#i'm praying he's getting them copied and they'll go back

[immortalsins]

just got home from one of the best trips of my life and my dad has taken every photo in the house out of its frame

[irisintheafterglow]

live, laugh, pro racer!gojo :))

and, wow! just look at that absolute speed demon go!

"speed dumbass seems to be a more fitting description," you remark in response to the announcer's excited narration, sending quiet snickers through the pit crew behind you. "hey, hotshot. let up a little on those hairpins or your engine's gonna overheat," you radio through to his earpiece and pray to the racing gods that he listens. as if to spite you, he accelerates more aggressively through the following turn, causing a concerning but not impactful spike in temperature.

"only reason they'll overheat is 'cause you're on the line, pretty."

"it's my job on the line if you break down, satoru."

"i'm well aware of that, sweetheart," comes his voice from the other end. you were painfully aware of the thousands of spectators watching his point of view and listening in on your conversation. "rest assured, i won't get you fired."

"that's not up to you," you remind him, clicking through the telemetry statistics and glancing at the timing screen before concluding that everything was running as it should, albeit a little bit hot from the driver's arrogance. suguru whispers something in your ear and you dutifully relay it to the idiot behind the wheel. "you can lay off a bit on the straightaways; you have enough wiggle room to give the car a breather."

"but what if i don't wanna?" you breathe deeply through your nose, clenching and unclenching your fists in suppressed irritation. the pit crew keeps laughing behind you and you give them a look that says can you believe this guy? "pssht, houston, do you copy? what's with the radio silence?"

a risky but flawless turn by gojo satoru, who's been in the lead since the start of the race!

"watch your wheels, satoru. keep pulling turns like that and you'll have to come get 'em changed. even you can't escape balding," you mutter with a smirk on your lips and you can imagine his indignant expression. "as much as i wish it'd come faster so you look less pretty."

"you think i'm pretty?" fuck. his shit-eating grin is evident in his tone.

"yeah, pretty stupid," you retort, face burning and glancing at suguru for help. he merely smiles in amusement, returning to whatever the job of lead mechanic requires. "finish the race and get back here so i can strangle you."

"shoko's gonna have a field day dealing with that one, boss."

"says the pr nightmare that got banned from pre-race interviews," you scoff and he slams his foot on the accelerator in response. "hey, hey, easy there; don't be breaking my car."

"i'll buy you a new one," he mutters, crossing the finish line like he'd done it in his sleep. the crew and his managers let out a collective sigh of relief before cheering like they'd won the lottery. you, however, are transfixed on the voice on the way to pull into the pit. "and whatever else you want for dealing with my bullshit all the time."

"look at you being all self-aware," you tease, "this is new and i'm not sure if i like it."

"i can go back to being an asshole, if you want," he suggests and your attention flicks to the vehicle pulling in and immediately being swarmed by reporters, cameras, and the crew. you set down your headphones at the same time he pulls off his helmet, shaking his head like a dog that just took a bath. despite the crowd of microphones being shoved in front of him and the champagne being popped over his head, the only priority in his mind is you. "hi, pretty," he whispers in your ear when he finally takes you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "thanks for helping me win."

"i feel like i was a suggestion box whose papers were being incinerated," you argue lightheartedly. he shoots a look of warning to a reporter getting a little too close to you to be considered friendly and the man recoils in fear. "but i guess you did race pretty well."

"couldn't have done it without you," he murmurs lovingly.

"and you better not forget it."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

“A Far Fall From The Heights Of Heaven” A Dio Brando x Self Insert Fanfic (PART 4)

Another month had passed. It was now the holiday season, and I was missing my sister Denise. Maybe, MAYBE even my mom. A little. Dio sat at the desk, writing with a fountain pen in the dark. I would've been concerned for his eyesight, but... well, vampires see even better in the dark. I peaked over his shoulder, attempting to read his handwriting. He stopped writing and handed me the paper, noting that I was struggling to read.

"To the family of my beloved Rose..." I read his words out loud, then paused.

"Too formal?" Dio asked earnestly.

I giggled. "Just the right amount. I mean you did kidnap me. They probably think I'm dead at this point. That in itself calls for some formality."

Dio chuckled, taking the paper back from me and signing it with his overly dramatic signature. "They'll be pleased to know you're alive. Your sister.... Denise. Does she live at a separate address? Should i make another copy?"

