#just some idle thoughts as i plot out a fic

[contentiousprince]

i think we should normalize making directors commentary posts about fics you write

[yanderestarangel]

did u delete a fic? i swear i saw a tio!miguel fic earlier today

a/n: hi angel! thank you for asking, in fact there was an age restriction and I decided to delete it, I'll take advantage of your comment and repost it. ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

"TIO" MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER

𝐓𝐖: dark plot, toxic relationship, power play, non con, dub con, manipulation, age gap, step!incest (non-blood uncle), invasion of privacy, stalking, threat, dead dove, dark smut, latino ftm reader, femboy reader, jealousy, aggressive sex, recorded sex, dom!miguel, v!sex, blowjob, spanish nicknames, send nudes, degradation, objectification, AU, male x male, porn plot, long fic, brain rot, creampie, blackmail.

Family parties were normal for your family, getting together some close relatives and celebrating on any weekend, always with plenty of music and laughter filling your ears, was annoying at times, but you couldn't say 'no' to a tradition.

You felt the cold of the night breeze enter your skin, each hair left its place accompanied by a strange chill ── you were being watched, and you knew very well who it was... Tio Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara was a friend of your father, a mysterious and serious man, even though your family welcomed him as if he shared the same blood, he still had the same look of rigidity and seriousness ── no one knew much about his past, if he had some relationship or family before moving to your city years ago, but it was only said that he worked as a caretaker on some local farms ── which made him earn too much money for a simple caretaker, but that matter was not touched by no one in your family.

You obeyed the strict rule of calling him "Uncle" or "Tio", since when he arrived, when his eyes met yours, it was as if something awakened in his core ── a flame lost for years, now burning in his soul, and you it was the kerosene that made this fire worse.

Your attention returned to reality, seeing the tanned man go to the place where you were, sitting next to you; muscular legs crammed into the black jeans he always wore, with a weather-beaten dress shirt that had previously been white, now appeared to be a light vanilla shade, hugging the girth of his robust muscles. He had a cold, fresh can of beer in his right hand, while his left went towards his hair, arranging some loose strands that insisted on falling on his forehead, his lips formed a thin line, the corners turned down in disapproval ── The sight of you hiding from the celebration hurt him, a pang of possessiveness invaded his chest, soon remembering the things he had seen, however, before touching on the topic of rupture the words came out softly from his throat.

"What is wrong, carinõ?"

He asked softly, hand reaching out to take yours gently. His grip was firm but not unnecessarily tight, calloused skin warm against your own.

"You should be out there, dancing and laughing with your family... You seem thoughtful mi principito"

You sighed in response, quickly explaining that you weren't in a party mood, your hands went back to the cell phone that was previously in your pocket, making the Mexican's eyes narrow in response to such an act. O'Hara took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then crushing the drink can in his hand and turning to you, he knew exactly what he wanted to know and he wanted the truth.

"Who was that boy, mi vida?”

He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame as the music swelled around you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, you felt the burn of heat on his body, the smell of expensive men's perfume and cheap alcoholic drink.

"You were speaking so intimately with him..."

His voice was a low purr, tinged with warning.

"This is our moment, just us... I dropped that phone." That was a threat, making you make a quick excuse ── after all, you knew exactly what he was talking about, you were going out with "Hobbie Brown", a friend from your college, but you didn't expect your uncle to have seen the two of you together (but it wasn't very difficult, you and the boy always clung to each other even if you didn't have anything officially. )

You moved away from Miguel's heat, before the sensation was still tolerable, but now it seemed like a violent flame and about to explode like a time bomb. Your mouth opened, speaking sweet lies, trying to mask the fact that you were going out with Hobbie ── you knew that the best way was to lie, even if it didn't do anything, you had already seen how your non-sanguine uncle acted like a crazy man when you were around people other than him. Miguel's eyebrows arched in disbelief, dark brows furrowing deeply. "Tell me, corazón, is there something you wish to confess to me?"

He asked, tilting his head curiously. His gauze lingered on your lips, as if he could taste the lie on them. "I see what happens around me, my heart."

He murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"And I do not like it... Do not lie to me, mi angel, because the next lie I hear from your sweet lips, you'll regret it." The sound of his voice was a low rumble, like thunder on the horizon. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing your ear softly.

"You play with fire... Mi pequeño."

His voice was a whisper now, his breath warm against your skin.

"And one day, that fire will burn you."

He released you then, stepping back with a harsh exhale. His eyes were stormy, his features set in a hard line. Miguel stared at you for a moment, as if he could read your thoughts, as if he could feel your fear ── Finally, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"If I ever hear of another man touching you like that again... I will end him." He muttered, downing a large gulp of his drink before setting the bottle down on the table. You watched him leave, the loud footsteps on the raw cement floor were enough to tell you that he was angry. The rest of the party was strange, you felt tio Miguel's eyes on you, even though the atmosphere was pleasant for the other participants in your family, everything had gotten worse after the confrontation you had with the man ── you thought about telling about your uncle's strange behavior towards your father, but you knew it wouldn't help, they would just defend Miguel and say that you were exaggerating... But you felt like you weren't.

You went to your room, while you saw the tall man's shadow in the hallway, bumping into the walls because he was too drunk to think or stand on his feet ── you saw him leaning on your door frame, while you asked calmly if he needed some help. Miguel's eyes met his, his vision slightly blurred from the alcohol he had consumed. He licked his lips, his gaze roaming your body hungrily, but he didn't act, only a sob and a sad laugh left his lips, while he showed his white canines.

"You are mi ninõ. You always have been and always will be... There is no escaping your destiny."

He babbled, his words filled with drink, but he was serious, like he had never spoken before, you could see a mix of dark emotions that burned in his brown orbits, each word, no matter how slurred it was, carried a clear truth that could not be said aloud by several taboos.

His hands reached out, gripping your arms tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving small red marks.

"Don't forget this... You would never lie to your Uncle right? I will protect you... Incluso si es de ti mismo."

He leaned closer, his breathing heavy and laced with the smell of whiskey.

"But I will also punish you if you disobey me."

He let go of you then, frowning as he looked at the marks he had left on your arms.

"Go to bed now."

He mumbled, turning away from you and stumbling towards the door.

"Sleep well, my precious boy."

His voice was filled with alcohol, spite and a twisted desire ── the latter making his gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as he staggered out, ignoring everything and everyone around him, you tried to ignore the burning in your stomach, a mixture of fear and a bittersweet heat near your stomach, you were maybe just very tired... Right? You pushed away the thoughts that consumed your mind, trying to grab the fog of sleep that you tried to achieve, you hoped for a good day... But little did you know what fateful destiny had planned.

You woke up to your parents cleaning the house, it was a hot and irritating Sunday, you woke up sweaty and to the loud sounds of rooms being dragged from one place to another ── you really didn't want to be there, so your father told you to go to your uncle Miguel's house, even though you insisted on saying the opposite, that you could handle the chaos at home and help them, but your parent just repeated the phrase and sent you to keep O'Hara company at his house.

Everything would be better than facing him again.

You wore your most comfortable and cool dress for that sultry summer day ── your breasts bounced and you felt the coolness of the wind blowing beneath your legs, reaching your thighs and panties, an adorable boy, on the way to the wolf's house.

Walking under the sun until you saw Miguel's house in a rural area and away from the common neighborhood, you called his name, soon seeing the man come completely sweaty and shirtless, still wearing the same pants from yesterday, while drying his sweat of his brow, letting you into his comfort.

"Fine."

He grumbled, he turned around, taking you home without saying another word. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

As you entered the house, you noticed a slight disorder. Miguel's usually immaculate house really needed some cleaning. He gestured for you to sit on the couch.

"Your father said you were coming..." He sighed with a hand on his hips as he looked at you steadily. "That's good, now we can continue our conversation from yesterday, okay? I want the truth my boy, give me your cell phone, unlocked... After all, you have nothing to hide from me right... You and Hobbie are just good friends... Right?" His voice carried that threatening and authoritarian tone again, you stuttered but when you saw your uncle's look you swallowed hard and accepted your fate, obviously you had spicy messages on your cell phone, but what could you do? Running unfortunately wasn't an option, neither was screaming, you were trapped in a spider's web, and in the possessive man's judgmental gaze.

"Now. Give it to me. Or else you know what I'm capable of."

He repeated as you handed him the electronic device ─ and it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for... Miguel's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the messages on his phone. His grip tightened around the device, his knuckles turning white. A mixture of anger, jealousy and hurt crossed his face as he read the explicit messages and saw the intimate photos, you were really with that boy... You were doing everything behind his back.

"How dare you show your body to that piece of shit!"

His voice was laced with bitterness and disappointment. He threw the phone onto the table, the screen cracking on impact.

"Do you think you can send nudes to some random boy and get away with it?"

He took a step towards you, his expression darkening.

"Did he make you wet? Did he make you excited?" His words came out like venom, his hand shot out, grabbing your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. Miguel's grip on his chin tightened, his fingers digging into his flesh. His angry eyes fixed on his, his expression filled with a mixture of possessiveness and pain.

"I expected everything... Except that, I'm tired, tired of just being seen as your fucking uncle... I can give you so much more than that boy ever could. I can make you scream, make you beg for more. But you need to understand that you are mine."

His voice was filled with a desperate need, a desire that was both warm and terrifying. He pressed his body against his, his erection evident through his jeans. You tried to protest again, in vain, you just felt O'Hara's thick lips on yours, it was strong, his tongue dominating his as he held you tightly. His hand guided your trembling hand to his hard, throbbing erection, pressing it against the fabric of his pants. He let out a low growl of pleasure, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You always make me hard on boy... So fucking hard." He continued kissing you fiercely, your free hand moving to grip his waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. He pressed your body against his again, now the bulge of his pants rubbing against your thigh. The intensity of his touch and the raw desire in his eyes made your own body respond, despite the fear and confusion, it was so wrong, but it felt right at the same time.

"Do you think you can show yourself like that to anyone? Do you think there will be no consequences?"

He pushed you back, guiding you towards the couch again ─ his hands exploring your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

"Strip for me, baby boy. Show me that body you dared to share with someone else. Show me what only I should see."

His voice was commanding, his eyes burning of lust and anger. He watched as you hesitantly complied, removing your clothes piece by piece, revealing your naked form to him ── your dress was discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bounced while your nipples became hard from contact with the air, your pussy was already wet, a simple kiss had done that to you.

He looks at you with admiration... All of that was for him, a banquet of the gods, he wasn't going to leave you in punishment, no matter how angelic you were, he was going to reduce you to a dumb and beautiful mess, totally broken for him.

"Look at you... So eager to please, so desperate for my touch. Did just one kiss from does your uncle get you this wet?"

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he took hold of his cell phone, opening the camera app with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Well, since you were so willing to show yourself to that boy, I think it's only fair that I capture this moment. Don't you agree, my precious angelito?"

He positioned himself in front of you, his cock springing free from his pants. The sight of his naked arousal feels a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. He pulled you down to your knees, his grip firm on the back of your head.

"Suck it," he commanded "Let the world see what a slut you've become."

You hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. But the thought of defying him only fueled his anger further. With a mixture of trepidation and submission, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing length, your tongue swirling around his head. He groaned, his grip tightening in his hair as he began recording your submissive act.

"You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Such a good boy, taking it all in."

He continued to record, capturing each salacious moment as you eagerly pleasured him. The taste of his cock and the sound of his moans filled your senses, heightening your own pleasure. Your body responded, the tingling warmth between your legs growing more intense with each passing moment.

"No one else gets to taste you like this. You're my slutty boy, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

He spoke as the fat and hot tip of his member hit your throat repeatedly, making you choke and connect your nose with his groin, the lack of air making you momentarily see stars as he let you breathe again.

As Miguel reached his climax, he grunted and released a hot jet of cum into your mouth. He groaned with satisfaction, feeling the pulsing sensation as he emptied himself into your mouth. The taste of his essence filled your senses, mixed with the bitter-sweet humiliation of the situation. Once he had finished, he withdrew his dick from your mouth, his grip firm on your face. He forced you to open your mouth wide, showing your dirty tongue, coated with his cum, to the camera. The sadistic glint in his eyes only intensified as he instructed you to swallow it all.

You obediently complied, gulping down his cum, heavy tears ran down your body, while his thumb pulled your cheek to show him even more of your oral cavity.

"Look at the camera....You look like a damn porn star... A filthy, little porn star."

You barely had time to react, then the man trapped you beneath him again ─ his thighs separated yours, while he looked at your cunt milking the air with so much excitement, making him laugh mockingly and dominantly ─ without prior warning, his thick cock entered your wet pussy, stretching you to your limits and causing a mixture of pain and pleasure to surge through your body. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, granting him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts.

As he thrust into you, Miguel focused the camera on your tear-streaked face, capturing every moment of your vulnerability and submission.

You were a mess of conflicting emotions, a beautiful sight to him as he reveled in his dominance over you, The desire makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong ── soon you find yourself thrusting your hips onto his cock, whimpering pathetically as you moan his name.

"Mmm, you're such a buen chico para mí.. such a good and beautiful pussy... You hid it from me for so long... But you showed it so easily to that bastard... You disappoint your uncle sometimes, boy."

His hand left the camera momentarily, his fingers finding your clit, caressing it in a way that made your moans intensify, he watched your reactions closely, moaning with lips parted, as he looked directly into your teary eyes.

"See, I knew you'd love this, aren't you? Oh, sí... Mierda- Eres tan apretado chico".

Then, with the peaks of moans and pounding of flesh on flesh, his grunts grew louder and more primal as he climaxed. With one final thrust, he released his hot sperm deep inside your pulsating pussy, filling you with his essence. When he pulled out, the camera captured the evidence of your intimate connection, showing the mixture of his cum and your own juices. Your pussy clenched and milked the air, aching for more even after he finished.

"You've taken all of my cum... Un buen chico para tu tio."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mixed with a tinge of shame as you watched your body respond to his touch.

He smiles at the video on his cell phone, while looking at you with a dangerous glare.

"Now you're going to be a good putito... After all, you don't want this to leak out to our family, do you?"

You had no choice, and maybe you didn't even want to... Miguel had broken you, as he always wanted, you were his now, only his.

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

[iwritefandomimagines]

BOTHERED — AGENT DALE COOPER

masterlist

pairing: dale cooper x reader

description: navigating emotions wasn’t agent cooper’s strongest suit. confronting his growing feelings for you, even less so. but jealousy can be a powerful motivator at times — and your close friendship with sheriff truman might have him just a little bothered. [based on a request for jealous!dale]

warnings: none really, jealous!coop though, death mentions — no major spoilers for TP plot, unlike my usual jealousy fics this one is soft n not so angsty (cooper is just quiet and mopey lmao)

author’s note: SURPRISE! i restarted twin peaks and was reminded of the severe lack of dale x reader fics so am here to help remedy that thanks to a jealous!coop request 🫡 (on that note… sheriff truman fics anyone?)

———

When Agent Cooper had agreed to come for one drink at The Roadhouse, it had been almost entirely with the intent to get you off his mind.

Of course, the Laura Palmer case was draining and tiring and left him in need of some relaxation when he could get it too, but today it had been you plaguing his mind all day, ever since his run in with you at the diner this morning.

It wasn’t unusual to bump into you as he ordered his morning coffee, nor was it unusual to find himself conceding and letting you have the last slice of pie of an evening when you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

In fact, he always looked forward to the extra-wide smile you seemed to reserve only for him — routinely basking in your honey sweet voice and eagerness to converse with him more than anyone else in a room.

At first he’d not known how to react to your keenness, his usual air of professionalism extending to make awkward formulaic small talk with you as you tried to get to know him.

But now he revelled in his conversations with you, and he’d been as enthusiastic as ever when he saw you skip into the Double R with a grin on your face.

That was, until Sheriff Truman trailed in right behind you with an equally large smile and waving your scarf in his hands.

“Two coffees please, Shelly,” you singsonged, snatching the scarf from Harry’s hand with a laugh, “Sorry, I’m terrible with leaving things in the wrong places.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, his eyes catching Dale’s as you began gossiping with Shelly across the counter, “I’ll just be over there with Agent Cooper.”

Cooper nodded back at him in acknowledgment as he wandered over, but something in his expression told Harry he wasn’t happy to see him this morning.

“You got some bad news on the case?”

“No. But I have got something I have to—ah yes, I left something back at my hotel room,” Cooper was doing an uncharacteristically terrible job at lying, “I’d best be off. Please excuse me.”

Without a further word to either Harry or you, he fled the diner with such urgency you’d have thought the building was about to collapse in on itself.

You watched him leave with furrowed brows, his usual warmth nowhere to be seen as he dared not even look at you while he left.

You were utterly perplexed — entirely unaware of the impact that turning up with the Sheriff, all smiles and evidently having driven there together, would have on the man.

Your car hadn’t started this morning and, in a frantic panic, you’d called Harry — with whom you’d been good friends since you were in diapers, for goodness sake — and asked him for a lift to the diner where you could meet a colleague.

He’d obliged, of course, and you’d been looking forward to another morning of idle chatter with your very favourite FBI agent.

Unfortunately, even as Dale Cooper now sat contemplatively beside his friends and swirled his drink around his glass, a friendly ride to the diner wasn’t how he pictured the encounter.

His mind was abuzz at all hours anyway with all of the stress of the case, but it seemed that it was when it came to you that all sense of reason and rationality flew entirely out of the window.

After all, if you had just been in need of a ride, could you not have called him?

He liked to think you were close enough for that now. Perhaps not.

Perhaps he’d been wrong to assume the sheriff was romantically attached to Josie. Hell, perhaps he’d gotten a lot of things wrong in his time in Twin Peaks.

And then as if on cue, into The Roadhouse you waltzed.

You, all bright eyed and smiling. You, looking somehow more radiant than he’d ever seen you. You, waving in his direction as Harry stood up to hug you and pull out a chair for you to join them.

“Y/N. I didn’t know you were joining us?”

He hadn’t intended for his tone to sound so disappointed. Of course not. But watching you lean in to hug Harry left a bitterness on his tongue.

“Oh, sorry,” you looked down at your feet for a moment, now reluctant to take the seat, “Harry said it would be alright. I can—,”

Dale shook his head, “It’s perfectly okay.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding with a shy smile as you sat down and shimmied your jacket from your shoulders, “Oh, uh, thank you.”

Harry took your coat from you, hooking it over the back of your chair as you placed your purse down on the table and tried to make eye contact with Dale.

Everyone was watching him with bemused expressions, confused by what on earth could be bothering him so much.

He normally lit up when you entered a room, but today your entrance seemed to dim his mood even further.

The agent said nothing for a moment, instead opting to take a large swig of his drink, before standing abruptly.

“Well I’m dry and off to get another drink,” he said, tight-lipped, “Does anybody need another?”

The others just looked between each other, baffled by his unusual behaviour. Even for a man so often talking of crazy dreams and visions, this behaviour was curious.

