#regarding substance abuse in my own family and all that

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Hey! Firstly, I appreciate this! Second, I’d actually be super down to discuss… However, I think I’d have to wait for the stars to align before being able to say anything too in depth on the matter unfortunately- for one because there are some other things I’ve been itching to write about (largely related to the Closes actually!) that I’ve already been struggling to make the time for… But also, I’d want to take the time to review some episodes that I haven’t listened to in a bit (specifically in relation to Nicky) before really being able to say anything with confidence!

That to say, I think I’ll have to put this on the back burner for a bit, but I’ll save this topic for later and definitely make a point to try and return to it!

…That said, if you’ll permit some 2 am speculative rambles…

Regarding the syringes specifically, there is of course at the surface level the most basic visual/physical allusion to hard drugs, namely heroin and otherwise just drugs administered via injection more generally. Many substances have both short and long-term effects on memory as well, with varying degrees of subtlety.

To stray a bit further into speculative territory (without immediate evidence on hand for the time being), it may be the case (and frankly my impression) that Nicky uses the syringes as somewhat of a coping mechanism. This is where my memory is hazy (lol) and I would want to verify some things before saying too much, but I remember getting the impression during Nicky and Taylor’s interactions during the FBI episodes that Nicky uses the syringes quite generously, and may or may not have developed somewhat of a habit of using them for memories that he’d rather do without (like in general, not just in relation to code purple).

The fact that he keeps a syringe on him in and of itself is fairly telling, actually.

Hopefully the relation to the above and actual drug use is reasonably straightforward? I suppose the most important factors being the addictive qualities, the use as a coping mechanism or an out from actually dealing with things (memories in Nicky’s case), and the effects of long-term use on his psyche.

By “effects on his psyche” I mean, firstly, the obvious memory loss and I would bet probably a lot of confusion regarding misplaced memories (makes you wonder about his falling out with the other dads and what actually happened!). In addition to this, however, Nicky’s intense paranoia and distrustfulness also strike me as fairly drug-addict-adjacent qualities. Not to make any definitive statements or over-generalizations on that front!

Of course it makes sense that Nicky would be particularly predisposed to falling victim to such an addiction too. Yes because of the Close family’s relationship with drugs, but also because poor Nicky must be a fucking mess of memories to begin with, what being an amalgamation of the current timeline and a dead one, and all that jazz.

Hmmm you know what it’s late and I don’t know what I’m saying anymore and I think I’m definitely starting to go off topic so actually I’m gonna throw a shot in the absolute dark and guess that he first started using so that he could forget the death of his mother, and leave things at that.

been thinking about this since the start of season 2 but im obsessed with the idea of straight edge Taylor. 4 generations of substance use/abuse cut off by one weird weeb teen. comedy.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Intercity Relations (An Arcane one-shot)

Description: Spending years studying Interstate relations at Piltover's academy, you made both allies and rivals during your studies. Unlucky for you, Cassandra Kiramman hated your guts ever since you first met. The woman ensured you'd never see Ixtal or Shumira but rather serve as an intercity negotiator between Zaun and Piltover.

Pairing: Vander x afab!reader, NSFW, the reader being born and raised in Piltover™ (so expect some cultural differences, mostly Vander teasing the reader very lovingly). Warnings: I did my best to go over all the typos, but some certainly made it through. The entire 'plot' just for the sake of convenience, age difference (reader being around 25, Vander should be pushing 40 - the math doesn't add up, fuck it), should be set one year after Vander became a dad™, so we aren't in any rush, vile language, mentions of violence and substance abuse. Also, unprotected sex - don't be silly, wrap your willy! The smut is very gentle tho, very loving and fluffy. Jayce and Ezreal being supportive golden retriever besties™. Subtle Jayce and Viktor shenanigans (will miss if you squint your eyes). A/N: I wanted to write something for Vander for so so so long, but never got the inspiration. Three years after the release of Arcane, I finally made my long-lasting dream come true. It's also my first smut after a long time, so I hope you won't find it clunky and lame. Enjoy reading! Music inspo: Mainly by Seven (Jung Kook), Love Again (stolen from Ezreal's playlist, performed by Baekhyun), Moonlight by Kali Uchis & The Weekend by BIBI & 88rising. Word count: 21K (and I fucking ooop-) Music playlist: ezreal's bedroom bangers

The politics and schemes of Piltover's creme of society never ceased to surprise you. That position should've been yours. Heimerdinger more or less confirmed it a week ago - you should've been the negotiator between Shurima and Piltover regarding business and foreseeable Noxian invasion. The Yordle quite literally said you were the 'best suited' for such negotiations, that he'd realized it soon after you started your studies. From the get-go, it was supposed to be you who'd end up with this position. Truth be told, however, the council members despised you for all they got. You weren't some high-class Nancy who'd flatter them with expensive gifts and false compliments - but you were fucking good at negotiating. You were the best of your class. It wasn't Kacey who could barely tie her own shoelaces or God forbid Damien, who had trouble remembering even the most basic negotiation principles. It was you.

Studying at the Academy was an honor, you were aware of that. Your family poured everything into securing your spot there, which you were endlessly grateful for. The Academy gave you a better chance at life than you'd otherwise get. Being a middle-class Piltoverian wasn't as bad, per se, but it wasn't a win either. Anyone in your family knew what poverty or starvation was, had money for medicine and nice clothes, quality food, and your flat just outside downtown wasn't bad either, but you didn't plan on taking after your mother's hat shop. Making hats wasn't a bad hobby, both you and your brother enjoyed creating new designs and spending time with momma, but it didn't fulfill you.

It could be around your 10th birthday when you announced you'd like to be a diplomat one day. Your mom and older brother scoffed at it - no way a small child would aim to be a diplomat, right? Most kids wanted to be princesses or singers, they didn't want to deal with interstate relations. But... The phase never went away. It was clear as day that you weren't aiming for anything else as your fifteenth birthday rolled around - you kept up good grades, went to debate classes, and traveled to Holdrum and Kumangra to take part in various debate competitions; you didn't win all of them, but your arguments always left the jurors in awe. When you were leaving high school, it was recommended for you to apply for the Academy's scholarship.

At that moment your mom finally cracked and said 'Fine, let's give it a shot'. The tender was as enjoyable as could be, there were other excellent kids after your spot at the Academy, after all. It took numerous tryouts and evaluations - the Academy first accounted for your past academic achievements, then came assessment interviews, then various intelligence tests, ending it all with a few rounds of debates. Some of those were nearly nerve-crushing. When you were informed of getting the scholarship, you were also informed about all the strict rules you'd have to obey - starting with a strict dress code, frequent one-on-one evaluations with the dean of your faculty, and ending with oddly specific dorm and library rules.

During the matriculation, you'd meet your best friend for the few following years - he came fashionably late (presumably sleeping in), barging into the dead-silent hall with his clothes hastily put on, his hair a fucking mess. As the boy stood on the stairway (looking like a deer in the headlights), the rector stuttered, watching the latecomer with matching intensity. Leaning over to the boy, you'd grab his sleeve and force him to sit next to you. Honestly, you liked Jayce ever since you first laid your eyes on him. If there was a definition of conventionally attractive, Jayce was it - hazel colored eyes, a bright smile full of straight teeth, clean-shaven face, a perfect haircut that was taken care of (gell and everything), and built like a fucking mountain with his 6'7 in height, as you'd learn later. His facial features were very pleasurable to look at. As you said - Jayce was the 'it'.

"I really thought this ceremony starts at 10 a.m... Two weeks from now." - The man mumbled to you, putting his bag down next to his seat. As he leaned closer to you over, the smell of some nice and surely very expensive cologne tingled in your nose. "They changed it last week on a whim, probably to avoid the matriculation overlapping with Progress Day. Wouldn't know about it if I wasn't moved into dorm already." "Makes enough sense. Did I miss something important?" "Something something, the great future, Piltover, something something, you are our new hope. Something along these lines." - You repeated, chuckling at yourself. Your brother always told you you were fucking horrendous at making friends, but the latecomer seemed to appreciate your sense of humor. Smirking at you, he licked his lips and offered you his palm under the table.

"Name's Jayce Talis." - The guy whispered, feeling as your palm slipped into his. His skin was nicely warm and so soft. A rich Piltie, you assumed. - "What's yours?" "Y/N Y/L/N." - Whispering back, you shook hands, still grinning at one another. - "Hi." "Oh, doesn't your family run a hat shop or something? Mrs. Kiramman loves that place to death, had to endure a fashion show of her and her daughter's hats tailored according to the latest fashion trends in Ixtal." - Jayce wondered, clearly memorizing the lane by heart.

"Yeah, I helped make these. My mom runs it. I was supposed to take over the shop when she'd feel like she couldn't do it anymore." - You explained swiftly, completely forgetting why you two were sitting in the hall. - "You know councilor Kiramman? The Cassandra Kiramman?" "Mhm." - The Jayce guy nodded, showing you dimples in his cheeks. He was getting hotter by the second. - "Also know the dean." "The dean?" - You squirmed, shooting him an amazed look. - "Are you like a child of some super-important politician?" "No. I just know how to make good childhood friends." "Geez. I had to fight for a way in." "My mom had been dead set on my future since day one. Surely, if Cait was a few years older, they'd even arrange our marriage." - Jayce scoffed, turning his eyes to the dean, a Yordle named Heimerdinger. - "How did you fight your way in? Gladiator style, cage match, blood, sand, and everything?" - He muttered, making you snicker as you pretended to listen to the speech. The matriculation had almost two hours of runtime, so you still had an hour and a half ahead of you.

"More of a streetfight style - who'd beat up the most kids to pulp won the scholarship." "Sounds way more exciting than just getting in because you have a rich friend." "I don't think that's the case." - With a smile, you bumped his rib with your elbow. - "Councilor Heimerdinger doesn't seem to be the type to just let anyone study here. We're Piltover's future, aren't you listening to his words? There's gotta something in that noggin' of yours." "I don't think you'd be the type to beat kids into pulps either. Actually, you look like someone I'd love to be friends with. Truthfully, I don't know anyone else inside the Academy, which terrifies me. I'm not a rich kid and I'm not good at talking to these rich assholes." "Didn't you say you're tight with the Kirammans?" "Caitlyn is anything but a rich asshole. She runs her mouth faster than her brain, bless her soul. Sometimes, she blows Mrs. Kiramman out of the water, leaving me speechless. If I were to talk to her mother like this, my mom would lock me up in a cellar until I'd apologize." "Your mom isn't like..." "No." - Jayce ended the discussion categorically. Since he didn't seem to like the topic, you hummed and nodded. "For your information, I think I'd be able to beat up that kid." - Pointing at a veiny, super-skinny ginger with glasses sitting two rows in front of you. - "... But I'm keener on logic and words, you got me there. Nonetheless, I'll take your words as a compliment, Talis. I'd like to... Be friends, I mean." "Lunch after?" - Jayce asked simply, pulling out a paper and a pen on his desk. First, you were concerned; was he about to take notes? Surely not, right? Then, he looked over at you with one of the most devilish grins you'd seen until that day. - "And tick-tack-toe now?" "God, you're already my best friend, Talis." - Without hesitation, you started to draw the playing board, sticking your tongue out of your mouth due to sheer concentration.

As promised, the two of you would set out to have lunch after the assembly, talking about everything and nothing. Talis was a great company - charming, funny, witty, and handsome. What he saw in you? No idea, but the two of you clicked right away. Even after years, you couldn't decipher what Jayce saw in you. The field of your research and studies were as different as could be, so you usually didn't dwell too much on such topics. Of course, you asked 'How are the studies going?' but it was never the centerpiece of your conversation. While you dealt with human relations, Jayce was a scientist, working with some miraculous blue stone (no idea what that was about). It only took a week to realize you'd found the best friend for the few following years. On the very second day, Talis showed you around his workshop, designating it as your hangout spot outside the faculty - it was a small maisonette with an enormous balcony and a very tiny bathroom. The upper floor was holding a bed and a couch. Since it also had a small fridge, you could just buy some beers and snacks for late-night study sessions and screw the dorm.

This friendship seemed fishy. People like Jayce Talis (attractive, genius, and charming) usually didn't seek company with the likes of you. Piltover was just a rat race, people climbing on the social ladders, striving for a better life. Jayce, on the other hand, didn't seem to be that guy. It seemed like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck. Also, Caitlyn Kiramman liked you, ensuring she'd like you even if you'd crawl out of the deepest part of the Undercity. Just as Jayce informed you, Cait's mouth ran much faster than her brain. You found this part of Kiramman endearing. Even though Talis sent you nothing but good vibes to you, it was hard to just accept this pure form of friendship. It took him around a week and a half to truly convince you he isn't hanging out with you for some insane, out-of-this-world reason. The guy simply liked being around you. That was also the first time Jayce sang and danced around you while studying in his condo - he was an awful singer.

Keeping the promise, you'd gather early the following Monday, ready to celebrate Progress Day. The festival was kicked off with yet another of Heimer's speeches (of which you and Talis appropriately made fun; nothing mean, just stupid jokes here and there). The rest of the day was in your hands - and dear God, you had a lot to wander through. Various attractions from all around the world, newest inventions, doubtful souvenirs, and snack stands... You simply loved the Progress Day. As you absentmindedly licked on your ice-creams, a boy stopped you. Neither of you could know that this particular man will soon be the last member of your party.

While also being very good-looking, the boy couldn't be more different from Jayce. He was around your age and based on his uniform, he was too a student at the Academy. His blonde hair was stylized perfectly, his blue eyes were piercing, you'd swear you hadn't seen clearer skin before and his facial features resembled those of a sculpture or a painting. He'd been considerably shorter than Jayce, but equally as handsome... Also, he was visibly distressed.

"Uh, hi you two. Hi. How you doin'?." - The boy greeted you, shaking your hand loosely as he fidgeted around, looking over his shoulders. You were pretty positive the stranger didn't even look you in the face before gripping your hand. "Hi?" - You asked, furrowing at him. He'd been shaking your hand for over a minute, still searching for something in the crowd... Or someone. - "Do you need something?" "I'm in a bit of trouble. Hi." - The boy jumped over to shake Jayce's hand frantically. - "Could you help me? It won't take long." "What can we do for you?" - Jayce asked. You've been both grinning by that point. The boy's behavior was funny. "I'm trying to run away from my blind date. She's been going on a tangent about how we 'belong together even in the heavens' and that I must be the guy her 'oracle saw in the tarot cards'."

"That sounds scary." - Jayce admitted, carefully twisting his palm from the stranger's grasp. The blonde boy, however, didn't seem to notice as he still looked around for his blind date. - "What do you say, Y/N? I'd be pretty scared if you pulled out a stunt like that." "I was just about to get to what my oracle said about you, Talis, but I mean... It sounds like the start of a horror story. I'm down to whatever." "Geez, you guys are the best and I mean that. My name's Ezreal, by the way."

When Ez piped down a bit and wasn't searching for the mysterious oracle girl, he was good company. As you walked through the main square and adjacent streets, he explained that he was studying history at the Academy and that you were in the same year. His parents were archeologists who traveled all over Runeterra so he was often left in Piltover under the care of his uncle, famous professor Lymere. That's how Ezreal got into the Academy anyway - quoting Ezreal, 'it definitely wasn't his intellectual prowess'. The guy was in awe when Jayce also invited Ezreal to his convo to share some beers while waiting for the fireworks to go off. Even though he seemed to be a social butterfly, Ezreal admitted people didn't stick around for long, often calling him 'annoying' or 'difficult to be around'; Jayce's invitation genuinely moved him. That's how you met your two best friends in the whole wide world.

The three of you were so different that you completed each other. You've been the most grounded in reality - studying political situations and people gave you a good insight into the world around you. If the two boys felt like arguing with someone, you were their person - you could go on for hours, debating like your life depended on it, beating them with facts grounded in reality.

Ezreal, on the other hand, was the dreamer and romantic. Boy, oh boy, his romantic endeavors were something - each week, you'd have to commiserate and listen to him obsessing over a different girl. You and Jayce would be the first to know all the details about his latest miserable breakup and future plans. He'd been prone to dramatize and exaggerate. Also, while being street-smart and intelligent (to a degree), Ezreal could come across as very naive and innocent. It was fun watching him not having a clue about his romantic interest's innuendos or hints, ignoring it all like the sweet summer child he was. You'd seen a lot of his romantic failures, if you had to be honest - the boy often invited you and Jayce for hangouts with his newest discovery (secretly hoping to set you up), and at times, you had to do your best not to start hysterically laughing right into his face. You loved Ezreal.

Jayce was the scientist of your group - he'd constantly lived in the world of wonder, progress, and inventions, constantly building towards a better future. His grind never stopped for anything. You and Ezreal would listen to his drunken rambles about how he'll change the world one day - you liked to believe Jayce. His dreams sounded nice. Despite Ezreal's best hopes, the two of you never hit it off - there was never a spark of romantic interest between you. Jayce often joked he didn't have time for romance, but if he would, he'd definitely ask you out - at that, you'd laugh and say 'Stop keeping your damn hopes up, this ain't happening, Talis'. Anytime you'd bump into something you didn't understand or felt emotionally vulnerable and wanted to share with someone, Jayce became your go-to person. His condo became the party's designed hangout spot, so you'd spend most of your Academy days there, watching over Piltover with dumb smiles.

All and all, you couldn't ask for better friends.

It was also this duo that expected your acceptance letter with batted breath alongside you. As usual, you'd barge into his condo. The two were talking before Ezreal raised his eyes to you frantically waving the letter around. Before you barged in, Ezreal was leaning over Jayce's shoulder (talking about Rachel... Again) and watched as the scientist connected wires in his latest contraption.

You and Jayce graduated earlier this summer, actually. Jayce, as you expected, finished his studies with a red diploma. You'd expect him to move out of Piltover, and work on his tech in collaboration with scientists from the other states - to your surprise, the man chose to work under the science faculty of the Academy. Ezreal, on the other hand, had to retake two classes - maths and geography of Runeterra... Despite all odds, this was a major success in your books. He'd been expecting to retake at least four. "It's here, bozos." - You announced, demanding their full attention. Ezreal straightened up, walking closer to you - Jayce just turned around in his chair and waited for you to start reading. "I'm sure it's Shurima. Like, 100% positive. Heimer talked about you enthusiastically last week, Y/N. I've heard it all." - Coach Ezreal mumbled supportively while walking behind you to massage your shoulders. As he patted your shoulder, you nodded at his words and let out a huge sigh before tearing the envelope outside. You had to be the next Piltoverian diplomat. It had to be you. It was always supposed to be you.

"Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N." - The letter started. - "It is a pleasure to welcome you on board our organization as the newest foreign service specialist. That's a good sign, no?" - You took a breath in, looking at both the boys; your fingers were trembling, breath shallow. "Jesus, don't stop in the middle of the letter!" - Ez exclaimed with a furrow. "Just go on." - Jayce mumbled, hanging on your lips. "Due to exceeding the number of current foreign specialists in the field, we are pleased to announce your new position as the official negotiator between the two states of Piltover and Zaun... Your accommodation in the state of Zaun will be... In case of unclarities, please contact..." - The blood in your veins froze as you read more and more. - "... Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Oh no..." - Ezreal sighed softly, his expression sagging as he watched tears forming in your eyes. You could barely breathe, your fingers shaking, your heart beating rapidly. You've never felt more betrayed in your life - this should've been your fucking moment to spread your wings and leave Piltover. You were supposed to explore the world just like you and Ezreal dreamed. You've been supposed to take part in negotiations between nations and... - "It's okay." "It's not okay!" - Both the boys' hearts broke upon seeing you break down, squealing at the top of your lungs. - "I've worked so fucking hard and everything..." - Jayce offered you an empty bottle so you could break it by throwing it on the ground, letting the anger out. It was better to clean up some mess than see you in ruins. - "... And that bitch, that old foul hag, that fucking snake!" - (Another bottle) - "I've always known she wouldn't fucking let me go. The moment I met her during my evaluations, I knew she hated me." - (Another bottle) - "To her bad fucking luck, Heimerdinger liked me, so she couldn't just get rid of me." - Your hand stretched out for another bottle, but Jayce stopped you. "I don't think she dislikes you..." - Talis approached you from behind, carefully massaging your shoulder. - "I just think something's going on in Zaun. The council would have someone who lived here their whole life and can trust as their diplomat, rather than someone who's not oriented in the problems and dynamics."

"Hey, I gotta repeat that geography class just because I looked at the professor funny. No one even wants to employ me." - Ezreal spoke slowly and softly, smiling at you. Grinning at his statement, you started to dry out your tears. "You gotta repeat it because the professor found out you're fooling around with his daughter." "Ehh... Maybe, but that's not the point." - Ezreal giggled, smoothing your shoulder. - "Listen, Y/N, you're the smartest and prettiest girl I know. You're able to inspire people, talk them through everything, and argue for hours when it comes down to it. And... The Undercity's not that bad, really. I know a few dudes selling fun stuff. I can introduce you to some of them to get you started?" "Ezreal..." - It was a high-pitched whine as you hugged him, letting out a long breath. His words made you emotional, moving you until you felt a fuzzy warmth spreading inside your chest.

"But... If I'm the prettiest girl you know, why didn't you ask me out yet?" - You joked, giggling. Being transferred to the Undercity wasn't all bad. It had its advantages - you'd stay close to your family and best friends. You didn't have to hope you'd bump into each other once a year, you could see them anytime you wanted. You'd be on hand in case your ma or bro needed help with the hat shop. You didn't have to leave your old life behind. "Because I respect you too much to let you fool around with someone like me." - The blonde sighed, hugging you back. Jayce was already on cleaning duty, brewing you all a cup of hot cocoa. It was exactly what you needed, in his expert opinion. As usual, Jayce was right. "... It's because you know I'd see right through your bullshit, right?" "... Yeah, you got me there, girl."