"No, unless her plans changed, her and her husband are staying at my mom's house in the guest bedroom for the first two years of their marriage while they shop for homes and get more secure jobs. One letter to my mom's house will do." I explained.

Lord Dio nodded, then stood up, slipping the letter in an envelope. He sealed it with a carnelian signet ring he often wore on his right index finger.

"Why are you writing to my family though? Is it just to let them know I'm ok? Or... about the baby?"

Dio blushed a bit, a rare sight, but becoming less rare since I'd told him he was going to be a father. "We are visiting them. I've made arrangements. Your family does celebrate the Yuletide season?"

My eyes must've lit up at the mention of visiting them because he leaned down and tilted my chin up, inspecting my expression with amusement. "They go all out for Christmas. My mom's a christian, so thats kind of her favorite holiday." I added. "My sister Denise is very much into the presents more than the religious meaning, so we should bring her something nice! And my grandparents come over and aunts and uncles...."

Dio frowned suddenly. "That's a lot of relatives you have. What a scene it must be."

I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. I knew he hadn't experienced that growing up, at least not with his blood-relatives. I was glad I could be spending this time of the year with him. Maybe my family could show him that kind of Yule spirit that he'd never had in his childhood.

"They'll love you." I assured him.

"They'd better." He said in a snarky tone, regaining his confident demeanor. "Or your mom wont be invited over to visit her grandchildren."

I laughed nervously, noticing that gleeful look in his eyes. I prayed that all my lucky stars would keep this visit from being a catastrophy.

...............................................................................................................

The flight to Los Angeles was actually quite relaxing. I wasn't far enough into my pregnancy that flying was a problem. Dio had a private jet because public transport isn't suitable for vampires, apparently. He didn't fly it. THANK GOD. He isn't the best with electronics, being from Victorian era England, and having spent so much time in a coffin under the sea. I had taught him how to take a selfie on his phone. He was a fast learner, but not "fly a private plane" kind of fast.

We landed several times before the break of dawn and stayed at expensive hotels through the days, to avoid sunlight.

Finally we landed in Los Angeles. An SUV with tinted windows showed up at the private landing place of Dio's jet.

"You have connections in Los Angeles?" I whispered.

Dio Brando grinned. "I have connections everywhere. Now, lets get to your parents before the Christmas Eve party starts."

I yawned and slept through most of the car ride. I woke up when the car pulled in front of my mom's house in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Los Angeles, far enough from the hustle of hollywood or the stench of downtown LA.

I was wearing a green velvet dress with lots of chips of crystals on the edge of the neckline. It was expensive (vivienne westwood), and went fabulously with Dio's gold leather 1980s style jacket and fitted shirt and pants. I knew my mom would not approve of either of our outfits. I didn't care.

We strolled up to the tall front door with the beautiful transom window above it. The whole house was decorated in lights. Dio rang the doorbell, then stood back, wrapping his arm around me (for reassurance? Who knows...)

Several moments passed, then my mom opened the door. She was a tall woman, brunette, with a severe expression on her square face that got more sever upon seeing Dio and I.

"I assume you're the one who found my daughter in Egypt?" She said skeptically.

Dio nodded. "Yes, Madam." He said in the least respectful tone possible.

"So you've come to return her? Well.... I guess that's fine. Come in." She said, pursing her lips and eyeing my dress with a look of distain. I understood, though. No one likes to their missing daughter showing up in a revealing designer dress to a conservative celebration of the birth of Jesus with a guy dressed like David Bowie on his glass spider tour ready to perform.

As we walked in, Dio muttered words only audible to me. "I'm not returning anything."

I smiled, knowing this would come up later at the dinner table. I felt the eyes of all my relatives on me. My aunts, uncles, grandparents, and sister. They looked like they'd seen a ghost. I wasn't sure if I should say something. I ended up just waving meekly, and introduced Dio. "This is my husband, Dio. Dio, this is Aunt Jenna, Uncle Juan, My grandma, my grandpa, Denise, and her husband Todd."

"YOUR HUSBAND?!!!" Denise blurted out.