You bit your lip, taking this as your chance to talk to him about whatever was on his mind, “Not another, but I need my first. I’ll—I’ll join you at the bar.”

“Alrighty then,” he led the way, his coat swishing behind him, because for some reason he’d still not relaxed enough to remove it, “What will it be?”

“Oh I can get my own drink, Dale,” you smiled, elbows propping up against the bar as he waved the bartender over, “But thanks. That’s kind of you.”

You both ordered your drinks, and you were acutely aware of how hard he seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact.

“Dale… Have I done something to offend you? I can go home if you’d prefer.”

He shook his head fervently, “No, not at all.”

He finally seemed to look at you now, his eyes dead set as he pondered his next words.

“If I did, you can tell me. I didn’t mean to intrude, it’s just that earlier, Harry—,”

“Are you and Sheriff Truman dating?”

His words almost winded you — what on earth made him think that?

You giggled, “Absolutely not! He’s just a friend. And anyway, he’s dating Josie and I’m not interested. Hold on, is this because he drove me to the Double R this morning?”

He gulped, and you were sure a blush began to tinge his cheeks, “It was the first time you’d arrived together and you seemed closer than I’ve seen you previously. Forgive my intrusion.”

At this you chuckled again, one hand curling around your glass and the other resting atop his forearm comfortingly.

“My car wouldn’t start and I was meeting someone I work with, so I needed a ride quickly,” you explained, eyes crinkling as you smiled across at him, “Would it bother you if we were? Dating, that is.”

Despite the inevitability of the question, he still felt taken aback by it.

“No, I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s not the question I asked,” your voice softened only further, and you felt him tense as the hand you’d rested on his arm moved atop his hand instead, “Would you be bothered if we were dating?”

“I—,” he paused, analysing the way you were looking at him right now, “I suppose I would, yes.”

“And why might that be?”

At this point, you seemed to be on the same page.

It was evident you were goading him towards being honest with you — but quite clearly only because the feelings he so obviously was trying to conceal were reciprocated — and the weight of confession seemed to have lightened a little now.

“Jealousy, I’d say.”

There was very nearly a hint of a smirk on his lips now as he looked away for a moment, before lifting his drink to his lips with his eyes still fixed on yours.

“Jealousy? Why ever would the man I so clearly dote over at every opportunity have any reason to be jealous of someone else?” you teased, tongue in cheek as you leaned in a little closer.

It was his turn to chuckle lightly now, “Perhaps it has something to do with that someone else being the person you asked to drive you to work in a pinch, and the way you were practically glowing with joy when you walked into the diner together.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head a little as your fingers interlaced with his now, “For an FBI agent, one might question your observation skills at times. The diner in the morning is, like, my happy place. And as one of the main reasons why that’s the case, I wouldn’t have expected you to come to such a wrong conclusion. I only asked Harry because he lives right by me!”

“I’ll ignore that first comment,” he tutted, placing down his drink for a moment to run his hand over his hair, “The first thing you did when you got here tonight was hug him, which as you can imagine didn’t do much to suggest I was wrong to believe your affection for him.”

“Friends hug, Coop,” you laughed, “He’s just been going through some stuff lately with Josie and I’ve been trying to be a good friend.”

He nodded, opting to say nothing for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

You licked your lips, sipping your drink quietly as his gaze continued to cascade over you.

“Someone as… attractive as you can hardly be surprised that I’d expect anyone to jump at the chance to be with you?”

You smirked now, “Would you then?”

He cleared his throat, his eyes dragging from your head to toe again not to aid him in constructing his answer, but just because he couldn’t help himself from admiring you.

“I’m in Twin Peaks, ahem, on important business. So it would be unprofessional of me to do so,” he swallowed as he watched you pout, “But that certainly does not mean that I wouldn’t want to.”

In the time you’d gotten to know each other, he’d for the most part dropped his positively professional demeanour around you — instead finding himself more relaxed, more comfortable.

But it was clear to you in this moment that this was unfamiliar territory for him; Being open and honest about romantic feelings wasn’t easy, even if he was comfortable around you.

“So what does that mean for us?“

Dale drew in a sharp breath, his thumb rubbing over the side of your hand where you were holding his.

“I don’t—Well, I certainly don’t want to keep pretending I don’t have feelings for you,” he seemed to be battling inwardly over what to do, “And I’ve been, forgive me for being so bashfully honest, but I’ve been feeling this way for long enough without it impeding my work to suggest that… Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Gee, so romantic,” you joked, watching his face briefly drop before registering that you were joking, “Honestly, I don’t want to cause any problems but… I mean… you surely can’t be expected to just never be happy with someone because of your job.”

He shook his head, “It’s not that. I’m here to keep you safe and a relationship might just compromise your safety instead.”

“The killer isn’t out to get you, are they?” there was panic in your eyes as you asked this, “Surely I’m no more at risk than I already was?”

Dale didn’t even like to for a moment think about you as the next victim — not when he still felt so far from finding the killer and preventing that.

You were, however, probably right.

“D’you know what, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered, a twinkle in your eye as a smile fully graced his face again now.

This was the Dale you were used to, smiling from ear-to-ear just looking at you.

“Mhm?”

“How would you feel about a late night slice of damn fine pie?”

You leaned in tentatively, your own smile matching his now too, “I’d love that, Coop.”

He pulled your intertwined hands closer to his chest now, aware of prying eyes but wanting to seize the moment.

“Perfect.”

He dipped his head to kiss you softly on the corner of your mouth, hesitating to do so initially until you nodded to indicate that you wanted him to.

You smiled, kissing him back briefly before pulling away to shoot him a cheeky smile.

“And, if you’re lucky, I might even share the last slice this time.”

———

thank you for reading!!! agonised over how poorly i felt i wrote coop for ages but thought i’d send it out into the world anyway … i hope you enjoy.

pleaaaseee let me know what you think & feel free to send some requests in (especially for dale or harry hehe). in the meantime — here’s my masterlist for more of my work!

[andy-15-07]

could you write dad!pedro. anything. surprise me! 🫶

Built from Nineteen

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1432 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n:Hi, I thought I'd make a fic with Grandpa Pedro, I hope you like it.

You slide on your sunglasses and glance over at Pedro, who’s tapping the steering wheel with a restless energy only he can sustain. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” you tease, gripping his hand.

He shakes his head, a grin spreading beneath his scruffy beard. “Nope. Today you’re the co-pilot, Mrs. Pascal. Our granddaughter’s here.”

Your chest tightens at the words. Granddaughter. It still feels surreal. After thirty-one years of marriage,married at nineteen, you remind each other often,life has an uncanny way of looping back on itself. Now, at fifty, you’re both waiting outside the maternity ward while your eldest, Isabella, welcomes her first child into the world.

“Want to talk about the others?” you ask, nodding toward the backseat where your two youngest are sprawled on the folded-down seats of the SUV. Lucas, twenty-six, is texting, already plotting a visit to the hospital; Diego, twenty-three, is reading some sci-fi novel, head bobbing as the car idles. And Mia, your fifteen-year-old, is asleep in the middle, her long hair splayed across both seats. You both laugh quietly,Mia’s Sunday afternoon naps are legendary.

Pedro shifts to look at you. “What about the way you made me ask your father for permission to marry you?” His eyes twinkle with mischief.

You roll your eyes, smiling. “He was terrifying. I almost begged you to drop me off at home and call it off.”

He grins wider. “Then you would have denied me the best twenty-seven years of my life.”

You squeeze his hand. “Twenty-seven years married, plus the two years we were engaged. Twenty-nine! You did wait for me.”

A sudden vibration: your phone buzzes. You glance down. A text from Isabella: Pushing now. Wish us luck! You breathe in. “She’s starting to push.”

Pedro exhales. “Here we go.” He hits the lock and pushes the car door open with a flourish. “Let’s greet Grandma and Grandpa Hotel!” he declares, making you laugh as you both hop out.

Inside the brightly lit corridor of the maternity ward, the sterile scent contrasts sharply with the warmth of anticipation bubbling in your chest. You approach the nurses’ station; the young woman behind the counter welcomes you by name. “Mrs. Pascal, Mr. Pascal, she’s doing great. They’re prepping the newborn for a quick check before you head in.”

You exchange a glance with Pedro, who looks just as giddy as you feel. Behind you, Lucas and Diego tumble through the doors, scanning for you with sleepy eyes, until they spot the Pascal trademark excitement. “Wait, we get to meet our niece?” Lucas asks, straightening in sudden alertness.

“Your niece, yes,” you confirm, tapping your son’s shoulder. “But more importantly, she’s our first grandbaby.”

Diego’s jaw drops. “Grandbaby. Dude.”

“Seriously,” you say, brushing past him. “Fifty years old. Four kids, and now the next generation.”

Mia, who’s rubbing sleep from her eyes, leans forward. “Why do I feel like I’ve been waiting nineteen years for this?” she murmurs, voice drowsy but face lighting up.

Pedro chuckles. “You’ve got the right idea, kiddo.”

The nurse returns with a swaddled bundle,pink and soft and Mom and Dad peek around the corner of the nursery window. Your heart lurches as you step forward; Pedro puts an arm around your shoulders.

There she is: a tiny head crowned with chestnut hair, little fists curled against her cheeks, slated for greatness. You catch Pedro holding back tears; his voice cracks as he asks, “Isabella? Can we...can we see her?”

A nurse lifts the cover and opens the door. “Just for a minute,” she says gently. “She’s doing well.”

You step in, Pedro just behind you. Your eyes meet and you both let your hand rest on the incubator’s edge. “Hey, little one,” you whisper, leaning forward. “I’ve been waiting nineteen years for you.” You reach in, careful to slide on the tiny glove, and touch her tiny palm. She grips your finger.

Pedro clears his throat. “I’m ...I’m Grandpa Pedro.”

You laugh softly. “You’re Grandpa Pedro.” Turning to him, you add, “You did promise to go by Grandpa Pedro instead of Pop-Pop.”

He nods gravely. “Important distinction.” He shrugs, eyes brimming. “Pop-Pop is too… cat-like.”

Mia scoots up next to you, peering at the baby’s face. “She’s perfect.”

Diego shuffles in behind her. “She’s got Mom’s cheeks.”

Lucas ducks in by Pedro’s side. “And Dad’s strong grip.” He lightly squeezes her hand, marveling.

Isabella appears in the doorway,pale but triumphant,supported by Chris, her husband. She’s crying; you rush forward to embrace her. “You did it,” you whisper into her hair.

She nods, tears falling. “She’s healthy. She’s ours.”

Chris offers a sheepish smile. “We named her Emma.”

Emma. Simple, sweet. You feel a surge of emotion. “Emma,” you repeat. “Welcome.”

Pedro bends, kisses Isabella’s forehead, then Chris’s shoulder. “We are so proud.”

Behind you, the nurse clears her throat. “Time’s up. We’ll be bringing baby Emma back in a bit.”

You step out of the nursery, your arms still full of joy. The hall seems to glow, as if the fluorescent lights are basking in newborn radiance. Outside, you find a visitors’ chair; Pedro seats you, and you sink in, letting the moment wash over you.

“Can you believe we’re grandparents?” you ask, and he wraps an arm around you

“I can,” he says, “but it still feels like a dream.”

You smile against his shoulder. “Do you remember our wedding day?”

He chuckles, voice soft. “You telling me to look confident even though my nerves were betraying me.”

“You had that ridiculous grin.” You sit up. “Tell them what happened.”

He grins at your prompting, then clears his throat for effect. “So I’m standing at the altar, right? And then I suddenly realize… I forgot the rings.”

You laugh, high and delighted. “Oh, God! You were mortified.”

Pedro nods solemnly. “I literally patted every pocket before, and then,nothing. I whispered to you, ‘They’re missing.’ And you just looked at me and said, ‘Give me your jacket.’”

You grin. “I found them in your boot.”

He chuckles, warm. “The one with the scorpion embroidered on it.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “We were married in a blaze of improvised vows, the rings slipped on with tears and laughter.”

“Exactly,” he says, lifting your hand and kissing your knuckles. “We’ve been winging it ever since.”

You nudge him. “Agreed. And look at us now: winging it with four kids, a granddaughter, a 15-year-old who steals our snacks…”

Mia’s voice drifts from down the hall: “Mom? Dad? When can I meet her?!”

You grin, standing up. “Right now."

Back in the nursery, you’re the first to circle back in. The room feels quieter than before, shadows dancing on the walls. Nurses bustle softly, and Emma is swaddled in a pastel blanket. You approach with reverence.

Pedro steps beside you. He whispers, “Her little face wrinkles when she sleeps.”

You nod, enchanted. “She seems peaceful.” You lean forward and hum a lullaby,one you sang to your own children,which earns a tiny twitch of Emma’s finger.

Pedro watches, eyes shining. “That sound… it’s us, you know? It’s our family echoing

You rest your hand on his, pressing it to your heart. “All those years ago, we never imagined this moment.”

He smiles. “But we always believed it.”

The door opens and Isabella slips in. “Mind if I join?” she asks quietly.

You wave her forward and she sits on the little rocking chair. Chris stands behind, hand resting on her shoulder.

Isabella’s voice is soft. “I’ve dreamed of this day since I was ten.” She looks at Emma, tears glistening. “She’s exactly what I hoped.”

You squeeze her arm. “You’re a mother. My girl… you’ve grown.”

Chris speaks for the first time. “Thank you,both of you— or everything.”

Pedro squeezes Chris’s hand. “No, thank you for making us grandparents.”

It feels like a promise,an unspoken pledge that the circle continues. You glance at your wristwatch. “We should get back and tell the others.”

Isabella nods and stands, cradling Emma. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go say hi to Marco and Lucia, too.”

You follow her out into the hall, but pause at the doorway. You turn to Pedro. “Hand in hand, like always?”

He offers his arm. “Like always.”

You link yours through his, stepping out together, hearts full. Outside, you’ll meet Lucas, Diego, and Mia, full of excitement, and everyone will crowd around Emma. But right now, in this fleeting quiet, you share a look that says more than words: nineteen-year-olds dreaming big, now fifty-year-old keepers of a legacy, welcoming the next generation with open arms. And it is perfect.

[leafostuff]

No Strings Attached [Ft. Billlie's Sheon and Tsuki]

Author's Note: Im out of Hiatus!!!

And finally the continuation of No Names Needed, fun fact - this idea of a sequel with both Tsuki and Sheon was in my brain for a long time, i only now found the inspiration, time and energy to write it.

By the time this will come out, it will be 2025 so happy new year everyone, hope yall thought about your resolutions and had the a blast for 2024, Soon also my writerversary will come as well (Feb 5th) so that is hype as well.

Lastly, just want to thank @defmaybe for helping with beta reading the fic, it kinda is quite a mess when it comes to plot but i honestly enjoyed writing this so much.

And without further ado, hope yall have a fun read

================================================

So after that entire situation at the club’s bathroom with the mysterious girl, a couple of questions are now stuck in your head:

Firstly, how did she manage to convince you for a second round at her place so easily?, It’s not like you were in the right headspace for any reason considering you just reviewed the best head of your life and you were excited to see more of her but still.

Second, what are the odds that just as you were ready to take off your shirt, her roommate just so happened to arrive from her shift? Having to sit quietly on their couch listening to the awkward argument of having to leave the dorm for tonight so her roommate could sleep in peace after a long shift.

And lastly: why are they now making out on the bed with their underwear only?

“Nghh…Sheon…” is the only her roommate (which you are still not sure about

Her name) can mutter between kisses, her voice is sweet on the ears, especially when she moans with how her partner latches her luscious lips (which you can vouch for by experience) latch on a particular spot on her neck, “so good…”

“Yes unnie, it is so good” it's the way Sheon elongates the last two words which raises the sexual tension inside the room, and her hands are not left idle, rubbing her right thigh back and forth. 

“And look, he is so hard for us right now” she adds before slightly tilting her roommate's face toward your naked erection, everything happened so fast you don't even remember when you took off your pants. “What do you say, oppa, ready for round two?”

“Fuck, as long you tell me your cute roommate's name,” you finally respond, already inching closer to them with impatience and lust. However, it seems like Sheon has other plans.

“That’s not how it works” Sheon lets out a disappointed sigh, “You can't just get a girl’s name like that, first you need to let her suck your cock.” To any other person, Sheon’s response would be fucked up, but to you and the two girls? For some reason, it just makes sense. “But before all of that, let me get unnie to show her tits to us”.

Words quickly turn into actions as Sheon unclasped her roommate's bra, letting it fall onto the sheets, giving her mounds the full view they desperately needed. It's hard to pinpoint exactly her size, especially with how Sheon is not wasting a second by slowly pushing her friend’s face lower to face the tip of your hardness.

The last stretch though, she does by herself and honestly? Those two girls might as well be sisters since like Sheon, as soon as her lips wrap around the tip of your cock a switch flips in her head, immediately starting with slow and steady bobbing movement toward the base of your cock.

She even has the same deadly stare Sheon has when she looks up, seeing your eyes closed while biting your lips every time she gets your cock deeper inside her, letting out a soft mumble resembling a chuckle before increasing the pace and the passion she uses to drain you.

And it drives you fucking insane.

“Oh my god unnie, you suck his cock so fucking amazing” Sheon is shocked at the oral assault her roommate expertly does. “Let me just get naked and then I will start sucking his balls, okay, unnie?” Even with the immense pleasure you receive you can still see how Sheon quickly takes off her bra to reveal her rather small mounds before diving downward, facing your cock with a hungry gaze.

She shifts around to find a comfortable position near her roommate and then, without leaving you a place to get used to it, she immediately reaches her tongue forward, giving it a teasing lick that sends shivers to your brain never felt before.

The only thing you can do is grip the mattress of the bed, trying to find some semblance of control over your body while two professional arsonists set your body aflame with pleasure that can only be described as messy and the sounds they make doesn't help your situation.

“Mm shewon-” the black-haired girl muffles with your cock still inside her mouth, “he is swo hawrd-nghh…” she manages to say to her friend, who seems to get excited with each moment seeing her friend being fucked.

“I know, right? I bet he really likes it when girls like us suck his big, thick cock,” Sheon responds while her hands go to her roommate's hair, moving it from her face to give more space, then she turns to you. “What about you, oppa, getting close for my unnie?”.

You can only nod in response, as any other will take too much energy from you. “That's great oppa,” Sheon adds, taking a look sideways and see how into the feeling the other girl, you could bet she’s not even hearing a word of your conversation as her entire soundscape consistent of licking, slurping and moaning, all which gets you closer to what they have been waiting.

But then, Sheon rises from her position, moving herself from near her roommate to now sitting behind you. You can feel how one of her hands snakes up from behind, gliding across your naked chest before leaning her mouth to your right ears, whispering the magic you didn't know even existed.

“Fill her”

And all hell breaks loose. This simple request is enough to send you into overdrive, as you quickly put each of your hands on the black-haired girl’s head for control before releasing your first shot of your load into her mouth.