Two weeks later:

The Undercity was definitely not what you'd expect. First things first, it smelled horrible - when you talked to the lady who was introducing you to the issues at hand, she warned you about the possibility of wearing a mask. The Grey (fumes from factories located in the Underbelly) was making the air heavy. So far, so good; while the place reeked, it never got too bad. Secondly, the people didn't cut your head off when meeting you. The Trenchers were indifferent when it came to you; it was clear as day you weren't native to Zaun, but they didn't care much. The number of Enforcers traveling to Zaun was actually quite impressive. You've been worried you'd have to fight for your life, but just like Ezreal promised, Zaun wasn't that bad. Thirdly, your newly assigned condo and monthly payment were good. It gave you enough financial freedom to be fully self-sufficient, which felt simply wonderful. People from the agency acted respectfully towards you, putting weight on Jayce's words; maybe it was a last-minute decision to assign you to Zaun. Maybe, something was brewing on the horizon.

Your assigned informant from the agency told you to ask for Sheriff Grayson of the Piltover's Enforcers. If she knows who's the authority in Lanes, she could introduce you to them and get you accustomed. The problem with Zaun was simple - the city wanted independence from Piltover. If you wanted proof, all you had to do was to take the last riot into account. Your job was to secure a fool-proof plan that would benefit both parties while not degrading either. Well, with Piltover's attitude towards Zaun, that ask turned into a whole another pain in the ass, you realized fairly soon-ish.

Sheriff Grayson turned out to be a reasonable, charming woman with a lot of wisdom regarding both sides of the conflict; she referred to someone named 'Vander', the man who had a reputation and respect among the Zaunites. Ezreal wasn't aware of anyone named Vander, but he knew a black-market trader named Benzo. The blonde swore that if anyone knew Vander, it would be his dealer. "You look like you're acclimatizing fairly well." - The boy brought up as you locked the door to your condo, leaving to see Benzo. - "How is Zaun treating you?" "Hm... It's not as bad as I'd assume, no one tried stabbing me so far." - It was a bad joke, but Ez chuckled nonetheless. Walking down the stairs, your elbow mindlessly entwined with his as usual. You were happy Ezreal came to visit you in the Lanes. Throughout the last week, you've only talked to Sheriff Grayson and your sweet land lady who also had dementia.- "I'm just... Lonely. The two of you are living on the other side of Sun Canal. Getting over that damn bridge is hard, even for a diplomat. That said, the folk are more or less nice around here. They don't welcome me with arms wide open, but they're polite so far."

"Sounds like you'll get used to living here before you know it. You'd get along even with someone as demonic as old prof Lymere, on my honor." "Your uncle sounds like a tough nut. I appreciate the trust, though, young Mr. Lymere. Big preach." "After you, m'lady Y/L/N." - Ezreal exclaimed dramatically, holding the front door open for you; he even bowed, having you giggle under your breath.

Seeing Zaun through Ezreal's eyes was fascinating. The blonde definitely spent a lot of time here, knowing most of the small shops and dark alleys you wouldn't dare to go to alone. As you walked through the Lanes, he told you the history of it all; how Zaun came to be, what were its most historically significant locations, and a bit about their culture (Ezreal described it as 'pretty grim' and moved on). Benzo's pawn shop was located just off the main street - it wasn't in any grim alley where you wouldn't go in a million years or anything like that - it was a pretty nice place if you'd have to be honest. Sure, most of the goods were giving 'not acquired legally' vibes, but that wasn't your jurisdiction, so you didn't bother commenting on it. Benzo himself wasn't a bad person either, you liked him. After Ezreal introduced you, the atmosphere even shifted to a lighthearted meeting of two acquaintances. A small boy was slacking around the pawn shop, goggling his enormous brown eyes at you, but Benzo soon sent him away.

"At least, he'll have something to tell the other nuisances about." - Benzo sighed, clearly referring to other children growing up in the Lanes. - "Young Mr. Lymere. What do I owe the pleasure?" "I'm not here for business today, Benzo. My friend needs a bit of help." "Ah, really? And what can I do for the young lady? Anything particular she's looking for?" "Not something, but someone. She's not... Interested in buying, if you will." - Ezreal explained as he played with various trinkets lying around the shop. You didn't want to talk until you'd be introduced, so you simply stood around and watched the exchange. - "Y/N was sent here by the council." - In that instant, Benzo's demeanor switched to hostile for a bit. "Ah, wonderful." - The man gritted with a forced smile. - "What do these jerks need?" "I'm here to handle diplomatic communications between Piltover and Zaun. Seems like the council finally considered Zaun's declaration of independence, the one that happened a year ago. I'm here to ensure things go as smoothly as they can. I mean no harm."

Benzo watched you with a furrow, thinking about his answer. Ezreal leaned into the counter with a mischievous smile on his lips. - "Y/N is one of the best people I've met, Benzo, I can vouch for her if my word means anything to you." "Sorry if I came across as an old bastard, the folk often call me one." - The pawnshop laughed, offering you his palm. - "Name's Benzo, young lady. I'm the owner of this pawnshop, as Mr. Lymere surely informed you. Nice to know someone cares."

Yeah, only if you cared voluntarily, huh? You accepted the handshake nonetheless, offering him the sweetest smile you mustered. - "Y/N Y/L/N, call me Y/N. Nice to meet you, Benzo." "See, I told you, you'll be fine anywhere." - Ezreal smiled, nudging your side. "Who's the poor soul you're looking for?" "Sheriff Grayson referred me to someone going by 'Vander'. Said he's a geezer with one hell of a reputation around here. If there would be anyone these folk listen to, she said, it's Vander. Ever heard of him? I'd like to go over what the people could want so I could relay it to the council and start with the negotiations."

"If I know that old rascal? Ha!" - Benzo started laughing again. You liked him more and more by the minute. - "Everyone around here does. He runs a pub, you had to cross it on your way here. The Last Drop, does that ring any bells?" "Oh, yeah!" - Both you and Ezreal nodded in unison. The main pub in the largest square of the Lanes, a local district filled to the brim with former black market operations as Ezreal informed you just half an hour prior. - "Looked welcoming." "You bet, two lovebirds like you won't find a better place to make out anywhere around here." "Oh! That's not... You got it wrong!" - You exclaimed, falling into a fit of wholehearted laughter. This was the first time you laughed during your stay in Zaun - you laughed so hard your belly hurt, tears streaming down your face. "I know we've been over this, but this genuinely hurts my feelings, Y/N." - Ezreal muttered, fighting laughter himself. - "Anyway, thanks for the help, Benzo."

"You ever go there to have a cold one by any chance?" - You wondered, wiping the tears, calming down. Each time people assumed you and Ezreal were a thing, this was your reaction - breaking down, laughing so hard you cried. - "I've got the feeling I'll be spending a lot of time there." "I'll see you around, Y/N." "Can't wait!" - As the door closed behind you, Ezreal nudged your side again before letting you entwine your elbow with his. It helped you feel safe, especially in places such as this.

The Last Drop. Entering the pub, you got a feeling this is precisely the place where everything goes down. This was your first time being in a place such as this, so you looked around with batted breath while Ezreal led you to a table, nodding at a few people here and there. It genuinely felt like the lair of all the sin and alcohol. People played pool, some sulked around drinking, dancing in front of a small jukebox, playing cards or arm wrestling, laughing, and joking around. Each game was played for a bid, this pub was gamble-core galore. While you never even tried playing poker for money, Ezreal genuinely seemed to be acquainted with some of the Last Drop's patrons, nodding their way. These people felt different than those who you met until that moment... More alive, more fun, nicer. Well, until a skirmish broke out in front of the bar; a 6'8 man with chemtech augmentations punched another dude square in the face, resulting in both of them being dragged out by other patrons.

And that was when you first saw him.

He'd been talking with a woman sitting at the bar, snickering at her remark while absentmindedly polishing pints. The man, whoever he fucking was, looked like a sculpture. First, there was the smile - the mischievous spark in it, something vaguely boyish in his eyes as he looked at the woman, his watery-colored eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Secondly, you admired his facial structure. There was something so... Good-looking about his jaw and small, nicely shaped lips. You liked it when he smiled and immediately started imagining if you could make him laugh. Your heart skipped a beat upon that imagination. Thirdly, his hair and beard were visibly kept in good shape, but overgrown; it looked good on him, though, which was a look not a lot of men could pull off. And fucking lord, he was so well built. Broad shoulders, strong forearms, nicely shaped waist that begged to be hugged by your arms. Piltover didn't have men like similar to this kind, you were sure of that - he appeared to be gruff, but the mischievous smile told you otherwise. His posture and body screamed dominance, but his eyes whispered safety.

There was no doubt in your mind that the mysterious bartender was probably twice your age and that you definitely shouldn't be thirsting over him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't look away from him - the longer you watched him, the more deranged scenarios devoured your mind. Witch each piece of clothing disappearing, your mouth felt drier, the boiling hot blood traveling right between your thighs. It was impossible to look away from him. His presence ensured you wouldn't pay attention to anything else as you sat there, gravitating towards him like a moth to a lamp.

Each move he made was like cinema to you and each time his lips moved as he talked to the lady, butterflies started tingling in your belly. You wanted him to talk to you this way, was it a far cry to imagine you'd catch his attention? What were you thinking? He was a Trencher, you were a Piltie; two utterly different worlds. This guy probably wouldn't be interested in you, would he? Well, a girl can dream...

"Ezreal to Y/N. Are you okay?" - Ezreal bumped into your shoulder, making you finally look away from the bartender. Clearing your throat, trying not to appear as a flustered deer in the headlights, you looked at the spunky kid standing next to your table, seemingly getting your order. Her expression was unreadable and judging by her age and the bruise under her eye, she wasn't working here voluntarily. Who was she? "Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What's the best drink you have?" - You tried sounding at least a bit excited, but the kid just pointed to the menu and walked away. - "She seems friendly." "Probably got herself into some sort of trouble and got punished by helping that Vander guy, don't take it too personally." - Ezreal muttered, watching as you got up. - "Where are you going?" "I'll the bartender about the best drink… And about Vander." "And will you at least get a beer for me?" - Ez cried out as you disappeared into the crowd showing him thumbs, too busy staring at the mysterious man to look back at Ez.

If you weren’t mesmerized by the bartender, your shoulder wouldn’t bump into a very imposing woman who, at the time, played pool with her buddies. If you hadn’t bumped into her, she wouldn’t spill and break her pint on the ground. If her beer hadn’t been spilled, she wouldn’t turn around to take a good look at you. Upon the sound of shattering glass, the pub fell silent for a second, everyone turning their attention to the two of you. Before Ezreal got the time to get off his ass to get you outta there, the woman shoved you to the ground; so harshly that your head hit the wooden flooring. The bartender was forgotten as you grunted in pain, picking yourself off the ground; you didn’t have to bother, though. The woman gripped the hem of your jacket, making you tiptoe as she forcibly invaded your space - even though you didn’t consider yourself to be the smallest bean in the room, her physical build definitely overshone yours. She watched you like fucking prey, ready to kick or punch your teeth in.

“The fuck do you think you doin’, huh?” - The woman gritted through her teeth, biting down on a toothpick. - “You're not local, are you? Fucking Pilties, thinking you own everything 'round here, actin' like nothin' can happen to you. Guess what, princess.” “It was an accident. Put her down so we can talk this through. Sevika, c'mon.” - The friend she played against was trying to get you outta there. Even though it was a nice sentiment from the stranger, Sevika scoffed as her palms pulled you even closer.

Holy shit. Were you about to get your soul kicked out of you just two weeks after moving into Zaun? Had to be some sort of speed run record, you were positive.

“As if. Pilties gotta learn their lesson, just like we learned ours back on the bridge. Better if this pretty little thing learns it soon on.” “I’ll buy you another round, how 'bout that?” - You choked out with trouble, catching her palms in yours as you did your best to defuse the situation. Ezreal was standing just next to you now, ready to get into a fight if it would get to it. The boy, bless him, being a sweet summer child was still willing to fight for your dignity and honor. - “I’m sure we can talk about it.” “That’s all you, fucking Pilties - all talk and no walk. Zaun isn’t for people like you. You don’t belong here, sweetcheeks, you ruined our lives and now,…” - With each word, Sevika brought you closer, tightening the grip on your t-shirt. Just as you started to feel her breath on your cheeks, someone else stepped into the spectacle - someone's palm circled around her forearm, forcing her to put you back down.

It was him, the man you were mesmerized with. The bartender. The tender expression and feelings in his eyes were replaced with an unpleasant furrow directed towards Sevika. Now that he was closer, you realized he was even more handsome than you assumed. His head was cocked towards his shoulder, his brows knitted together, veins on his palm and forearm prominent due to the force he applied on Sevika's grip.

“'t’s enough.” - The man said quietly and slowly, the tension immediately defusing into thin air as your feet touched the ground. - “‘t was an accident, nothin’ more. Lass said she’ll buy you a new round, so I don’t see any problem 'ere. This is not how we welcome people 'round here.” "Old man, did you already forget..." - Sevika gasped for air, the muscles on her arm tensing as she got ready to pack a hefty punch to the man. The bartender, however, remained cool as a cucumber - simply stared at her, not flinching out of the way. "Of all the folk 'round, I'm the one who remembers everythin'. Also, you should remember it's unwise to threaten the guy who pours the drinks 'round here." "Let's get you some air, you." - Sevika's companion mutters, tugging her towards the door. - "Let's go for a walk, c'mon."

"Hey." - When Sevika was out of the door, the life in the pub started moving again - people got back to their gambling, arm wrestling, and talking, seemingly forgetting about anything even happening. The bartender was now turned to you, patting your shoulder gently while leading you towards the bar. - "You alrite?" "I'm whole, which is better than I anticipated. Sorry for causing trouble during your shift, though. Must be a lot as it is." "Huh?" - That smirk... His damned smirk made you forget about who you've been and what you were supposed to be doing in the Last Drop. - "Trouble? Sevika? Don't take it personally. I know that can be hard to do, but still. Local folk are usually much nicer."

"I've noticed." - You nodded, flushing simply because he was talking to you. Christ, you were down bad, almost starting to feel like Ezreal. - "Been living here for the past two weeks. You people are... Indifferent. But better than you being hostile." "Indifferent?" - The guy repeated after you, sending you a small, warm smile. - "That's a first. Never been called indifferent before. That a compliment?" "Depends on if you'd like to take it as such, I suppose." - His expression made you smile back at him, heart pounding in your chest. "Y'know what? I'll take it as one." - His chuckle almost sent you spiraling, making you smile at him dumbfoundedly. - "So, what can I do you for?"

"I would want a beer for that gentleman over there." - Pointing over at Ezreal, the boy just waved in your direction. - "And a drink for me." "Ordering 'a drink' doesn't narrow it enough I'm afraid, sweetheart." "What's your best drink, then?" - You wondered, enjoying the atmosphere and banter you had going on. "Do you like surprises?" "I can do without them." - You sighed in defeat. - "I can make an exception, though. One-time ocassoon, tho, don't take your chances." "Wouldn't dream of it."

While he mixed the drinks, you were keeping him company. Letting the banter flow, he started asking you why you moved to Zaun, whether you're suffering or enjoying yourself, and how you like the pub... Small talk every bartender makes to appease their customers, more or less. Even though it was this basic, you couldn't look away from him - where he moved, your eyes followed. When he smiled, you mimicked. Whenever he was closer than a foot, your heart skipped a beat. He smelled so nice, so earthy, like wood, jasmine and oranges.

"Oh, by the way." - You reminded yourself as he finished the drink, facing away from you to keep it as 'a surprise'. Uh-hm was all you got in response. - "I'm here to meet someone named Vander? Rings a bell?" "I'd assume so. What do ya need of that old bastard, sweetheart?" "I'm here to talk about possible future negotiations between Piltover and Zaun. The council wants to grant this region greater rights in exchange for peace." "You're a diplomat?" - The man stopped, bright pink cocktail umbrella hanging between his fingers. The atmosphere seemed to fade away while he processed the information, his smile disappearing.

"Listen, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here to make sure everything goes smoothly and help as much as I can. Vander isn't in any sort of danger. Sheriff Grayson referred to him as someone who'd be in a position to make demands for the Zaunites." "You're pretty young for a diplomat's what I meant to say, sweetheart. Don't take it the wrong way. One'd assume such a young thing would have other things on her mind." "You know him or not?" - You asked, amused by his explanation. "'s me. Vander, pleasure's on my side."

Oh shit. Oh fuck. So this was Vander. The former 'Hound of the Underground', as Grayson informed you. This beautiful man, this absolute spectacle... Was the guy you'd spend hours and hours with talking about political nonsense? This both excited and worried you. It was a curse in disguise. How were you supposed to even start talking to him? The moment you'd be alone, your mind would fill with very inappropriate fucking thoughts. "Oh, snap." "Haven't heard anything more Piltoverian in a long time. Well... How 'bout you?" "What about me?" "What's your name, sweetheart? Wouldn't mind calling you names, but when we get to business, I wouldn't wanna come across as immature... God forbid rude." - The way his tongue deliberately stretched 'business' between his lips made you swoon, gasping for air in hopes Vander wouldn't notice (he definitely noticed).

"Y/N, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. Pleasure's on my side." "Hey now, that's my line." - With a chuckle, Vander put down a cocktail in front of you. It was dark blue, frothy with crushed ice, decorated by a piece of orange and that pink cocktail umbrella you'd seen earlier. - "Look at the beauty." - Vander smiled, pushing it a bit closer. No idea what he was talking about (whether you or the cocktail), but your heart skipped a beat. Again. - "The best drink I can make. Hope it'll taste good. "How much?" "Hm?" - Vander asked, watching as you pulled out your wallet. "For the drinks. How much?" "Leave it, 's on the house." "No way, cowboy. How - much?" "Take it as compensation for Sevika's tantrum earlier, doll." - Fucking hell, this nickname almost gave you a heart attack. - "If you keep on flatterin' me, ya not payin' a single dime." "Unprofessional. Immature. Rude." - You gritted and passed a few Valors on the bar. - "Take the tip, at least." "'Aight. Can say no to that. If you'd want another drink or anythin' else, just wave at me. I'll be there in no time. Deal, sweetheart?" "What a smooth criminal you are, Vander. Thank you kindly." - As you took both drinks and walked back to your table, you couldn't see the smile freeze on Vander's face as you called him a 'smooth criminal'. Did you know? Had Greyson mentioned his impressive portfolio that still haunted him to that day? The Hound of the Underground. That's how people knew him, why they respected him.

"So, did we find the guy, or..." "Right there. The bartender. That's our guy." "Oh... Wow." - Ezreal leaned his elbow into the chair, eyeing Vander properly. - "Seems decent enough of a man. Expected someone older, though." "He's very nice and very polite." "Heh. Sure. Nice and polite." - Ezreal snickered, looking at you. You really had no fucking clue, did you? About how assertive you were, about how lovely the features of your face were. On the occasions, he and Jayce got you into a tight corner and you got flustered (which happened rarely) and you became a stuttering, annoyed mess, you were one of the most beautiful girls Ezreal had laid eyes on. And no, he wasn't saying it out of chivalry or because you two were best friends - it was because you were best that he pulled his head out of his ass for once and behaved the best he could. Back when you got the letter? Ezreal meant each word.

Collaborating with Vander actually wasn't as bad as you worried it'd be. With each meeting, you'd swoon harder and harder but managed to pull your head out of your ass to focus on the responsibilities at hand. In the beginning, Vander did his best to inform you about how things are and go in Zaun so you'd be accommodated better. Usually, he'd either invite you before he'd open the pub or reserve you a spot at the bar, where you'd talk about points that started coming up over time - like Enforcer oppression, increasing drug usage, and inadequate means for children to reach at least basic education. His points and observations were reasonable and understandable.

When he wouldn't be talking about business with you, as he settled on calling it, your mind would be consumed with him as he rambled about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you wouldn't even listen to him, you'd simply sip on your drink and let his deep voice intoxicate your brain. His smell, God almighty, his fucking smell. Over time, you've become mesmerized with the details. Vander throwing the tea towel over his broad shoulder, polishing the bar, the muscles on his back dancing in unison. How his fingers ruffled his hair. His smile when he greeted patrons and regulars. How he bit on his lower lip when he thought of a response. How he smoothed his beard when you said something out of pocket... So many details. You loved watching him like a stage play, especially when he served other guests. Did he know? He must've known - he'd send you a knowing grin each time your fingers brushed over the document you've been working on. Vander even went as far as figuring out which nickname you liked the most. Seeing as you shrugged and stuttered each time he'd call you a doll, it became his most used word.

Was he this attentive to all the other female guests? You couldn't tell. You liked watching him work, yes, but you weren't listening in on their conversation. Was it a formality, due to occupation, a game or did he mean it when he occasionally flirted with you? Some compliments Vander came up with left you speechless. He was the man to notice subtle wardrobe changes and make-up experimentations, mainly because you dressed differently than 90% of the local population. He'd be the first to comment on phrases 'so Piltoverian it hurt'. When it got late enough at the Last Drop and you'd be tipsy enough, Vander got daring enough to compliment your smile, saying it always 'lit up his entire day'. This man knew how to run his fucking mouth, sending you into spirals each time he'd whip out a compliment.

What he was hesitant about, however, was touching you - in moments when he stopped paying attention, his hand would slip on your shoulder blades as he watched you writing into the document. You never commented on it, you loved it when he touched you - it sent a heat wave through your entire body, making your breath hitch in your throat and push your thighs close together. As soon as he saw you looking at his palm, it would be gone from your back, leaving you craving more.