Dio took a seat, ignoring the shock of everyone and motioning for me to sit in his lap. I felt overwhelmed by all the attention, so I took him up on that offer, sitting on his lap and feeling a bit better now that his arms were around me. "You didn't mention the marriage in the letter, did you?" I whispered in his ear.

Dio shook his head. "I wanted to share the happy news in person. Letters are too impersonal."

I sighed. I should've expected that from Lord Dio. He loved a personal touch. Whether seeking revenge or announcing his bride, that seemed like a theme for him.

"Married, huh?" My mom scoffed. "You actually married my youngest daughter? Well, I suppose there was bound to be one man... unique enough to appreciate her." She made it very clear that "unique" was a replacement for a less gentle word. Yup. Thats my mom. She manages to be both protective over me and yet cant understand what anyone would possibly see in me for marriage. My eye began twitching with irritation and anxiety.

"She's not hard to appreciate, if you have enough brain cells... that is." Dio retorted. "Only an idiot would be blind to my Rose's beauty."

My sister snickered. My mom inhaled sharply and crossed her arms, clearly offended but not vocal enough to come up with a reply.

My uncle Todd spoke up. "Well, what's your job? Do you think you can afford to support our Rose?"

I started panicking. Money? Not a problem. Dio's occupation? BIG FUCKING PROBLEM. Being a cult leader doesn't really check the boxes for families like mine. I wracked my brain for alternative or vague enough answers that sounded legitimate. But Dio was faster.

"I'm the CEO of an organization that is highly classified in its nature. While I can't tell you the details of my job, I can say that I easily can afford to support Rose financially." Lord Dio said cooly.

"And you're from Egypt?" Aunt Jenna asked, raising a drawn-on brow.

"England, actually. London to be exact." Dio Brando said. "Is there any wine at this party?"

Denise rushed to the kitchen and came back with some expensive french wine and two glasses. She seemed the most receptive to Dio's presence. "Here you go!" She said, handing the one glass to Dio and the other to--Oh. Me.

"Uh, actually I don't drink." I said carefully.

"Huh." Denise said, slowly pulling the glass away. After a deafening few minutes of silence, Dio had finished his wine, and I was getting tired of being the center of attention.

Then Denise spoke. "So when's the due date?" 'And thats our cue' I thought, muscles tightening with stress. "Yeah.... uh, I was going to tell you guys at present opening time, but..."

My mom, catching on to the subject turned a shade of ashen grey that always was the precursor to her passing out.

"...I'm having a baby. It'll be in late fall, according to the doctors (thats the due date). Dio is the father, and we are both really excited to be parents!" I said, mustering enthusiasm in hopes it would be reciprocated. My mom passed out, but after everyone made sure she was alright I got lots of congratulations from the rest of my family.

I beamed, glad that at least this baby would be welcomed into my chaotic family. I had dreaded the thought of having to explain to my children how their grandparents, aunts, and uncles didn't want anything to do with them. This was a relief.

The rest of the night was filled with festivities. We sang carols (some of the older British ones Dio was excited to find familiar, and we feasted on delicious cranberry bread, apple cider, and roasted mushrooms by candlelight. Everyone seemed to fall in place, being supportive of our relationship (Except my mom who was resting in the master bedroom). I gave Denise a beautiful pair of designer sandals from Egypt, and everyone agrees they were definitely her style. I got lots of presents, and I loved watching Dio's expression as he saw my excitement when playing (and winning with his help) the traditional Yule games. After the games I fell asleep on the couch, cuddled in a blanket with my head in Dio's lap. I would remember this night forever.

TYSM FOR READING!!!!!

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[pkmn-lillie]

The slumbering Thing lies below Gotham, deep under the twisting caves and labyrinthine tunnels. It was borne from a curse, echoing backwards to the beginning of time. It was borne from love, the love of a people for their city, so powerful as to breathe life into It.

Janet Drake was infertile. No medical intervention could change that. But she wished, and prayed, and deep under her home, the sleeping Thing takes pity.

"I shall grant you a child, body of flesh and blood, soul and mind of mine. He will be a wonderful dream, waking and sleeping at once."

Janet knows that her miracle baby is strange, inhuman, but trying to grasp a specific memory of those nine months leaves her weary and aching. (Truly mortal flesh is not meant to hold a thing such as It, even a sliver, and it is a testament to her fortitude that she came out sane on the other side.)