And it just doesn't stop, your mind is all hazy only focusing on that request, each buck of your hips forward gets you reaching the back of her mouth with your cock and then unloading another round of cum down her throat, getting the both of you to release a moan.

Sheon? She’s ecstatic, jumping up and down behind you frantically. Each pump of yours gets her giggling and smiling wider. “Yes, yes, yes!!, fill her oppa, fill my Tsuki unnie, she's such a slut for your big cock, let her have all of it” As if she knew all of your sweet spots, she reached her lips to your ear, giving it a loving kiss which gets you hornier.

Below you, Tsuki lets out tears from the pleasure overtaking her entire body, each drop of cum getting inside her gets her moaning while her hands gripping your thighs to not faint, meanwhile managing to mutter a slutty, needy “more” every time she takes her lips out to catch her breath, before taking you in further.

Your last drops of your white load eventually gets swallowed by Tsuki’s, pulling her lips out of your cock and letting you fall onto the bed, pleasure blurs every bit of your vision, finally having time to catch your breath for the first time of the night and your heartbeat to slow down.

“Fuck…you two…are insane” is the only thing you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“And the best part, oppa? We're not over yet,” Sheon says, her voice still seductive, you manage to raise your head and see the two girls as you suddenly notice something: their panties are off.

In front of you are now two girls, fully naked, presenting themselves to you in their full glory, Sheon with a slutty smile and a bite on her lower lip while Tsuki demeanor is more reserved however her eyes share the same curiosity and excitement as her roommate. Immediately, this gets you up and running once again.

“That's right Oppa, you still didn't have the chance to cum on Tsuki unnie's thighs…or inside my ass, and especially…” She then goes behind Tsuki, quickly inserting two digits into her pussy while her other hand goes to grope one of her tits, getting Tsuki to gasp in surprise from the surprising touch over her body.

 “You didn't get to cum inside our tight little pussies, Oppa,” she adds, now you're fully immersed in the show in front of you.

“Who knows, maybe a round or two later we could hear your name, right?”

It’s that question that guarantees both to them and to you that tonight's gonna be unlike any other night you ever had in your life.

[ancientnapdragon]

While I'm finalizing my rough draft for the food peak au, I might start doing a significantly shorter little fic based on an idle thought.

So, like, SY is the biggest LBH apologist to ever exist. But what would it take to make SY hate him? I mulled it over for a while and allowed evil seeds to take root in my brain.

It's gunna be omegaverse cause I feel like that can add some Flavor but I don't think it'll be super like sexualized. It's more an excuse for me to get parent SJ cause I'm still obsessed with him.

Some very rough ramblings about the vague plot and some of the characters below this read more!

How to Break Shen Yuan's Heart: kill his dad.

EZ. Fic over. Read More done!

Okay okay there is more than that.

SY is still a transmigrator but it's like repressed. He just does and says weird things sometimes. People just think he gets that from his mom. He's an Omega and grows up (mostly) on QJP.

His dad is SJ, who is an Alpha. Shocking, I know, since SJ is a very good MILF. But I think he deserves it for being my precious boy. SJ still has this like shit reputation before he gets Omegaverse Married. Which has this whole backstory to it. People 100% believed he forced himself on...

LQG, who is an Omega. Mr Bai Zhan is out here kicking all sorts of ass. The reason they "got together" was sort of a fuck or die thing on a mission, but it worked out. Somehow. Anyway, he is SY's mom. Usually, in cross-Peak births, the mother's Peak would take in the baby, but BZP is too dangerous and LQH away on hunts too often. So SY is mostly raised on QJP.

SJ is a Good Dad. SY knows both his parents love him and would do anything for him, but SJ is like Prime Dad Material. Everyone is kinda weirded out when they realize that Mr Catty Trauma Bitch and Mr Grunts for Communication made such a sweet kid. SY has no idea why people dislike his dad and is like his number 1 defender.

SY is a little overprotected because he's kinda sickly but he's clever and been working on training and stuff since he was a kid thanks to having two Peak Lord Dads. He can be a bit of a badass in this AU since he deserves it and we're putting him through a villain arc. What good is a weak ass villain??

So, SY lives on QJP and is like 11 when LBH is taken in as a disciple. They bond really quick and become friends! SY is still super oblivious tho that lil Alpha Binghe has a crush on him. I don't think any of the greater abuse happened because of SY, but there is still tension and some built up resentment for SJ from LBH by the time the alliance conference happens. SY finally gets a clue and gives LBH like the smallest good luck kiss and makes him promise to be safe and come back. But of course SY still pushes him into the Abyss and there is that whole thing.

SY is heartbroken 💔 but not in the way I WANT just yet. The stuff like LBH is in the abyss happens where he and SQH meet ZL and the seed stuff happens. (SY still doesn't know he's a transmigrator tho, SQH is just his weird uncle). The QJCity stuff happens with SJ getting accused and thrown in the water prison by LBH with his Trauma Encouraging Sword. SY is furious and, when he finds out it was LBH who did it, goes to HHP to confront LBH about it.

They get into like an argument over it and SY flatly rejects LBH's offer of a proper courtship since they're both of age now. LBH has been saving himself because he wanted SY to be his first and only. SY slaps him, says he hates him, and then runs off like crying.

THIS IS WHERE MAJOR CANON DIVERGENCE STUFF STARTS TO HAPPEN?? MORE SO THAN ALREADY??

SY runs off and ends up in the forest again where he first met ZL. And ends up in the cave like crying and hiding and upset. He doesn't wanna go back home because no one is doing anything to help his dad (they are, but SY doesn't see any of that). He ends up meeting ZL again and SY basically cries on his ugly snake form and like spills his guts about everything. He doesn't think that ZL can respond or anything!

Except when it's clear that SY is just gunna huddle up here and suffer, ZL starts to like feed him and brings him notes and stuff sometimes. The notes explain they're being transcribed by someone else but they're (mostly) ZL's words. SY gets curious and asks to meet the mysterious person. ZL is unsure but eventually shows him this tunnel system he's made for himself to slither through. SY has to like crawl through it and suffer claustrophobia before he ends up in this weird dark chamber. A man, who looks real fucked up, is like being crushed by all this stone. SY can only see his hands, feet, and head. The guy introduces himself as TL-J and even if he looks really bad he's at least still alive!

Some bonding stuff happens. SY like half lives down in that weird hole with TLJ and ZL and keeps tp himself. ZL will go and get them food and sometimes venture into town and hear rumors that TLJ will repeat back to SY (since he can't speak snake). One day TLJ repeats back something thay chills SY's blood: his dad is dead and it's LBH's fault. He has a breakdown. He has a qi deviation. He goes sicko mode. With the power of anime and bloodlust, SY takes some (demonic) Cultivation guidance from TLJ and breaks the array keeping him down there. They all run off together to go reclaim the Southern Throne in the demon realm. (And ZL finally has his cute body! Yay!)

Meanwhile, LBH DID kill SJ but it like wasn't 100% his fault. His mental illness eating sword has been ravaging his mind since SY rejected him. Demons started assaulting the area in full force around HHP (thanks ZL!) And it's all chaos. He's gotten MBJ under his thumb with his blood parasites but he's not gotten control of the rest of the demon realm yet. The demons seemed to be targeting SJ specifically, which makes it harder because LQG has ALSO been trying to bust in at all hours and save his husband. LBH went to SJ to try and force information out of him and had a Qi Deviation when SJ refused him. Then SJ exploded his Core to try and kill them both, but it didn't work exactly as planned. So LBH ended up having to leave since now he's accused of murdering a man waiting for trial (which kept being out off because of the attacks) and colluding with the demons who had been trying to break into the prison.

QCS does get SJ's body back this time, and SY is missing, and LQG is like constantly aggressive and causing problems. SQH is burying his head in his hands because how did his story end up this way?? MBJ visits him and and reports that there are problems with the Southern conquest. Two very powerful demons and their Cultivator pet are chewing through every feeble alliance they've managed to make and reclaimed territory like it's nothing. And those two demons? Also Heavenly Demons...

Okay so this is ABOUT as far as I've gotten in mulling stuff over? I have some loose threads on how I want it to end. SY is gunna go full like evil mode for a while tho. I think it would be really fun if maybe HE was the one who tried to combine the realms instead of LBH or TJL cause of how insane he gets for a while. I also like the idea that maybe ZL and TLJ aren't AS interested in being leaders so even if TLJ is TECHNICALLY the Southern Emperor, everyone refers to SY as the Empress (even if he's not claimed or married to either of them) because he's usually the one to handle stuff for those two. Putting all that cunning his dad taught him to work.

Plus, imagine being Binghe and finally beating your way into the throne room and you're crazy with heartbreak and grief. And the person sitting on the Throne is the guy who shattered you heart. Fucked up.

I think it will, ultimately, have a happy ending... but not without a super ton of angst first. Because I DO love me some angst.

Oh, and MOST IMPORTANT FACT, is that YQY is also an Omega cause he gets to be cucked from getting SJ in every way cause I'm evil.

OKAY TY FOR READING MY SLOP HAVE FUN EXPECT THE FIC EVENTUALLY LMAOOOO

[littlcdarlin]

Freaking loveee your work. If you don’t mind sharing, what are your favorite Joel fics? Cause I’ll have what you’re having (and serving obviously)

First of all, thank you so much!!! My work has been influenced by so many lovely Joel fics out there & I’ll try and name them all — if possible <3

favourite writers

@virginreprise (read on AO3)

they have some absolutely delicious oneshots if you’re into big juicy age gaps (my favourite has to be Indebted To You! But the way they write guilty!Joel in Raise Me Up…ugh, I would read 200k words of it)

@toxicanonymity

Love most of their work, haven’t read anything noncon though! My favourite is the second part of their free use kink list. Their work got me into sleazy!Joel (read responsibly and mind the tags! They’re not responsible if you read something you don’t like)

@joeloverture

Such a good plot/smut ratio in their fics, the buildup is amazing. I read the one where Joel and reader’s Dad are enemies first, and it got me completely hooked. Have needed Joel to fuck me in a headlock ever since they blessed us with their writing

@cavillscurls

I devour anything they write. So hot, and so well written (Daddy Next Door is an ongoing multi chapter fic which I love, but the oneshots are just as good!)

@/kiwisbell on AO3

So much good stuff here. Whiskey Sour made me sob in the middle of the night when I just wanted to read some hot smut. Yellow Bird is perfect for when you’ve had a bad day. This writer truly has it all (if you like Narcos, check out the Javier Peña stuff!)

Long fics

Fourth Of July by @/jrrmint on AO3

dbf!Joel Love their depiction of Joel! He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got such a sweet heart. The mix of plot & smut is wonderful, and I loved the ending. Very cohesive, very fun, very hot. Might be my favourite ever, it just hits the spot

Idle Threats by @/pearlessance on AO3

Joel & reader are on watch duty together (takes place in Jackson), and Joel wants to teach reader some manners. Wonderful character development, perfect smut - plot ratio, and just the right amount of Joel not caring what anybody (Tommy and Maria) thinks!

To the Light by @/moderatelytroubled on AO3

really beautiful falling in love story (with some really really fucking hot sex) taking place in Jackson. Got me into Daddy!Joel, so if you like stuff like Into Temptation you might enjoy this

Oneshots/shorter fics

Brand New Cherry Flavor by @/crowjrose on AO3

dbf!Joel 23k words of young reader & old!Joel taking her virginity. Takes place in the QZ, I thought the setting was very well done. This story has a very particular tone that I loved! Also, big juicy age gap

To Freeze Or To Thaw by @joelscruff on AO3

2 part series about lowkey dark!joel (kind of tame though — consent is enthusiastic) making use of his free use agreement with reader. PWP, very hot. I prefer part two (I really like how the structure isn’t basic, it’s not buildup-foreplay-fucking-orgasm. It’s very hot and does build, but through the plot rather than the sex itself if that makes sense)

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 20

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1 @choppersworlds-blog

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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What felt like hours later, the car came to a stop, and I blinked, realizing we were parked outside Gojo’s place. I frowned, my head still pounding and my chest tight with the remnants of the high.

I turned to Geto, narrowing my eyes. "Not a fat fucking chance, Suguru. Drop me at Kenjaku's."

Geto let out a low chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery. "I already texted Kenny. He said he’s good on your shit after that little stint with Toji and Y/N."

The mention of their names hit me like a gut punch. I felt the breath hitch in my throat, and before I could stop myself, my eyes started to sting. My chest tightened, and the weight of everything that had been festering inside me finally cracked the surface.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, slamming my fist into the car door. The pain shot up my arm, grounding me for a moment before the ache in my chest returned full force.

Geto didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look surprised. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. "You can’t keep running to Kenjaku or burying yourself in bullshit, Sukuna. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face it."

"Face what, Suguru?" I snapped, my voice raw. "That I’m a fucking failure? That I lost everything? That I’m nothing without—"

I stopped myself, swallowing hard as the words caught in my throat.

Without her.

Geto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re not nothing, man. But you sure as hell are doing everything you can to convince yourself otherwise."

I glared at him, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. "Fuck you, Suguru."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, leaning back in his seat. "I love you too. Now get out of my car."

I hesitated, staring at the door handle like it was a death sentence. The thought of stepping out and facing whatever waited for me inside Gojo’s place felt like too much, too heavy.

But staying in this car, suffocating under Geto’s judgmental gaze, wasn’t an option either.

With a bitter curse, I shoved the door open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind me. I heard Geto’s window roll down as I started toward the front door.

"Try not to fuck up more than you already have," he called out.

I flipped him off without looking back, my chest burning with a mixture of anger and shame.

I didn’t even bother knocking. My legs felt heavy, my chest hollow. Instead, I let my body drop onto Gojo’s front porch, staring up at the night sky like it held some kind of answer.

I heard Geto’s car idling in the driveway, the bastard probably watching to make sure I didn’t try to bolt again.

The creak of the front door opening made me grit my teeth. I heard the familiar voice before I saw him.

“Get up, Sukuna,” Gojo said, his tone sharp, but not without concern.

I closed my eyes, refusing to move. The cold from the ground seeped into my back, but it didn’t bother me. Nothing really did anymore.

“Don’t make me drag you inside,” Gojo warned, stepping closer. “Because you know I will.”

I groaned, covering my face with my arm. “Just leave me here, Satoru. I don’t want to deal with your shit right now.”

“My shit?” Gojo scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who looks like you just lost a fight with your own bad decisions. Again.”

“Ha ha,” I muttered bitterly. “Real original.”

“Fine,” Gojo said, crouching down next to me. “You want to sulk out here like a stray cat? Be my guest. But don’t think I’m gonna let you freeze your ass off.”

I heard him move, and then something heavy landed on me—a blanket, warm and smelling faintly of laundry detergent.

I cracked one eye open, glancing at him. He just shrugged, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets.

“You can stay out here all night if you want,” he said. “But you’re not doing it without that. I’m not explaining to Yuuji why his dumbass brother got frostbite.”

I didn’t respond, just pulled the blanket tighter around me.

The door shut quietly behind him, and I was alone again, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a sI heard Geto’s car finally pull out of the driveway, his tires crunching against the gravel. Not without him yelling out the window first.

“Damn asshole!” he shouted, his voice carrying in the quiet of the night.

I raised my hand, flipping him off with a lazy smirk. “Love you too, Suguru.”

To my surprise, I actually laughed. It was low and hoarse, but it felt strange—like something I hadn’t done in forever. It was almost foreign.

Unfolding the blanket Gojo had thrown at me, I walked over to the large swinging porch chair. It creaked when I sat down, but it held my weight, and that was good enough for tonight.

I stretched out on it, the blanket wrapped tight around me. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to crash, but at least I wasn’t lying on the hard ground anymore. The chair swayed gently, the motion almost lulling me.

I stared up at the sky, the stars scattered across it like tiny pinpricks of light. For a moment, the quiet felt… peaceful. No yelling, no guilt, no memories clawing at my chest.

It wouldn’t last—I knew that. But for now, it was enough.

My hand shook as I scrolled through the photos. Toji's smug face stared back at me, and then there was Y/N—smiling, radiant. It was one of those genuine smiles, the kind that used to be just for me.

The carousel kept going, each picture twisting the knife a little deeper. A shot of Toji and Y/N at some fancy dinner. Another of her sitting on his lap, laughing at something. And the last one—a picture of her kissing his cheek while he smirked at the camera.

I felt bile rise in my throat.

“Fuck,” I muttered, slamming my phone down onto the porch swing beside me.

The memories flooded back in, crashing against the walls I tried so hard to build. Her laugh. The way her lips felt against mine. The nights we spent tangled together, her head resting on my chest as I traced lazy circles on her back.

And then the way her eyes looked the night she left. Tired. Broken.

This was all my fault.

I couldn’t stop myself—I picked up the phone again, my thumb hovering over her profile. I tapped it before I could think better of it.

Her latest post was a selfie with Toji. The caption read, "New beginnings 🖤."

I stared at it until my vision blurred. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and crushed my heart in their fist.

Without thinking, I opened our old messages. Months of silence stared back at me, the last texts a reminder of how badly I’d screwed it all up.

Me: I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.

I hit send before I could stop myself. The little “delivered” mark appeared, mocking me. I didn’t expect a response—I didn’t deserve one.

The fuck am I doing

The porch swing creaked as I leaned back, letting the blanket slip from my shoulders. My phone slipped from my hand, landing on the wooden floor with a dull thud.

The stars blurred above me as tears stung my eyes.

.I heard the creak of the front door opening again and turned my head slightly. Gojo stepped out, balancing two mugs in one hand and a plate of food in the other. His hair was a mess, and he looked way too awake for the hour.

“Thought you’d be hungry,” he said, walking over and setting the plate and mugs on the small table next to the porch swing.

I blinked at him, my throat tightening. “You didn’t have to—”

“Shut up,” he cut me off, dropping into the chair opposite me. He stretched his legs out and leaned back, the usual cocky grin absent from his face. “Eat. Drink. You look like shit, and I’m not picking your ass up off the porch tomorrow morning.”

I glanced at the plate—some leftover takeout reheated with a questionable level of effort—and the mugs. One smelled like tea, the other like coffee.

I grabbed the coffee, taking a slow sip, the bitterness grounding me for a moment. Gojo watched me, his expression unreadable.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he finally said, breaking the silence.

I huffed out a bitter laugh. “Thanks for the observation, Dr. Gojo.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Someone’s gotta say it. And Suguru’s too busy being mad at you to do it.”

I didn’t respond, my eyes fixed on the food. My stomach twisted, hunger and nausea battling it out.

“You wanna talk about it?” Gojo asked, his tone softer this time.

“No.”

He nodded like he expected that answer, taking a sip from his own mug. “Alright. Then sit here, eat your food, and let me pretend I’m helping.”