Benzo became one of your best friends in the Undercity, you had to admit. He had his oddities, but he'd welcome you inside his shop whenever you dropped for a visit. Ekko, the young boy you've met earlier, was introduced to you as his ward. The boy grew to adore you - you'd bring him sweets when you visited Piltover and tell him about how it looks and works up there. Benzo explained that his ward is very good with inventions, a scientist by heart - you'd promised Ekko you'd show him Jayce's workshop sometime in the future. Each time he'd be in Last Drop, whenever you came to have something to eat, a drink, or work with Vander, Benzo'd wave at you over the entire pub and save you a spot on the bar. Even though his business surely had little to nothing to do with legality, you grew fond of him.

That night, you've waited until Vander would close the pub. The place slowly depopulated while Vander flickered most of the lighting, drowning it in darkness. The only remaining light was above your head, shining right into the Blue Lagoon you'd ordered earlier. "And who'd busted your bubble?" - Vander asked quietly, watching as you played around with the cocktail umbrella. No matter what drink you ordered, he ensured you'd always have a cocktail umbrella stuck in. - "Even put some oranges in it, you've seemed to enjoy it the last time." "Just tired, I think, been finishing the document so I can turn it in. Grammar and formatting are a pain in the ass." "Sorry to hear that, doll." - The big guy huffed, sitting on the neighboring stool while patting your shoulder. Joining in, he poured himself a beer. Again, your breath hitched as you enjoyed every second of his body touching yours. - "What was wrong with the last draft? Thought it looked decent 'nough?" "Overlooked some paragraphs and spacing. Council would return it to me the moment they'd notice." "Well, 't least you tried." "Hm." - You sighed, putting your head on the bar.

"Hey, you." - Vander chuckled, his head cocked to the side as he tried keeping eye contact with you. - "Can you smile?" "Why would I do that? I'm suffering." "C'mon, pretty girl. Smile." - He'd whisper, gently caressing your back. The caress made you breathe in shakily, smiling as he asked. - "See? The nite is suddenly much better." "You're such a comedian. Why do I take the bait each time?" "Maybe you like smilin' at someone handsome as me?" - Vander opposed, making you giggle. He was the handsome man you'd met, that much was true.

It wasn't just about being attracted to him at this point, though. There was more than level-surface attraction and crackling chemistry - you liked him. Seriously liked him. As you lay away in your flat, you'd play with your blanket and think about how things could be in a perfect world - Vander would close the inn and come home shortly after midnight, kissing you on the forehead after he'd take off his jacket. That would most certainly wake you up, so you'd join him in the kitchen for a bit before leading him to bed. You usually had to stop yourself, forcefully, from letting the daydream carry on - you'd only imagine stripping him of his clothes when you got desperate enough, jerking off before sleep. It needed to be let out. Vander had to know how you felt about him. To either decline your offer or agree to try pushing the boundaries a bit. You've been tipsy enough to conclude that confrontation was a great fucking idea - you've had enough of watching other women goggling their eyes at him, pushing their breasts together as they'd order. It was bothering to look at his well-trained smile (the smile you've learned to love) as he answered them, winking their way. You liked the guy, you loved spending time with him... And he seemed to be interested as well. To what degree, you had no idea about it, but he surely liked having you around.

"Or maybe..." - It took all of your courage to turn at him, putting your palm on his upper thigh. Vander's fingers stopped caressing the glass, squinted his eyes, and tried deciphering what you've been up to. Your touch felt wonderful and, for the love of God, you smelled so good. "What has gotten into you, doll, hm?" - The man whispered, gently moving strands of your hair out of your face, smiling warmly. Your eyes were open wide, filled with little sparkles as you stared at his face. "I want to kiss you, Vander." - With those words, his motions stopped altogether.

Of course, he thought about kissing you. Multiple times - each time you were sitting at the bar and sent him a smile, to be precise. It would be easy to simply lean over, smooth your cheek, and steal all your thunder. In fact, you couldn't have an idea what you were doing to him, intoxicating his brain with the sweetest scenarios and possibilities. It would be the easiest way of shutting you up whenever Vander got you flustered; he enjoyed when you turned into a stuttering, annoyed cute little mess, though. It was endearing watching you try to get yourself off the sinking boat while digging yourself a deep grave. Vander also thought about much more than just kissing you - he'd seen you naked so many times (inside his head), he'd swear he'd recognize your body amongst other women, even with the lights off. Your strange turns of phrases often made his tummy tingle with butterflies as he laughed, explaining to you that you sounded too Piltoverian. Your expression and widened eyes goggling at him made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside... You've managed to make the Hound of the Underground soften. Fucking God almighty, your outfits made Vander's heart flutter - it was a mix of everything; sometimes you'd be wearing a fluffy white blouse paired with a brown tar-tar vest and derby trousers, other times you'd appear in a bright-colored dress and paired with, again, a tight vest. Even though you always looked out of place, Vander loved that about you. His eyes never searched for you too long, not to mention you looked like an absolute goddess. The derby trousers did nothing for your buttcheeks. When serving, he'd have to keep himself away from you so he wouldn't slap them. How would you sound if he'd made you squeak? Or if you'd be a whining, meowling mess as he'd hover over you, losing his senses to you? How would his name sound when screamed at the top of your lungs?

No matter how hard Vander had it for you (literally and figuratively), there wasn't a world when it would work for both of you. He'd been a Zaunite gangster back in the day, recently reformed into a full-time father and pub owner. Ah, when talking about fatherhood - you didn't even know he's looking after four fucking kids. You didn't have a clue about Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor. How could you? Such a pretty young thing didn't deserve a life like this - bound to one place without the alternative to leave. Vander couldn't leave Zaun. But you could. Each time Vander realized how intelligent you truly were, it would knock the air outta his lungs - if there was anyone with a bright future, it got to be you. You had the entire Runeterra laying at your feed, ready for you to explore every nook and cranny. You had places to be, people to meet, work to do... No way he'd let you throw that away for someone like himself. Compared to you, he'd been significantly older, slower and already set in his tracks - you had a whole life ahead of you.

One kiss couldn't ruin anything, could it? You've been tipsy, ogling each other for the entire night, saying shit you shouldn't really say. He wasn't afraid of rejection - Vander was perceptive enough to recognize bedroom eyes on a woman from a mile away. He was afraid of rejecting you. Now that he knew you, it was impossible to imagine Last Drop without having you around. Benzo was fond of you, Ekko loved you (Benzo admitted that the little boy might be crushing on you a teeny-tiny bit) and most of the locals started treating you as an equal. You... You couldn't disappear out of his life.

He'd hesitated for too long. The grip on his thigh started to weaken as you pulled away, flustered beyond any reason - you were turning away, awkwardly coughing into your sleeve. Everything inside his body froze before he could stop it, pushing your palm back where it was - on his thigh, squeezing it gently. As you turned to face him, he leaped forward, kissing you. It made your head spin, that's how good of a kiss it was. Things you hadn't enough courage to admit out loud, all the desire and tension resulted in teeth clattering, tongues dancing, and lips crashing again... And again... And again. You've kissed like nothing else mattered, slipping off the stools - his knee parted your legs while his palms roamed his sides and lower back, spreading them further apart as he pressed you onto the bar, palms sliding along your curved back. If Vander hadn't the willpower to snap out, you'd likely end up bent over the pool table or the tappers. Thankfully, when he felt your fingers tugging his shirt out of his pants, he stepped away, catching your palm in his.

"I... 'm sorry, doll, I shouldn't have done that, I dunno what's gotten into me." - Vander whispered apologetically, awkwardly picking up the stool you'd knocked to the ground during the kiss. "There's nothing to be sorry about, I asked for it." "Doll, there's everythin' to be sorry 'bout." "What do you mean?" - As he registered the vulnerability in your voice, his eyes snapped to you, still leaning your back into the bar. God, you looked amazing with your lips swollen from the kiss. There wasn't time to admire, you, however -this was a fine line Vander found himself on. One wrong word and you could slip past his fingers, never to be seen again.

"You... You shouldn't even be here this late, sweetheart." "Are you trying to say you don't want me here? That none of this is... Real? Was it a game for you?" - The moment you started doubting this, Vander's finger snapped at you as he shook his head. "That's not what I'm sayin'. You should be in your bed, fallin' asleep next to someone your age, maybe that blonde boy'f yours. Seems to have the hots for you, poor kid. Instead, you're here, spendin' your time with someone like me." "Someone like you?" "I could be your father, Y/N." - Vander hissed. Wow. You couldn't recall the last time he'd use your first name - he had to be worked up real bad. "You'd have to start really early, then." - You chuckled, continuing before he caught another wind. - "You're getting yourself too worked up over nothing. It's... Just a kiss, nothing more - I'll still be your regular. I loved it." - Even though the last sentence was a mere whisper, it made Vander straighten up. The explosion of a guttural warmth inside his chest was insane, almost setting him on fire. Even though it wasn't any concrete confession, one step would lead to another...

"'t felt good tonite, will feel like shit tomorrow morning, doll, you'll see." - Sighing, Vander stepped closer to you, leaning into the bar while taking one of your palms to his, playing with your fingers. - "Whatcha thinkin', doll? A Piltie like you with a Tencher like me? C'mon now, what good would that bring?" - Taking a breath, Vander pushed a stand of your hand behind your ear. "How about you let me decide what I'd like to do and how I feel about kissing you? That okay?" - Sighing, you leaned your forehead into his shoulder and gently hugged his waist with your palms. - "I'll let you know the next time I drop by."

"Okay, lemme say it differently - what would such a pretty little pet like you even do with an old geezer like me? You're not just someone, you've even studied at the Academy - the Undercity ain't somethin' you should be aimin' for, Y/N. When I look at you, I see the future. And a damn bright one at that." - His fingers were ghosting along your jaw, his heart thumping steadily. You knew the tone and look in his eyes - like a kid staring at a toy they wouldn't be able to get in a million years. - "And when you change the world, me and Benzo'll tell everyone about ya - 'Y/N? That's our girl, one of the Zaunites; the one who'd been kind enough to kiss an old fool like me'." "To which I'd say I wished you'd kiss me ever since I've met. You're just... Like a fire and I'm a moth, constantly gravitating towards you. When you're not around, it's like my breathing gets heavier, I'm worrying about where you are, what you're doing, and if you're okay... And when I see you, this warmth spreads through my chest. There's not a day when I wouldn't wanna see you and let you poke at my accent or turns of phrases. Vander, I... I... I should go." - With that, you pushed Vander off and picked up your belongings, putting a few Valors on the bars as you usually did. If you continue running your mouth, you'll start unveiling things you did your best to keep hidden away from Vander. For example, that you loved him.

If you weren't so nervous, you wouldn't miss the mesmerized look Vander gave you, breathlessly staring at you. He knew what you've been trying to say - he was on the same boat. He was just a man in his best years trying to get by, helping his community and people. It was so fucking hard to believe a girl like you liked him for what he was. If you'd say it out loud, he'd believe you. He'd even say it back. Three words - such a short phrase would become his favorite. If you had enough courage to say it, he'd repeat it over and over. Instead, he watched as you packed your things, holding everything together with a last-ditch effort. - "If I keep on going, Vander, I'd probably say things neither of us want to hear. If a kiss made the situation this messy, we wouldn't withstand what's on my mind. I... I'll see you around, I promise."

God. You were wrong. So fucking wrong. You're almost out of the door when you hear Vander calling out your name, making you turn around. He'd been mustering up the strength to say it, but before he could... The courage dissipated as you smiled at him. - "Hm?" The way he stared at you dried your mouth and your knees weakened. If you've ever seen bedroom eyes on anyone, this was it. His eyes darkened, his breath short as he tried to come up with something... Anything. Lust was a double-edged sword, that much you realized. Vander would get on his knees to hear whatever stupid shit you had on your mind if there was a slight possibility you felt the same - if that'd be the case, you'd end up bent over the bar. Drunk fucking, that would be the worst thing you could do. If you'd get down to it, you wanted Vander to be sober. You wanted to be sure it was just him touching you, whispering sweet nothings, moaning at appropriate times; not alcohol. You didn't want it to be remorse either. The moment would be right if Vander hadn't started overthinking and overcomplicating shit. "I'll go now, Vander. Remember... I won't even regret kissing you."

You didn't have the balls to go for a beer for the two following weeks. You avoided The Last Drop as if it were a plague epicenter, not even looking its way when you walked through the Lanes. Benzo caught up on the shift, asking if everything was alright. Since Vander seemingly didn't bother with informing Benzo about what happened, you hadn't either; when you popped by his pawn ship to drop off some sweets for Ekko, Benzo even got the audacity to tell you that: 'Vander misses you, asks for you every nite, girl. Whatever the old bastard had done can't be that bad, can it?' Did Vander even do anything wrong? He hadn't outright rejected you, had he? It almost seemed he'd admit there's more to it than just a kiss. Emotions, perhaps? Well, you've been on a streak of childish behavior and you planned to continue.

No matter how long you worked during the night, Vander plagued your mind. You've missed him, the way he smiled at you, gently caressed you with his looks, and how delicate his tone was when he spoke with you. It was strange to work in silence since you've gotten used to the vivacity of the Last Drop. Your flat suddenly felt like a prison - too small, too dark, and too quiet. Even when Ezreal came over to visit you and sleepover, it didn't brighten up the mood. The boy wasn't stupid when it came to crushes and lovesickness - as soon as he heard you sigh, he'd been onto your ass, trying to lure details outta you. It wasn't a bad idea, actually - you needed your friends to help you solve the conundrum of 'Vander'.

"And... You left after that?" - Ezreal asked, genuinely shocked. You've called for an emergency meeting at Jayce's - all three of you were splattered all over Jayce's sofa, sipping on a beer, eating take-out. "What else was I supposed to do?" "So, you've fallen in love with this amazing Trencher..." - Jayce mumbled through the noodles in his mouth, sitting up. - "And he kissed you like anyone before?" "Yeah, it was... Wow. We've knocked over a few stools, even, but we were both drunk." - You reminded, sighing. "Have you seen how he looks at you?" - Ezreal asked you, having you cock your head towards him dumbfoundedly. - "Every time we're there for a drink, the guy doesn't look at anyone but you. Like there's no other person in the pub, just you."

"Have you heard a word from what I've told you?" "You ran away after he pointed out a few excellent points instead of telling him what's on your mind... And then left him conscience-stricken for two weeks. Without dropping by to tell him you're just confused." - Jayce reiterated. It wasn't like that, was it? You didn't run away without telling - Vander surely knew. Why didn't he comment or answer it in any way? It wasn't just your fault - there were two to blame. "I'm... I wasn't confused." "Don't take this personally, but we've never seen you fall in love with anyone. You fooled around at the Academy - who didn't? But it looks like when it comes to real feelings... You're not too good at conveying them. Lemme guess - you started talking, said something incredibly cheesy, and then rambled, didn't you?" - Ezreal asked, smoothing your shoulder. How did he know? God, these guys knew you better than you could ever know yourself. - "In response, Vander started rambling about the future - about how it couldn't be good for you and stuff. Even though it might've come across as dismissive, Y/N, that man thought about a future by your side. Also, we can't see every thought that goes inside that brain of yours, so it can be confusing to navigate at times. You love him, then? And want to fu..." - Ezreal nibbled on, making you unnerved and flustered. Was he just about to ask you if you wanted to fuck Vander? That casually, like it's nothing? "Yes, Ezreal, yes! I can't think of anything but him, I can't eat, can't sleep..." - You exclaimed, standing up to take a long breath. The duo gave you a run for your money, you had to admit. - "All I want is him. But I don't know how to do it or what to say. That's why we're here."

"Then I don't see a problem here. Do you, Ezreal?" "None, Jayce." "We're on the same page, then." - Jayce smiled, clinking his bottle to Ezreal's before taking a good swing. - "God, these noodles are so good." "If you two don't talk, I swear on Heimerdinger's inventions..." "Vander, from what I've gathered, is an upfront, honest guy..." - Jayce started, having Ezreal nod in confirmation. "... Then it's obvious what you have to do. Just tell him. Which part? I don't know. Just go for it." "That's the best piece of advice you got for me - 'just tell him'? Isn't that what I attempted last time?" "Oh, Y/N, girl." - Ezreal howled, pushing you back to the sofa between Jayce and him, and handing you back your beer. - "This time, you're gonna go straight to the point. No cheesiness, no romance - it'll be a love confession, but you see what I mean, right? Let me phrase it delicately... You'll tell him all about those dirty scenarios inside your head. We guys love hearing stuff like that, it boosts our confidence." "For once, I second everything Ezreal said. You got this, Y/N, look at yourself. Ezreal is mostly right when sensing crushes - if he says Vander's got it bad for you, I'd trust him."

Ezreal didn't leave you on your own, God bless this sweet summer child - he'd made sure you'd really go talking to Vander, even helped you with picking out the outfit. He'd put together something insanely simple, yet elegant - a white lacey dress, a suiting black vest with golden detailing to match your Wellington boots. When enriched with adequate, very subtle golden accessories, and the right hairstyle... "God, Ezreal. When did you plan on letting me know you're a fashionista?" - You wondered, turning around to see every inch of you. You had these pieces for years and never thought enough to piece them together. Your fashion sense wasn't bad, per se, but faded in comparison to Ezreal's. "I've been making fashion statements for some time now, one'd assume you noticed since we hang out all the time." - The boy muttered, sitting on your bed. "I look so good." - Still checking yourself out, you leaned towards the mirror to look at how the golden necklace sits on your neck. "You always did. I just pushed it a step further, that's all." - Making you stand up, Ezreal caught your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. - "What's the plan? Run it by me one last time."

"I'll walk in the Last Drop, looking like a million Valors." "Duh." "Tell Vander I'd like to talk to him... Alone." "Yeah?" "And when we're alone, I'll tell him what I wanna do to him... Which will be so incredibly disgraceful and awkward..." "It'll be disgraceful and awkward if you don't pull yourself together. Be confident, smirk, touch him, smooth his shoulder, bite your lip, wiggle your eyebrows - just don't turn into a flustered mess. Imagine you're in a debating competition if that helps. Show him how serious you are, don't leave a single question unanswered." - Coach Ezreal instructed you, having you nod with fiery passion. While not known for his intelligence prowess, Ezreal was a great leader and an amazing empath. He'd known you much better than you knew yourself, helping you cross bridges you'd deemed impossible. Now, he was doing it again.

"Alright, seems to me you're in the right zone and everything. My job here is done." - The boy grinned, fixing a few strands of hair behind your ear. - "I gotta catch a date for myself." "Who's the poor soul? Do I know 'em?" - You wondered, the Undercity accent rubbing its way in. No wonder, you've been living in Zaun for at least three months by that point. Ezreal didn't point it out, just grinned while picking up his stuff lying around. "Linda from the study department." "Wow!" - You exclaimed, locking your flat. You'd walk Ez out on your way to the Last Drop. - "Why do you sound so down, then? Weren't you pinning against Linda for months?" "Eh... I mean, yeah... The problem is I asked her out at a party, super-drunk, and everything. Don't even remember what I fooled her into believing. Remember that faculty party you didn't come with me because you were too busy ogling at Vander?" "Hey, I'm not taking accountability for that. Jayce was your babysitter for the night." "He, for one, was busy ogling some guy from Heimer's office and didn't make it in time to inform Linda it's not a great idea." - Ezreal grinned, watching as you gasped for air. Ogling a guy from Heimer's office? Damn.

"How come I hadn't heard about this 'till now?" "You were too busy putting that draft together. Even sobbed about it when I slept over last week. Didn't think telling you about Jayce's romantic endeavors would help much." "And... Who's the guy? Do we know him? What's Jayce's type?" - Eyebrows wiggling, you pressed on, making Ezreal chuckle. "No, don't know him, I saw him at the party for the first time. How'd I describe him... Frail and foreign for sure. Don't take it wrong, he's... Strangely handsome, that one. Think it's the accent doing it for our poor old Jayce." "Fuck me." - You snorted, opening the front door. - "Our science bro has it down bad for other scientists. Twist of the century." "I liked Viktor." - Ez mumbled while leading you towards the main parade. - "He's snarky and most likely a genius. Zaunite by heart, strangely perceptive, weirdly confident in the best way... You'd love him." "You think Jayce would ask him on his own?" "Eh, no, not really. I'll start working on setting them up soon." "What would we do without our romance and fashion guru, Mr. Lymere?" - Looking him in the eyes, you smiled while Ezreal caught your hands in his, nodding at you.

"Now, forget all about Talis and his non-existent game... I mean, the guy can flirt, that's for sure, but..." "Not the point, Ez." "Right." - Ezreal nodded some more, clearing his throat. - "When you come tomorrow evening for the play, all I'm going to hear about is how this hunky, handsome guy blew your back out, 'kay?" "Ez!" - It was a squeal as you started to laugh, stepping aside, breaking the moment. - "You gotta stop saying that. I'm not good with... Saying this stuff out loud, you know that." "Good luck, lovely." - The boy leaned in, kissed your cheek, and sent you one of his typical smiles before turning on his heels and leaving. God, you loved Ezreal.

As Coach Ezreal coaxed you into doing, you did your best to walk into the Last Drop like a million Valors (not to mention the intense break you took leaned into the pub's wall, trying to get your shit together). As per usual, the place was lively - people haggling around, playing cards, jukebox playing a nice tune while they drank. Since it was the weekend, Vander wasn't behind the bar alone; Vera and Jakob were his backup for the night. You'd admired how Vander and his part-timers work in unison. Their responsibilities were strictly given, so each of them had their own little universe to keep in check - Vander dealt with the orders, Vera mixed cocktails and prepared snacks and Jakob ensured there were always enough dishes. "Look who we got here! Hey, Y/N!" - Benzo's voice exclaimed so loudly it was heard all over the pub - some locals acknowledged you with a nod or wave, not staring for too long. Benzo, however, was seemingly happy to have his drinking buddy back in business. As you made your way towards the bar, you'd let the guy hug you clumsily before stepping aside.