Tim never sleeps. He naps, frequently and in the strangest places, but he never reaches deep sleep. He knows that he is the dream of something greater, the dozing Thing that exists under Its city. He fears that sleeping so deeply will rouse It from the dream permanently, and he will be forgotten as dreams tend to be.

(Tim has slept that deeply, before, due to being forced unconscious by head trauma or through chemical means. The Thing has yet to truly wake, letting Itself revel in its precious dream once more, but he always fears each slumber could be his last.)

(Tim is running out of ways to avoid the sleep study that Bruce seems intent on him getting, because the risk of a willful sleep is too great to ignore.)

An earthquake shakes Gotham to its core, revealing long-buried caverns and derelict catacombs. By pure chance, a chamber deep under the city becomes accessible from the Batcave. (Tim wants so desperately to trust his family with the truth, even just a whisper.)

Nightwing braves the new passage with cautious glee, the joy of discovery deep in his bones. Signal follows behind, pretending to lament his use as a walking flashlight, just as excited as his eldest brother. The Thing that slumbers deep below feels them coming, contains itself to a perceptible form so as not to break one of its treasured Birds.

"Nightwing. Report."

"Uh, there's something big down here. Really big. Pretty sure it's sleeping."

Tim shivers, sitting at his desk in his bedroom. The conversation passes through Its mind like sand, and his mortal brain can only catch so much.

"Elaborate."

"I... Signal, what do you see?"

"It's some Lovecraft bullshit down here, Batman. It's big, and it's definitely sleeping, but there's really no good way to define it otherwise. There is no word to describe the color I'm seeing right now, and I'm pretty sure that's not what Wing is seeing."

"Your eyes just slip right past it, trying to focus on it long enough to gauge its size gives me a migraine."

Tim's fingers still on his keyboard. For the first time in his life, the sleeping Thing feels dread. It— he— doesn't want to wake up, please let It sleep please please please—

"Come back now. I will contact Justice League Dark."

"... Yeah. Copy that. C'mon, Sig."

<br>

alright prose/drabble over i need to get the rest of my ideas out and then take a nap

when Batman holds a meeting to discuss it, Tim is the only one who suggests just leaving it be. he knows its sus but he's desperately hoping they'll listen.

JLD sets up a bunch of wards in the tunnel connecting it to the cave. Tim starts napping more and more, never actually looking rested, his hands shake, his body aches, his focus is shot. Bruce worries that the entity is hurting his son.

Tim holds steady, though, until one day Batman tempts fate and goes to poke the bear (with a JLD member supervising, of course.) Tim, working in the cave, collapses. He curls into fetal position and pleads, begs, sobs, for them to stop, "let me dream, please, i don't want to wake up, please"

dealer's choice of whether Bruce keeps going (interpreting it as pulling a parasite out of his son) or listens to Tim and stops.

On one hand, the delicious angst of hurting his son by trying to help him, possibly killing the son that he knows. One of his other sons demands that he stop, something is wrong, but Bruce is too stubborn to let this beast sleep below his city unchecked, trying to contain it in its chamber. Tim realising that he can never trust Bruce with the truth, if he survives this.

On the other hand, fluff and emotional angst! The bats learn why Tim is just Like That, maybe they set up something so Tim doesn't have to worry about the entity waking up every time he gets knocked out, the proximity to his true 'body' makes Tim's human form a little more spooky and strange, the world is your oyster!

Short DPXDC Prompts #749

Tim Drake isn’t human, he knows that and is comfortable in his skin. This strange ghost boy very obviously isn’t comfortable in his ghost form around humans. He will help change that.

[punkscowardschampions]