The silence stretched between us, broken only by the faint hum of cicadas and the occasional rustle of the wind. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel completely alone.

I fucked up. I started. There's... there's these....I was never truly faithful to yn.....i was cheating. Gojo froze mid-sip, his eyes narrowing slightly as he slowly set the mug down. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

“No shit,” he said after a beat, voice flat.

I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands. “Not like that makes it okay, but yeah... there were always others. Even when things were good between us, I was still out there doing... doing stupid shit.”

The weight of my confession hung heavy in the air, pressing down on both of us. I wasn’t sure if I expected Gojo to yell at me, lecture me, or just walk back inside, but instead, he sat there, staring at me like he was trying to figure out if I was even worth the effort anymore.

“And why are you telling me this now?” he finally asked, his voice sharp.

“Because it’s eating me alive, Satoru,” I snapped, lifting my head to glare at him. “Because I had something fucking good, and I ruined it. She’s—” My voice cracked, and I looked away. “She’s better off without me, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Gojo exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. “You’re damn right she’s better off without you. And honestly? I’m surprised you’re just now realizing it.”

I flinched at his words, but I couldn’t argue with him.

“You think confessing this shit to me is gonna make you feel better?” he continued, his tone harsher now. “Like, what? You want me to pat you on the back and tell you it’s okay, Sukuna? That you’re just misunderstood or some crap?”

“No,” I muttered, my voice low. “I just... I don’t know, man. I needed to say it out loud. To someone.”

Gojo shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You need to figure your shit out, Sukuna. And I mean really figure it out, not just bury it under more drugs or distractions.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in my chest. “Easier said than done.”

“Yeah, well, life’s not easy,” he shot back. “You think you’re the only one dealing with pain? With guilt? Get over yourself, man. Own up to your mistakes and stop running from them.”

I didn’t respond, my gaze fixed on the chipped paint of the porch floor. Gojo sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Look, you’re my friend, Sukuna. But if you keep going down this path, there’s not gonna be anyone left in your corner.”

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. For once, I didn’t have a snarky comeback or a sarcastic remark. I just sat there, letting the silence settle over us again.

“The thing is, man… I don’t even wanna be here.” My voice came out cracked, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything I’d been choking on for weeks.

I ran a hand through my hair, the high still buzzing in my veins, making my thoughts sharp and jagged. “I tried with Y/N. God knows I did. I gave it everything I had.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the crowded room. “But it wasn’t enough. Hell, I’m not even enough for my damn self. So how the fuck could I ever expect her to be enough?”

Gojo’s expression softened just slightly, but he didn’t let me off the hook. “Sukuna, no one’s ever gonna be enough for you if you don’t get your shit together. You can’t expect someone to fill the hole you’ve been digging for yourself.”

I leaned back against the porch chair, my head tilted up to the sky, trying to find some kind of answer in the stars. But all I saw was emptiness, the same emptiness I’d been carrying around for years.

“I didn’t know how to love her right,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to. God, I wanted to, but... I kept fucking it up. And every time I did, it just made me hate myself more.”

Gojo took a long sip of his drink, letting me spill my guts. When I finally looked at him, his gaze was piercing, like he was trying to read every thought in my head.

“So what? You’re just gonna keep hating yourself forever? Keep blaming everyone else for why your life’s in shambles?”

I flinched, his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. It’s like... I’m stuck. And every time I try to get out, I just sink deeper.”

Gojo set his mug down with a thud, leaning closer to me. “Then stop sinking. You’re the only one holding yourself down, Sukuna. Yeah, you fucked up. You’ve been fucking up for years. But if you really wanted to change, you’d do it. Stop using your pain as an excuse to ruin everything around you.”

I clenched my fists, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. “You think it’s that easy?” I shot back, my voice rising. “You think I haven’t tried? You don’t know what it’s like to wake up every day and hate the person you are.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I do know that sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, isn’t gonna fix a damn thing.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be fixed. Maybe I’m just broken.”

“Then stay broken,” Gojo snapped, his tone colder than I’d ever heard it. “But don’t drag the rest of us down with you. And don’t you dare try to act like it’s everyone else’s fault when you’re the one holding the hammer.”

The silence between us was deafening, his words cutting through me like a blade. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a comeback. I just sat there, staring at the ground, the weight of my own failures crushing me.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can be better.”

“Then figure it out,” Gojo said, his tone softening just slightly. “Because if you keep going like this, you’re gonna lose everything. And I don’t think you can survive that.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. For once, I didn’t try to argue or deflect. I just sat there, letting the truth sink in.

“ I  shouldn’t have come here,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. The realization hit hard, like a gut punch that left me breathless.

I stood, brushing off my jeans, the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders. “I’ll get out of your hair, man.” My voice was low, barely cutting through the noise around us.

Without waiting for a response, I turned to leave, Gojo didn’t stop me. He didn’t even try to convince me to stay. Instead, he just watched as I stood up, his eyes narrowing like he was expecting me to turn back around.

I paused, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Thanks for... not leaving me out there,” I muttered, my voice rough from the emotions I didn’t want to face.

He didn’t respond immediately, but after a beat, he finally spoke up, his voice lower than before. “You know where to find me if you decide to stop running.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just nodded, turning away from him. My steps felt heavy, each one dragging me further away from what I knew I needed to confront.

But even as I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gojo was right. I was the one who had to fix this. No one else could.

I found myself wandering aimlessly, the city lights blurring into streaks as the night stretched on. The air was cool, biting against my skin, but I barely noticed.

Pulling out my phone, I checked the map. Two hours. That’s how long it would take to walk back to… my grandpa’s house. No, not his house. My house now.

The cold air bit at my skin as I stuffed my hands deep into my jacket pockets, each step crunching against the quiet pavement. The city was still alive in its own way—streetlights buzzing, cars rumbling in the distance, and the faint hum of music escaping from some late-night party nearby.

Two hours. That’s all it would take to get back. I told myself I could do it. I needed to do it.

The streets blurred together as I walked, my thoughts louder than the world around me. Every step felt heavier, like the weight of my own mistakes was dragging me down. My head pounded, a dull reminder of all the shit I’d done tonight.

Grandpa’s house, I thought bitterly. Not mine. It’d never feel like mine. He made it a home; I just turned it into a mess.

The night stretched on, each block blending into the next. My legs started to ache, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I passed familiar places—spots Jin and I used to hit up when we were younger, bars where we’d spent nights laughing, drinking, and causing trouble. Memories of him were everywhere, and they stabbed at me with every glance.

“Just keep going,” I muttered to myself, my breath fogging in the chilly air.

I didn’t know how long I’d been walking when I saw a small convenience store up ahead, its neon sign flickering weakly. I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, the warmth hitting me like a punch.

The clerk barely glanced at me as I wandered through the aisles, grabbing a water and some snacks. My hands shook as I paid, and I avoided his eyes.

Back outside, the cold hit me again, but this time it felt sharper, cutting through me as I continued down the empty streets. The house felt further away with every step, but I kept moving. It was the only thing I could do.

The house finally came into view, looming in the darkness like a ghost. My chest tightened as I stared at it from the edge of the driveway. The porch light was off, just like it always was now. The place looked lifeless, like all the warmth and love that used to fill it had died with Grandpa.

I stood there for a long moment, clutching the bag from the convenience store. The cold had numbed my face, and my legs felt like they were going to give out, but I couldn’t bring myself to step closer.

It wasn’t a home anymore—it was just a reminder of everything I’d lost.

Eventually, I forced myself up the driveway, my footsteps echoing against the quiet. The key was still in my pocket, though it felt heavier than it should have. I slid it into the lock and opened the door.

The air inside was stale, the kind of smell that creeps in when a place hasn’t been lived in properly for a while. I kicked off my shoes and dropped the bag on the kitchen counter before collapsing onto the couch.

The silence was deafening. I couldn’t escape it, no matter how much I tried.

My eyes landed on the stack of unopened mail on the coffee table—bills, junk, and something addressed to Grandpa. I ignored it all, grabbing the remote instead. The TV flickered to life, but I didn’t bother flipping through channels. I just needed the noise, something to drown out the chaos in my head.

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair. My body was here, but my mind was somewhere else—stuck in the past, replaying every mistake, every wrong turn.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, about Toji, about how much I’d ruined everything. My chest ached like someone had driven a knife into it and was twisting it slowly.

I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out my phone. The screen lit up, and I scrolled aimlessly, landing on her Instagram page again. Her latest post was still up—a picture of her and Toji at some fancy restaurant, smiling like they didn’t have a care in the world.

I tossed the phone onto the coffee table, the sound of it clattering against the wood breaking the silence.

I needed to get out of my head, to stop this spiral before it got worse. My eyes drifted to the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter.

“No,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

I’d already fucked up enough for one night. I didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.

I trudged through the hallway, the weight of the night pressing down on me. I stopped at my room first, the door slightly ajar, and peeked inside. It was just as I’d left it—messy and lifeless, with clothes strewn across the floor and the bed barely made. I didn’t bother stepping in.

Instead, I wandered down the hall to Yuuji’s room. The door was closed, and when I opened it, the emptiness hit me like a punch to the gut. His bed was neatly made, the way he always left it when he wasn’t home. His favorite baseball cap sat on the nightstand next to a stack of manga.

I leaned against the doorframe, staring at the little reminders of him scattered around the room. He wasn’t here, but his presence lingered. It made the house feel even quieter, even emptier.

Next, I walked to Choso’s room. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and I was met with more of the same—stillness. His jacket hung on the back of his chair, and his desk was cluttered with papers and half-empty energy drink cans.

They were both still staying with Toji. I’d told them they could, insisted even, but now I hated how much I missed them. I hated the silence they left behind.

I sighed, closing the door behind me as I backed into the hallway.

I heard the ding of my phone vibrating against the kitchen counter. My chest tightened as I made my way back out, hoping, praying, begging it was Y/N. Maybe she’d had a change of heart. Maybe she’d texted to yell at me, curse me out, something.

But when I picked it up, my stomach sank. It wasn’t her.

It was Selene.

Her message read: "I’m out, pretty boy. Wanna have some fun?"

I stared at the text for what felt like forever. My thumb hovered over the screen, itching to respond, to say something reckless like “where?” or “be there in ten.” It would be so easy, so mindless, to just distract myself again. To fall into old habits and numb the ache that was tearing me apart from the inside.

But as I stood there in the dark kitchen, my reflection staring back at me from the window, I felt sick. I hated myself for even considering it.

I locked the phone and tossed it onto the counter, the screen lighting up again briefly as Selene’s message glared back at me before going dark. I rubbed my hands over my face, groaning.

I needed to stop. This was a cycle, a fucking merry-go-round, and it always ended the same—with me feeling like shit.

But god, I didn’t know how to stop.

I stared at my phone for a second longer, then muttered, “Fuck it,” and sent her my location. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

As the message sent, I grabbed my rolling tray from the counter and pulled out my stash. My hands moved on autopilot, breaking up the weed, rolling it tight and perfect. I didn’t even bother turning on any lights—just the glow of my phone screen and the occasional flicker of the lighter as I sparked up.

The first pull hit me hard, and I welcomed the burn in my chest, the clouding of my thoughts. I leaned back against the counter, exhaling slowly as I felt the tension in my shoulders start to fade.

Selene knew what type of time it was, and so did I. It didn’t matter if I liked it, didn’t matter if I hated myself for it. This was how I coped, how I kept from drowning in all the shit I couldn’t handle.

The joint burned down between my fingers, and I flicked the ash into a random cup on the counter. I stared at the smoke curling up toward the ceiling, my mind blank except for the bitter thought that maybe I didn’t deserve anything better than this.

Maybe this was all I’d ever be.

I heard a knock at the door and exhaled while rolling up some weed I found in choso’s room, muttering to myself, "Damn, Selene's early." Without moving from where I was slouched against the counter, I called out, "Come on in!"

The door creaked open, and the energy shifted before I even turned my head. It wasn’t Selene.

“Toji,” I gritted out, already annoyed. I barely spared him a glance, rolling my eyes and leaning back against the counter, the joint balanced between my fingers.

He stepped inside, his presence heavy, his jaw tight, and his eyes sharp. "Stop texting Y/N," he said, his tone like a warning shot.

I snorted, ignoring him as I brought the joint back to my lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke filled my lungs, and I held it there for a moment before blowing it out in a slow, deliberate exhale. I kept my eyes on the curling smoke, refusing to look at him.

"You hear me, Sukuna?" Toji's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I heard you," I said flatly, taking another toke, this time deeper. The cherry glowed bright in the dim light, and I felt the warmth spread through my chest.

But Toji wasn’t having it. He stepped closer, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "I’m not asking," he said, his voice lower now, dangerous.

I finally turned to face him, my lips twisting into a smirk, the kind that I knew pissed him off. "And I’m not listening," I said, the words dripping with defiance.

Toji’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "She doesn’t want to hear from you, Sukuna. You’re just making it worse."

That hit a nerve. My smirk faltered for a split second, but I recovered quickly, my expression hardening. "And you think you’re some kind of savior, huh?" I asked, my tone mocking. "You think you can just swoop in and fix everything, Toji? Newsflash—you don’t know shit about us."

Toji stepped even closer, now inches from me, his voice cold and steady. "I know enough to see that you’re dragging her down with you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I flicked the ash from my joint onto the floor, my jaw tightening. "You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about," I said, my voice low and venomous.

Toji leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine. "I know you’re a selfish bastard who doesn’t know how to let go."

That was it. The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. I dropped the joint, letting it burn out on the counter, and shoved him back, hard. "Get the fuck out of my house," I growled.

Toji didn’t budge, his body solid like a wall. He shoved me back, harder, and my back hit the counter. "Make me," he said, his voice calm but lethal.

My chest heaved, my fists clenched, and for a split second, I considered swinging at him. But I didn’t. Instead, I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow.

"You think you’re better than me," I said, my voice shaky with anger. "But you’re just another asshole trying to take what’s mine."

"She was never yours to begin with," Toji said, his words cutting deep.

I snapped then, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady myself as I leaned forward, my voice rising. "Get the fuck out!"

Toji didn’t move. He stood there, towering over me, his presence suffocating. But his eyes weren’t angry anymore. They were pitying, and that pissed me off more than anything.

"You’re a mess, Sukuna," he said quietly. "And you’re gonna lose everything if you keep going like this."

The words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, as he turned and walked toward the door.

"You don’t know a damn thing about me," I shouted after him, my voice cracking.

Toji didn’t leave. Instead, he turned back around, his jaw tight and his eyes sharp with irritation. He closed the distance between us in two steps, looming over me.

“What the fuck is your issue?” he demanded, his voice low but laced with menace.

I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. I knew it would piss him off, and pissing him off was the only thing that felt good right now. Taking my time, I brought the joint back to my lips, inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke right into his face.

Toji flinched slightly, his expression darkening. "You think this is a joke?" he asked, his voice hard, barely masking the fury simmering beneath the surface.

I leaned back against the counter, completely unfazed, the smirk still playing on my lips. "Nope. Just enjoying the show," I said, exhaling the last bit of smoke as I flicked the ash onto the floor between us.

His hand shot out, grabbing the front of my shirt and yanking me forward. My feet scrambled for footing, but I didn’t resist. I just laughed, the sound low and taunting.

"Go ahead, tough guy," I said, staring him dead in the eye. "Hit me. Give me a reason to hit you back."

Toji’s grip tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually do it. His nostrils flared, his breathing heavy. But then, just as quickly as he grabbed me, he let me go, shoving me back against the counter with a sneer.

"You're pathetic," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think this is some kind of game, Sukuna? You’re ruining your own life, and you’re too much of a coward to do anything about it."

I pushed off the counter, straightening my shirt and shrugging like his words didn’t matter. "Don’t act like you care," I said, my tone casual, dismissive. "You’re just here to play hero for Y/N. Well, congrats, buddy. She’s all yours now."

His jaw clenched at that, his hands curling into fists at his sides. For a second, I thought he might actually swing. But instead, he just stared at me, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment that made my chest tighten in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge.

"You’re not even worth the effort," he said finally, his voice cold. "But if you ever drag her down again, I won’t hold back next time."

I chuckled darkly, stepping forward and getting right in his face. "Try me," I whispered, my smirk fading into something more sinister.

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension so thick it felt like it might choke us both. Then Toji stepped back, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was even wasting his time on me.

"Get your shit together, Sukuna," he said, stepping closer.His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared as he stared me down like I was the dirt beneath his shoes.

“What the fuck is your issue?” he asked, voice low and sharp, cutting through the heavy air like a blade.

I smirked, feeling the familiar rush of defiance crawl up my spine. Slowly, deliberately, I brought the joint back to my lips, inhaled deeply. I locked eyes with him as I exhaled, blowing the smoke right into his face.

Toji’s expression barely shifted, but the tick in his jaw gave him away. He swiped the air in front of him, clearing the smoke, his glare narrowing. “You think this is funny, huh?”

I leaned back against the counter, pretending to think it over before shrugging lazily. “Maybe a little.”

His patience snapped. In one quick move, he grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me forward. My smirk widened as I met his heated glare, the challenge clear in my eyes.

“Go ahead,” I taunted, my voice low and mocking. “Do it. You’d just be proving me right.”

His grip tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Proving what, exactly? That you’re a waste of fucking space? That you’re not worth saving?"

The words hit me harder than I’d admit, but I didn’t let it show. I laughed, the sound bitter and harsh, and leaned closer, our faces inches apart. “That I’m right about you wanting to be me. Always second place, huh, Toji?”

That did it. His composure cracked, and he shoved me back against the counter hard enough to make the edges dig into my spine. I winced, but I didn’t stop laughing, even as the impact knocked the air from my lungs.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat, his voice filled with contempt. "You think this—this self-destructive bullshit—is something to be proud of? You’re a fucking coward, Sukuna. Always have been."

I straightened up, ignoring the ache in my back, and stepped right back into his space, daring him to do it again. “Coward?” I echoed, my tone dripping with venom. “You’re the one picking up my scraps, Toji. How’s that feel, huh? Knowing you’ll always just be a stand-in?”

His hand shot out again, shoving me square in the chest this time, forcing me to stumble back a few steps. The anger in his eyes burned hotter now, but I could see the restraint holding him back, keeping him from doing more.

"You’re not worth it," he said, his voice quieter but no less lethal. "But if you ever text her again, if you so much as think about dragging her down with you, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

I stayed silent this time, the smirk slipping from my face. He stared at me for a moment longer, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, before turning and heading for the door.

At the last second, I muttered, "Guess we both know who’s really winning here."

Toji paused, his hand on the doorknob, and I braced for him to turn back. But he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and yanked the door open.

As Toji opened the door, he froze, his towering frame blocking the doorway. Standing on the other side was Selene, dressed in her usual attention-grabbing fashion: tight leather pants, a crop top barely holding on, and heels sharp enough to stab. Her smirk widened as her eyes flicked from Toji to me lounging against the counter, the joint still lazily hanging from my lips.