The bartender hadn't said a word to acknowledge your presence. Hadn't even looked your way, it seemed. Was he hurt, just like Ezreal expected? Was he pissed to see you walk in so casually? Why didn't he reach out, then? You'd bet your money that he knew where you lived - one could never keep a secret while living in the Lanes. It took all your willpower to snap your eyes into Vander's face, waiting for him to do anything, say something so you'd know what you're on. Funnily enough, Vander didn't plan on making it easier for you. At first, you were worried that he'd truly become indifferent. Devil's always in the detail, you reminded yourself, searching for signs of what's going on inside his head. When you started noticing, your heart fluttered in your chest, hot blood rushed into your cheeks. His eyes lingered on your lips, the gulp he'd desperately tried to suppress, the grip tightening around the glasses he polished. He'd held onto them to forcefully his knuckles turned white.

"It's so good to see you, both of you." - With a smile, you turned towards the bar. Vander automatically pulled out your favorite coater (he'd hide it away from other guests, this one was yours specifically), leaning his hands into the desk like a let-down parent. "What can I get you?" - His mumble was quiet, devoid of any emotion. No nicknames, no jokes, no flirting, huh? He'd really have to be pissed off, then. "I'm here on business, actually." - Sending him a sweet smile didn't help either? Damn. - "Could I steal you for a minute or two? Won't be keeping you long and then I'm out of your hair, promise." "Somethin' goin' down up there?" - Benzo asked with worries in his tone. "Nothing I can't take off, Benzo. Just need Vander's expert opinion, that's all. He'll be back before you know it. Shall we?" - With a clap of hands, you sent Vander yet another warm smile. The bartender raised his eyebrows, sighed, and put his tea towel on the bar. Picking up his sandwich, he'd informed Vera about being gone for fifteen minutes (for his break) at tops before vaguely gesturing for you to follow him. Fifteen minutes was all you got, huh? Fuck.

You'd expect him to lead you to his office on the upper floor - Vander didn't deem you worthy enough to sit on his plushy chairs, because he'd open the back pantry for you, opting you to sit on one of the barrels. "Well, start talkin'. We ain't have the whole evenin' - is it about the readin' or somethin'?" - Without an ounce of care, he'd peeled the napkin off his sandwich, chewing on it. "How... Have you been?" "How have I... Thought you wanna talk business, young lady." - Vander reiterated mockingly, looking away from you; his eyes had been stuck on your lacy dress, drowning in the sight of your breasts pushed together to form a delightful cleavage - it wasn't showing too much, but it definitely showed more than usual. Your breasts looked so... He'd been this close to reaching towards you, undoing the vest so he could squeeze them and nuzzle his head to your chest. Fuck, you looked so absurdly alluring and tantalizing Vander couldn't stand to look at you. He was mad at you just an hour ago - he couldn't give in that easily. He'd spent the last two weeks being absolutely miserable - your seat remained empty night after night, your coater hidden behind the tappers. Even though he'd known you weren't coming, he'd always ushered customers from sitting on your stool - his mind often going back to your carefree smile, your elbow supporting your head as you watched every move Vander made, reminding him of the cute expression on your face. Even the kids caught onto his mood swings - Vi laid into him regarding what, to quote her, 'Fucking busted his bubble?'

It took you a lot of courage to pick yourself off the barrel, stepping closer to him. Did you look seductive? You didn't feel like it at fucking all. Vander freezing like a deer in the headlights hinted that you were on the right track.

"I'm here to finish the conversation we started last week." "Not this again..." - Vander countered and started picking himself up to leave - it was a surprise when you pushed him back on his ass, keeping one hand on his shoulder, soothing his jaw with your other one. "I don't think I made myself clear enough." "Oh, trust me, darlin', you've said plenty..." "Yeah? Then you're gonna listen to it all again, I guess. Poor you." - The sandwich was long forgotten, lying on one of the shelves as you cocked your head to the side, sending Vander the calmest, sweetest smile you could muster. Holy shit, you realized, Ezreal's advice worked. Vander couldn't look away from you as you leaned your knee between his, planting your thumb on his lower lip to enthuse you'd love to kiss him again. Feeling the softness of his mouth made you lick your lips.

"I hoped you'd be smarter than this, sweetheart." - Vander whispered, finally giving in to your touch - you could feel his fingers creeping up your calves, gently lifting your skirt up, traveling up to your thighs. - "I ain't good news for a young thing like you. You'll get bored soon 'nough, leavin' me behind. Won't even remember me a few years from now... Thought you not showin' up was a good sign." "Good sign?" "That you'd understood what I tried to say and decided it would be best not to fool around with someone like me." "I thought about this a lot over the last week - about you, me, and what I tried to do. I was drunk, we both were, and words didn't come across as I'd like 'em to." - Lifting his chin up, you started playing with his hair. - "No matter how much you hate hearing this, I'm really into you. I think I'm in love with you."

Everything stopped for a second - his grip on your thighs tightened as he brought you closer, staring at you with pure adoration. His expression didn't reflect all the love and happiness behind his eyes, but the fireworks going off told you more than you needed to know. He'd felt the same, to one degree or another. There wasn't any rush to say it back - when he opened his mouth to talk, your finger stopped him as you pressed it there. Cheekily, Vander planted a kiss on it, waiting for what you wanted to say. Rest assured, your words almost gave him a heart attack.

"Now - stop fucking telling me how I'll feel or what I'll do in a few years. I want to be in the now with you and you're making it pretty fucking difficult. How about you just forget about everything for one night and show me how you feel about me? I don't care if this isn't a good long-term decision or whatever you're about to say - you're what I want most now. And even if I'd become a real diplomat one day... Vander, we're smart. We can figure it out. Stay in the moment, here with me." - Stepping in, you could feel your thighs bump into his abdomen - still holding his head in your palm, you were standing directly above him. Fucking hell, he was even more handsome up close. You loved every small wrinkle and crevice of his skin, an almost invisible scar on his lower lip, prominent cheekbones, and hair so soft you wanted to simply tug on it. His fingers on your thighs started to move up and down, caressing your smooth skin - even that alone was enough to make you meowl softly.

"So, therefore, I propose we drop the act and focus on letting whatever this is blossom. Fuck, you have no idea about how many times I'd imagined kissing you, Vander, how I melt each time you smile or give me a cheesy compliment. No other man in my life makes my hands shake just by standing beside me. You have no idea how many times I've dreamt you'd be in my bed, taking my clothes off and eating me out... And all the things I'd like to do to you, shit." - You continued mumbling erratically, not really paying attention to what was leaving your mouth - Vander seemed mesmerized either way as he bent your knees carefully, lifting you up to sit his lap (given he was sitting on a barrel, that shit must've been uncomfortable as fuck). Hearing you curse for the first time was an out-of-world experience for him, especially when accompanied by quiet hisses and subtle moans. Every word leaving your lips was dipped in honey, making him gasp for air helplessly - if he'd like to, he was sure you'd be willing to undress right there and then. Your knees fit around his waist as if he was made for you, his hardening dick pressing onto your thigh the moment you wiggled a bit. Feeling him made you gulp and lick your lips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, playing with his hair.

"I don't know what you're so scared of? I'm here, you're here... Let's just... See what happens." "Ain't this an abuse of power, miss diplomat?" - He whispered, making you giggle. "Would be if you didn't want to fuck me as desperately as I wanna fuck you." - You whispered, stealing a quick peck off his lips. This broke the dam, causing all the feelings and emotions to flood out. "You - have - no - idea - what - ya - doin' - to - me - doll." - After each word, Vander stole a kiss from your lips, his palms lifting your ass, making you rock on his waist, grinding on his dick with a raisin intensity. Each movement made you moan breathily, sending chills down your spine. and started grinding your groin against his, earning a breathy moan from you. - "Seein' you talk to men makes my blood boil 'cause I want to be the only one you give that pretty smile to. I wanna be the one wakin' up next to you, caressin' your skin, help you with showerin' your back, and see all the newest clothes and underwear you bring home... Mainly the latter, 'f course. I just... I just wanna be your man." "Then show me, baby." - You whispered quietly, pulling him for a proper kiss, grinding against his lap in a steady rhythm. Warmth was spreading through your tummy, making it tighten each time your clit grazed the fabric of his trousers.

"I'd love nothin' else, doll..." - The man hummed, holding your chin between his fingers. Dear lord almighty, you looked more sensual than any woman he'd met before you - you seemed to be intoxicated from his kisses and words, your face burning up as he dragged his finger along your cheek. Each time you rocked your hips over his cock, your entire body shivered, eyelids fluttering. Realizing it was him making you meowl, that he kissed you so passionately that your lips were swollen was the hottest turn-on he'd ever felt. - "But my break is almost over. No way I'd undress you in this damn pantry for our first time, you deserve somethin' much better. You free tonight?" "Hmhm? What do you have on mind?" "Come pick me up after I close down. I'll make us dinner. We'll see where the things go from there, yeah?" "Can't wait, handsome."

After Vander watched you leave the Last Drop with a shy smile, his eyes glued to your ass, he couldn't stop grinning. Five hours remaining until your randez-vouz... A whole fucking eternity. The tent in his pants was unquenchable, no matter how many hairy men Vander attempted to imagine. This tween behavior made Benzo grin - he didn't need to ask what you've been up to, he already knew. Watching Vander's blush and his constant throat clearing was enough of a show in itself. Business his ass; Benzo and Vera actually bet if you'd have sex right then and there or if you'd wait for a better moment. Vera was now 20 Valors richer.

"Could you take over the tappers for a minute?" - Vander asked, looking at the drink she was just finishing - you'd like it. Filled with pieces of chopped fruit, a very refreshing mix of spirits and lemonade. - "Gotta arrange somethin' real quick." "You got it, V." - Vera called over her shoulder, showing Vander a thumbs-up. Leaving his tea towel on the bar, Vander turned on his heels to walk into the basement - this was his kids' designed hangout spot when they didn't feel like exploring Lanes. And since Vi was under house arrest, they've been lounging around it all weekend.

"Oh, hey." - Claggor was first to acknowledge him - he and small Powder were playing tick-tack-toe while Mylo read in the corner, only sending him a nod. Vi was sitting on the couch with her palms under her head, staring at the ceiling. "What's up, old man?" - Vi muttered, sitting up. She had the most authority over the group, so she needed to be pressured the most - getting along with her meant getting along with the rest of the kids. At this point, Vi wasn't even mad, unlike a month back - now, she spent most of the time thinking about how to avoid Vander's attention next time, ticking off the few remaining days on her hands.

"I wanna make a deal with ya, kids." - Vander started, leaning his ass into the counter below him. Everyone was paying attention now, their head turned directly at him. The truth was - he needed the flat empty if he wanted to host a dinner for you and fuck senseless after... Which would be difficult with four fucking kids around. - "I'll let Vi off the hook sooner if you'd sleep here, need ya outta my hair. Just for tonight." "Why?" - Powder wondered, her enormous blue eyes ogling at Vander. It was time to blush, sweat, and truly clear his throat. All the kids stared at him before Mylo exclaimed 'Aaaaah', laughing at Vander's busted ass. "... Our old man got himself a date." - The boy explained - before he managed to utter another word, Vi gripped her palm around his shoulder. "That's all she needs to know." - The girl ended topically, grinning at Vander. - "That's it? No buts or ifs if we stay the night here? That's all you askin'? You'll just... Let me off the hook?" "Depends, have you learned your lesson?" "Of course I did." - The girl answered, emphasis on the word 'did'. Yeah, right, and Vander was the newest fucking councilor. The kids started nodding frantically, making the old man chuckle. - "We all did. Last month had been very educational for all four of us." "Then you're off the hook. Of course, in case of an emergency, just come ask for help - I'll be here for you..." - Vander informed swiftly, watching as Vi sat next to him with an angelic smile - from his experience, she was about to ask the stupidest fucking question he'd heard all day. "Is it the pretty one? That one sitting on the bar all the time and staring at you as if she'd never seen a man? She has it bad for you." "You're begging for another month of house arrest." "Hadn't even said anything!" - The girl laughed, taking Vander's answer as a yes.

Striking a deal with the kids was a double-edged sword - they might be grateful for now, but jokes and innuendos were coming Vander's way, for sure. He needed to embrace all parts of fatherhood - the good parts, like Powder's drawings on the fridge or Vi's occasional hugs as well as the bad parts, consisting, for example, of the kids consistently finding sex and relationships cringe and disgusting. "Can I ask a favor from ya?" - Vander stopped in the doorframe, looking at the kids. - "Would you clean up the mess you've made yesterday?" "Oh, yeah... The pancakes..." - Powder sighed, remembering all the dirty dishes and ingredients plastered all over the kitchen sink. That might've been her job. Vander (while being very grateful for the breakfast) asked the kids if a bomb had gone off in the kitchen. "No problem, big guy, you got it!" - Vi exclaimed, her eyes shining as she just found another angle for a stupid statement. - "Everything will be good as new for your big night, on my honor." "You're on some mighty thin ice here." - The old man mumbled, but couldn't hide the grin appearing on his face.

Waiting for the Last Drop to close was endless, you'd swear - you'd change into outfit after outfit, trying out different underwear sets and even switching your hairstyle three times. You'd decided on something more decadent and less showy - while the afternoon visit was to seduce Vander, now you wanted to be more you - while being less fashionista, your outfits were still cute. Even walking into the establishment was nerve-wracking - just as you slipped through the door, Vera was leaving for the night after cleaning the whole place up. Jakob was long gone after that point - his mom was sick, so he'd leave around ten, leaving the two to deal with the locals and patrons.

"Hey." - You waved, smiling at the guy shyly. Vander was just polishing the tappers - you loved how his hand moved steadily, showing all the veins on his forearm. "Hey, you. Lookin' cute." - The man didn't waste any time making you fluster as you put your bag on your stool - you'd packed a few spare things to change into. "How was the night?" - Without hesitation, you'd walk behind the bar and roll up your sleeves to sort the different glass types Vander had lying around. "C'mhere. Forgotten somethin', silly." - Without notifying you, the man hugged your hips and pulled you in for a kiss - no matter your wet hands. Giggling, you didn't hesitate to kiss him back, gently smoothing his chin.

"Missed ya here, sweetheart." "I'm here now... And I'm starving." "Let me finish up so I can cook you somethin' delicious, doll." - Gently slapping your ass (melting at your surprised squeal), the man started finishing the very last chores feverishly. "I'm here to help - after I finish the glasses, what's on the agenda?" "Nothin' for you. I'd like some help in the kitchen, though." "Got it. Well..." - Smiling at him, you'd slap his ass back. It was a homely gesture you enjoyed, honestly. Something about slapping ass and watching his eyes shine as he glared at you made your heart flutter - getting another kiss helped too.

Vander's flat was on the top floor of the Last Drop - it was spacious, but felt crowded at the same time, for an inexplicable reason. There was a lot of stuff. Even though it was tidy, you got a chaotic vibe from the place... That meant you wouldn't like it, however. The design was incongruous, as you'd expected from a bachelor's fault - the pieces of furniture didn't match at all (in case they did, it was only vague), and the decoration was lacking, but he'd everything he needed. The flat smelled nice, unlike the rest of Zaun - like wood, oranges, jasmine, and his musk... It smelled like him.

"Welcome to my little kingdom." "Mhm, I like it here... A lot. Feels quite like home." - Your words made him smile even more widely than before - walking to you, he gently held your head in his palms before lowering his, kissing you with a happy hum. It was a sweet, delicate romantic kiss; his lips gently brushed yours, his palms slowly traveling onto your shoulders, copying the curve of your back and settling on your ass, bringing you impossibly close. "Let's get cookin' before you make me lose my damn mind, doll." - With a last caress of your jaw, he'd walk into a spacious kitchen/dining room. The table was impressively large - enough to host at least seven people. That was where you noticed it for sure - a lonely crayon forgotten under the table and children's drawings on the pantry door. Observing them, you nodded to yourself, putting your bag onto one of the chairs.

"There are... Nice." - You muttered, pointing at them. His expression froze for a second before he joined you in observing the masterpieces. "Mhm. I like 'em a lot. Always make my day." "Who gave them to you?" - With the most innocent expression you could muster, you pressed on with the interrogation. Vander... Wasn't taken, was he? He'd tell you if he was, right? Where would be his wife and presumed children - would he just tell them to leave the flat until he deals with his booty call? Surely not.

"Well, yannow, I help around the community. A lot of kids out here, a lot of excited painters." "Uh-huh." - The confusion and suspicion in your voice was almost tangible. There was one theory you could test out. - "Could I use the bathroom real quick?" "Suit yourself, doll. The first door on the left. Call out if you need anythin'." "I'll be right back." - Kissing his shoulder to divert his attention a bit, you walked inside the small bathroom - it wasn't anything regal, but it fulfilled its purpose. Turning on the basin to cause distraction, you started searching for proof of feminine presence - make-up, perfume, comb... Anything. The only thing you found, however, was a pink hairband forgotten next to the shower. A girl's hairband, you realized - could he be a widower? That would be fine too, you'd even understand why he hadn't mentioned it until then. Well, in that case, it would be better not to pressure him - he'll tell you on his own.

"Everythin' alright?" - He'd ask as soon as he noticed you lurking around the kitchen. Letting your eyes drown in the sight of a homey, domestic Vander was a heavenly sight. He'd taken off his jacket and worked on cutting some vegetables. "Everything alright. What can I help with?" "The meat." Cooking together was fun. You'd open a bottle of wine, chatting as you prepared the meal - Vander asked about details he hadn't learned yet, and you asked about his past, favorite pastime, and hobbies. As per usual, he'd been an open book, answering everything right away and with honesty - this guy could be married, no way in a million years. When a comfortable silence settled between you, you just wait for the meal to be ready - you've decided to settle on a small, very old kitchen island while waiting for Vander to finish peeling and roasting the potatoes.

"Whatcha grinnin' at, you pretty little thing?" "Just watching the most beautiful man I've met, 's all." "Look at her." - Approaching you, the man was purring with happiness. As he approached the edge of the island, your legs opened themselves to hook around his waist, bringing him closer. - "The accent's catchin' 'n everythin'." "Did to impress the guy I like." "Hope he's handsome and treats you right." "You have no idea." - Holding him in place with your palm, you put the glass down and closed off the distance, kissing him slowly. Passion built up with each little movement - he'd hold you impossibly close, his hands roaming your body freely, even taking the vest you've been wearing. Hip lips traveled from your lips to your neck, kissing a small trail below the collar of your blouse as he worked on the buttons. If you weren't starving, you'd let him undress you right there, on the fucking kitchen island... Ruining the atmosphere, your stomach started growling. The moment was gone in an instant, having you both laugh quietly.

"I'm sorry." - You laughed as he hugged you. This time, you let your hands roam around his broad back and shoulders, scratching it with your fingers. "Nothin' to be sorry 'bout. I promised you dinner and I intend to keep the promise." "You bet. Couldn't wait for what you have in store." "... If you provide the desert, that is." - The tone of his voice mesmerized you, having you ogling at him. Fucking hell, he looked so hot - looking at you with his eyes darkened with lust, his thumb playing with your lower lip. Wiggling your hips around, you could feel what was the reason for this sudden change of mood. His dick was deliciously outlined, almost begging to be pulled out and sucked, hitting the back of your throat. "I can give you a little taste." - With an innocent smile, your palm slowly caressed his lower abdomen, slipping down between his legs. Even the thought of having his dick on your palm made you hot and bothered, let alone imagine him finally fucking you after all this time. Sure, you've had sex before, but you've been this down bad and horny for anyone. Imagining him naked made you shuttered, his warmth made goosebumps rise on your skin - as if he knew what pressure to apply, how to apply it, and for how long... Vander was perfect. Fucking perfect. Just when you brushed the tip, Vander's palm tugged on yours.

"Dinner first, doll." - Pushing himself between your legs, he couldn't resist pulling you for one last kiss. - "You'll have all night for showin' me what a good fuckin' girl you are." "Okay, baby." "Good. I ain't plannin' on lettin' you leave until the mornin'." - With a last kiss on your temple, Vander walked back to the stove to check on the food. It smelled delicious. So much so that your stomach grumbled again.

The dinner was delicious, you had to admit. The man knew his cooking and he wasn't shying away from showing you heaven by overstimulating the everliving shit out of your taste buds. Vander even brought a bottle of wine from Last Drop's exclusive displays to amp it up. Having a man working in gastronomy spoiling you rotten had its benefits, you must admit. The conversation was... Mundane. You'd suspect the rising tension would've made it harder to make small talk. Still, it didn't change much except the hunger behind Vander's eyes - he hadn't seen you or talked to you properly in the last two weeks, of course, he wanted to hear what you've been up to, how locals treated you and if there's anything he can do to help.

You've been the one to do the dishes, despite Vander's protests - he was ordered to sit down and relax for a bit; he'd been on a long shift and cooked for you, no way you wouldn't return the hospitality. Other than fucking him senseless, that was. "Lord almighty." - It was a mere whisper, almost too quiet for you to notice. While drying your hands, you'd turned your head to Vander to send him a smile - his expression made you freeze in one place. His voice was husky as he stared at you, looking you up and down as if he hadn't seen a prettier woman before. His elbow leaned to the back of his chair, his tongue slowly traveling on his lips as he enjoyed the view - your hair let down, blouse half unbuttoned, tar trousers perfectly hugging your curves. Domestic behavior was one of his weaknesses.

The stare sucked the air out of your lungs, the smile disappearing. He'd been staring at you as if he was preparing to devour you alive, like a wolf preparing for the last blow. You've never felt like prey... Not in a good way. Daring to take it a step further, you unbuttoned the vest, letting it slip off your shoulders. The man didn't tear his eyes off you - it was hard to even blink, let alone move. Carefully, your fingers push under the blouse, showing off more and more of your skin. As you teased to show him your breasts, his response was a playful scoff. Turning away from him, you slipped the piece of clothing over your head; the see-through fabric left little to the imagination anyway, but finally looking at the laces of your bra left Vander biting his lip.