Joe & Ronnie

Toe dip

Joe: I'm back in town, you about? Ronnie: Bored of playing with yourself or just playing happy families, yeah? Ronnie: Fuck off Mckenna Joe: S'not an answer, is it Ron? Ronnie: mummy dearest ain't funding my jetsetting Ronnie: there's your answer Joe: Nor mine Joe: Thank you student loans Joe: Are you coming over? Or we playing hide and seek? Ronnie: snap your fingers at me again and see what happens to 'em Ronnie: fuck off you're better at that like Joe: Not like I wanted to Joe: Needs must Joe: Which is what I'm saying, obviously I'm good for it, not like I think you missed me or anything Ronnie: bullshit. you love it golden boy Ronnie: if you didn't wanna be there you'd have been here Joe: Love it so much I moved countries to breathe Joe: Love it so much I found you Joe: It ain't that simple, I can't get out their clutches that easy Ronnie: 'cause you're a sadist. just pay for some bitch to whip you or some shit like normal pervs who love the torture Ronnie: don't come crying to me about it Joe: Ain't like that either Joe: always got by on self-inflected tah Joe: you know I need you Ronnie: liar Ronnie: you need them Ronnie: and to fuck me as a fuck you to them Ronnie: it ain't about me Joe: no Joe: i HAVE them Joe: obligation Joe: and if that were it i'd have done it once and rubbed her nose in it Joe: more than sufficient to fuck her up, no? Joe: who knows if they'd even flinch, my brother and bea are basically married and that was family endorsed Joe: i'm fucked up, that's why i want you so bad, its as simple as that, you've always known that Ronnie: like i give a shit Ronnie: you ain't found any the bastards your da's bound to have dropped Ronnie: makes me the lucky one Ronnie: keep your crying that side of the plane ride, yeah? Ronnie: I'm not here to comfort you Joe: if you like Joe: even if they existed, doesn't mean they're gonna be the same as me Joe: more carbon copies of him, like the rest of 'em Joe: i don't want you to Joe: already got that covered, remember? Ronnie: i ain't the same as you Ronnie: different species baby Ronnie: you got everything and I got fuck all, remember? Joe: yet we still both ended up here Joe: its in our DNA Joe: both her parents were junkies Joe: rest is just circumstance Ronnie: Fuck you I make my own choices Ronnie: and it's not that deep Ronnie: It feels good, I do it Ronnie: blame her all you like but don't expect me to join the party Ronnie: nothing any of you do affects me, got it? Joe: You're old enough to know better than to give such a baby junkie cliche answer Joe: giving to charity and going for a daily constitutional 'feels good' too so I hear but I don't see you out there seizing life by the balls on those scores Joe: There are reasons we chose heroin over life, wanna rewatch seeing as you're feeling really basic about it today, like Ronnie: what i know is that nothing feels like heroin does, soft lad Ronnie: end of Joe: and there's reasons you know that by experience and not hearsay Joe: everyone knows that but everyone else is too content in their happy little lives to find out properly for themselves Ronnie: nobody's that content they're just that pussy Ronnie: scared they'll lose an arm or get riddled and whatever else they've seen on their tv Joe: Whatever Joe: same sin different name Joe: i'm not in your inbox to philosophize Joe: Someone got #deep in my absence Ronnie: take it to church Ronnie: a priest'll be happy to suck you off Ronnie: if you don't like what happens when you go stop leaving Joe: ha, i'm not that young, you know? Joe: my prime is behind me Joe: want me to be the cliche now Joe: say never again? Joe: 'cos I wish it could be true but you know, no broken promises Ronnie: just a crybaby, yeah? I know Ronnie: I don't want to hear any of your bullshit Ronnie: grow a pair mckenna Joe: then stop talking Ronnie: step up and make me Ronnie: you know where i am Joe: are the others about Joe: charlie, mainly Joe: i can't be bothered to be fake to or for my fam for another second and you know he loves them Ronnie: that cunt's down the job centre he'll be longer than I can stand you Joe: just mad 'cos your six-month ban is still in effect Joe: just come over ron Joe: please Joe: i don't want to risk seeing anyone else, i only wanna see you Ronnie: you begging now? Ronnie: that's why you gotta stay away from that lot Joe: thought i'd try it this way before going straight to kidnap Joe: gotta give a lady options Ronnie: try scoring you owe me Joe: done Joe: wait 'til i'm past security don't fancy the