Toji tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was an animal in the wrong habitat. He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he looked back at me. "You’ve got to be kidding me, Sukuna," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Selene leaned against the doorframe, unbothered, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. "And who are you supposed to be? His babysitter?"

Toji let out another laugh, deeper this time, and turned his full attention to me. “Is this the level you’ve sunk to now? You’re a joke, man. A fucking joke.”

I took a slow drag from the joint, the smoke curling around my face as I exhaled. “If you’re done, Toji,” I drawled, motioning toward the open door, “you can leave. Don’t let her heels trip you on the way out.”

Toji ignored me, his eyes darting back to Selene. “You know what you’re walking into?” he asked her, his tone sharp and cutting. “Because he’s not even a shadow of who he used to be. You might think you’re getting something special, but trust me—you’re just another name on a list.”

Selene’s smirk didn’t falter. She stepped closer, brushing past him and into the house without missing a beat. “Good thing I’m not looking for anything special,” she replied, her tone teasing as she cast a glance over her shoulder. "Just a good time."

Toji’s jaw tightened, and he looked back at me one last time, his eyes filled with disgust. “You really are pathetic,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Enjoy your self-destruction, Sukuna. Seems like you’re the only one left who can stand it.”

Without waiting for a response, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Selene turned to me, her hands on her hips, an eyebrow raised. “Friend of yours?” she asked, clearly amused.

I let out a bitter laugh, stubbing out the joint in the ashtray. “Something like that,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Now, you bringing the fun, or what?”

She grinned, pulling a small bag from her purse and waving it in the air. “Oh, baby, I’m always the fun.”

And just like that, I let myself spiral a little further.

Author's note:

So, we have one more chapter in part one of this book ofc there is gonna be a part two cause the next part is a turn of events...hopefully good :)

[dceasesd]

Do you pirate comics? And if you do please gimme your piracy site mine isn't working😞

And could you give me asshole Bruce and Jason fic recs but specifically "I'm a selfish controlling man child and I love my family and will go to hell and back for them and will do anything to keep them safe" Bruce not "I'm an unfeeling man child who only cares for his narrow views of justice"Bruce

If you don't have any fics like this specifically I would gladly take any Bruce and Jason fics that doesn't bash either of the characters or their idles

i gotcha man i gotcha

i personally pirate all my comics on readcomiconline.li, which i find by typing the title of the comic and issue im looking for followed by ‘read’. usually it’s the first option!! it might depend on what country you’re in, though— i’m in the u.s. and it works for me but i’ve heard of people from other places having trouble with it :P

(also, be warned, readcomiconline.li has so. many. pop-ups. use at your own risk)

and oh my god i have so many thank u so much for asking i love giving recs so much (under the cut!!!!)

alrighty bruce and jay fics pls enjoy!!!

Clearly Calm and Keeping Terrorized by Batbirdies

this is one of my favorite fics of all time it’s so good!! it’s literally exactly what you’re looking for. i’d recommend reading the entire series for full affect, but a very basic summary of the plot is bruce goes to therapy and tries to unruin his familial relationships :-) this fic focuses on his attempts w jason. so great!

This Place we Built with Grace and Guilt by Cerusee

yeeowch this one hurts!! another one of my favorite authors, definitely also check out the rest of cerusee’s works, they’re great!! if i had to describe this fic in one word it would be GUILT

The Penny Drops, The Penny Dreads by Batbirdies

omg second batbirdies fic on this list they just get bruce and jay like no one else what can i say!!! this is the only wip on this list but it is very good and i can’t wait for more!! jason and bruce trying to figure out how to have a relationship w their contrasting class backgrounds

The Distance Between Us by AutumnHobbit

this is the one i instantly thought of when i saw ur ask— autumnhobbit is so good! bruce is traumatized and trying his best and that’s what matters

the city carries ruin in its hearts by nex_et_nox

outsider pov of bruce and jason’s relationship!! an interesting perspective, jim gordon is a surprisingly fun character to read!!

borderline by TheResurrectionist

this isn’t specifically jason and bruce and more bruce and everyone in the family, but there is some good jason&bruce dynamic. control freak bruce tries to stop being a control freak

Come Alive by captainozone

this is a young justice fic so if you haven’t seen the show you might be a tiny bit confused, but it’s essentially just a ‘jason comes home’ fic!! one of my all time favorites!

THIS ISN’T PUNISHMENT (I LOVE YOU.) by orphenusaki

orphenusaki i love you all your fics are amazing pls never stop writing!! this author is so great so id recommend checking out their other stuff as well, but this one features a long-needed convo between bruce and jason prompted by truth serum.

hope you like these!!!! thanks again for the ask <333 happy reading!!!!

[currentlylivingonaprayer]

my top favorite kimchay fanfics

In no particular order

(Even though nobody asked)

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40707996

dancing with our hands tied by MajorinMonster

After Chay gets jumped by a rival mafia gang he decides he needs a reputation so people won't touch him again. Kim is just there, trying to get back into chays good books.

9/10 recommend

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3061830

The idiots & idioms series by snickerdoodlles

Chay steals kims official wik account and post absolute unhinged things. Kim does nothing to stop him.

A must read for giggles

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45252880

Five Minutes by littlemisslawyer

Chays is a doctor and has been sent out of Thailand for many years. The day he comes back and wants nothing more than to take a break from work Kim has the audacity to get shot right in front of him.

Lots of cussing and chay calling kim 'pretty boy' and 'asshole/bastard'. Perfect

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43953225

Idolistic by ditchlilly

Wik centric fic. Kim likes to post false information of himself from a side account and chay somehow know what of the things he says are true or false. Kim gets suspicious and tries to find out who this boy is.

Lots of TENSION. And kittens. I absolutely love this one. Stayed awake till 3 am giggling so much I thought I would wake my family up. A must read. Definitely in my top 2.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50830555

Progression by Azile (WitnessMarks)

Porchay trains to becomes stronger after their break up, kim, meanwhile, doesn't handel it well and then gets kidnapped. Chay is one of the people to come to his rescue. Kim comes back quite damaged and chay is one of the only people he feels really comfortable being around. Both of them are confronted with their still existing feelings for the other.

absolute masterpiece. Read in one sitting, even though it's still updating. Can only recommend. This story is batteling with Idolistic for first place.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3489094

The KIM IS SO LOVED series by wayupthere

No comment. Read the tags, you'll know what it's about.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45749062

Idle Talk by Iamabudgie

After someone posts a blind item on a gossip site, Kim is forced to confront something he has been delaying for months.

Absolutely amazing. Much deeper plot than you think when you first start it. Updates are months apart, but they deliver every time. Definitely in my top 3.

~~

Edit:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52988125

I Fell for You by @liesineyes

Kims family treats him like absolute shit. Chay and Porsche just want to find out out why, while also planning to show Kim real family love.

Love this story. Not many chapters yet, but beautiful and makes me sad and happy at the same time.

~~

Edit edit:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52593382

BREAKING NEWS by Pens

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48575617

Back on the Beat by Pens

It's kimchay works, with the most beautiful fanart I've ever seen and it makes my cheeks ache form smiling.

Also check out their tumbler account @shou-jpeg for more kimchay content.

~~

and of course the overall classics like an elegant mechanism by Laughsalot3412, or meet me where the light greets the dark by froginthesun.

I know some of these authors are here on tumbler, but I habe no idea how to tag them in a post, so I will tag them in the comments. Please tell me if I forgot someone. Check out their accounts too.

Also, if you have a recommendation, I'm open for them.

[tsartistry]

I've been doing a lot of DoorDash delivery driving on the side after work too keep myself afloat. I wouldn't call it lucrative but it's certainly kept me from drowning as badly as I was before.

Unfortunately that hasn't left me a lot of time to draw or write. That said, it has left me with a lot of idle time with just me, my thoughts, and my music, so my ideas have had a lot of time to percolate, and a lot of that has been spent on that Niobe fic.

There's a dog now! Things shift and change constantly as I plot, but I am going to make a pointed effort to keep the dog in as long as it's feasible.

It's interesting how the needs of the narrative cause seemingly unrelated details to manifest. For plot & magical reasons it was a good idea to have a Friendly Creature of some kind constantly by Lester's side. The most reasonable option was a service dog. Which means, of course, that there needs to be a reason for Lester to have one. After mulling it over, I'm thinking the dog is a seizure alert dog.

I've mentioned before that Niobe's going at Lester's memories from multiple angles. She's already combining magic and psychology, she's not above messing with his brain directly. I'm thinking maybe something gets damaged in the process, and now Lester's got epilepsy caused by a TBI. It actually fits really nicely into the story, because Niobe's cover story for any of Lester's fuzzy and inconsistent memories is that he recently survived a brain tumor. That's been part of the plan for a while. Including an ACTUAL brain injury would just sell her lie more.

There's no guarantee that ANY of these details are making it into the final story; It's a lot of extra stuff to add on top of what is already a very complicated mish-mash of ideas. But I'm already researching to see if it's something I can portray accurately and in an inoffensive (or even empowering) way.

Anyway, i should figure out what to name the dog.

[vanya-evergreen]

Concept for Arcane

A/n- Just cleaning up my google docs and found an unfinished outline for an arcane fic I was planning on writing to be a sort Jinx x reader but I couldn't really decide plus never got to writing about the relationship, so I am counting more as and arcane Reader insert. I only got as afar as writing the relationships with characters, but still thought it be fun to share rather than it being left in the drafts forever. Little forewarning that there will be contradictions. It hasn't been refined at all, and I'm just copying and pasting it, so sorry of the lack of quality, but I hope you enjoy! | (• ◡•)|

(its long so I've broken it down into subsections to make it easier to understand)

(reminder that this is directly copied and pasted from the Google Docs!)

Title: Forged in steel: through Grit and Grace Reader character study

First of many, maybe.

Summary- waking up with no memories of their past, not given a moment to breathe from the first moment they become consciously aware. They have no sense of who they are, but they know what they can do.

Genre: at the core this is a romance story(Maybe really idl), now, if it ends up with the pairing coming through is up for debate, but overall it is a story with a complex plot line and a character who isn't just there for romance.

Possible origin + time magic explanation:

Reader comes from Icathia (had to learn league lore rip) , or well one of their parents did. Spilling through a crack in time, their parent is spit out thousands of years after Zilean (a chronomage) removed his tower from time to protect The remaining population of Icathia, but for a second of time Zilean’s spells weakened. A person from Icathia falls into a time that is far ahead of what they remember of Runeterra. A kind soul luckily finds them and while the reader’s parents do not understand what happen, they do understand that they have fallen in love with this kind soul. Eventually, they have a kid together, their life is peaceful and happy. The Icathian parent teaches the reader what they know of Chronomagic, the reader had trouble at first but eventually gets it.

But when the effects of the Noxian war reaches the small town the reader's family is forced to flee when the reader is 2. They flee to the Piltover area and with a moderate amount of money the family finds themselves on the upper level of Zaun, for a while the family finds some amount of stability, and even success after the reader’s Icathian parent begins to tell fortunes for the people of Zaun and Piltover, but this is short-lived as a revolution of Zaunites against oppressive government ignites. While the reader’s Itcathian parent were against their human parent felt for the people so in a lapse of judgment the Icathian parent followed their partner without question to both of their deaths. The reader was only 4. The reader ends up on the streets, and they are able to leave Zaun at some point, this is where the timeline for them is blurry, but eventually, they end up back in Zaun.

Abilities- retrocognition and Precognition

There are multiple timelines, as seen in s2 ep7, this is canon and will not be changed. Ever.

Originally they would only have to glimpse at someone's face to perceive their past, they found it far too troublesome to know everyone's future just by a glimpse of even their hands, eventually, they learned that they could tune in and out of people's past because they are wavelengths. Some people have similar wavelengths. There is always a slight difference between them. They are still working on it. As for the timeline stuff, Originally they can only see the decisions someone made in the past. When they are in prison, there are occasions when they see other timelines, they don't understand what it is but eventually, they do.

In the past, they could see future possibilities for a few minutes to a half hour in the future without any trouble or need to go deep, but when they needed to see more than half an hour they had to go into a sleep-like state and even when they aren't trying to see the future they still are stuck in that state

When they are older, the reader can see any timeline, of both future and past possibilities. This happens after an incident with Hextech.

Goals

Sub Goals-

the reader is trying to survive, or originally. They have no clue of who they are or where they come from, no idea if they should side with Piltover or Zaun but, they know they will not let themselves fall victim to the force around them.

To help Vi with goal of reuniting with her sister

After they meet Jinx, They find themselves intoxicated by the unpredictability of her, but soon they figure out that she and they are not nearly as different as they thought. They begin to search for her wavelength for her past and future, they want her to be happy, but at what cost?

The ultimate goal-

to figure out what they are truly living for. After living by others' rules and being perpetually stuck as a doll in a personified glass prison, they spent most of their day out in the cities, watching the people, trying to understand them. To some extent they are disconnected from their humanity, they have no one, they know no one who they can trust with an adulterated innocent, no one to feel a real human connection with. They want to live beyond the confinements placed upon them, but to do that They must find what they want.

Pre-Arcane main story/Character Study-

Originally a blank slate of a person, nothing more than their abilities. A perfect being could’ve been shaped and molded into anything if enough pressure was applied, but they never were satisfied nor did they feel like they were real no matter how they act.

There is a natural impulsive curiosity that comes with their powers, while their overall sense for survival takes precedence over their curiosity at times. There are still too many times where it's too close of a call even with their power of precognition.

While in prison, the reader learned to be witty, sarcastic, and unruly. They learned to adapt to use what they have, not to do something without getting something back, they learn what it means to be a child of Zaun. As a cover for their weaknesses, using their abilities to present as an all-knowing person, someone who knows everyone’s deepest regrets and secrets. Many didn’t try to temp them, but when someone did, Vi would step in. As much as they are thankful they still can’t help but feel the need to do it for themselves.

When they came to Piltover, they had a streak of violence. The reader on their first day there was spent in the main dungeons of the Council Hall in the suspended sleep-like state, reviewing possibilities. They always had a blindfold on when first meeting the council. So without knowing the past of any council members, it could not aid them in choosing how to proceed when handling them. So they chose the only thing they knew how to do. They were known for bashing their head against enforcer helmets when they were summoned to the meeting room. They refused to say anything relating to the future to any of the council members. Even when the enforcer would apply extra pressure to break them, they still held on strong just trying to survive. Most of the Council members thought that maybe Marcus had been mistaken about the reader seeing the future, but Mel had another plan.

Mel came to the reader’s cell late at night, the council knew that the reader had a good sense of mental sort of premonition, so Mel had come down there to offer them a deal, but what surprised Mel was that the reader was still awake, they reputation with sleep proceeded them, so see someone who was almost always asleep awake at such an hour was jarring. What was even more surprising was how the reader reacted to seeing her. As she spoke, the reader seemed to be at least 3 words ahead of her at all times. She stopped mid-sentence, holding back her tongue as she witnessed the way the reader's eyes have a soft glow to them as her past came to them. They came to after a droplet of water fell on their head. They only stare at Mel, observing her. They ask if the deal is still on the table, Mel stands there slightly dumbfounded. She was quick to regain her composure, this was her confirmation that Marcus was right.

She said the deal had changed and instead of being another personal aid to her/a sponsored student, they would be an advisor to the council. The reader did not take the offer right away, instead saying that Mel would hear from them soon. The reader spent the next 3 days, almost constantly asleep, only waking up when someone brought food to eat and then going back asleep right after. The days were spent viewing possible futures and what types of deals would benefit them the best.

When they woke up on the third day, Marcus came to see them. He was going to do another interrogation of them, but instead, the reader asks to see Mel. Marcus brought them to her without question. The reader offered to be advisors to the council, under the pretense that their face would be hidden from all of the council members but Mel, they would be clothed and fed on the council’s dime, that their actions related to telling them the future would not be questioned, and that it is understood they have no loyalties to Piltover. Mel, knowing that this was an opportunity they could not let slip into the wrong hands, accepted it. Mel easily convinced most of the Council to accept the terms, Hemeirdinger and Shoola being the only ones who were hesitant. The next time the reader sees the council, they are adorned in an opulent cloak with a decorative mask, as they make their first appearance as the ‘Fatemaker.’ The council was unaware that Mel brought in the reader as a personal aid, under a different identity.

The reader had made up a lie to the council that they needed to sleep constantly to be prepared for any possible questions even if they only really needed to sleep for an hour to find what they needed to. Mel agreed to this lie, as another hidden condition was that they were to have as much free time as possible. T

Within the first year, some council members began to use their abilities for personal gain. So they used the another lesson they still had from prison. They are impulsive with their first demand, a singular sweet treat not even a rare one at that, before even considering the request it was met with opposition and threats of being thrown back into Stillwater, but they threaten a council member. While this could’ve ended horribly, it was a calculated risk, it also reminds the council of the need for the reader and their abilities.

They could say anything to the council they would have to trust them, but they have foresight and in every timeline where they lie it always ends worse than if they didn't, but it is also the same if they gave too much detail. They realize that the human mind will take whatever information they have and focus solely on never seeing the bigger picture. They learn their cunning and calculating habits. They are not calculating just for their benefit but for the benefit of the world, if someone ever demands more information the reader knows how to convince them otherwise, even if it has a means of holding something against them or losing some lives. They began to demand more, towers full of sweets and crates of the freshest of fruits, even sometimes rare items.

At some point in the first year, the reader tries to use either growing influence to pull some string to get Vi out of Stillwater but is unable to.

Piltover still looks down on them despite presenting as a kid of Piltover, they think and act like a Child of Zaun, and their often lack of respect for the people of the council is a reminder of their ways.

When they start to venture further out into Piltover, and later Zaun. They began to watch the people and how they go about their lives, tragedy, bliss, and everything else. They slowly start to feel a burning desire to find more than just a way of survival in their life. They want to do more than be an information source, the first time they understood what humanity felt like was when someone offered them a drink and to talk.

They were sitting against a wall in an alley of Zaun holding their injured arm, which was their fault, under their cloak, weaving their way through the possibilities of the next hour. They had been down there to test how well they could predict things. A group of people approached them, yelling some amount of comments at them, maybe with a sexual undertone. They of course knew this was coming or knew of its possibility. So they get up, and already have their next moves in mind, but when a boy of a similar age to them has already handled them. They are put off by this, but they wouldn't pass up on a free drink. The guy is Ekko! They get their first normal conversation, no question beyond about themselves (which they don't know much but who cares).

This doesn’t change them, not in a way that they are aware of at least. They find Ekko’s actions to be the humanity they long for, but they also understand that people of the undercity exchange things and they think Ekko is no different. So they repay Ekko by providing them with crates of fresh fruit given to them by the council members as a way of repayment. But what does change is how they view the past, instead of seeing past actions as something that something that could’ve been, they become something that can be. They begin to explore other timelines and how they differ from the current timeline, they explore the inventions and scientific studies that could’ve been explored, and they study the sciences to try to grasp the basics to better understand the concept they are dealing with. (at this point it is before they are exposed to the arcane so, they really can only see the theoretical Ideas that people had rather than actual timelines where the inventions work out.)