"Enjoying the show, big guy?" "You have no idea, doll." "How about you show me, then?" "Seems you're havin' fun on your own, don't lemme slow you down." "Could use a spare pair of hands." "Keep goin' and I'll think 'bout it."

Stripping for someone's enjoyment was new for you, but it was... Fun. You'd suspect you'd feel dumb, maybe silly; seeing how he palmed his hardening dick over his pants while watching each move you made gave you confidence. So much of it, in fact, that you slowly slipped the pants off your hips, your boots following soon after. Vander's eyes were glued to how you palmed your breast, playing with the hems of your panties. "Still want to only watch?" "Do you realize how mesmerizing you look, darlin'?" - With that, your fingers finally slipped under the fabric - your other palm grabbed on the kitchen unit so you could ache your back, letting out a lewd moan. - "Keep goin', doll, show me how you like it."

Fulfilling the wish, your fingers drew delicate circles around you, gathering all the wetness leaking out of you. You hadn't been this wet for anyone before Vander. Soon, you stopped caring if he was even watching you - you started to slip your fingers in and out, playing with yourself just as you enjoyed it. It was when your breathing got heavier and your knees started giving out when he finally walked over to you. Immediately, your forehead found its way to his shoulder, your fingers grabbing his forearm forcefully enough to leave dents. Helping you with getting off, he carefully pushed the tiny lacy panties aside (Vander wanted to keep them intact mainly because he suspected this piece of clothing would bring him on his knees anytime you'd show it to him). His fingers were much thicker than yours, making you moan in sensation as he carefully pushed them inside you, curling them up ever so slightly.

"Keep goin' for me, pretty girl, I wanna hear you moan." "F-fuck, Vander." - As he requested, so you provided, panting heavily between meowls and lewd moans leaving your mouth. - "You can add one more and go faster, please." While doing as you asked, he also slipped one of the straps off your shoulder, letting your breast bounce out of the bra. Carefully nibbling on your nipple, he'd pushed his knee between your legs to support you. With each second, your moves started becoming erratic as you ground against his hand, trying to match his palm's thrusts. "Shit, I think... I'm about to..." - Throwing your head backward, his lips found yours in a rough, passionate kiss. "Let go for me, c'mon, good girl." - His husky voice in your ears defused the bomb building inside your abdomen, letting you sink into his fingers in one last stretch. The orgasm felt surreal - his smell intoxicated your brain, your ears started ringing from the blood rushing inside your veins and your mouth produced the most erotic sounds it ever has.

"Holy shit, that was nice." - You admitted, gripping his shirt to lower him down for a proper kiss. "I want to hear this more often, sweetheart." - Vander chuckled, licking his fingers clean while staring you in the eyes. This view had you biting on your lip, kissing him once more just to feel his and your tastes mixed. This alone made you smirk. - "Can't believe how lucky I am to have you here. I imagined this so many times..." "Let me take care of you, big guy." - Leaving all the clothes in a discarded mess on the kitchen floor, your palm tugged on his palm to lead him inside the bedroom.

It was a bit messy, surely seen better days, but it felt very homey - his bed was unmade, clothes that he discarded in a rush were thrown over the chair and a collection of various books and papers gathered on the table. You could notice various framed pictures hanging on the wall but didn't go as far as to check them out. The bed seemed sturdy, excessive wooden frame resting at the mint green wall. You liked it. Even before you asked the first question, his lips crushed to yours, forcing you to back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. While his hands started pulling his t-shirt off his body, you didn't waste any time unbuckling his belt, your lips kissing a wet trail on the skin he uncovered for you.

He'd been in better shape than you imagined - Vander wasn't the type to have his muscles flexing or rocking a six-pack, but he was slender with just the right amount of chubbiness sprinkled on top of it. Dad bod in its finest form, that's how Ezreal described it to you. You loved the curly hair on his chest; it wasn't too dense, just enough to look ridiculously hot. His happy trail below the belly button was very tasteful, making you moan breathily. Your fingers started to shake as you finally pushed his trousers down, putting your palms on his hips and taking a moment to simply adore him.

Vander was the most beautiful man you came across, there was doubt in your mind - you loved his fucking body. His palms were much larger in comparison to yours, also filled with small calluses due to his occupation, but the rest of his skin was smooth and warm. His stature was a sight to behold - broad shoulders, wide chest, and waist that simply begged to be puzzled between your thighs. Just by looking at the outline of his dick, you knew it was going to be a nice ride - its length was perfect for you, the only thing you were worrying about was how thick it appeared to be. "What's the frown for, doll?" - His voice broke you out of your thoughts, his thumb playing with your lower lip. "Never had someone so wide." - Your words made your pussy contract delightfully, already aching to feel him filling you to the brim. "I'm a handy guy, doll, I'm sure you can take it if I help you. But you gave me a promise, remember?" "Desert?" "Lay down for me, sweetheart, c'mon." - With a quick, skillful move, the bra slid off your shoulders, leaving you fully naked. And yet, you've never felt sexier as you laid down, letting him prop your back up with a pillow while getting on his knees. - "Look at the view, doll." -Vander murmured, pecking both your inner thighs. His smirk was screaming danger, but so fucking good-looking. You've been so aroused that the surrounding air felt cold on your core. - "Must be nicest I had in years. You're even wetter than before doll, God." - With a murmur, he'd kiss the sweet spot right above your clit, sliding his nose through your folds tantalizingly slow. - "You smell and taste so fucking good."

Then, he dived right in, taking you in his mouth with careful, slow, and precise movements - his tongue copied lazy circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves, and his palms and shoulders kept your legs spread wide open, no matter how many times you tried pushing them together. It could be felt he's skilled in eating out - even though he couldn't know what you liked, he started slow and looked at how you reacted, being perceptive enough to repeat the movements you seemed to enjoy and avoid those that made you frown. It didn't take him long to make you a whimpering, whiney mess - especially after his mouth dipped down to catch every bit of your arousal, licking you clean - his watery eyes were piercing through yours, watching as your breasts moved with each breath you took. When he pushed two fingers in once more, a long and needy moan filled his bedroom. That was when you broke off the eye contact and draped the sheets, concentrating on the heat slowly building in your abdomen, your toes curling against your will. His tempo was slow, playful... Vander was definitely taking his time with you.

"'s this what you imagined, doll? Havin' me on my knees, goin' insane over how you taste and sound?" - The man murmured into the skin on your thigh, sending light vibrations through your pussy as he chuckled upon listening to how you desperately tried putting a sensical sentence together. You failed miserably. As you stumbled on your words, his fingers sped up until you squirmed with pleasure, tightening the grip around his shoulders. - "With I could stay here forever, eatin' this pretty little cunt 'til my name's the only thing you remember. Such a pretty fuckin' little girl." "Vander, please, I need you." - With all the will remaining inside you, you managed to pick yourself up on your elbows, tugging on his hair. - "Please, baby, I need you so fucking much. Your tongue on me, your dick balls deep inside me, whatever you'd like... Just don't fucking stop." "Never, doll." - His mouth assaulted your sex with precision, devouring you like there was no tomorrow, even pushing his face further into you while his fingers worked wonders inside you. Your fingers tangled inside his hair, ensuring he wouldn't move an inch. The movements of his tongue became brutal the more your pelvis rode his face as you started chasing your release. He mumbled something, but you never got to know what it was - the vibrations were enough to send you over the edge, making your body tense up and thighs squeeze his head impossibly close to your clit as he continued sucking on it, riding you out of your high.

When your legs spread again, he gasped for air with a large smile, his beard glistening with your arousal. Fuck. Having him marked like that was turning you on. His fingers inside you didn't stop moving yet, enjoying the way your walls squeezed them. He enjoyed how you squirmed each time his thumb gently caressed your oversensitive bundle of nerves. "All good, doll?" "No one had... Jesus, hmpf... How... How are you so good at this?" "Just wanna see my girl happy, 's all. Love seein' your face like this." - Still working wonders between your legs, Vander picked himself off the floor to kiss you. Gently, he pressed in another finger, stretching you even more. But by Gods, it felt so good. - "We're there, baby girl."

Not breaking the kiss, his fingers slipped out of your slit, helping you to climb higher on the bed. Once again, you propped your pelvis up with a pillow, sinking your head into another. Vander caressed your cheek and kissed you before teasingly running his dick through your folds - you were still slippery enough thanks to the mix of his saliva and your arousal, so there wasn't a need for lubricating. His precum leaking out of the tip of his cock made it simpler. Still kissing you, he started teasing you cradling his pelvis back and forth with his dick aligned with your entrance, as if it was to slip any moment now; his other arm propped on the bedframe. "Ready, doll?" "Whenever you are." "Attagirl."

As soon as the tip of his cock slipped inside you, a hurtful hiss crossed your lips - his mouth was instantaneously back on yours, kissing you gently, the palm which was guiding his cock minutes later entangled with yours. Even though Vander did his best to loosen you up, he was still wide. The width made you gasp for air between kisses, each inch filling you like anything before. It didn't hurt, it was just a bit uncomfortable until you got used to the sensation. Your eyes sliding across his face and mouth wide open, you started enjoying the feeling of fullness, especially seeing the ecstatic, awed expression on his face. "Almost there, doll, almost there. You're takin' it so good." "It feels so good, baby. I love feelin' your dick inside me." - As you traced your fingers on his face, you could feel him throbbing upon your words. The sensation made you move against his body, letting the rest of the dick slip inside in one swift motion. - "Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck." "You look so fuckin' mesmerizing, takin' my dick like that." - His pelvis started moving carefully, sloppily slipping in and out of you. The sounds were so erotic, so perfect, turning you on even more.

When you felt like you could take it, you started to meet his thrusts halfway, making you both groan in pleasure. Your knees circle around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you - as he did his best to make love to you, his thrusts were playful, slow, and careful, making sure you're getting the most out of it. Vander was also making sure you'll be ready for when he'll start mercilessly fucking you like there's no tomorrow. "Mhmh, you feel so fucking good, Vander." "Love it when you say my name like this." "Vander..." - You moaned, feeling as his pace started picking up, his thrusts becoming more precise. - "God, Vander, Vander, Vander." "You'll be the death of me, fuck."

Before you grasped it, the headboard started banging into the wall as the bed creaked under the brutal tempo Vander had set - you didn't attempt to shush your screams and moans as you dragged your nails down his back, aching your back until your breasts met his chest. Both of you were sweaty and aching in the best way possible, sloppily kissing anytime you could. "I won't last for much longer, doll." - His voice was hoarse as he stared at your tits bouncing around, every semblance of sense erased from his mind. All Vander knew was how perfect you felt tightening around him, that this pussy must've been hand-made for him and him only, and that your moans were the most musical sounds he'd heard until that day. "Cum for me, big guy." "Where... Shit." - Vander sat up, putting his forearm under your back to keep you in position. This new sensation made you squirm, digging your nails deep into his forearm. He'd been even wider from this angle, filling you up better than before. - "Where do you want me, doll?" "Anywhere you want, Vander."

This was Vander's last stretch. His name falling off your lips in such a lewd manner fried his circuits, having him bury his dick deep inside you with one last thrust. Out of breath, Vander collapsed on your chest, listening to your fast heartbeat. Your fingers started playing with his hair and caressing his sweaty back, feeling the warmth spreading deep within you. Everything felt perfect. "You know how you said... You loved me?" "... Also said you don't have to say it back, Vander." "What if I'd like to, doll?" "... Then I'd be the happiest girl in the Lanes." "I love you." - The man murmured, picking his head up to look you in your eyes. The words made you smile widely as you held his pace in your arms, giggling. His softening member was still inside you, but neither of you seemed to be in the rush to pull it out.

"That's the fucking talking, big guy." "It ain't, on my honor. You're the best girl I've ever met. If you won't mind, I'd love to make you mine." "Then repeat it..." "I love you, doll." "Again." "I love you." "... One more time." "I love you, Y/N." "I love you too, Vander." - Cracking a smile, you let the man kiss you, losing yourself in his warm bear hug and embrace. Moments after, he finally picked himself up, walking to the bathroom to bring you a warm towel. Letting you clean yourself up, he disappeared into the kitchen to make you tea and pick up all your clothes scattered over the floor.

The night, just as he promised, was endless - he'd taken you from more positions, caressing your body with the utmost care, as if you were a goddess he wished to worship. You did your best to project his behavior, but you've been too lost in it all - his lips, warm skin, arms wrapped around each time part of your body, his groans in your ear, his beard scratching your lips anytime you kissed... It was around seven in the morning when you finally picked yourself up, pushing his shirt over your head. "Want something from the kitchen, big guy?" "All I want is you back as soon as you can." "Bet your ass..." - Before you could finish the joke, someone barged into the room, making you scream in surprise. You were moaning Vander's name just a few minutes back - who the fuck was this?

Looking at the incoming person, you've known the girl. You've already seen her serving in Vander's - the same violet hair, deadpan on her face as she looked at Vander covering himself with his sheets. "What the..." - You asked, looking at her. The girl, seemingly, ignored you. "... She did it again. I need your help, old man." "What? Who did what? Who are you? Vander?" - You asked with confusion, looking from Vander to the girl and back. "Oh, hi." - Suddenly, the trouble was forgotten as she leaned her shoulder into the doorframe, smiling at you cockily. - "Fancy seeing you here. Looking good." "Hi?" "What did Powder do this time?" - Vander sighed, bringing Vi's attention back to him. To hide the embarrassment, Vander massaged his face with a long sigh.

"We wanted to prepare some breakfast for you guys, so naturally, the stove's on fire." - The girl explained, but didn't seem to be in a rush to stop the ongoing apocalypse in the kitchen - now that you concentrated on it, you could hear distressed squeals and multiple people arguing, pans clinking on the metal - you could also see the smoke rolling out of the kitchen. The flat smelled hellish, making your eyes swell in tears from the subtle itching. "Cover the pan with a pot lid - it'll put out the flames. I'll be right over." "Hope you'll swing by too. Powder can't wait to meet you." - The girl picked herself off the doorframe, winking at you before closing the door.

"What the fuck was that?" - You asked, looking at Vander with disbelief. Who was she? Was she his daughter? Who are the other kids? You had your suspicions, yes, but this freaked you out more than you expected. You expected one, two kids at best - according to the ruckus, there were more people than that, though. "Listen, if you want to leave now, doll, I understand... I..." "Are these your kids?" "Sorta?" "Sort of? How can you 'sort of' have kids? "Adopted 'em little nuisances after the riots last year. None of 'em had a home to go back to - felt responsible for 'em. Listen, as I said, no one's holdin' you here. You must be furious..." "Fucking confused is what I am. Why didn't you tell me earlier?" "Wasn't confident 'nough if I'll even be what ya want without knowing I have four kids on my back." The vulnerable expression on his face made you soften up. Four kids was a lot, yes - his actions, however, were honorable. Where would they end up if Vander didn't step up, giving them a home and a loving fatherly embrace? The longer you stared at Vander, the more motivated you were to step out of the door confidently, sharing this awkward morning with all five of them, and taking everything it could give you. You... Wanted to meet them. You wished to know every possible side of Vander and share all the good and the bad with him. You wanted everything he was offering - whether it was holding your hand, kissing you during his shifts in the pub, all the mindblowing sex, warmth in his eyes as he whispered 'I love you', his fingers tracing your skin as you laid opposite each other and talked between fucking, his warmth, his love... You wanted it all. And if he had kids, that was a part of this little everything you wanted so bad, no matter how worried it made you.

"Was this the reason why you freaked out so bad?" "Ain't it obvious, Y/N? I'm almost forty, with a pub and four kids on my neck. Someone as young shouldn't worry about whether they have 'nough to eat, clothes to wear, 'bout what trouble they got themselves into this time... This ain't a life for such a young little thing." "But it's your life. And I want you..." "That's precisely why you shouldn't be wantin' me, doll. C'mon." "Stop making my decisions for me, Vander. Did you plan on telling me about the kids?" "Not for a bit... I was worried it would drive you away. I'm a selfish bastard, haven't you noticed?" "Fucking far from it. The least you could do was to tell me about them. It would make things less embarrassing." "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you told me ahead of time, we could have our little rendezvous at my place - do you realize how awkward this is for me? For them also, I'm sure." "I'm sorry, Y/N... I didn't know how to bring it up..." "We better get going before Powder blows the kitchen up." "... You ain't gonna leave?" "Of course not. These kids are a part of your life, so I want to get to know them. Step by step. If let me stick around, I can be a good step-mum to them one day, maybe." "Are you serious?" - Vander asked, staring at you with his lips parted. "Dead serious." "I... Fucking love you, Y/N." "Right back at you, handsome. Move your ass before someone barges in to drag us into the kitchen."

___ Author's note: So, regarding Ezreal... I didn't want him to come across as a sappy romantic who's in love with the reader - he's more of a naïve playboy in my mind, constantly falling in love with whoever's in front of him, seeing different people every week. Ez definitely got the charm and rizz to pull something like that off. On the other hand, I think it could be a platonic love situation - they're both into each other (to one degree or another) - the reader doesn't date him, however, because she has standards, and Ezreal, as he admitted, would rather die than seeing someone like himself fooling around with her.

[misshollowayss]

speak on richie gimme my BOYFIE

because i love u sm, and also love him, I COME BRINGING GIFTS <33333

cw: contains mentions of bullying, drug/substance abuse, the concept of grief. tw: drug/substance abuse. note: this is my headcannon(s) regarding the lipschitz/matthew family tree- you do not have to agree with me, just be respectful!

NOW THATS OUTTA THE WAYYYYY, time to talk about the world’s worst weeaboo.

RICHARD ‘RICHIE’ LIPSCHITZ is featured in nerdy prudes must die, and workin’ boys. he’s played by the legendary jon matteson and he brings a refreshing take on the anime obsessed best friend.

����͟ 𝚂͟𝚃͟𝚄͟𝙳͟𝚈͟ 𝙸͟𝙽͟ :͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ growing up thinking that you were at fault for everything in your life, finding safety in fiction, selfshipping with your waifus and husbandos as a means to compensate for something, being chronically ill, being apart of a tight-knit friend group, being cringe equating to being free.

─┈ㅤ ⠀RICHARD LIPSCHITZ was born on january 17th, alongside his twin brother, trevor at 21:30. jessica ‘jessie’ matthews had given birth, albeit, surprisingly even though her physical and mental health was actively depleting due to her history of addiction. richard, born first with weak lungs had been sent to the NICU, shortly after the birth of his younger twin brother. jessica had watched as her babies were transported to another room. their father was not present at all during the birth, yet they took his last name. he never came around after that.

for everyone in the matthews household, the birth of richie and trevor was a happy event. joanne and gavin came quickly to see their grandsons and fawned over the beautiful boys. sleeping soundly, beside each other in their own bassinets.

growing up, richie had known for the longest time that he and his brother would be different. they may have been identical, but they were opposites as can be. trevor was more sociable, outgoing and energetic. richie, was different though. richie, at a young age, would remain to the sidelines, finding comfort with his books and himself. he was awkward, and he didn't care for many things. joanne, his grandmother often commented on how richie reminded her of his uncle, paul. on top of his awkward tendencies, he made often hospital visits for his asthma and soon his hyperhydrosis ( overactive sweat glands ).

jessica, after the boys were born had left them with her parents, relapsing into her addictions. the twins lived primarily with their grandparents, and then permanently when their mother disappeared. the boys were only five. richie didn't fully understand what would happen, and why his mother's visits became less frequent. the gifts he got that christmas were never labeled with 'from: mommy'. things were a blur for a long time. in a way, he knew he had to be at fault for her leaving. mom never came back, grandma and grandpa were sadder, uncle paul was the only one that consistently spoke to the boys. they didn’t understand anything. and richie knew, deep down, somewhere that he was the reason his mom didn’t come back.

it didn’t process properly that something happened to his mom, until duke had begun coming by. he brought a few toys for him and trevor. trevor, happy as can be, took the toys to show their grandmother just down the hall, whereas richie sat behind.

