then, after a long beat—

“…No.”

Y/N huffed out a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah, I, uh—I noticed.”

Silence stretched between them once more, but this time, it was lighter.

She fiddled with the cuff of her uniform sleeve, suddenly hyperaware of how unraveled she sounded. How her tongue kept tripping over itself. She never did this with anyone else.

Just him.

Why just him?

“You, uh…” She swallowed. “You ever get frustrated when you do talk?”

He didn’t answer right away, but she could feel him considering it.

Finally—

“…No.”

She blinked up at him.

His eyes, though still their usual blank, unreadable dark, held a flicker of quiet amusement.

“Oh, well, good for you, then,” she grumbled, dragging a hand down her face. “Meanwhile, I sound like I got into a bar fight with the alphabet.”

Steb exhaled—a sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle but was close enough.

She turned to glare at him. “You think that’s funny, don’t you?”

A pause. Then, a small nod.

“…You’re the worst,” she muttered, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

They kept walking.

=

The city was quiet, but her mind wasn’t. It was racing—jumping from one thought to another, desperate to form a coherent sentence before it got tangled up again.

Instead, what slipped out was—

“We make a good team, huh?”

Steb glanced at her, tilting his head slightly in silent question.

“I mean—” She waved vaguely between them. “Someone who talks too much, someone who barely talks at all. Kinda funny, don’t you think?”

Another long pause. His expression didn’t change, but she could tell he was thinking about it.

Then, in that same steady, measured voice—

“…Yeah.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the tension in her chest easing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Steb didn’t say anything, but his lips twitched—just a fraction, just enough for her to know it was there.

She decided she liked it.

And though she still stumbled over her words, still fought with her own tongue, she didn’t feel so bad about it anymore.

Request Answer Continue: My dear Cherry, I hope you enjoyed the Steb! And no need to apologise! I am willing to write for characters one off! And from what I've read about Steb, he may or may not talk, so I went with the headcanon where he does talk, but barely. So I do hope it's alright! <3