They begin to ask for books from the council while still asking for fruits.

Mel sees their interest in books, more especially science books. Mel decides to ‘sponsor’ at the academy and assigns them to ‘help’ speed up the stabilization of Hextech and building the hex gates, or that’s how they understand it, but with a lack of necessary understanding of hextech or a deeper understanding of engineering, they are lost most of the time. In turn, Heimerdinger, the only council member who hadn’t used their abilities for personal reasons, also sees this and offers to teach them when they feel like it, and the reader accepts it. Heimerdinger was a good mentor to them, he saw the way their brain ticked as the gear moved faster than many could even blink. There is an untapped potential for them, and sometimes he wonders what it would’ve been if they had their memories, or even just had a more fair chance at life.

There was eventually an accident with Hexetech, another failed attempt at stabilizing the Hexcores that was the reader’s fault. They have no physical injuries from the explosion, but when the reader is found, all they see is them with singed clothes, kneeling on the ground, as they dig their nails deeply in their arm, they look toward the door as it opens. Their eyes were glazed over with an iridescent flux, constantly evolving through a lilac purple, a sky blue, an ethereal sliver, and warm gold before starting the cycle again. Their tears slowly begin, slowly take on the very same pigments as their eyes. The reader looks up toward the ceiling, and watches as glowing lines swirl around them, each fiber, a different person's life; all weaving into a cosmic thread, which is only a singular part of the larger infinite fabric of the universe. They hear everything, all the voices present, future, and past, all at once it becomes a larger voice yelling incomprehensible words at them as they just sit still. Tears are no longer droplets but a river as they are still transfixed on the open roof above them.

They can not even hear the desperate calls of Mel, as they feel themselves consumed, wholeheartedly in the voices. Mel tackles them before they are completely gone, it is only then that their eyes are finally clear once again, the tears drying as staining their cheeks. Lifting their head all they see is Mel desperately clinging to them, as if they were going to disappear from her grasp. Their lips part with a dark pop, their mind commands the sound of their voice but a thick guttural cough is all that seems to come out. Their blood spills from their lips, soaking in Mel's pristine white dress, and onto their hands that still rest in their lap. Their eyes flicker around the room anywhere but a human face, no that was the last thing they needed. Soon they fell unconscious, eyes rolling back in their head.

The reader is out on bed rest for a month, and Mel forbade the reader from returning to the lab after that. They tried to push past the Enforcers into the lab for months but they refused to let them in, they didn't understand, they had forgotten the entire incident, perhaps a trauma response to it. Eventually, they stop, as they see that it is easier for them to return to Zaun. The return to being a glistening misshapen stone in Piltover, still overlooked and discarded by the high society, they become aware somewhat of the evaluation of their magic when then absentmindedly look into the future and rather than see just future possibilities for a few minutes, they see an entire mouth of possibilities, while awake. They are only pulled out of the trance when their calf begins to burn. Snapping back to reality they make the connection of no longer helping with hextech to lessened limitations of their POwers. Their perception was still very narrow in what they considered possible at the time, but it helped them come up with plans of how to execute the Innovations that were only theoretical beforehand.

This is how it goes for 2 more years until, a month before progress day, when they are once again in Zaun, having found themselves in a game with the infamous Silcos subordinates in a tense gambling game that the reader was dominating all of them in much to their frustrations. It wasn't until a blue-haired girl walked and Caught their attention.

When meeting Jinx, who on the surface was just a chaos junkie, self-serving to her whims and the maybe whims of her boss. Although they are very perceptive, at times they will forget to see the bigger picture. Jinx is one of the few people who have trouble seeing the past but also has trouble seeing possibilities for her future. This intrigues the reader, well originally they would only notice her when she first walked into a room they started talking to Jinx that's where they started to understand. Similar to the first season Jinx is a loose cannon with heavy attachment issues. The reader and she typically have a passing conversation that is mostly about people and what jinx or reader think of them.

When Jinx and they have their first fight, the reader sees many possibilities, they typically have the deduction skills to choose which one is the most likely possibility, but Jinx and her ever-growing unnerving unpredictability just so happens to choose to make what they see as an unlikely scenario into reality. This baffles the reader, they had spent the majority of their memorable life ignoring possibilities they thought were unlikely when all possibilities are equal. That throws them into a frenzy, their already disorganized room becomes a perfect reflection of their mind, and they try to see all timelines, all possibilities, past, future, and present. They begin to be barely sleepy even while in these states, so their body’s well-being deteriorates, as the side effects of using their abilities while awake begin to set in.

They push through the pain, constantly writing and creating plans trying to plan for the Future of Zaun.

Dynamic-

(more to be added as the story goes on)

Vi- Originally a bond that is forged from the guilt of an older sibling and a need for survival. Vi’s aggression toward the reader was already a rocky start to a relationship but the reader recognizes that Vi’s life has been anything flowers in Stillwater even without Retrocognition. Still, with the guidance of the possibilities of the future, they find that Vi would be a formidable ally for them, and they had already made enemies out of the enforcers. They give her the truth, the fact that they have no idea what shimmer is, and who or where they are even beyond that the place is called Stillwater. Vi on the other hand had already clocked that the reader was roughly the same age as Powder/Jinx, as well as a similar age to her when she first came here, so even when first approaching them her anger is not the as it would be for other, but it only wavier when the reader is startled out of their trances, images of powder play across her mind. she for the first time hears out someone. When she hears of the lapse of memories, no knowledge of shimmer, she sees it as innocence and vulnerability, which to some capacity it is. She is reminded of Powder, the innocence of the world, the lack of understanding, and while not in the same outwardly chaotic way, the knowledge that runs deep, some amount of creative fire that burns behind their eyes, but the way they that act on even the most dangerous of impulses is too much. Vi’s internal guilt is initially a big factor in why she takes the reader into her care.

Vi takes on an older sibling role once again. Vi teaches the reader the lessons she had learned from Vander, living in Zaun, and even her time here, the reader learns some crude ways of fighting, almost all defensive stances. This was all things that she did for her siblings. She teaches the reader, unintentionally, the sarcasm they later weaponize, figuratively. She is Unable to curb the impulsive habit, maybe making it worse with her hot-head tendencies. Vi takes on a lot of the fights that the reader would've been in much to the reader’s dismay. Vi takes on a lot of the physical beatings for the reader because in some way it helps ease the guilt, but ultimately it shows the care Vi has grown for the reader.

The reader doesn’t take well the younger sibling role. While Vi was the one to approach the reader, The reader had ulterior motives that had no benefit for Vi and even hinged on Vi’s emotional distress. The reader thinks that Vi only sees them as a placeholder for Powder. They originally thought that the relationship between them and Vi was just a purely give-and-take sort of situation. Vi got someone who knows every prisoner's secrets, and the reader has someone who would teach them to fight, but they fell into a pattern with Vi. Vi fights someone, they get hurt, Enforcers intervene, and the reader uses retrocognition to figure out the secret of the enforcer that would handle Vi and proceed to use that against the enforcer. Same for any prisoner who threatened Vi. When Vi took a beating the reader would’ve gotten, The reader feels an immediate guilt but also feels a gut-wrenching worry for the first time. It overwhelmed them, but the relief when they saw Vi the next was almost debilitating for them. They still don't trust that Vi cares for them as anything more than a sibling placeholder so they often try to take on more of the load that Vi carries for them, maybe even feeling guilt for using VI’s emotions like they did.

After the reader was taken to the Council, Vi feels as if She lost another sibling and becomes more violent to the Enforcer there afterward. While the reader is trying to find a way to get her out there, they can’t get someone out of prison who was never in the system, and they have tried going to Stillwater both as a council advisor and a personal aid to a council member both of which were denied access. So instead they try to further help Vi’s goal of finding her sister by going into Zaun and trying to find this Silco Character.

Mel- A relationship’s foundations crafted from a selfish agenda and personal gain, Mel and the reader have a mutually beneficial relationship. Mel approached the reader, thinking that they were naive but skillful. She didn’t fully believe the Reader had the ability to see the future and past, it was only one incident that Marus really had any proof for, but she had keen eye to notice how they carry themselves, everything had a purpose to them. Even their aggression towards the enforcers, that other council member saw as barbaric, was really a calculated risk that they had enough understanding to take. Mel knew that she could harness that potential and turn them into something that could benefit both of them. The reader had not fully calculated their aggression like mel thought. While they had originally had done it further their Zaunite image to the council, even if they didn’t know if they were one, they eventually went to far in one case, landing them in yet another freezing cell. To them, it seemed like the only thing that could possible to stop what seemed to be their impending future of being a tool among the glistening mis-shapened gems of Piltover. They spent 3 days, forcing themselves to remain asleep, sorting and looking at even the farest fetched of possibilities, yet the all seem to lead to worst outcomes. So when a picture of Mel approaching them with a deal, they decided they had to play Piltover's game. The reader and Mel makes a deal. Not Mel’s original offer but one that the reader offered and left mel no choice but to except.

Mel is a clever person, she presents as a non-threat, yet is a huge power house among the council. She has a deep understanding of politics, and how everyone, anyone, can be influenced with some persuasion. She uses her empathic nature to tactfully guide and push a person towards her preferred outcome. When the reader is all but shoved into her view, she recognizes the raw potential the reader has. She sees the calculation behind even their most chaotic and violent actions, but what throws her off is the lack of sense of purpose they exude. She wanted to wield their potential and shape them into their greatest form, regardless of their potential Zaunite heritage. She talked it over with Amara, and in the end there was no possibility of them going back to still water, even if the other councilor demanded it. She was going to use them, to mold them. She was astonished when she went to the cellar to Negation with The reader only to find that they could mimic every word she breathed, with each pause and hesitation exactly the same. It’s jarring to say the least. She got over the initial off putting nature quickly. She was still unsure if the reader really had a foresight ability but that was quickly resolved when the stark iridescent glint in their eye was all but human. She was quick to change her tone and attitude to the reader. She is a diplomat at her very heart. She isn’t someone who tries to nake everyone like her, rather she make sure no one is her absolute enemy. Switching from treating the reader like a loss pet/child to an Equal was natural reaction for her, sticking true to Noxian roots, the reader had proven their strength now it was a battle of who was stronger.

Mel lost her upper hand with the deal, but she had achieved her original goal of getting the reader by her side but she didn't have as much control of them as she originally anticipated, bu the was able to gain the favor of the reader, if only slightly. The reader lives within/near Mel’s accommodation, Sort of. The readers ‘partnership’ with mel is unbeknownst to the rest of council, as they don’t even know the readers face. Mel and the reader are forced to remain to close due to the another clause in the agreement with mel specifically. Due to the Proximity as well as the constant changing pattern of the reader, she keeps closer tabs on what the reader does with their time. She noticed when the reader was being exploited and when the reader began to take advantage of it. She notices when the reader began to explore Piltover from the roof tops and even bring back things that are illegal in Piltover from their extended Zaun stays. She turns a blind eye like she would for other any other Council member, even if they aren’t one. The reader and mel spent extended periods with each other, at first not talking but eventually the began to converse, even if it was only about mandaue things. She noticed a large amount of the pocket money given to them went towards sweets (when they ran out of illegal fruit imports that is) from the wrappers that trialed behind them. She notice the sort of child like wonder when They watch the machines with each inventor competition. Her view of the reader soften, she realizes that under everything the reader was a 15-16 year old at their core. She didn't understand all of their habits though, watching people with indifference and the concerning horriding habit of food given to them by the council members. But She pays closer attention to reader after she notices notebook and textbooks pilling up in their already crowded room, and the diminishing amount of fruits even if they are still collecting imports from the councils. She sees that there was a change in them, their eyes no longer looks at people wondering the street of Piltover with great indifference but with sense of longing, they do not wear their emotions but she just knows it. She understands it.

The reader already had a false enrollment made for them at the academy as artist sponsored by Mel to better hide them among the masses. when Heimerdinger Approaches Mel after seeing The reader poking around in the labs, she was hesitant. She had seen the growing number of science books among the stalks that stared to spill from the readers bedroom, but The reader had been a secret among the upper class of Piltover, so She wanted to keep the reader out of majority of the public eye in both concern of losing their ability as well as what would happen if a place like Noxus found out about them, and what mean the would go to cultivate the reader. She also understood the opportunity of speeding up the production of Hextech, was far too great to pass up. So just this once with the promise of private studies with Heimerdinger she took the chance, and after only a month of lessons Heimerdinger gave to go ahead to assign them to the Jayce and Viktor as an ‘assistant’. The first few month were harmonious, Jayce and Viktor were quick to catch on the readers Foresight, but what no had taken into account was the what the readers goals really were.

The reader, from the very first meeting with now had always had a deep set distrust of her. In the very beginning when the distrust was sort of mutual, they had attempted to hide their exploitation of the other council member, and their exploration in Piltover and Zaun, but eventually they caught on to the fact that Mel was keeping tabs on them when their room always seemed slightly off from the last time that they were in it, whether it was the candy, wrappers, disappearing, or books and crates of fruit being moved over just inch. They noticed and it just instilled that distrust in them deeper. They clung to the lessons that I taught them as they tried to fulfill their goal of getting her out of prison and reuniting her sister to repay the debts that they feel they owed Vi. And in contrast to this, they always made sure that the counselors were indebted to them, and they were never indebted to the council. But even they eventually sub come to the wonders of the scientific advancements Piltover had to offer. They noticed after their very first progress day that Mel’s view of them had soften, weren't entirely sure what but they didn't mind that Mel seem to approach them with less caution it allowed them to make more rash movement with her guard seemingly lowered.

They began to use an abuse their limited foresight when they were awake more often, but after their encounter with Ekko. they are sent into a frenzy of consuming scientific knowledge from the past as they spent days asleep wandering backwards instead of forwards like they had spent the past year at that point doing. of course, Mel noticed and even fed into it. What they had failed to realize is, they began to wear their emotions more openly or at least enough for Mel to notice, so they will not fully aware of the extent of Mel’s affection towards them. But after Heimerdinger found them hunched over with their eyes, haunting iridescent glimmer radiating from their eyes as they were on on the brink of collapsing they slowed down their process,, Mel approached them telling them that they would begin to attend private lessons with Heimerdinger about scientific studies, they still held the same distrust, but their independence studies had not been fulfilling the needed understanding of perfecting the alternatives medicine they had written about and the seemingly failed inventions they were trying to improve. So they accepted with an air of caution using their foresight ability. They were able to speed through majority of the basics and even some of the more complicated things.

When they were put onto the hex tech project, it dawned on them that Mel held a great amount of trust in them. But also being amazed by the acceleration and advancements that hex tech promised they once again returned to their habit of sneaking around taking samples of the hex cores to a seemingly empty lab experimenting on them and trying to see if the hex core could teach them anything about their own abilities and how it might benefit medicine.

In an act of desperation after un yielding results, they channeled all of the arcane abilities they could muster from their already limited understanding into and unstable hex core, causing a chain reaction which lead to an astronomical explosion, destroying the lab around them. Mel had known about their side projects, so after witnessing that explosion from the labs, she rushed over and found herself confronted by the reader seemingly unraveling in front of her. All she could do was wrap herself around the reader holding them as they hyperventilated and screamed and agony as their worldview widened. From this point onwards, the reader was no longer allowed near the labs. Their private studies with Heimerdinger were changed to political and history topics, and even a few normal classes where they were forced to interact with the student body Mel even threw in combative training with enforcers much to the readers despair to try and tame their ever growing sense of recklessness. The reader only responded with more secretive, actions, and spending more and more time away from their accommodations. The relationship between the reader and Mel grew into a one-sided concern and familiar bond.

Ekko- A championship rooted and blooming in a desolate wasteland. The reader’s trust in any person had ran dry, after a year in prison and almost a full year under the gaze of Piltover’s high society, they had almost become fully reliant on their Foresight often discarding their retrosight as unless,

Jinx/Powder

Some experiments in writing

Also unfinished

When the reader first wakes up needs to be revised.

Surrounded by broken vials of neon pink liquid, as drops slowly drip down your face, you find yourself surrounded by enforcers who have confused for a shimmer distributor of Silco’s. They decided to arrest you, a child no older than 15. you had no idea who or what you were, but you knew that you could do more. You evade the enforcer with a chilling precision of attacks and defenses. You knew every move they would make before they could even raise their weapons. You reacted to them before they could lay a hand on you, but it came toppling down when you saw the wrong attack. You used the wrong counter action which made yourself open to the attack. From there you stopped attacking and let them apprehend you.

Once they got you in the cuff, you saw the faces of your attackers. Your head began to buzz, you knew every one of their names, as well as their core memories. You let your head fall to avoid any more memories, instead y, ou begin to focus on the possibility just a couple of seconds in the future, They pull you off the ground, and one of the enforcers grabs a handful of your hair and forces you to feet as you head is pulled back. You seeth a string of curses out in pain at them which only cause another enforcer to hit you on the side of your head with the end of their gun. You bite the inner part of your bottom lip, swallowing the grunt of pain stuck in the back of your throat as they push you along and you stumble over your own feet. You try to regain your footing but they only continue to push you along as two of them take you down the street of the dark unfamiliar area.

As you walked, they continuously threw taunts at you that fell deaf on your ears as you tried to find the next possible move for you to make. Trip them, you will fall with them. Try to struggle out of their grip, they will restrain you more. Every possibly ends up with you being hurt more or worse knocked out. You finally looked up from the ground as the sting of seawater hit your nose. Straighten your back you can’t help but feel a strange mix of dread and intrigue slowly build as the wave methodically crashes against the boat, pushing it against the dock. You had almost forgotten that you were not here to sightsee, but a strong push from the enforcer crudely reminds you of that. You weren’t able to catch yourself as you hit the hard metal floor of the ship. The impact with the ground is an unforgiving wake-up call as you feel the electric pain radiating throughout your body. You lay there for a moment as everything begins to numb, you are slowly able to shift back onto your knees, still hunching over them. As your breath begins to stabilize, Your head is once again forced back to look up at an Enforcer.

“Welcome to Stillwater, people like you will fit in just fine here” They sneer at you with crooked smiles, inky black dots slowly begin to fill your peripheral view and a deafening ring echoes through your ear, “You’re going to be here for a long time.” It is the last thing you hear as the ringing becomes a blaring alarm and you no longer see anything be a soul-draining black.

Vi and reader in prison-

The reader’s head only throbs as they wake from another night of being among the endless timelines in what one could only say is a confounding space of empty mosaics. They slowly sit upright as they place their bare feet on the rigid stone ground of Stillwater prison. As the reader starts to move their stiff muscle, the repetitive punching on the wall from the cell beside them begins to outweigh the throb of their head only to be replaced by the stings of their muscle from their use.