“hi richie, people call me duke, you can call me that too.” he had smiled. “hi.” when he was little, he barely had any confidence speaking with anyone that wasn’t immediate family. “i heard that there’s some big stuff going on.” “where’s my mom?” richie shook his head, confused at the notion. it’s been a few weeks, and a few people have come by. they apologized to him, but he was only five! duke had taken a moment, a breath being tucked as he said, “richie, your mom’s not coming back..” “did she go away?” “,,, yeah. yeah, she went away.” richie, as if he expected it, had nodded. “okay.”

that, was that. richie sat with those feelings that night, afraid to sleep. he was afraid to wake and be in the darkness that taunted his nightmares. whenever he’d wake from one, he’d spring up, and wipe his tears away. he couldn’t cry and go to grandma or grandpa, or even uncle paul. so he dealt, sniffling into his blankets. it had to be his fault that she didn’t come back.

jessica matthews never returned to the household, then again, she was less frequent with her visits to begin with.

despite the absence of either of his parents, he thinks he grew up well-rounded. his grandparents did everything they could, raising three children with a six year age gap, and the oldest being in his twenties and still staying home. he grew up as normal as can be.

whenever he was in the fourth grade, he met peter spankoffski. the two had been placed together, desks across from each other. richie had seen the star wars stickers on the boy's binder, and scoffed. star wars was lame. it wasn't until he saw pete pull out a spiderman pencil case. richie's eyes widened before he was quick to say, "spiderman is my favorite marvel character." pete, in response, agreed, "mine too."

the two had become quick friends from that moment on. fourth grade was a trial for richie, however, max jägerman had taken target to peter and himself, duke had been coming by more to check on him and trevor, his uncle paul had been helping them move into his place. grandma and grandpa were happy with this decision, and had reassured the twins that they would always have space at their home.

unfortunately, fourth grade was around the time where books and fiction had become a more prevalent in his life. he was introduced to manga around this time. his first manga was, in fact, attack on titan. he had picked up the book, intrigued as to why the monster on the cover was an anatomic horror show. he was enthralled, and quickly engrossed himself in everything revolving around the media.

with the idea of finding comfort within a world that gigantic humanoid monsters and a military that was risking their lives for the rich hiding behind safety, richie would grow to further understand the main character: eren jäger’s need to prove himself. he even thought mikasa was a character he’d want to be with romantically ( this began his idea of selfshipping at the age of 11/12 ).

the early years of elementary school were also, the time where he had been diagnosed with autism and a few other diagnoses. GAD, depression and c-ptsd compared to his brother who received a GAD and adhd diagnosis. from early elementary, he had been with tools to help him ( however living with your uncle who also is avoidant as possible with his OWN emotions made it hard sometimes ).

as if finding his best friend in fourth grade was bad enough, he met ruth fleming in middle school ( guaranteed to be the cringiest time of his life ). the three of them had been sat in a pod together, yet again, and as if it was fate— it all clicked. the duo was fixed to their trio and ruth was a perfect addition to the group.

richie’s love for anime grew during this time, and he definitely had found a few medias that he shouldn’t ( cough, dramatical murder to list one - and hetalia ). while attack on titan remained a special interest for him and a love that’s near and dear to his heart, neon genesis evangelion also grew to the level of interest. middle school was THE time to be free— between the three of them, all of them had their things. they all had their interests that they made a goal for each of them to learn by proxy, and even when richie or pete would be the target of bullying, they all had each other.

middle school was also the steady incline of bullying for richie, being often ‘farted on’, and name calling had started. "shitlips" was the nickname that richie bore, holding that title all throughout the rest of his academic career. he'd try and rub off most of the bullying, but in the end, it's hard to stand up for yourself against the most important people in town. so he dealt, and bared whatever he could. on occasion, he'd try making himself more nerdy on purpose ( as if that'd do anything at all ).

he had gotten ahold of hairdye at thirteen. that, in itself was a mess. at thirteen, richie had braces and was self-conscious about his physical appearance. being thirteen was hard enough! that age was awful for everyone that could remember what it was like. there's something universal about it,,, unless you're max jagerman or brad callahan. then you have no room to speak.

hairdye.

hairdye was the main thing that richie had bought from walmart the last visit they had made for groceries, and held off from using it. after hours of watching videos on youtube, he went in for the kill and started the bleach. paul had come home from work to find one of his nephews downstairs doing homework, the other upstairs in the boys bathroom.

after the bleach, richie peered into the mirror, then seeing his uncle in the doorframe.

"whatcha doing?" paul asked, an amused but relatively confused smile drawing over his features. there was a moment of silence before richie blurted, "drugs?" which caused him to immediately regret that. "why would you say that when you clearly aren't doing that?" "i dunno! i panicked and got nervous. but, i'm trying to dye my hair to make brad callahan and max jägerman stop picking on me. and so i can look cool." richie admitted, deafetedly.

paul had taken another long look at the boy's now bleached hair, and took a slow breath, "what.. what color are you planning on dyeing it?"

as if he expected the question, richie pulled out a bottle of arctic fox's shade, aquamarine and swallowed. "this shade of blue. and i watched a lot of videos so i won't mess up the bathroom, i promise." he swore, when paul took the bottle from him.

giving it a closer look, his brows furrowed, then he looked back to richie with a skeptical look in his eye. "do.. you need help?" he asked.

"do you even know how to dye hair? no offense, but your hair has remained the same since you were little, uncle paul." richie gestured to the older.

"yeah, i know how to dye hair." he said before placing the bottle of dye on the counter sink and came closer, inspecting the bleach job before he looked at the empty bowl for the dye. he acted fast, popping the cap off and emptied the contents into the bowl itself.

richie didn't expect the bonding experience that the two had, but the outcome was worth it. an excitable richard with now a shock of blue hair, that matched the bands of his braces. "oh wow-! i look like aoba from dramatical murder!” that was a character he should not want to look like, but he had to give him credit for nearly all of his sexual awakening to that game. without it, he’d be probably a prude. no one wants to be a prude.

now highschool was a different story. at sixteen, richie became infatuated with film and cinematography. film in general had quickly grown to a high level interest, and because of this, he received a camcorder for his birthday. trevor received a recorder and a few other things, but richie had already begun recording. he utilized the camcorder for things such as video diaries and experimented often with recording the dnd sessions that he, pete and ruth had every two weeks. paul had done good with gifts that year, even if it was hard to properly find out what the boys wanted. trevor was easy to please, but he did have to be careful with richie's gift. needless to say, he was glad the camcorder is one of richie's prized possessions.

during highschool, the bullying worsened, but he persisted nonetheless against it. he met grace during this time, against his own will, yet again. the two would become unlikely friends, after an unexpected infodump about the waylon place from grace. then, he met didrika kumar during calculus and complimented their headphones. the stickers on them were cool, but granted, the way he went about the compliment was.... not what you'd expect. i'll let you imagine how that went down specifically.

he had taken interest in the swim team, but went against the idea. richie had thought that he didn't fit the idea of a swimmer. he by no means was athletic, he was asthmatic, and was too much on occasion to be around. so the second best option? being the school's mascot.

zeke the fighting nighthawk.

his first game was during his sophmore year, and when he had put on the mask, he felt safe. there was a layer of animosity behind zeke, that richie found comfort in. not everyone knew who he was, who zeke was, really. the identity of zeke the nighthawk would never be revealed, and his predecessor before him ( the senior that graduated two years before him; dylan grahm ) had said that people would try to find out his identity. true, there were people who did, but not everyone cared. the fact that not everyone cared made him feel better, he didn't have to meet everyone's expectations. he was just richie, richie who just so happened to be the biggest part of the football team ( minus the qb, max jägerman ).

there was an incident, about half-way through the football season, during halftime, richie had been doing well, getting the student section as loud as they can, the cheerleaders riled up as much as they could... but, he wasn't looking when he had tripped over his own feet and fell square on his face. thankfully the mask didn't come off, but that was forever marked as THE worst moment he could've ever handled. unfortunately, this did garner negative attention from max, and brad.

bullying, as i said, progressed. now namecalling had evolved into physical attacks. flick-it tickets, and being punched in the gut from time to time! it was,, a time and richie had hated coming home from school with fresh bruises that he didn't know how to explain. so, he'd hide in his room on more occasion. he didn't want to worry his uncle. that was the last thing on his list.

at seventeen, he had his braces taken off and relief had washed over him in the dental chair. by this point, he and didrika had been together for nearly a year, and let's also just say, they matched each other's freaks. over the summer, he witnessed pete and the mayor's daughter, stephanie lauter blossom into,, a romance. they said abstinence camp brought them together. weird.

by senior year, when he thought life couldn't throw anymore hurdles at him, he didn't expect didi's friend, evangaline goodreau, to be with him??? it was an awkward intergration, considering earlier in the year they had planned a prank on max before. thank god he jumped away before the floor fully gave out beneath him. how bad would it be if the quarterback of the hatchetfield nighthawks got seriously injured? or worse-

but, as tense as the new addition was, the nerds had grown into a large group! himself, ruth, pete, steph, didrika, eva, max ( and soon grace ). they'd be awkward, loud, rambunctious even as a group, but it'd lead to so many amazing moments that richie would catch on his camcorder. between TNTL in pete's backyard, d&d sessions, sleepovers, and even the conversations that'd come up in lunch, richie was glad for all that came his way. hey, at least it's better than... well, you know.

now, at eighteen, he plans to go into school for film study or even graphic design. he's an avid listener of 𝗦͟𝗪͟𝗜͟𝗡͟𝗚͟𝗜͟𝗡͟' 𝗧͟𝗛͟𝗘͟ 𝗛͟𝗔͟𝗧͟𝗖͟𝗛͟𝗘͟𝗧, a podcast that didi and steph showed the group. he's apart of the mathletes, the GSA, and the school's broadcast team. he still lives with his uncle and his brother, but now, paul has a girlfriend, the crabby barista from beanies. trevor has a,, boyfriend? he doesn't know. and yes, he still actively wears anime merch proudly, and still sports that shock of blue. highschool was killing him, but he thinks that it's gearing towards something better... at least he hopes so.

AAAA THERE YOU GO!!! so i will say, that this is set in a timeline in which, max never died, therefore richie and ruth never did either!! however, there are still some crazy stuff that happens in this au hehehe. i hope you guys enjoyed!!

RICHIE GRAPHIC : made by yours truly ( me! ). if you guys like this, i'll make more for other characters!! i might make a section in my intro for graphic rqs! idk yet tho!

[liquidorcard]

Hey fam we're gunna inact in some sinful behavior again and get real for a sec here on the shitposting blog so TW: Discussion of substance abuse, mental health issues, SA, etc.

You may have noticed I took a bit of a break from posting for a bit. It wasn't entirely due to Lily's "junkie" rant here, but it was partially responsible.

A lot about Lily high key cheeses my biscuits, I've made that pretty clear. Lily and I have a . . . Strange amount in common in some regards. I'm a trans person myself, I come from a similar, shall we say, "dysfunctional home environment" Lily does. We're even both Canadian, close enough in age I grew up with a lot of the exact same regional-specific media she did. We've had some other life experiences in common.

With that said, Lily's almost like the evil funhouse mirror version of my life. I was sexually assaulted for the first time at basically the exact same age Courtney was. Lily reminds me very much of my first partner, who physically, emotionally and sexually abused me. Unlike Lily, I am from an actual multi-racial family and have had the somewhat unique experiences and gotten the somewhat unique perspective of being a white person partially influenced and organically adopted into more predominantly POC culture. I've had to come to terms with my own white privilege and the ways Western colonialism has influenced me on a level far more personal than it would be for someone from a more monoracial and monocultural family than mine. While also coming to terms with and accepting the ways my family has been judged and discriminated against for being so blended.

There's also just the fact that Lily seems to (I wonder if, on some level, intentionally) act like the alt-right caricature of a progressive leftist in the most performative way imaginable, while also clearly not actually being left-wing at all. My pet theory is that the only thing stopping Lily from going full Blaire White MAGA butt monkey is that her pride can't take it. Being treated like a useful idiot for the right to "prove" they're not bigots while treating her with open hostility in every other regard. So she's as "leftist" as she needs to be to get the 12 year olds she's trying to court on her side because they don't know any better. While being profoundly anti-labor, pro-capitalist. Even though the only reason why the alt-right hyper focus on identity politic bullshit like that is becayse it's a wedge issue that allows them to skirt around talking about actual policy.

There's also just the fact that someone can be so, confidently, shit-eating levels of wrong and stupid about the most asinine things. I actually work professionally in the fields Lily has decided her opinions are worth vomiting out into the ether. Fields people in general are way too comfortable speaking with authority on shit they know absolutely nothing about-- but Lily is for sure a special case.

Point is: I'm very used to Lily making me go into turbo big upsetti spaghetti mode. I've been aware of her for YEARS. I'm over it . . . Until I'm not.

I've alluded to it a few times already: I'm a recovered drug user, though I've struggled with general substance abuse and impulse control issues for longer. Particularly because of untreated mental health issues like C-PTSD, a dissociative disorder, gender dysphoria and ADHD. Particularly because of untreated physical health issues that just a few years ago almost killed me. Issues that caused me significant pain, mental distress, and slowly worsening disability since I was 11 years old. Went totally untreated until they came close to taking my life. It's no coincidence that I started stealing my parent's booze when I was around 12 or 13 years old.

The worst, ugliest, most humiliating aspects of yourself? Addiction will put them front and center. It will cause you to do things, act in ways, find out things about yourself you're never going to be able to unknow. You have to live with for the rest of your life.

You're aware of it-- the whole time. What a fucking creature you've become. How you are hurting the people closest to you. It's not fun. The whole time, you want to stop. But you can't. You don't know why you just can't control yourself, what you're supposed to do. You're afraid of asking for help out of fear of judgement or punishment. Drugs are mostly decriminalized in Canada and still, if someone just took access away from my poison of choice and sent me on my way with no further help--- I would have just walked into traffic.

The worst of my issues happened due to some absolutely insane levels of medical irresponsibility that I won't fully get into because they're too long to explain. But I will tell you that, already aware I had substance abuse issues, I *explicitly warned* the doctor who prescribed me the medication that I didn't feel I could be responsible to be put on anything addictive. She assured me it was not. Spoiler altert: it was addictive. A lot of addicts descent into rock bottom beginning with something they were prescribed.

Drug companies will put in these "anti-abuse" measures into otherwise addictive substances that it takes half a brain cell to circumvent. Just take my word for it.

I overdosed at least once, maybe twice on the drug I was originally prescribed. Alone. By some insane luck I survived both times without getting further medical treatment. But as I built up a tolerance what I was originally prescribed wasn't the *only thing* I ended up abusing in that period of my life. I was going to die if I didn't do something soon, and I knew it.

I was lucky. My sister drove two cities over after a night shift to my rescue and quite literally set me on the road to saving my life. My doctor was compassionate enough to allow me to get off of what I was originally addicted to at my own pace, and correctly identified I needed a medication overhaul to do so. My older brother made sure I wasn't dying of dehydration or starvation during my detox period and made sure to do the daily tasks I didn't have the mental capacity to do at that time aswell. Without them I wouldn't be here today.

NOT EVERY DRUG USER IS AS FORTUNATE AS ME, HOWEVER. And even then, recovery is not a straight line, or as simple as having certain substances kept away. It's a demon you'll be fighting the rest of your life, in many instances. Mine included. Part of getting off the harmful substances I was was getting a prescription to Adderall, as I was partially self-medicating for. Something my doctor still monitors me with to ensure I'm not falling back into bad habits with. Something Lily is CURRENTLY bitching about not being able to get a prescription for-- I wonder why, Lily.

I have now gone through THREE surgeries without painkillers. And in one particularly awful incident, was treated rather cruelly by the medical staff over refusing to take them. To quote, of all things, fucking Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo, "if you live with pain long enough, you learn to enjoy the taste." But nothing is like the nightmare of chemical dependence. Pain is immaterial to that kind of hell.

I know Lily is saying this bullshit just to vaguepost about Courtney, but I don't care. Fuck her. Fuck her for daring to judge me, and those like me. That she was that comfortable being this vile about the matter publically should give you a good indication as to how comfortable even other people are to talking down to addicts.

She wouldn't have survived the shit I went through. I dare her to try. She's way too much of a little piss baby to crawl her way out of that kind of suffering.

I know this is a meme page, but I refuse to be ashamed of talking about it. If anyone would like some more information about my experience or has questions as to why Lily's opinion on the matter is dogshit and vile, feel free to dm me or send me an ask. I'll make it clear why Lily is fucking scum for having the balls to say this publically. I'll make her regret it.

[jagibee]

Call Me Luna Info

Hello dear readers, Mari speaking!

I just wanted to lay down some basic info about my story so that things are clear

- This story will probably not include super explicit smut unless or until I become more comfortable writing it, but due to heavy discussion of sex and suggestive scenes, this is an 18+ work, so it please respect that and MDNI

- The reader has an AFAB body and uses she/her pronouns and I think at some point I will have her wear skirts/dresses, and I decided to divide SKZ in half in regards to how old everyone is compared to the reader for the purpose of honorifics, but I looped Hyunjin in with the younger half since they were born in the same year. I also might have a background for character motivation purposes, so just oc family members and their secondary genders. Other than that, I try to keep it pretty neutral including race, religion, etc. Unfortunately I am limited to my own experiences, so if you feel like I’m not keeping it neutral or I am portraying something incorrectly or problematically, feel free to say something!

- I have ADHD and will deadass forget this story exists unless I have people interacting with me, so please do!

- My chapters will probably be over 1,000 words but I’m really inconsistent other than that so good luck

- This isn’t meant to be an exact biography of Stray Kids obviously so I’m not putting pressure on them or forcing them to be together or anything, also they have less managers and choreographers and sound people just because I don’t really feel like including all of that

- I’ll update when I want

- This is my story, so if you don’t like it, you can just leave without reading anymore!

- This story will deal with physical, verbal, and psychological abuse, as well as slight substance abuse, eating disorders, and mental health issues so please don’t read this if any of these affect you negatively

- Again, I can only go off of my experience so the way the characters in this story deal with things is not meant to be the “correct way” and it may not be relatable to everyone

- If you guys have any theories or ideas for what will happen next, let me know! It’s fun to see how people interpret writing (and maybe I’ll get my next plot point idea😁)

- I really don’t know what direction this will take so I’ll be adding trigger warnings as needed for individual chapters, and if there’s something that I haven’t tagged properly, please tell me! I want everyone to have a good experience with this story

- This story will have cursing, that’s just the way I think and write (and I think we all know the kids curse off camera)

- When any character uses English, I’ll show it like “‘“this”’”

- I’m shit at titles so….. we’re doing chapter numbers, but I might add chapter names later

- Tag list is open! You can send in an ask or message me if you want in! My tumblr is a bit fucked up so I can’t really respond to replies, but I always add you even if I don’t answer

- However, being on my taglist and being able to read my work is ultimately up to me, so if you do or say something that I dislike, I have no problem with blocking you

- I am fine with comments like “can’t wait for the next chapter!” but if it’s something more like “when’s the next part😡” consider it an automatic block, sorry not sorry!

- Liking and reblogging are always appreciated!

- Really, just have fun, stay positive, and (hopefully) enjoy the ride!

Info Regarding ABO

- omegas have heats three times a year for 7-10 days

- alphas have ruts twice a year for 3-6 days

- betas have slips once a year for 4-5 days

- heats include abdomen cramping, change of the omega’s scent, a need to nest, slick, and horniness for most

- heat suppressants are common, they don’t completely take away everything, there is still usually mild cramping, change of the omega’s scent and a need to nest, though they are pretty moderate

- ruts include a stronger scent of the alpha, possessiveness, need to mark their partner or partners, aggression, headaches, and horniness for most

- rut suppressants aren’t nearly as common as heat suppressants but they can tone down a rut to only include headaches, slightly stronger scent, and a bit of aggression

- slips include betas getting a stronger sense of smell and touch and they become very sensitive both physically and emotionally

- slip suppressants are very rare and only tone down a slip by about 20% while making the beta emotionally numb so many don’t like taking suppressants even when they have access

- there are no specific alpha scents or beta scents or omega scents, but in this universe, people can still identify someone’s secondary gender based on their scent

- scent glands are on the wrists and neck but if you put blockers on the neck, the body automatically stops releasing scents from the wrist gland

- scent blockers also lessen the wearer’s sense of smell

- wrist to wrist scentings are for acquaintances, neck to wrists are for good friends, and neck to necks are basically the equivalent of saying “I want you in my life forever” which can be platonic, familial, or romantic

And now onto the masterlist!

[thatgirl4815]

Not to be a total Ray apologist (especially now at all times!) but I am somewhat irked at the way Top and some online opinions talk about Ray "dragging" Mew into his destructive lifestyle as if Mew is an innocent lamb being led astray. Mew is an adult who knows exactly what he's getting into with Ray - he's spent the past couple of years chastising him over said lifestyle, and he knows it's driven by Ray's substance abuse and mental health issues. Yes he's heartbroken so isn't making the best choices, but he is still responsible for those choices . Ray, however is an addict. We know this, Mew knows this, Ray denies knowing this. The idea that the addict is more responsible than his non-addict friend (who is very much cognizant of addict's addiction) when said friend decides to dip his toes into the self-destructive world of said addict...well, that's something. People rightly criticised Ray for demonstrating a type of 'poverty tourism' during ep 5 and as far as I can see, Mew's actions seem to be something similar, because we all know it's not going to stick - he's going to try on the unhealthy hedonism shoes cos he's pissed and heartsick, but he can take them off whenever he wants, whereas for Ray those shoes are cement blocks made from childhood trauma which are dragging him down to an early death (as Mew himself prophesied only an ep ago!).

On an entirely unrelated note, my two favourite First moments in this ep were 1) the adorable little noise he made after Ray asked him to help him/pulled out the 'na?' and 2) after Ray asks if he really doesn't want to talk to his dad, there's a second where you can see him imagining it before he sort of shakes himself out of it - it's such a lovely and subtle moment. And I think it's a pattern that repeats in his interactions with Ray - we see him allow himself to fall under his spell, or live in the moment, imagine what his life could be, and we also frequently see him give a little shake of the head and a rueful smile as if to gently knock some sense back into himself. Like we saw in ep 5, his life follows a routine necessitated by his financial situation and the emotional walls he's built up as a result of this and perhaps his romantic history, and he acts like he's fine with it, but then little cracks sneak in now and then that serve to remind him he's just surviving, not thriving. And I do think he's okay with not knowing his dad, and of course he's right about families not having to be mum/dad/child, but still, there's that wistful moment of 'what if' that seems to be a recurring theme throughout his story.

That's a great point about Mew being able to live Ray's addictive lifestyle with none of the longterm consequences; it's definitely a nice callback to Ray's poverty tourism and the ways in which these characters are adapting to other characters' lifestyles and being let into their world. Ray got to see Sand's world and became more empathetic towards him in the process. Maybe this foray into the world of drugs, alcohol, and hard partying will show Mew something similar about Ray? Specifically regarding his own criticisms.

I want Mew to open his eyes to his own errors when chastising Ray about drugs and alcohol. I want Mew to understand that simply lecturing someone and looking down on them isn't enough to make them quit. I want him to see why Ray has turned to these methods of release, and why even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to get himself out easily. This could be a groundbreaking moment for Mew to get to experience a fraction of what Ray is going through (not on a psychological level exactly, but as far as the addictiveness of drugs and alcohol). And yeah, Top's anger over Ray corrupting Mew is frustrating, because he acts as if Mew is a little puppy on a leash, going whichever way Ray pulls him. We know for a fact that Mew is capable of making his own decisions, and whether or not he's going through a heartbreak doesn't change that. He's letting himself fall, and he can ultimately only blame himself; he knows what he's getting himself into with Ray.