cavity search Ronnie: don't knock it 'til you've tried it Ronnie: they might take the gear but they'll show you a good time Joe: of course you'd endorse it, already know you're all about them good feelings Joe: like i said, only got time for you Joe: hopeless romantic Ronnie: hopeless twat Ronnie: trying to make me vom again like Joe: can't blame a boy for trying Joe: get you off your A game=more junk for me Ronnie: still a selfish bellend then Joe: 'Course Joe: you'd never do the same, like Ronnie: if i had gear or money for it i wouldnt be wasting my time on you and this convo Joe: N'awwh Joe: nice to be needed Ronnie: you can try begging for it again Ronnie: worked so well before Joe: knew you loved it really Joe: pretty please with smack on top, hey Ronnie: fuck off Joe: so soon? Joe: just landed baby Ronnie: you left me for dead baby im not gonna wait there rattling a sign Joe: don't Joe: i gave you money, and told you to ask for more if you ran out Joe: what more could i do? Ronnie: not fucking choose them over me Joe: i didn't, haven't, won't Joe: no choice involved, until i literally fucking off myself i have to keep them in the loop i'm still breathing, they won't be satisfied 'til then, like Ronnie: you don't care if that I ain't. good thing the dealers a better fuck and provider than you 'cause my pain's nothing for theirs Ronnie: all such fucking momma's boys Joe: bullshit Joe: you get me every other day of the year Joe: whenever you want me Joe: it was one weekend to show i've got a heartbeat and bounce, that's all it is to me, i don't care if it makes them feel better, just secondary Joe: i'm thinking about you and how you are the whole time Joe: i can't think about nothing else Ronnie: bullshit Ronnie: you're never around Ronnie: uni and orchestra and whatever the fuck else Ronnie: stop acting like you give a shit Joe: gotta get money somehow and music keeps me as sane as i've ever been, it's all i had before i had you so I'm not just going to drop it, 'cos you get that too Joe: you just want to be proved right but you're not Joe: you can't push me away and shut me out Joe: sorry about it Ronnie: you're the one who's wrong about everything Ronnie: trying to make this something this ain't Ronnie: a fucking love story or some shit Ronnie: I hate you and I'm not sorry about it Joe: understandable Joe: not the only one Joe: you rather it was a sob story? Joe: don't think so Ronnie: I don't want any story I just want you to get the fucking picture Joe: i'm not very visual, sorry Joe: pick up a guitar Ronnie: You'd love that. a love song. get fucked Joe: looks like you're stuck then Joe: you think you'd try harder if you hated me THAT much Joe: hmm Ronnie: you're the try hard that ain't me Joe: glad you think so Joe: it takes all of me to be this subpar Ronnie: Shut up and get to your place I need my hit Joe: in the taxi Joe: pray you've been good enough to warrant no traffic Ronnie: you sound like your catholic dad Ronnie: is that meant to turn me on? Joe: rather it didn't frankly Joe: but that'd just give you reason to say it did so Joe: you do you Ronnie: sick fuck Joe: no arguments here Ronnie: I'm gonna kick the door in if you're not here in 5 Ronnie: your neighbours are nosey cunts Joe: did you lose your key again? Joe: they're mostly students...so they're either green and wouldn't say boo to a goose let alone you, or stoned enough themselves not to care Ronnie: fuck's sake Joe: kick the door down if you wanna, love keeping the locksmiths in business, you Joe: lost that deposit months ago anyway Ronnie: moneybags mckenna Ronnie: should've done uni like Joe: not to late, job centre will pay for it Joe: good on their books, good on your wallet Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: can't get a degree in dope Joe: nah, but you can get a degree in almost everything else Joe: music, whatever Ronnie: prodigy privilege Joe: you don't have to be 'good' Joe: you are anyway Joe: just a thought Joe: not working on commission here Ronnie: I know like 3 chords you daft cunt Ronnie: flattery is fucking useless Joe: they teach you most of it, half my class couldn't play a triangle, you could do theory or producing anyway or set design...list goes on Joe: i'm not aiming for flattery, just how i feel Ronnie: there's easier ways to fulfil your schoolgirl fantasy Ronnie: keep your feelings to yourself Joe: sure, you offering? Ronnie: yeah if you beg me Joe: won't even stop to say hello dearest Ronnie: fuck it then why not Joe: hooray Joe: missed you Ronnie: prove it Joe: on it