“How long this time?” The reader croaks out as they use the wall to lean on as they slowly get on their feet, the punching stops when their shallow voice echos off of the stone wall into the next cell over.

“You missed 3 meals.” The prisoner dryly laughs, before striking the wall again. The reader feels their bones crack and snap as they move around their tiny cell.

“Really? Is that my new record, Vi?” The reader mildly taunts with a tight jaw as they adjust themselves against the metal bars of the door. Using the bar they stretch out their limbs as best as they can, as the russells of the thin sheets and the sound of a body hitting the hard mattress of the prison.

“They thought you were dead,” Vi huffs as if exacerbated by their antics. The reader couldn’t see Vi’s face but they knew she was probably assumed by the enforcers' frustration with their deep periods of sleep. “They almost call for a medic.”

“Isn’t that just a typical…” The reader's voice halts. 3, no, 4 Enforcers in the tiny elevator well past the common levels of most prisoners. A warning glimpse of Enforcer coming down the elevator to their floor flashes across their mind. Their body jolts away from the door, their eyes focus back to the barian stone wall in front of them. They remain silent as they bite onto their overgrown thumbnail while mentally following the red strings tied to the possibilities of how it might go when the enforcers get here.

“ Physic,” Vi’s voice snaps them back to the present time, “another one of those feelings?” They stop biting their nail.

“Yeah,” They softly respond as their mind slowly churn through the possibilities while processing Vi’s words. It takes them a moment too long. “Physic?” they repeat, curiosity intertwined with their voice, as they look at their hands, soft and warm, yet worn down with faint outlines and scars. “Is that your name for me now?” They begin to pick at what looks like the newest scar.

“Well if you told me your actual name” Vi's voice slowly trails off. Their mouths fall agape as if to answer her but it shuts as quickly as it fall. The silence between Vi and them grows thick. Their heart begins to pick up pace, and buzzing behind their eyes makes, them continue to scratch and dig their nail deep into the palm of their hand. “I didn’t mean to” The elevator stops 10 levels above them as the enforcers get out. The reader watches as a drop of blood hits the floor, an old wound once again open.

”So you are in a talkative mood today?” They interjected Vi. “Then tell me why we’re on the lower floors?” Walking away from the cell door they grab their blanket off the floor and press it into their open cut. Another moment of silence, nowhere near the intensity from before.

“I beat up some enforcer,” Vi holds no remorse, they knew she never would, in Vi’s mind she had the right to, and maybe she did. Their eyes drift away from the spots of blood seeping through the sheets towards the cell door.

“Did they try to harm you again?” The creak of the rusty metal from her bed was all they got back, “Did they try to beat me up again?” The sudden thud of her boot on the ground, as she stood up, was the confirmation, “You that you didn’t have to do that.” their voice failed to hide the guilt that weighed heavy on their heart as the glimpse of the what would’ve been playing in their mind.

“You were asleep, you couldn’t have done anything.” Vi loses the sharp edge that always laces itself into her voice, as she defends her action to them “You…”

“I remind you of her, don’t I?” They lean their head against the wall, still fixated on the light from outside of the cell. The enforcers once again enter the elevator and begin their descent once again. Not a sound comes from Vi, they drop the blood-stained sheet from their hand as it still freely bleeds as they get closer to the door once again. “Your sister.” A bang echoes through the empty cells, and specs of stone fall from the ceiling. They place their forehead against the numbingly cold metal bars, lacing their fingers around the wrist of the injured hand. “Sorry to open an old wound.” Their thumb the other hand smears the blood from the palm down their arm as another droplet forms.

“You are a similar age to her.” Vi’s voice evolves into a reminiscent echo of her past. “You sometimes act like her, too.”

The reader had never looked at her face, “I… I am sure she waiting for you.” They let go of their wrist, extending their arms outside of their cell.

“You always seem sure,” Vi’s edge returns flawlessly intertwining itself once again, “even if you don’t know what you are talking about” The sound of her footsteps grows louder as she approaches her cell door, hanging her arms similarly outside of the cell. “Do you think we will see anyone today who wants to talk?” she sarcastically spits out. The enforcers are 5 floors above them.

“We can only guess,” They let out a stifled laugh, as their hands clutched around each other until their knuckles turned white.“But if they do come” 3 levels. “don’t fight it.” They pull their arms back into the cell.

“You’re talking like-” The sudden sound of the elevator stopping at your floor makes Vi’s words fall short.

The squeaks of clean leather boots and metal clinking together were a stark contrast to the sound of cotton and worn leather that they had grown accustomed to. The enforcer walked down the hall, they could only assume Vi had straightened up to prepare herself for the ‘talk’ she would have with them, But they walked right past her and stopped in front of their cell unlocking it.

“Follow us.” One of them demanded. The reader the one in front of her was the commander how the other enforcer stood behind him and stood tall as if to command respect for him.

“Of course,” they step out of the cell and offer up their wrist, palms up, head down, without any resistance, “Commander Marus” they felt as he flinches at the mention of his name. He doesn’t say another word as he gestures for another Officer to cuff them. The cuff in case their wrists are tight enough to limit all ranges of movement.

Vi watched in chilling horror as they cuffed the reader, and they accepted it. She goes to try and break out of her cell, or maybe shout at them as the enforcers walk away with them, but she stops. The reader lifts their head as they pass by giving her a warning look. It wasn’t until the elevator doors were closing that they heard the rattling of the VI’s cell door followed by inaudible words as the door closed and started to ascend.

The reader resigns from the council (After the events of season 1!): “Did you know it is a common idea that Owls are the only birds who see blue?” The

Hoped you enjoyed!

[strigimorphaes]

Gin & Tonics, 2,3k words for @passtheseppie and @cannibaltamau (because of the somnophillia discussions & fic you brought onto my dash)

Description: Tadej gets too drunk at G's flat. A situation ensues. Rating: E Contains: Consensual somnophillia and sex while drunk, intercrural sex, a handjob, an attempt at being seductive, porn without plot. Written in less than one day, so very much a speed writing gotta-get-the-idea-out-of-my-head ficlet thing, not like... up to my usual standards, but have at it <3

During the tour, everyone was asking what Tadej was capable of and what he'd try to do next. Quite a bit further down the GC ranking, Geraint was asking, too. After the Tour, he gets answers: Tadej is capable of drinking exactly two gin & tonics before he's drunk, and what he'll try to do next is go for the third and then sit way too close to Geraint on the couch. Their thighs are touching even though there are two entire other cushions Tadej could’ve chosen. This was not where Geraint was expecting the partly-in-jest invitation to lead him.

Tadej leans against his shoulder and yawns; his shirt is riding up. Geraint would suspect Tadej of trying to seem seductive if he wasn't also eating a handful of peanuts out of his palm with the complete disregard for caloric content only found in a man who just won a Grand Tour. Tadej lifts the glass to his lips, and Geraint decides to be a little responsible.

"Tadej," Geraint says. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

"I'm celebrating?" Tadej says, swirling the liquid in his glass around. “Just… It tastes good, this.”

" There's lightweights and then there's you, mate. You're going to pass out on me.”

Tadej doesn't drink another sip, but he doesn't let go of the glass, either. “Just let me. Let me drink, I mean.”

“Are you really just here to get sloshed?” Geraint asks. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

"We have talked,” Tadej says, and that is true, but it was idle small-talk when the way Tadej insisted on it being just them tonight made Geraint suspect it’d be something more serious. He’s not unwilling to be someone Tadej comes to for a break from the rest of his tightly regimented life, but in that case, there are things Geraint would have liked to do to make it a better time with more friends and a better venue than his flat. Tadej pauses for a moment before saying, “I am a little nervous."

He puts his hand on Geraint’s thigh.

Oh.

"...You, nervous? What do you have to be nervous about?" Geraint says, buying time to think this over. Pretty young man alone with him, acting like that. But so drunk. He thinks Tadej does a lot of things without thinking it through; those sudden attacks, deviations from finely laid strategies if there ever was a strategy to begin with. But he also thinks that some of those daring things Tadej does are calculated.

Tadej’s thumb rubs a little circle on Geraint’s thigh. "I have nice man with me...” he begins. “And I think he wants to do something fun with me. But I'm not sure."

Geraint's throat tightens. "You're too drunk for that stuff. Listen to yourself - you're falling asleep while you're talking, Tadej. Let's just put you to bed and talk in the morning, okay? I'll make up the couch for you and - "

"No. I like it like this." Tadej squeezes Geraint's leg and looks up, letting his head lie on Geraint's shoulder. "Want you to do it while I'm like this."

Geraint sits there, feeling Tadej's body against his own. Tadej's lovely little body. Heavy with sleep already, and if he really is nervous, Geraint can’t feel it. No jitters, nothing uncertain about his tone of voice. Just the weight of his head on Geraint’s shoulder and his hand on Geraint’s thigh.

"If I fall asleep you can just... Touch me, yes?” Tadej says. ”Take my clothes off. Make so when I wake up I see what you did."

Geraint doesn't know how to respond to that. Thoughts flash through his own semi-intoxicated mind – Tadej wants him – but not enough to want to remember him or look at him while – what, exactly? Geraint does want to touch him. It’d be easy. The Tour does strange things to people. You seek relief in all kinds of places after.

All that comes out of Geraint’s mouth is: "Is this, uh... something you do on the reg?"

“No,” Tadej says, a faint smile on his face. "I trust few people like this."

"You don’t really know me.”

"I know you won the Tour and you can keep secret."

"What does the Tour have to do with - "

Tadej giggles - an adorable sound, but not entirely pleasant, making Geraint feel that there's part of the joke that's on him. "Dunno. I just like you. I - oops!"

Tadej has spilled a bit of the drink on his pants. He smiles and drinks the rest of the glass.

"Okay," Geraint says, noticing the miniscule, pleased reaction Tadej gives him before he goes on: "You're resting up."

He manages to get out from under Tadej, who falls down flat on his back. From there, he watches Geraint as he leaves to get something that can make the couch more bedlike.

“Make sure I rest good then.”

Geraint retreats to the linen closet. A couple of pillows, pillow covers, a blanket... What a lad, Tadej. Geraint never quite knows where he has him. And the feeling’s so obviously not mutual when Tadej expects he’ll get what he wants just like that. Someone less nice than Geraint would have drawn a dick on his face and sent pictures. Or… actually done as he suggested.

When Geraint comes back with his arms full of blankets, Tadej's asleep.

Or pretending to be asleep, at least.

Either way his eyes are closed and his hands are lying on his chest. There'd space enough on the couch for Geraint to sit down beside him on the edge of the cushion.

He looks so small.

Geraint comes to the conclusion that the universe hates him in particular right now. He has gotten used to rainy weather and crashes and climbs, but despite psyching himself up for this on the walk back down the hallway, he’s unprepared for a sleeping twink on his couch. One he has permission to touch. It is absoluty certain that he'll feel like a dirty old man if he does.

So he shouldn’t.

He sits there watching Tadej breathe slowly and evenly. If he’s pretending to sleep, he’s doing a good job of it.

You can touch.

What does Tadej see in that idea? Hasn’t enough been done to him over the course of these last three weeks? If he needed sexual relief – a bloody miracle of biology, that, if he has energy for that stuff after a Tour – why not go at it awake?

Geraint puts a hand on Tadej’s side. Body heat radiates through the fabric of his T-shirt. There is no reaction.

Maybe there’s something there. Not having to react, not having to be anything but there so Geraint can’t help himself up slide his hand a little lower. Nobody is going to know. Not even Tadej, if Geraint doesn't want him to. Though if Geraint is going to do this – really do this – he should, well, let Tadej have what he wants out of it, too, make something Tadej will see in the morning. Maybe.  Geraint's fingertips find the exposed skin between Tadej's pants and the hem of the shirt. Index, middle finger, ring finger. He slides his hand slowly up under the T-shirt. Tadej inhales - maybe it tickled? His eyes stay shut, though.

Geraint knows at once that this was going too far. Now he won't be able to stop. He can deny himself what he wants for ages as long as he doesn't take that first little step in the wrong direction, but after the Tour just one beer or one sweet sets off a chain reaction. And now Tadej’s hands are in the way, so Geraint takes hold of them as gently as possible and moves them aside. Now he can push the shirt all the way up past Tadej’s nipples and see the pale skin, his ribs, his belly softened by the meal Geraint gave him. Tadej's so pretty like this, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. He doesn't react at all when Geraint unbuttons the fly of his pants - or is it only Geraint's imagination that he smiles a little in his sleep?

Geraint is semi-hard from just looking. Actually, he corrects himself, it's hardly just looking when he’s staring at the world's best cyclist all defenseless and trusting. Of course that'd affect him. He’s looked at Tadej before – everyone has – the TT-suit comes to mind. Of course he'd want to see more. Feel more. He sticks his hand down Tadej's pants and feels the soft fabric of his underwear, the shape of his sex underneath. A little bit of movement and pressure, just like this, makes Tadej firm up in his hand. His face has gotten a little redder, his breathing a little deeper. When Geraint closes his hand around Tadej’s shaft and strokes him in earnest, Tadej sighs. He sounds content. For a moment, Geraint's afraid he's woken up – not that that wouldn’t be nice, since Tadej apparently does want him, but – yeah, Geraint’s not going to think too long about why he almost likes this more than the thought of Tadej being awake. He’s in control, now, something he’s never experienced with Tadej before. He’s careful, listening to Tadej’s deep breaths to not go too fast too soon, mirroring what he does to Tadej with his other hand. He hopes he won’t feel too ashamed tomorrow. It just feels too good. For a moment, he lets go of Tadej to focus on himself, and then Tadej makes an annoyed little noise.

Again, Geraint waits to check he didn’t wake. Tadej smacks his lips and turns back onto his side, his back to Geraint. Geraint gets a new idea that he isn't too proud of, but if Tadej want to be used, then...

Geraint lies down beside him. Gently, he pushes Tadej’s pants down his thighs and lets them bunch around his knees. Beautiful curves. He’s so pliant, his legs so easy to arrange the way Geraint wants them. Geraint spits in his hand and moves a little closer. Strokes himself until he thinks he'll slide fine against Tadej's thighs and ass, the warm skin, the muscles that are  so supple and soft when Tadej's relaxed like this and not using them to ride so bloody fast. Now Geraint's using him to get off, and it's the idea more than the sensation that works wonders. And fair’s fair, Geraint lets him have something, too, reaching around. He makes a tight ring of his fingers and strokes Tadej slow, base to tip. It’s a lucky thing he’s so small, easy to handle.

Tadej's eyelashes flutter. His deep breaths don't change much. Maybe he's dreaming when Geraint slides into the space between Tadej's thighs. Geraint decides he won't clean him up after. Tadej's going to wake up with come and spit dried on his thighs, his clothes pushed aside so it's obvious what happened. The thought of Tadej exploring the evidence makes Geraint's stomach tighten pleasantly, and he moves a little faster, wondering if the sound of his own breathing is too loud. He tries his hardest not to make a sound, but he can barely tell how he’s doing when his pulse is beating so loudly in his ears.

He's glad he doesn’t have to explain himself. There’s no acting, no playing nice. Just Tadej's body. Just their common need. Tadej doesn’t have to do anything but surrender. Geraint can't imagine himself allowing someone else to grope him like this – to be so vulnerable and used. Vulnerability, he thinks, is probably a far rarer treat for Tadej than being drunk.

With every slow thrust, Geraint breathes in Tadej’s scent and relishes in the slow progression towards his climax. No rush, nothing to distract him from the build-up. Tadej’s warmer, his cock twitching in Geraint’s hand. Now he moans, a sound that sounds a little too conscious -

"Shh," Geraint whispers. Though his body doesn't like it one bit, he pauses his grinding motions as he waits for Tadej to calm back down. "Don't worry. Shh. Nothing’s happening, just go back to sleep."

A long exhale. Tadej becomes heavy and still once more, helped by Geraint letting his arm lie draped around his waist, putting more weight behind the touch. Nice, even breaths. Geraint can feel Tadej’s chest rise and fall.

"That's it."

Tadej doesn't react again, sinking deeper into relaxation even as Geraint does the opposite, fighting the urge to grab Tadej's hips and pull him closer. But he does what Tadej wanted. He sticks to rubbing himself against Tadej's thighs and backside until he feels close enough to coming that he takes himself in hand to finish. It feels safe in a way he’s unused to – nobody looking at him, listening to him, and he’s entirely in control of how it happens. He gasps, but keeps all other sounds down as he comes on Tadej’s skin. He wipes his hand on Tadej's lower stomach, leaving that for him to see tomorrow.

And then Tadej. The lad deserves it. Careful, slow, teasing – Geraint rubs the head of his cock with one hand while he lets the other find a rhythm that has Tadej’s hips starting to move with him. Tadej’s eyes open just a slight bit, his lips parting when his muscles contract and make him curl up. A bit of spit dribbles from the corner of his mouth, running over his chin. Geraint presses his chest against Tadej’s back, whispering in his ear.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. Shh, just let yourself go. Just go back to sleep.”

He leaves Tadej on the couch half undressed, the come and spit drying on his body.

---

In the morning, Tadej takes a very, very long shower. Geraint is under no illusions that he isn’t jerking off in there while he inspects the fluids still on him, but lets it slide. They share a brief breakfast during which Tadej agrees to foot the dry cleaning bill for the sofa cushions.

“What’s on there?” Tadej asks. “Did I spill the gin? I don’t recall.”

“Something like that,” Geraint says, though they both know he’s just pretending.

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

[wispstalk]

wip wednesday

been tagged by various people over the past few weeks and didn't have much to share but now y'all get...

🚨🚨 IDLE IN THEIR THRONES SECRET BONUS CHAPTER 🚨🚨 i'm editing a version of my fic for my man, bc he wants to read my shit. but the problem is that my intended audience for the Oblivion fic is "people who have played oblivion" which he has not.

I made some mostly-minor changes to contextualize events/characters but Tanis's university B-plot warranted another chapter. Includes one microfic I've already posted, but the rest is new. fair warning: 4k words under the cut. tagging everyone who tagged me: @nuwanders @jiubilant @dirty-bosmer @sylvienerevarine @ehlnofay @everybodyknows-everybodydies (and a special shoutout to Talviel because I referenced her menus for the last section)

--

“Impressive, Apprentice!” Julienne Fanis, the Master Alchemist, watches with delight as the angry weal on Tanis’s neck smooths and seals over. “Sorry, Journeyman, isn’t it? Now that you have your staff. Traven ought to have bumped you up a few ranks after what you went through to get it…”

Tanis makes a noncommittal noise. He had thought, perhaps stupidly, that being ambushed by necromancers was only a test of his mettle. Only when he made an offhand remark to Delmar, the Master Enchanter, did the Elder Council fly into a flurry. The University has been abuzz ever since, and Tanis attracts stares everywhere he goes.