(Sidenote, but this is such a big blow to Ray--agreeing to be with him only when you're at the lowest of the low and your judgement is impaired. Mew is winning friend of the year once again...)

First! I agree--he does a great job with subtlety as far as making us aware that he is curious about what it would be like to know his dad. One of the reasons I think First is so good in this role is that he's excellent at portraying the little cracks in Sand's facade, whether it's about Ray or his father. He's good at acting one way but clueing the audience in that he really feels another way. I'm not an actor, but I suspect executing all of those emotions would be really hard to do.

Speaking of Sand though, I just. Want to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he deserves better. (But also, SandRay endgame PLEASE.)

[ichigobara]

I saw your humans are space orcs post and wanted to ask a question

Since, generally, humans are regarded as friendly pack creatures, what do you think aliens would think of humans who kill their own family members to protect themselves/others?

I ask this cause I was thinking about all those stories about women in the past who killed their abusive husbands and fathers to protect themselves and their siblings and or children.

That's a really serious question and topic, but it would no doubt come up eventually if aliens were to be watching and observing the human race. I can try my best to come up with a scenario where that might come up.

⚠️ DISCLAIMER ⚠️ I am in no way, shape, or form claiming to be an expert on this topic, or saying this is what happens in most scenarios! I am doing my best to think of a way that this interaction might go for the sake of storytelling and nothing more. Again, I am not an expert, and I may make mistakes or say something that may be completely wrong. Thank you for understanding.

⚠️ CW: mentions and discussions of physical abuse, death, murder, and alcohol and gambling issues. Please read at your own risk ⚠️

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The alien captain walks their rounds of his ship, making sure everything is running smoothly and greeting his crew mates and companions as he walks by. As he exits the bridge of the ship and closes the doors behind him, he spots their human crew member, a female of their species and the mechanic of the ship, coming from the direction of the engine room. The captain notices that she is not wearing her uniform correctly. The pants of the uniform are on normally, but at the waist, the rest of the uniform is wrapped tightly around her hips. The sleeves of the uniform are tied together in the front of her body, holding it in place. On the backside, the rest of the upper half of the uniform is hanging loosely, reaching down to her lower thighs.

This is a normal occurrence for this human. Her body temperature apparently rises up much faster than most of her species when in warmer environments and she tends to sweat a lot heavier than most of her kind as well. In order to regulate her temperature more and keep as cool as possible, she wears her uniform like this, with a thin white undershirt without sleeves and thin straps across her shoulders underneath of it. This often leads to oil, dirt, grime, and other substances covering her exposed skin. The female human normally takes her showers after doing maintenance work anyways, so it strangely doesn't seem to affect her as much as the captain would think. It's like she barely even notices it's there most of the time.

The captain calls out to the human to get her attention. "Heading to your quarters for a shower, human Kira?" He asked, a friendly smile on his face.

"Howdy, Captain." She says, exhaustion evident in her voice. "That engine was real rowdy today. It wouldn’t play nice with me, kinda felt like I was tryin’ to wrangle a wild bronco!"

The captain nods. He'd gotten used to Kira's accent and mannerisms over the 3 years she'd been on his ship. She is from the south part of her country, back on planet Earth. Her accent is extremely different but apparently most common compared to the other humans that live there. "I see. Is it cause for concern?"

Kira shook her head. "Aww, don’t worry 'bout all that, Captain! She’s as healthy as a horse and rarin’ to go. I made certain to check and recheck everything real good—levels are just fine, and she’s got a heap of fuel. That oughta get us to Mineora just fine." Kira smiled as she said this.

The captain chuckled. He started to love how the human referred to the engine and certain parts of the ship as "she". It's happened on multiple occasions now, and he remembers that a previous mechanic they had on the ship did the same thing. According to both of them, humans do this very often in regard to the vehicles that they build and work on.

"This is fantastic news, thank you human Kira." The captain said, smiling once more.

As Kira returned the smile and they both turned to go about their business, the captain noticed something on the human's left arm that stood out to him.

"That looks like a particularly rough oil stain, human Kira." He commented, noticing fifteen thick black lines close together on the human's forearm. "Better scrub extra hard to get it off." He chuckled softly, trying to joke with the human mechanic.

The human stopped to look at what the captain was referring to. "Oh, this?" She asked, moving her arm to look at the lines and moving it up a bit for the captain to see better. "This ain't oil or dirt, Captain. It's a tattoo. I’ve had it for a good while now. I'm mighty surprised you just now noticed it."

The captain was a bit shocked and squinted his eyes to get a better look at the marks. "By the goddess of space herself, you're right. I'm incredibly sorry. Disregard my poor attempt at a joke."

The human waved it off. "Don’t worry ‘bout a thing. I’m covered in grease and grime most of the time, so I get why you’d think it’s just another mark on my skin."

The captain nods, thinking of something he was told once regarding human tattoos. "I've been told before that humans get tattoos to symbolize something. Is there any particular reason for those lines?"

Suddenly, the human's face grew dark. As if a shadow had passed over her head. A troubled look grew on her face, like she was thinking on something that she didn't find very pleasant.

"Human Kira?" He asked, his concern for his crew mate growing rapidly. "Are you alright? Are you sick? Why do you look like that?"

She shakes her head. "Naw, I’m good, Captain." Her voice was softer and she spoke more slowly. "It's just...I ain't too keen on thinkin' 'bout that."

The captain realizes he may have said something that caused her to be acting this way. "I am truly sorry, human Kira. I did not mean to bring up something so horrible for you. Disregard that question as well. I am seemingly making quite a few errors today..."

The human shook her head. "Nah, don’t you worry 'bout that. It’s all good. I get it, you’re just tryin’ to satisfy your curiosity. I know you been tryin’ to wrap your head 'round humans, so it’s only natural you’d ask that." She smiled softly as she said this, but then her face grew dark again.

"I’ll tell ya ‘bout it." She says after a slight moment of silence.

"You really don't have to, human Kira." The captain said hurriedly. "If it bothers you so much, I don't wish to inflict further discomfort on you."

The human sat down on one of the chairs nearby in the adjacent break room. The captain followed, his concern still evident on his face, wanting to ensure that she was alright.

The female human looked up at her captain, her auburn eyes distant and cloudy, not at all seemingly present in where they were. As if she were in another place entirely. The shadow across her face was still present, only adding to the distance in the human's eyes.

"Ya know I'm on yer ship 'cause of my criminal record, right?" Kira asked.

The captain nods. "Correct. Though I must say, you haven't had any issues to speak of ever since you stepped on to my ship. It makes me question why you ever had a criminal record in the first place."

Kira scoffed. "I ain't had no reason to do nothin' that'd get me in trouble. Though I gotta admit, I don’t know much ‘bout the laws out here in space, so who really knows?"

The captain smiles softly. "I will be sure to let Grimmplar know you require that knowledge. I shall mention it to him later on, however. You were saying?"

Kira nods. "Anyways, back on Earth, 'fore y’all even made contact with us humans, I didn’t have a very pleasant life, I reckon. I grew up on my daddy’s farm, and we was right poor. Mostly ‘cause of Daddy’s drinkin’ and gamblin’ problems. He’d spend most all our money on booze, and when it came time to plantin’ seeds and we didn’t have the cash we needed, he’d go off and gamble it away to get more. Mama passed away after havin’ my little brother, ‘round the time I was 8. Daddy was a handful even ‘fore Mama died, but he got so much worse afterwards."

"He'd always say that gamblin' was just a way to get more cash for seeds, crops, and all that jazz. But I knew better. I'd be stuck at home with my brother, takin' care of him and cleanin' up the place, makin' sure everything was nice and tidy-like. Time and time again, he’d roll back home with nothin', and we'd have to ask our neighbors to lend us their seeds. And if we managed to grow somethin’ and wanted to sell it, we’d have to give our neighbors 50% of the profits since it was their seeds. During that time, Daddy got a bit better, but good grief, was he strict. If I slipped up on even the smallest thing during the season, he'd be right there to whip the livin’ daylights outta me and make me work twice as hard to make up for it. All the while he was inside watchin' football and drinkin' til he passed out. I kept my brother out in the shade, always stickin’ close by, tryin' to keep him away from Daddy."

"After a bit, our neighbors stopped givin' us their seeds. Said we was relyin' on 'em too much an' it was a waste of good seeds. So Daddy had to go back to gamblin' fer more cash to keep his drinkin' up. By then, it weren't even fer the crops, an' it ain't never been 'bout takin' care of me or my brother from the start."

"Well, after I grew up a bit, reckon I was 'round 18, I started realizin' that he wasn't treatin' us right at all. Used to think it was just how he was raisin' us, and he’d say it was buildin' character, gettin' us ready for the real world. But after takin' care of the house, cleanin' up everyone else's messes, and tendin' to the crops only to barely scrape by year after year—nearly a decade by then—I just wanted it all to end. I needed to break Daddy's hold on my brother and me, but I didn’t wanna do it just for my own sake. Felt like I needed to give my brother a better shot at life, a new pace instead of livin' in that hellhole."

"So, one night while Daddy was passed out in his chair like usual, I snuck into his room and grabbed the revolver he kept hidin' in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. Not much of a secret spot, I reckon anyone coulda got their hands on it if they looked hard enough. But I checked to see if it was loaded, crept downstairs, and stood in front of the TV, facin' Daddy, sound asleep and none the wiser."

Kira took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Then she opened them and continued. "I hesitated at first, ya know? My head was just buzzin’ with all kinds of thoughts and doubts. Was I really fixin’ to take a life? And if I’m honest, this was Daddy we’re talkin’ about. Sure, he’d done some downright terrible things to my brother and me over the years, but did he really deserve to meet his end?"

"After a few moments I shook those thoughts off, fueled by hatred and anger of a decade of abuse and torment, I raised my arm holding the revolver, aimed, and fired at Daddy. Shot him right in the head. He died instantly, of course. Barely any human can survive a bullet to the head at almost point-blank range."

"After I stared at Daddy's corpse for a few minutes, it dawned on me what I'd done. I chucked the revolver aside and sprinted upstairs. I barreled into mine and my brother's room, scooped him up, and grabbed the bags I had packed the day before. We hightailed it outta that house and never glanced back."

"A few days later, the cops found us hidin’ under a bridge over in the next town. The folks in the neighborhood called ‘em that night after hearin’ a gunshot and said they saw someone skedaddlin’ from the scene. When they figured out my brother and I was missin’, they started lookin’ for us. They cuffed me and took my brother to an orphanage. That was the last time I ever laid eyes on him."

Kira took yet another shaky breath and blinked back a tear. She shook her head and looked up at her captain. "Next day, they put me on trial, charged for Daddy’s murder. I ended up locked up for 15 years. Each of them lines there? That’s a year behind bars, for takin’ out the one who was a real threat to us and done us wrong for years. My only regret? Not bein’ able to take care of my brother better and not tellin’ him I’m sorry for makin’ us orphans and takin' Daddy's life."

The tears in Kira's eyes were more visible now, threatening to fall off of the edges of her eyes. She grabbed a hankerchief from the pocket of her uniform and dried her eyes. The captain secretly hoped that it was a different hankerchief than the one that the human female would use while working. But that would be a different issue to discuss later.

"Forgive my bluntness, human Kira," The captain said softly. "But I was not aware that humans could even...act in that manner. I initially thought that you humans were friendly pack creatures based on my previous understandings and research. This is most shocking news."

Kira gives her captain a small smirk. "Well, usually we’re more or less friendly-like. But you see, the human mind’s as fragile as it is strong, Captain. There’s plenty of stories out there like mine. Some folks got it worse, and maybe others ain’t sufferin’ as bad, but their stories still matter. Folks can be greedy, mean, and downright cruel. But then there’s them who can be kind, sweet, and caring too. It’s kinda like a balance, ya know? You never really know what someone else is dealin’ with, or what kinda thoughts they got rattlin’ around in their head."

The captain ponders this new information as Kira continues. "You know, when folks come together, we can make some downright amazing things happen and face just about anythin’ that comes our way. You’ve seen it yourself, Captain. But, now hold on, there’s another side to that coin. When we’re all alone, starin’ down an enemy or some kinda threat, we can feel real small, backed into a corner, and fear just takes over. That’s when our survival instincts kick in. That’s where the saying ‘fight or flight’ comes from. Our instincts say we gotta either fight our way outta the mess to make it through, or take off and save our hides for another day. And them instincts can drive us to do things we wouldn’t normally do when we’re thinkin’ straight, like hurtin’ someone. Even the ones we hold dear..." Kira trails off a bit.

The captain nods in understanding. "I see. This is most intriguing. Though I must apologize for pressing you with my questions when you were obviously not in a positive mindset."

Kira waves her captain off. "No worries, Captain. That was more'n 18 years ago. I'm 36 now, been aboard yer ship for the last 3 years. Had plenty of time to think back on things sittin' in that prison for 15 long years. It ain't exactly fun, but it's just a distant memory these days."

The human female turns, looking out the wide rectangular windows of the break room. She remains in that position for a few minutes. Then she turns back to face her captain.

"I sure do wish I could see my brother again. I wonder where he's at...hope he’s doin’ fine." She says softly.

The captain stands. "I am sure that he is alright, human Kira. You freed the both of you from your father's horrendous treatment and gave the both of you another chance at life. You did what you had to, given the situation and the information you've provided me."

He calmly walks up behind her and gently puts his hand on her shoulder. "I assure you, wherever your brother is, I am sure that he will be thankful for what you did for the both of you."

Kira nods, turning around to look back out the windows at the vast space outside of the ship. The stars shining brightly, the distant planets glowing dimly from the sun's light. She'll see her brother again. One day.

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Thank you Anon for that ask! Loved thinking about this interaction and I spent the entire day thinking on this. I will admit, I didn't intend on turning this into an entire story, but at the same time I've always wanted to write a story of my own, so this gave me a fantastic excuse to write this out! Ended up giving the human, Kira, an entire backstory for this, too!

Please let me know if you liked this! I feel like I did okay, but I know for sure that I'm not a professional author and definitely didn't do an exceptional job. If you have any comments or suggestions, please don't hesitate to let me know!

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *Shining Vale*

I watched both seasons of Shining Vale late last year right before it was cancelled and removed from Starz streaming service. I loved it, but thought that if it had been more popular it would have inspired some kind of backlash where it would involve jeering at the fans for clearly being bad people for cheering for such a harmful  leading character and not careful depiction of mental illness. It would also likely have staunch defenders, though I am not sure I would have been vocally there. But it's not, so I should say how much I liked it and wish there was more.

So let’s talk about the cast which is headed by Courtney Cox (also a producer), Greg Kinnear respectively as Pat and Terry Phelps, all of whom I’ve lived for a while. I’m a more recent fan of Gus Birney, who was great on Dickenson as Jane, (the young hot widow) as their daughter Gaynor, and Dylan Gage who plays their son, Jake.

This is the story of Phelps family that moves from Brooklyn to Shining Vale, Connecticut in the aftermath of the mother Pat’s affair with a contractor. Terry found the house and purchased it without the any of the rest of the family’s input. This does create suspicions especially in regards to the real estate agent Robyn Court, who is played by Sherilyn Fenn (always a joy to see). Also delightful to see Merrin Dungey as Pat’s editor/friend who balances these rolls in funny ways. And then the alway delightful Judith Light shows up as Pat’s mother, who has her own history with mental illness and creates more interesting mirrors between Pat and Gaynor. 

But I’ve been neglecting the series other star, Mira Sorvino! Sorvino plays multiple characters over the seasons starting with Rosemary, who’s a ghost, a demon or figment of Pat’s imagination who “helps” write her long awaited second novel. Her first was an erotic romp with the goal of self definition. The second novel, which is released early in the second season is very different, though still have some filthy bits because that’s Pat’s “brand”. 

The house is TARDIS like in that they keep finding new rooms that were otherwise hidden, most notably a tiki bar that becomes an important location for many scenes, as well as a harbinger of the kinds of substance abuses. It also hints at the building’s secret history as an insane asylum in the 19th century. This history was only partially unraveled in the two seasons that were made.

In addition to liking the cast, I like the series creators Jeff Astrof and Sharon Horgan. Astor created the two season true crime parody sitcom Trial and Error which I still wish had more time. Horgan co-created and started in Catastrophe and Bad Sisters, both of which I’ve written about here. I kind of want to divide the qualities of the series between the two creators, though I know that it is at best misleading. The series has a melange of horror films reference that was like the  melange of true crime narratives that Astor worked with in Trial and Error. All the things about the dysfunctional married couple and parental relationships with children I associate with Horgan’s work. (Not to mention her treatment of Pat’s alcohol abuse is similar to that of her character’s on Catastrophe)

The references to other horror films are direct, and what I saw of how they add up to something intriguingly different. First as the title and concept of a parent-writer loosing their mind over their latest writing project and the history of their new home suggests, there are plenty of references to The Shining. At least in the first season. The second season, in which Pat’s menopause is reversed by new neighbor Ruth’s (also played by Mira Sorvino) herbal tea, is more inspired by Rosemary’s Baby. There are also liberal references to The Omen and The Exorcist, among other films. And plenty of opportunity to wonder how “real” what we are seeing, especially in the second season where there is an increase in cartoonish-ness. Over the course of the season multiple people get hit by a bus and explode while the bus doesn’t stop. It gets funnier every time. Going in the opposite direction from funny to startling is a gag involving a mysterious Walkman. Three members of it find it at random times, put it on, each hearing a different song, but all doing the same dance. I will forever wonder where they were going with this. 

Tonally the closest comparison I can think is Evil. Sad there will be neither of them soon. 

[thecurseisinourblood]

Have a super messy write-up of some of my more recent thoughts. @murroyilodel and I are always brainstorming to further flesh out and develop the nuances of our muses. Despite my publishing very little of it, things seem to grow and change every week. Be warned that ahead will include some things quite personal to mun. All of this is regarding my modern interpretation of Frollo.  A trigger warning for child abuse and substance abuse ahead.  I determined long ago that I wanted my modern interpretation of Frollo to experience rather severe child abuse. Initially, this was an uninformed choice, understanding little about how that can affect one’s behavior long term. But I began to do more and more research and came to the conclusion that this could contribute to his aggressive behavior and his more solitary lifestyle.  Years after that, I realized just how much I gleaned from my own personal struggles while writing for Claude. How much pain and distrust of others I was pulling from myself to write him. Unfortunately, I was one of those ignorant people who thought my punishment as a child never affected me. Only recently have I put together that my whole life began to change after my parents’ punishments became more severe. I remember distinctly that my dad told me they stopped using the belt on me when they figured out that humiliating me in front of family members or putting me in time out in a public space was far more effective. Over the course of these faded memories, I do remember how anxious and insecure I became. Projecting my own pain, insecurities, jealousy, anxiety and distrust through Frollo really helped me when I was younger to work on my emotional intelligence and try to be more confident. Even now, I still have these struggles, but at least I am not as much of an asshole anymore.  That being said, I’ve learned more about attachment styles. I believe that Frollo has a dismissive avoidant attachment style, especially when he was younger, but as he has aged, and with certain people he began to fall into fearful avoidant.  As the first one implies, they are more dismissive of others’ feelings. They were forced to become self-reliant. Have trust issues. A negative view of peoples’ intentions. They repress their needs and emotions. when they feel hurt or angry they withdraw entirely. Becoming too close with others makes them feel trapped. Being independent is the most important thing. <-- this is all disney Frollo btw and with Frollo’s very intimate relationships, he leans toward fearful with some anxious tendencies. He is often afraid if he gets too close, they will leave. If he makes too many mistakes or disappoints them, they will leave. disappointing his family at all brings him an overwhelming amount of shame, embarrassment, and self-loathing. He will withdraw when feeling rejected or overwhelmed. There will be a time with Esmeralda where he flees for months, then upon his return, potentially suggest they break up in a fit because he thinks she wants to break up anyway. He works very hard to avoid intimate conversations. The few times his loved ones have serious talks with him, he shuts down completely. Feels like it is the end of the world cuz he’s not perfect.  Besides Lucy and the Judges, Claude managed to screw up every close relationship he has had, and fully believes it is just a matter of time before people grow apart/abandon him. IF my Claude were not a virgin, my Claude would most likely be a compulsive sex-addict. The dysregulation of emotion, the lack of respect for others’ feelings, the impulsive tendencies when he’s feeling depressed, turning to alcohol abuse and pill abuse etc, all lead me to believe there would be no stopping him. The lack of real intimacy and the fear of real intimacy, yet the craving of intimacy would lead to the cycle of fucking anything he could. Which would also lead to more alienation, shame, and believing he is unlovable. Meanwhile his brother Jehan is dismissive avoidant as well, except for when it comes to Claude. Claude is the only person Jehan feels even more anxious avoidant than fearful avoidant because of Claude’s neglect. For the most part, Claude is confident in himself, his work, his worth. However, over time he is made aware of how different he is. As an INTJ, my modern Frollo tends to pride himself on his independence and logic. Although he can be charming and witty if he wishes, there is little, to no emotion in his day to day. Everyone is laughing and he can’t laugh with them. It’s not always about being stuck up or uncomfortable, he just can’t feel the same way as them. He cannot partake. These doubts also extend to his personal relationships. Claude knows he isn’t fun, or the life of the party and doesn’t think he could contribute or relate to these kinds of social gatherings. Claude dated a lot in his 30′s and was confident and uncouth, but no one was able to catch his interest.  His status as a confirmed bachelor, his brilliance, and his inability to relate to those around him have convinced him that he is an oddity that no one understands, particularly in his 40′s.  By the time Delice comes in, Claude wants to lose his virginity. He finds her charming, smart, engaging, and beautiful. He likes that she is a snob like him. She makes him laugh. She knows how to tease him and talk to him and repartee. Despite not wanting a woman to fuck him for status, Delice was the one girl who made him think it would be worth it. She wanted him and she wanted to marry him. She was the solution to his problems. Companionship, sex, and most importantly, no intimacy. That’s right. Frollo got stars in his eyes because he knew the nature of their relationship would not be intimate. There would be no love. It would be like an arrangement. It would be business. It would have mystery. No hard conversations, no way to get hurt. (except he doesn’t think at that time how she could hurt him. Which essentially is just her never wanting to sex him ever again, being passive aggressive, condescending, humiliating him, and cheating on him. but anyway) However, Lucy and the judges are very confused. Delice is a horrible person and Lucy eventually puts an end to their flirting period. Claude is super humiliated and upset that he didn’t make his own mistakes. He wanted that fuck up for himself and he resents Lucy for it for around 6 months.  This event made him snap at Lucy for wanting him to go on yet another date. Frollo’s tired of new beginnings, he’s tired of trying. After they don’t let him fool around with Delice, he is convinced he won’t like another girl. He’s upset and reluctantly accepts that he will never experience a partner.  No one in the family understands why Claude would even look at her. They’ve introduced him to plenty of great women, and he picks a snobby bitch who would divorce him for his money. Having no idea the reasons behind Frollo’s feelings, they often all still worry about Delice or tease him about Delice, which causes Frollo to become very upset, but he hides it well. They think it is a joke, but Frollo feels overwhelmed and humiliated every time.  By the time Esmeralda arrives, Frollo is more cynical, jaded, and sexually frustrated than he has ever been. Having a superiority complex over women already, he thinks very lowly of her, which bites him, since Esmeralda has managed to woo everyone in his close circle of friends. Yeh, so Frollo’s lust and anger are out of control for about 6 months until he realizes he’s in love with her. Completely in love. Which makes him even more depressed and spiral even more.  ~End

[missionoffruition]

-Heavy Substance Alert-

*REPOST FROM APRIL 01, 2018*

While I do hope all of you are enjoying your lovely Easter Sunday with family and friends, I have a message to share that cannot wait until Holiday festivities are over. I encourage you to listen to Leslie Morgan Steiner’s story. She states it herself - that she is a typical domestic violence victim and survivor. Well, so am I. And so are MANY of your friends and family that you’re celebrating with today.