[arcane-ish]

The other big motivation after this experience will be Silco wanting to get Vander out of the mine. Silco has no choice, he has debts, but Vander doesn't need to be risking his life

Haha, glad to hear. I was kind of worried it was gonna continue with "they get out of their lives intact and Vander is going to react by going all "I'm gonna cut through all the bullshit and just gonna say it: I love you" and Silco might react with a panicked "Kthxbye, we have to break up now" and then they manage to stay broken up for at the most a week.

Silco thinking of Vander's safety and wanting him out of the mine is sooooooooooooooooo sweet. Especially in he context of Silco's paranoia that things are not going to last between them.

Encouraging Vander to be out there, outside the mines, there's just way more opportunity to meet other people, get distracted, get drunk and fall into bed with somebody.

So that's a whole lot of risk/trust.

Especially since I figure Vander and what Vander is willing to do for Silco must be a huge boon to Silco's operation. Just way more things he can get done. So to risk that "asset" (or even be willing to give it up) is a big deal even outside of the whole emotional aspect.

I really wonder how much Silco is aware that Vander really is in with the smuggling operation just out of love for Silco. So if he were to fall out with Silco as Silco feels he likely wouldn't want to continue working with Silco even if the money was good.

I know the setting from the cartoon alone -- how do you usually make a deal with a god? I'm thinking they'll find the old tunnels, the huge statue of Janna and fresh air (like the stories Jinx heard as a kid), but it would also work if it happened after some desperate praying.

I don't think there are necessarily ways to invoke a god/demon/spirit and get their attention? I think if they are interested you they just show up.

So I think about it more as people joking about how they wish Janna or some demon showing up rather than it being a reliable strategic tool you can work with.

(I think other than Janna people mostly use Tahm Kench even though he's from another region, just figuring that in Piltover and Zaun might also know about him because they also do a lot of ship trading. I remember a Silco and Vander fic from back in the day that used a Tahm Kench deal )

I might steal that idea.

Feel free to :) I'm always happy if any of my whacky ideas or headcanons work or anybody. XD

Silco is just so sure that nobody would come for them because it's all a cruel and unfeeling company. I can just picture the little wheels turning "Oh, right Vander is has friends. Maybe …. having friends is a good thing?". Though maybe going rogue or making noise to find Vander and Silco would actually get Felicia and Benzo in trouble with the mine owners/overseers?

Maybe that would be too much effect on the plot? Like I said, if you can make use of it feel free, if it doesn't fit, no matter :)

…unless you broke into Piltover.

It just popped into my head that that is one of the things I could picture getting Vander to "think big". Saving his cute little boyfriend from debt bondage just seems like a really romantic/heroic thing for a young guy to get excited about and it would fit with Vander's bigger focus on the people he cares about.

Very:

"What if we just destroyed the papers that say you owe them? Then you could be free, right?"

"They are protected by the company people"

"What if we ambushed them, killed everybody, took the strongbox and destroyed it?"

"… even if you did that, there are still copies up in Piltover."

"Okay :( :( :( …. so what if broke into Piltover and pulled off the heist of the century" (cue Vi's: the kind of stunt you'd have pulled when you were my age)

I presume there are still good reasons not to do it. Like maybe they would take it out on the Foundlings (Vander:Okay… so what if we made our own more awesome orphanage.Silco: No,we are not adopting 50+ kids. Vander: :() or too many people rely on the mines for work and wages.

(I've been thinking a lot lately about Vander could possibly have done outside of "not be an active tyrant" that people have such a positive perception of him even years later. Doing something like getting people's debt earased could certainly be that kind of thing, even if he does it years later after becoming a revolutionary, if he remembers how much that situation sucked for Silco back then)

[for anybody else reading: I'm deeply obsessed with this wip about young Zaundads meeting in the mines and slowly building up their smuggling operation]

Young Zaundads wip (26)

***

For the sake of progress, they don't make the new tunnel any bigger than it needs to be. It's tall enough for Vander to kneel and punch cracks into the next lot of bedrock, but no higher. Vander breaks the rock and moves the pieces behind him; Silco moves the rocks to the larger cavern, clearing the tunnel.

Despite the three charges in Silco's pocket, neither of them are willing to use it. They don't want to risk causing another cave in.

The work is slow and tiring, and Vander's knees feel like they'll be covered in bruises by tomorrow. Silco rolls the bigger rocks out of the way. The smaller ones he lifts up and carries out, bent over in half to fit in their little tunnel.

There's no way for Vander to know if they're digging straight or starting to curve, but he can feel the sweat soaking through his shirt and the ache in his arms as they keep moving forward.