He rubs at the healed cut, which has begun to itch with a fury. “Trouble with spiddal stick,” he says, “is that it burns out the infection, and then keeps burning. But I thought with a pinch of frost salts—”

“Ah, but the cost…” Julienne’s eyes widen as Tanis produces a sizeable jar of salts. “Well! If we must be plagued with these Oblivion gates, I should count myself blessed to have a student bold enough to enter them.”

He offers her a half-grin and pinches some salt into his calcinator. “Or mad enough to go flower-picking in the Deadlands.”

“Well, should you decide the frost salts aren’t worth the risk, I’d try lady’s smock leaves. That ought to counteract the irritation.” She regards him, head cocked. “You seem to have a talent for healing. I’m more inclined to banecraft, myself, but I try to make my students understand that it’s not so different, is it? Here you’ve just made a healing salve from a poisonous flower.”

Yena would like this woman. “Just toyed around with it and got lucky. I’d like to learn more. Who’s the Master Restorationist here?”

Julienne gives him a strange look. “The University does not have a Master Restorationist. I teach apprentices how to make basic restoratives, and the Master Alterationist covers spellwork. But if you’re looking to further your studies, there is always work in the infirmary. I could have a word with the chief medic.”

Tanis blinks up at her. Yena would really like this woman. That was all the old witch ever wanted for him— a life as a healer. He wrote her off, could never tolerate working in a temple, but perhaps here…

“Excuse me, Master Fanis.” The reedy voice of a young woman cuts through the workroom. “Master Polus has requested Tanis Irathi’s presence in the tower lobby.” The grey-robed assistant does not wait for a response, but only ducks her head and shuffles out.

Tanis raises an eyebrow. Julienne Fanis gives him a tight smile. “One of Raminus’s little errands, no doubt.”

“Can’t it wait?” Tanis complains, and moderates the heat beneath his calcinator.

“You’d best go. Your reduction won’t go to waste, I’ll finish it.” Julienne sighs as she glances around the workroom. “I do hope you’ll keep attending lectures. I lose some of my most promising alchemists this way. The Council tends to take notice of mages with… certain skills.”

She throws a look at his swordbelt, slung over the edge of the worktable. He has, perhaps, made himself stand out. No one else wears a weapon around campus, unless he counts staves. And after what he went through to earn his, he paid the Master Enchanter to tip it with an ebony spearhead.

He leaves Julienne to experiment with his cache of Daedric ingredients, and makes for the tower.

—

Two days later, Tanis storms into the tower lobby, saddlesore and filthy with road dust. Raminus looks up at his arrival, and his face turns white when Tanis slaps a book down on his desk.

“You sent me after a book,” Tanis says, low and menacing. “So here is a book.”

“Er, Tanis, there—” Raminus clears his throat. “There was never any book.”

“There was never any book,” Tanis agrees.

“The Goblin with the Golden Arm,” Raminus reads from the cover. “Ah. A fiction. Consider your point made, mage.”

Tanis hadn’t put quite that much thought into it; he picked this one off the shelf because he liked the illustrations. “Give me that,” he snaps, and snatches it from Raminus’s hands. “So. What the fuck?”

Raminus takes off his spectacles and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I’m truly sorry for the lie. Our relationship with the Count is tenuous at best, and Traven thought that sending a high-ranking official to Skingrad would alert the necromancers to our presence and drive them underground. After how capably you handled the necromancers that attacked you among the stave-trees, we thought you a good candidate for this mission.”

Praise, Tanis notes with annoyance, does soften his outrage. “Well, it’s done.”

“Please, tell me everything that happened.”

“Well, to start with, you told me to retrieve a book in the Count’s possession, so I rode all the way to fucking Skingrad, and—”

“I haven’t forgotten, Tanis. Just tell me what you found.”

Tanis had visited the castle once before, when he and Coradri closed the Oblivion gate outside Skingrad’s walls. He had known that Count Janus Hassildor was unlikely to grant him audience. But the castle steward, Mercator, was notably more unfriendly when Tanis identified himself as a representative of the mages guild.

Mercator informed him that the Count would meet him after dark, north of the mineshaft outside the city walls. So, after sharing a few rounds with the patrons at the West Weald Inn, Tanis made his way there.

“It was a trap,” Tanis tells Raminus. “Mercator and two of his friends met me instead. Summoned wraiths from thin air, cast a silence spell over me, and attacked.”

“My word, this is worse than we thought.” Raminus’s expression grows grave. “The Count sent him to kill you?”

No, Tanis continues, the Count arrived just as Tanis finished them off. Janus Hassildor was white with fury, or so Tanis thought— then he caught the strange glow to his eyes, his sallow cheeks. The flash of long canines as he gave Tanis an earful.

I suspected Mercator was involved with the necromancers, Hassildor said, but I would not move against him without knowing the identities of his allies. Despite what your Council may think, I would never throw in with such a cult.

“And he told me,” Tanis concludes, “the next time you want something from him, you come yourselves.”

“I see.” Raminus sighs and rubs at his jaw as he takes it in. “Tanis, please believe me when I say it was never the Council’s intention to put you in harm’s way.”

“Oh, piss off with that. I was four beers deep and had no fucking clue what was going on, but those three couldn’t have left a scratch on me.”

The Master Wizard lets out a humorless huff of laughter. “In any case, we are aware of Count Hassildor’s… condition… but it isn’t public knowledge. For that reason I didn’t share what we knew with you. We will not make that mistake again. And if Hassildor shares in our suspicions about this burgeoning cult, perhaps we can count him among our allies.”

Tanis folds his arms, skeptical. “And you lot aren’t worried that a vampire—”

“He hides his nature well, though he can’t hide it from the Council of Mages. We’ve come to certain accords. And if those agreements are strained of late, the fault doesn’t lie with you.”

“No shit.”

“You’ve done the guild a great service,” Raminus says. “And for that, you earn the rank of Evoker.”

Tanis blinks. While he grasps for something to say, Raminus unlocks the cabinet behind his desk, and comes around with something glittering in his fists. A silver chain with a pendant of citrine, carved with twin hands and the Eye of Magnus. When Tanis takes it into his palm, he senses the warding spell enchanted within it.

“Again, you have my apologies.” Raminus inclines his head. “I will speak to the Council.”

It bothers Tanis to find himself placated by this. Promote him, bestow some magical trinket on him, and he will gladly continue being a useful idiot for the guild. At least, he hopes, the Council will see fit to use their idiot well.

—

“Explain to me,” Tanis says, watching the ghost of his ancestor swoop and howl through the practice room, “how this doesn’t count as necromancy.”

Anaht’s nictitating membranes slide over her eyes in exasperation. “You do not want to get into this with me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want to get into,” he insists, and releases his focus, letting the restive shade return to the other side of the veil. “Say I’m attacked— bandits on the road, say, and say I kill the first one and make him get up and defend me against his fellow rogues and blaggards. That’s beyond the pale, and if I’m caught Traven throws me out on my ass.”

Her tail swishes with impatience. “Those are the rules, yes.”

“But dredging up my pissed-off card out of the ash is fine, and conjuring daedra— daedra, when they’re running thick as rabbits in the countryside— that’s all well and good.”

“Odd for you to be beating the moral drum,” Anaht says finely, “when I happen to know from Proctor Renault that you put your cohort to shame during the conjuration practical. A flame atronach, no less, while the rest of them were nearly bursting blood vessels just to call up a scamp.”

“Morals?” Tanis blinks. “Who the fuck said anything about morals? I’m a lout with a sword who does what I’m bid. It’s just that I can’t make heads nor tails of how you wizards think.”

Anaht relaxes then. “You will find,” she says, sweeping an arm for him to follow her out of the room, “that if there is a single thing that all wizards think, it is that we agree on nothing.”

In the Archives they find Tar-Meena, harried, drawing one claw down a list of requisitions, muttering to herself. “I need the key to the incinerator,” Anaht announces to the Master Archivist.

Tar-Meena throws Tanis a dubious glance, and speaks to Anaht in Jel, unaware that Tanis can parse it. “You are taking that one? Raminus’s hunter?”

“He was my hunter first,” Anaht sniffs, "and like any good hunter he knows when to be quiet."

With a skeptical lift of the brow ridge, Tar-Meena hands over a jangling ring of keys and returns to her work. Anaht leads him through the darkness and hush of the stacks, all the way to the end of the maze of shelves, to an unassuming heavy door.

More crammed bookshelves, to no one’s surprise. Sealed off from the carefully-controlled environment of the stacks, there is a window letting in the afternoon light, and a large round table scattered with a half-finished card game, books and papers, a mug of cold coffee dregs. It seems this vault of forbidden knowledge serves as a sort of employee break room.

No fires to be found, though, not so much as a reedlight. Like the stacks, this room is only to be lit by spell, with polished steel sconces on the wall to reflect the mage-glow.

“Why’s it called the incinerator?” he asks, drawing his reading glasses from his pocket.

“Yes, Arch-Mage,” Anaht says, taking a posture of mock obeisance. “We've found another treatise on the Black Arts, and we'll throw it straight in the fires.”

On the shelf before him, a veritable buffet of taboo: Necromancer’s Moon, Pathway to Lichdom. A journal purported to be authored by the Wolf Queen Potema. Even a title written in Dunmeris, On the Veneration and Summoning of Ancestor Guardians. The very spell he’d just opened his palm and offered his blood to learn.

And, tacked to one corner of the shelving timbers, a small folio: The Black Arts on Trial, by Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven.

“In the interest of being even-handed. A little joke among the scrivs,” Anaht says by way of explanation, then nudges him aside with her hip. “Now move, you big oaf, and let me look for something.”

He takes the folio with him and settles down at the table. The contents of this inflammatory writ are oft-bandied on the University grounds, but he’s never gotten around to reading it, what with all the… everything else.

While he reads, Anaht waltzes around the room, her tail jewelry jangling, occasionally plucking a book like a choice pear and stacking it on her arm.

“This gra-Kogg makes a lot of sense,” he says, holding a finger to mark his place. “Actually think her arguments were better than this other fella’s, but Traven’s conclusion doesn't consider her at all. Why include the debate, then?”

“Keep reading.” Anaht does not look back, but the tip of her tail shakes with mild amusement.

“Oh,” he says, squinting down at the afterword. “Reckon I ought to have seen that coming.”

“These will get you started.” Anaht drops her books to the table with a heavy thump, and delicately pats the top of the stack. Tanis grumbles; there has to be a dozen of them, and he’s already up to his ears in daedric research and work in the infirmary.

She perches lightly in the chair to his left. “Yes, Master gra-Kogg was a necromancer,” she says, and folds her jeweled claws beneath her chin. “But?”

“But,” he sighs, now seeing the point of that menacing bookpile, “that doesn’t make her wrong. Raminus has me running all over Cyrodiil flushing them out of their dens, but I don’t know a damn thing about how to fight them. Can’t interrupt their casting, can’t tell what they’re calling up, don’t know what they’re after.”

“If you insist on being the Council’s hunting dog, I will not have you go forth unprepared.” She taps the silvery-thin scar on the side of his neck, the one he’d earned while ambushed in Wellspring Grove, collecting wood for his mage’s staff. “So long as Traven invites the necromancers' wrath, we archivists will maintain this bulwark against them.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's all very noble."

She ignores the barb, tucking the books in her striped haversack and foisting it on him to carry. “Now come. Let us go to the King and Queen. You owe me dinner.”

Tanis follows her out the door. "What for?"

She swats at him with her tail. “You think I do all this tutoring for free?”

—

After dinner, he sees Anaht back to the University grounds and makes his way to Luther’s boarding house. Coradri is waiting for him in the common room, bouncing off the walls in her effort to rush him right back out the door.

“Good, you’re already dressed for dinner,” she says, breathless. “We have to get to the Tiber Septim Hotel now.”

“I just fucking— the Tiber? Are you trying to bleed me dry?” He lets himself be towed down the street, then digs in his heels. “The plaza district’s the other way, s’wit.”

“Ugh! This city is so big and stupid,” Coradri says with some venom, and steers him in the opposite direction. “Listen, it’s almost ninth bell and we have to hurry. I might have agreed to a private audience with the High Chancellor on your behalf.”

“It better be on his drake, then.” He looks askance at her— dressed in a billowy silk tunic, soft buckskin trousers, and an embroidered vest. “I see you’ve been helping yourself to my purse.”

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” She dips into a little curtsy. “Can’t show up dressed like some Colovian poacher, can I?”

“You look nice,” he admits grudgingly, and they pass through the gates of the Talos Plaza district.

This part of the city is far more palatial than the Elven Gardens, where they have taken up residence for the past several weeks. The people who stroll the streets are aristocrats by their dress and bearing, and the ancient Ayleid architecture has been well-maintained.

Coradri walks into the sumptuous hotel as if she does this sort of thing all the time. The host identifies them as the Chancellor’s guests, and leads them away from the common dining room to a private balcony overlooking the square.

“Good sir. My lady.” The host drops into a deep bow. “Chancellor Ocato sent a page ahead to inform us that he has been delayed in Council deliberations, but will arrive shortly. He has requested that we bring out the first course while you wait, and a bottle of his favored wine— Tamika’s 415 vintage.”

A serving boy lays out plates of charred fennel and horse carpaccio. The host presents the bottle laid across her arm, then pops the cork in one deft motion and offers it to Tanis.

He takes it, baffled. The porter beams expectantly at him. “Ah, thanks,” he says. “That’ll… be all.”

Coradri erupts into laughter once the servers leave. “You’re supposed to sniff the cork.”

“How d’you know things like that?” Tanis rubs at his temples and stares at the spread before them. “Damn you, scribling. I split a slaughterfish pie with Anaht just before you dragged me here.”

“Tough luck,” Coradri says through a mouthful. “Have at the wine, then. I don’t want any.”

“And I’m already drunk,” he sighs, and pours himself a mug.

“You won’t have to talk much. You were too busy with your studies, so I went to the Elder Council without you. Waved Jauffre’s writ around a lot. Said I was a real Blade. Told them about Brother Martin, even. They won’t send us any legionnaires, I already know that, but I’m not giving up.”

“Fuck me.” Tanis takes a long drink. The wine— there is no other way he can put it— tastes expensive. It blooms at the back of his throat, deep and rich and mellow. “At least the wine’s good.”

“So’s the food,” she says, and reaches for another slice of horsemeat. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

Despite himself, he samples a bite from each platter. “Tell you what, let’s make a pact: after we win the priest his throne, may we never piss him off. Once I see how they live in the White-Gold Tower, I won’t want to go back.”

“Arensha,” she grins. “Do you think we’ll leave for the temple soon?”

“Ah… Raminus wants me to check in on some researchers. They’re excavating a ruin near Cheydinhal. But I can probably slip off after that. We could go there, take the Blue Road back. You getting bored while I’m playing at being a scholar?”

“No. I find plenty to do in this big, stupid city.” She props her chin on her hand and gives him a searching look. “But I miss Brother Martin. Don’t you?”

Tanis narrowly avoids choking on his wine. Just then, Ocato sweeps in, with a trail of attendants behind him, and burbles out apologies while dismissing his retinue with a wave.

The second course, a creamed nettle soup, arrives on the table just as the wizened, willowy Altmer settles into his seat. He greets them graciously and calls for more wine.

Tanis learned his etiquette from frequenting Cyrod merchants; whether it's tea or a full banquet, negotiation will not commence until all parties have sated themselves. Ocato makes polite conversation about the city’s various pleasure gardens and noteworthy watering holes, with Coradri’s occasional interjections to egg him on.

When the final course is cleared— a good two hours later— the real discussion begins. Ocato tents his fingers and looks to Coradri.

“I’ve kept you quite long,” he says, “but of course you didn’t come to the city to drink wine and listen to me blather on, so perhaps we can discuss the matter at hand.”

“Of course we can,” Coradri says. “And I hope the Chancellor will forgive us bringing him out so late, after working so tirelessly in the Council chambers.”

Tanis takes a long draught of wine to stifle a snort. Where does she get this shit?

“Nothing to forgive, of course,” Ocato says with a stately nod. "Your pleas before the Council haven't fallen on hard hearts, I hope you understand."

“The legion can’t be spared, I know, but of course the Chancellor agrees that the safety of the heir is important.”

“The utmost,” Ocato says gravely. “And of course I see the urgency of your request, but the generals simply will not divert the Legion.” He leans in and speaks lowly. “It’s no secret that the ranks have thinned since this crisis began. The Imperial Army has already pulled forces from the provinces, and that may yet cost us. Word has reached us of gates as far-flung as Black Marsh and Skyrim.”

“Of course we understand,” Coradri says. “I mean no insult to the Empire, Chancellor, but Irathi here is a legion in one. Six gates opened outside the cities, you’ll remember, and he closed each of them alone.”

Tanis opens his mouth to protest— Coradri had been with him outside Chorrol and Skingrad— but she stomps on the toe of his boot, the universal sign to shut the fuck up.

“Many of the counts and countesses have written to the Council of your deeds.” Ocato nods in Tanis’s direction. “And of course the whole of Cyrodiil is grateful for your protection. Quite a feat for one man alone.”

“In some ways, it makes him more effective,” Coradri says. “Irathi can move independently. Of course the Elder Council would have responded, we all believe that, but I imagine it would take some time to move enough forces to all six cities?”

“Of course,” Ocato agrees, then shakes his head. “With fourteen of us, the deliberations can go on for— well, I don’t have to tell you, do I? Once again, I do hope you can forgive my late arrival.”

“Of course we do,” Coradri says. “We wait at the Chancellor’s pleasure. The Mythic Dawn may not do the same, but no harm will come to the heir so long as Bruma is defended. And the Hero of Kvatch” —she gestures grandly to Tanis— “is the future Emperor’s own sworn sword.”

“You are the Hero of Kvatch?” Ocato’s eyebrows shoot near up to his hairline. “Of course! Who else could withstand such a trial? Then the Empire has you to thank not only for the security of its cities, but for its heir.”

With his hands under the table, Tanis has been counting off on his fingers. If they say it one more time, he’ll have a perfect round dozen. He likes his lucky numbers.

“Of course,” Ocato says thoughtfully, “as emissaries of the Blades, the council could grant you substantial resources in the army’s stead.”

“As an emissary of the Blades,” Coradri says smoothly, “I can assure you we would put them to good use.”

Ocato clasps his hands together. “It may take some doing— you’ve seen how the Council sessions can drag on— but consider it done. And I expect the Imperial battlemages would be quite interested to know how one man has come to run courses around them.”

A silence falls. Ocato regards Tanis with keen eyes, and Coradri gives him a small secretive smile.

“You… want me to tell you how I close the gates.”

“How you survive them,” Ocato says with a sudden fervor. “How you manage it alone.”

Gold— that’s what Ocato means by substantial resources. Enough for arms, for mounts, for mercenaries, and all he has to do is get to the other end of a story.

Tanis spreads his hands. “Of course.”