They take a break, both of them lying on the cavern floor just to stretch their backs and rest their legs.

Vander eyes the broken gas mask, the gap down the front where the metal edges bend and twist away from each other. "I almost wish Benzo was here. He'd be able to fix that."

One side of Silco's lip curls up, like he's too tired to sneer properly. They both know Vander isn't great with anything delicate and Silco might have nerves of steel but that's about the limit of his machinery knowledge. There's no way either of them can fix it. "We could try it anyway. It can't hurt our chances."

Vander rolls his head to the side, watching Silco. The strong line of his nose, the soaring curve of his cheekbones, the small chin and narrow jaw. He always thinks it's Silco's eyes that make him pretty, or the thin, delicate line of his lips, but it's everything. It's the knowing arch of his brows and the strands of dark hair falling across his cheek. Everything about him is sharp and fine, and stronger than he looks.

It's not somethingbhe wa looking for, not really, but he can't imagine his life without Silco in it. Maybe Silco should know that, since there's a strong chance they might not make it through the night.

"We're not dead yet," Silco says dismissively, before Vander can even work out the words to say.

Vander feels his own tired grin. "That could have been a nice moment. I could have said something sentimental. Something romantic."

"Your idea of romance starts and ends with: you're pretty, want to fuck?" Silco says tiredly and Vander laughs. He's not wrong.

"Are you complaining?"

"Nothing wrong with the classics." Silco watches him, something serious lurking beneath the wry humour. "You're pretty. Want to fuck?"

It catches Vander's breath for a moment, what Silco really means. The words neither of them are saying, even if they are true. It feels safer to treat it as a joke. "Now?"

"When we get out of this," Silco clarifies. "Five more minutes, then we keep digging."

***

They keep working, hour after hour, and their small tunnel grows longer. The lantern light is growing dimmer but Vander can't afford to worry about what they'll do when it fails. How they'll make any progress when it's just them and the dark.

He looks up at Silco's shuffling footsteps and notices his kerchief is tied across his face again. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Put yours on," Silco says instead of explaining. He hands over the broken gas mask. "I tried it. Doesn't work at all with that hole."

But the only way he'd be able to test it is if… "The Grey?"

"It's started seeping through the collapse." Silco sounds calm and collected, but his hands are clenched in tight fists. "We have some time yet. Keep going."

The spike of adrenaline helps Vander to hit harder, to force the bedrock around them to give way. He stops worrying about breaking the rocks smaller and just tries to break through to something. Something that isn't sheer rock and their inevitable deaths.

Silco doesn't complain about the larger rocks; he just rolls them along the uneven floor, pushing them out. Each time he comes back breathing heavier, until he comes back and sinks to the ground, pulling his makeshift mask off to gulp for air. His eyes are red and watering.

"Swap," Vander says. "I'll take the next lot."

"What could I do," Silco says and his voice is rough as gravel, "with those gauntlets?"

"Then rest," Vander says, grabbing the largest bits of rocks and hunching over to carry them out. He finds their cavern half full of the Grey. It's creeping through the pile of broken rock, grey-green fog spreading across the floor. It stings his eyes, makes his throat feel hot and scratchy, like the start of a bad cold.

Vander clamps a hand over his mouth and heads back to Silco.

Silco is still sitting on the ground. His eyes have stopped watering but they're still bloodshot. "We have to keep going."

"Can we seal the tunnel behind us? Buy some time from the Grey?"

Silco shakes his head and then pauses, thinking. "We could set a charge. Cause a collapse to slow it down."

"Could the whole thing cave in if we do that?"

Silco shrugs. His voice still sounds rough. "Maybe. We don't have any good options here, Vander. It's a risk, whether we do it or not."

He hates that Silco's right. If they do nothing, they have to hope to dig somewhere before the Grey fills this whole tunnel. "So, best case scenario, it doesn't collapse above our heads and it seals the entrance?"

"Best case? There's enough silt above us to seal it tightly, and we dig somewhere before we breathe all of the air in one small, sealed tunnel."

"So, suffocation, suffocation or being crushed to death? What do you think?"

"Set the charges," Silco says grimly. "If we're crushed, it's quick. If we run out of air, we'll fall asleep and never wake. It's better than dying with your lungs burning as you claw at your own throat."

***