Domestic violence deals with its own conundrum. How could violence possibly be at the core of a relationship that's built upon trust, love, and family? It’s the most-prevalent place to encounter DV. It’s even more likely to encounter domestic violence AFTER you have tried to terminate or end the relationship in which you initially encountered it.  

I have been the victim of physical and psychological abuse.

Today, I want to offer one piece of advice for everyone: BREAK THE SILENCE. As Leslie states, “Abuse thrives only in silence. And you can end it now, simply by shining a spotlight on it”. 

If you’re feeling scared, trapped, suppressed, or controlled by someone in your relationship, tell someone. TELL EVERYONE. Because everyone deserve their own peace. Everyone deserves their own comfort. And everyone deserves to love themselves freely, for who they are, violence-free, abuse-free, control-free, and happy.

It’s an active practice for me even today - why don’t you love yourself enough to choose yourself over a situation that doesn’t even serve you? Naturally, you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else.

So, how do you do that if you don’t know how? If you grew up with abuse in your life, then abuse is familiar to you. Again, naturally, that is what our subconscious seeks: familiar. Even if familiar is dangerous. Even if it is toxic. Even if it kills you: It’s something we grew up in, and hence, it’s something we have subconsciously learned and store. We seek it. We find it. 

It took a few toxic relationships for me to finally be willing to look at myself and my own hand in them. I would give until I had nothing left. And it didn't make anything or anyone any better for doing it. I didn’t love myself. I didn’t think I deserved love. I didn’t think I was good enough for anyone. I was terrified to disappoint anyone. And so I would try and try and try: the people-pleaser. It confused me, because sometimes I felt like that didn’t make sense. And I was right. 

Feeling unworthy and feeling undeserving are not naturally-occurring things. They are feelings that have been projected onto us by people we hold in high regard who have learned their own unhealthy habits (this is what generational cycles of abuse look like - ex: mom was abused by her dad. Dad was abused by both of his parents. Those parents had neglectful and abusive parents. Patterned, you could trace this all the way up the family tree).

When I sought therapy, it fucked me up. Hard. I quit. After a month or two, I'd go back. And then I'd quit again. And go back. It was the teeter-totter of death. Sometimes I hated it. But I knew I needed it, and was just afraid to look back and see what I had been running from over the course of my life. Little by little, I would see something about myself that I would either instantly become ashamed of or hurt from and I’d just shut it down. I’d give myself just enough of a distance from those thoughts and feelings to not have to deal with them. Too scary. Too Much. Not enough. Not ready. I can figure this out on my own. Anxiety and avoidance were regulating my every move, even when I thought I was in the driver's seat.

The situations I found myself in felt like they just kept repeating, for the most part. Relationships were turmoil. Like...almost all of them. Relationships with parents. Relationships with siblings. Relationships with friends. Romantic relationships.

What I have learned: it takes work to re-program your mind. The most amount of work you have ever done in your life - double it. Your mind and body work together. They have been conditioned by the world around it for a very long time. They are very powerful, because they store every piece of information that's ever come in. And based on all that info, they create a survival zone. That survival zone becomes YOU. A baseline. Anything and everything that deters from this baseline, your mind and body will now perceive as a threat. Once threat is perceived, holy shit. Heart rate spike, excessive sweating, pupil dilation, racing thoughts, "MAYDAY - get out of there!"

Understanding just how much we unconsciously attune to people and their behaviors (think parents/caregivers, siblings, close friends, romantic partners, all of them) felt like something that should have been so obvious and is one of those things we're naturally always aware of, but it wasn't at all.

For me, and for many, everything boiled down to trust. I didn’t trust the process. I didn’t trust myself. I reflected on the things that I did trust, and you know what I found? Those were the healthiest things in my life. So? I decided to trust a therapist. And science. And others who have walked this path before me. I trusted that this shit feeling could change if I worked at it everyday. Best. Choice. I. Ever. Made. It beats feeling like you have to run away from everything. Constantly.

I call this a tool: a tool for secure control over yourself and your life. Just like any other tool, you have to learn how to use it. And the more you use it, the more secure you become when wielding it. If that's not a super power, I really don't know what is.

I truly hope this lands with someone who can use it.

[slimeyoldman]

1. Rick for sure, I like everyone in the family tho ! My favorite specific Rick's are Toxic(because he's awful and very very short sighted, idk i just think he's interesting in a sopping wet pathetic way.) and Flesh Curtains era(because let's be real how am I going to look at a 30 something grungey drunk and not be obsessed. thats like, some of my favorite people irl.)

2. I don't think it matters! Probably space beth, but eh 🤷‍♀️

3. No not canonically. I think it'd be really fun tho and I like all the theories. Ricks do mess around tho, hes a horndog and the citadel exists, a huge conglomeration of Him, i think it happens more often then it seems to.

4. Tilda. I will not elaborate.

5. Errh idk! A lot i guess. Theyve said before they want the like, classic adult cartoon run time(think futurama, family guy, simpsons), so as many seasons as humanly possible if the writers get their way. I think they step on their own toes a little since they seem to toggle between wanting to be an episodic sitcom, but ALSO a serial scifi thriller. I dont think theyve done badly in that regard so far, but theres absolutely aspects of both that are suffering because of the other's presence.(plot inconsistencies n that kinda thing.)

6. Smash, it would be a bad decision for both of us, but itd be fun !

7. Does the galactic federation count? Probably not since its an organization, but for sure that one. Super interesting stuff u can do with space bureaucracy(bc im boring) and state-sponsored violence. But as for an individual, I really really like Beths mytholog, that whole concept is really cool, and her design is hella badass lol. Also i guess Toxic Rick is a villain too !

8. oof I've tried to figure this out and i dont think i can narrow it down, but i really like Rattlestar Ricklactica, Vat of Acid, and a Rickle in Time.

9. uhh idk the one with the giant incest baby? I didn't enjoy Story Train either tbh. I don't think any of the episodes are like, unwatchably bad, but theres absolutely a few I skip when i rewatch the show.

10. I don't care about story lord like, at all. hes just. deeply uninteresting. Not a huge fan of Mr. Poopybutthole, but i think i just thought we were reminded of him too often.(i liked the intervention episode well enough tho)

11. Oh man this is hard to answer cuz hes just done So Much. Like, guys a shithead. The reckless disregard for innocent bystanders is pretty bad. I think it sucks when he orchestrates situations in which morty has to lethally defend himself, and then totally disregards his feelings(which is literally all the time lmfao). like, the kids 14. His casual manipulation of Beth is super fucked, cuz he knows how much he means to her and he exploits that. yeah idk, guys just a pos all around lol

12. Dated question, luckily no! I think the new voice actors are great :3

13. All the rnm blogs i follow are badass as hell. idk how to pick ill prob edit this l8r

14. Can I say rick without sounding like a total loser. mentally ill, substance abuse issues, ruled entirely by emotions, hedonistic while paradoxically engaging in self-harm/hatred. nihilistic(silly flavor). freaked out by commitment/attachment. the party friend(as opposed to someone you invite for brunch or to meet ur parents). also science is cool.

15. the entire "...couldn't let a dead snake be dead even after it bit his ankle, next time stay in the fucking car!" monologue. and the "a vat of fake acid are you Dying of Dementia?!" fight.

16. i havent finished my brackets yet ill get back to you.

17. same as above.

18. man idk probably. i dont actually watch it in a way that supports them(financially) anyway, but that would suck balls cuz its a fixation of mine.

19. done to death probably but mortys "come watch tv?" quote is my fave. it reads to me as incredibly reassuring. optimistic nihilism. like, "nothing means anything, nothings a big deal, lets chill and enjoy it while we can." ya know? like dying is the same as before you were born, and Everyones gonna do it, but we're here together right now, so lets eat pasta and get a little drunk.

20. i know hes doing his own thing but can i be snowball. hes cool and empathetic and capable of growth, also i wanna see how the dog utopia is going.

20 SHORT-ANSWER* RICK AND MORTY QUESTIONS FOR YOU:

*You can write long answers, if you'd like! Feel free to skip questions, too!

Who is your favourite Rick and Morty Character?

Which Beth is the clone: Domestic Beth or Space Beth?

Do you think that Rick-C137 and Rick Prime were previously romantically involved?

What do you think would be a good name for Birdperson and Tammy's daughter?

How many seasons do you think Rick and Morty will eventually have?

Rick C-137: smash or pass?

Who is your favourite Rick and Morty villain?

Your favourite Rick and Morty episode?

Your least favourite Rick and Morty episode?

Who is your least favourite Rick and Morty character?

What is, in your opinion, the worst thing that Rick C-137 has ever done?

Do you think that Rick and Morty will be affected substantially by having to change the voice actor for Rick and Morty and a bunch of other characters?

What's a good Rick and Morty blog?

Who is the Rick and Morty character that you relate to the most?

The funniest Rick and Morty bit/scene, in your opinion?

Best Rick and Morty season?

Worst Rick and Morty season?

Would you stop watching the show if Justin Roiland returned?

Your favourite Rick and Morty quote?

If you had to be one member of the smith family in the next season, who would you want to be?

[ariannasenvolant]

dreams money could buy

april 25, 2024 10:25pm

no, i do not use military time. the other day, I had use a calculator for 20-8. So much for mental math. When it comes to number I feel dumb. I think I was the smartest I ever was when I was 13 in eighth grade learning algebra 1.

but that is besides the point. today i am talking about mental health. my mental health.

there is a lot going on in my mind currently.

i feel like i have no one to talk to at school. i am lacking friends who share the same classes as me and who are getting the same education. the only reason why i finding myself to want this, is because there are things i'd like to talk and discuss about, nurture and supplement my own curiosities with people who share a similar interest and already have background knowledge on the topic.

i feel like i am trying to be better person. i feel this way because i am no longer giving into toxic behavior that affect other people. i notice myself missing something, dopamine, i guess, and i resort to doing other things, like writing this post, as a healthier alternative.

i have a friend who has his phone on do not disturb most of the time, and it annoys me because i feel like it makes it difficult to contact him when i would like to. his responses and call backs are delayed due to him not receiving my notifications. but it is not something i could complain about to him, because it's his phone and his time, and his life. if he doesn't want to be disturbed, who am i to interrupt his peace?

have you guys heard about the Crumbley family case? the 15 year old school shooter who got sentenced to life in prison, but his parents also went to jail for giving him open access to a firearm and ignoring the warning signs. this is the first time parents were being held legally responsible for their child's actions. i was listening to a Vox Today podcast on this topic, and one concern was parents being afraid of going to jail for bad parenting. It is already hard to be a parent, but now the government is getting involved, and is that fair? here are my thoughts:

first i study children's mental health and psychopathy in school, so I have a bias. my bias: it all starts from home.

many of children's externalizing behavior, such as them acting out are responses to their home environments. Adverse childhood experiences, such as child abuse, neglect, maltreatment, trauma, exposure to substances, poverty, violent environments, etc, all make children more susceptible to mental illness. The more experiences you have, the higher your likelihood of being xyz. In addition, about 30% of mental health outcomes is genetic. 70% is social/enviromental, regarding education, economic status, community, access to care (doctors), and neighborhood.

What I am trying to say that these kids aren't just "bad," they're probably hurt, traumatized, not understood, and not getting the proper care they need.

Another thing to think about is that the child/adolescent brain is still developing! Kid's emotional capabilities is developed by 16, but their rational thinking isn't fully developed until 25. So they feel everything but they are still learning how to regulate their emotions, thoughts, and behavior. Kids think in short term more than long term, as adults do. they are more peer influenced and reward driven, as the dopamine makes them feel good. on top of that, hormones are affecting their bodies, and their quality of sleep affects mind and behavior as well.

I do not think that a bad child is bad for life. The fact that Ethan Crumbley got sentenced for life is unfortunate. He was trialed as an adult, even though he was 15. But he took 4 lives so, I also understand why he got the sentence he did.

His parents going to jail as well is very important. It shared the blame. No longer is a child solely responsible for their own actions, it is now a collective one. Ethan told his parents about his troubling thoughts and hallucinations and they laughed him off. And they also give him a gun as a gift ??? He is 15. There are so many environmental, contextual, i don't even know the word, but so many things in this case that touch on many different topics. for me, it just shows me how we are a product of our environment. And also that there is never just one singular thing for anything. That nothing is black and white. every situation has multiple layers, facets, that all play a role for why things , people, etc, are the way the are.

[lettersfromthelevant]

this is honestly still really generous when discussing how shitty night workers have it. it doesn't touch on the actual social stigma towards us.

like being unable to sleep at all during the day if you have family because they will constantly fucking wake you up. it's like people have zero understanding of the fact that my life is the opposite of theirs, i have to get FULL sleep during the day, not just naps. people just do. not. get it. they think i can still function during the day, when in reality i need deep sleep and NO interruptions. then when you tell them to fuck off and let you sleep they get upset.

also, the amount of money that has to be put into blackout curtains, noise cancelling headphones, or other gadgets, so the daylight and bustle of life don't wake you up and instead you get the pleasure of having your mom walk in asking for a favor instead because you know... fuck REM sleep. do not expect to get a full 8 hours of sleep ever again if you work night shift.

abusing some sort of substance or an ungodly and unhealthy amount of coffee just to stay awake through your shift because of aforementioned inability to sleep during the day due to rude family/friends/etc. then the condescension from people who judge you for being addicted to things that make your night work bearable because they can't be fucked to change their own habits to not be disruptive to you.

college classes where you are forced into opting out of a lot of things because everything is scheduled during the day and there are no remote options to watch a recorded lecture later. online schooling has saved my ass during night shift work. then the people who want to do away with remote/online classes because they have no clue how useful those things actually are and instead universalize their privileged campus experience.

the fact that your bosses, who usually don't work nights, feel entitled to switching up your schedule whenever it damn well pleases them. absolutely no regard for how it impacts your carefully curated schedule that allows you to have at least an hour or two of social time with your romantic partner. don't date someone who isn't also night shift or you will break up very quickly.

no pets, or minimal pet life. not necessarily because pets can't handle it--dogs will shift their schedule to match yours and cats are fairly congenial--but because people are judgmental as hell about it and it is very difficult to schedule vet appointments.

if you live in an HOA neighborhood, then you either need to invest in a law care crew (expensive) or hope one of your neighbors is nice because it's not like you can mow or pull weeds at night without getting a very angry visit from the police about a noise/light complaint.

and i mean this isn't even touching the misogyny/sexual assault crisis, extreme ableism, or racism rampant in night shift work.

even if you like working at night, which i absolutely do, there are still a lot of things that make it impossible to truly enjoy night shift.

for how much society is dependent on night shift, it sure is a bit hostile to those who actually work it

[emmondsokolov]

//Pacing around the kitchen and thinking about OCs and not sure where to put this so y'all are getting it on here :)

Anyone who's stuck with me long enough and seen me develop characters or rp with me knows how much I love to delve into and explore character psyche.

Every single one of my OCs will have at least one mental illness or disability, not a single one gets by me unscathed. And it's not like that's my intended goal from creation! It usually starts with an idea or a design I think could work, or a story element is missing and I build someone up to fill that hole. They get a loose backstory, and a personality to go with it. Then I set them free inside my brain and let them mingle with my friend's OCs for a few instances.

Maybe a month or so later, after fleshing out their backstory more and seeing how they respond when put in situations, I'll sit back and just... Analyze them. Pick them apart. And have a big think over why they are that way. Their personality will almost always change from what they're first presented with. For example, Urzula was a much more cool and collected mageslayer, reserved and polite, but deadly when necessary. Now I know her reserved and quiet nature comes from a place of anxiety and she is very timid, especially in regards to how other people perceive her, and avoids killing as much as possible where it can be avoided.

I don't particularly have the medical training or knowledge to back me up 100%, but I have my own and many of my friends and family's experiences to draw from and add to my understanding. And when I don't have the word for a particular condition, my partner is especially good at tracking down and researching symptoms, and finding what they can add up to.

BEAR WITH ME I'm rambling and haven't even reached what I wanted to say yet.

And I'm not sure how exactly to lead into this but, all of this is to say:

Antisocial Personality Disorders are extremely interesting to read about, namely psychopaths and sociopaths. And I think more people could stand to consider this for their characters!

Most people only think of the most extreme cases and villains for these conditions, and media does portray them in a very misleading way. Psychopath is also used as a common insult or tease flung around willy nilly at anyone so much as acting a little bit goofy or even having a nervous breakdown.

To save further rambling, this is a very very very basic breakdown of the two so I can get on with it.

All of this is to say, Marloix is definitely a psychopath. Combined with crippling depression and substance abuse he even displays sociopath behavior sometimes.

Aleks is another OC I had for a long time who I also pinned as a psychopath years ago, although her whole demeanor is very different to Marloix. She also has depression but has a lot more of her shit together.

Nelandrie has a lot of similarities to some sociopath traits, but hers all comes from severe PTSD, and contrary to what one may be led to believe, she does care. She cares a lot. And has 100 years give or take of coping mechanisms to squash all that down into a pointy little box in her heart. She has anger and impulse issues, a desperate need to be in control at all times, and certainly a power complex of some sort. I'm still figuring her out.

This is getting long enough already so I won't bore my minuscule followers with further details unless anyone asks me to elaborate on anything. I'm happy to talk about this sort of thing in further detail, as you may have noticed this is an interest of mine.

[whatsonmedia]

A Reminder of Why Not All Her

We All Have Heroes That We Watched on Film, But The Real Ones Don't Wear Capes Now we have all seen the films and watched the TV shows which depicted our favourite characters eg; Spiderman, X Men, Power Rangers etc, but let's just stop for a moment and look at some actual real life heroes. In other words the ones that don't wear capes but rather a uniform instead and who genuinely deserve a mark of gratitude By that I mean the ones who we barely took much acknowledgement of, basically I am referring to those very individuals who swoop in, metaphorically speaking, yet still help and occasionally save the dayI am in actual fact referring to everyday people like Doctors, Nurses, Teachers, Soldiers, Carers. Even our own family members and friends. A while ago I was at home watching an episode of The One Show and they were doing an item on child adoption, the children in particular had various disabilities and health aliments. Whenever I have spoken about my involvement in Health and Social Care one thing that I have always been told is that it takes a certain kind of person to be able to do what I, and many others, in that profession do. Over the years, and certainly before I embarked on my work in the field I always looked at others already in that profession as somewhat heroic. Mainly as they pretty seem to do something that not many others would actually consider doing, and no matter just how 'migration inducing' it got they just knuckled down and got on with it. Many even go beyond what is considered to be beyond the call of duty Now if you are looking at this and wondering why I am comparing Health and Social Care work to heroes then let me tell you why I think of it as such.One of the main concepts of heroes, apart from saving lives, is that they help give hope to others, inspire others to become a better version of themselves. So on and so forth This is something that I have long wanted to openly talk about. Go back two years ago just about everyone up and down the country put rainbows in their windows celebrating the bravery and hard work of people on the front line.And the irony of this is that these people didn't wear capes Look at programmes like the Educating… series that they televised on Channel 4. From what I recall seeing there was quite a number of students who either had what many would describe as low self-esteem issues to those who were disruptive. In other words the class room trouble maker but what was even more interesting was that no matter how much the pupils played up the teachers simply never quit and eventually managed to get through to them. Whenever you look at the medical programmes that they show on the BBC there's no holding back on what the staff do there either. 24 Hours in A+E, Hospital. Just look at the clips when the staff talk directly to the camera to tell the viewers exactly what they do, how they go about it as well as the ups and downs of what they do. But most importantly, even though it absolutely exhausts them they still soldier on regardless, and quite often with not much regard to what happens to them physically. Up north you have the docu-series about the police force within the Manchester area. The Force: Manchester. Now I admit that this is something of a guilty pleasure of mine but just check out a single episode and you can see just some of what the cops have to contend with on a weekly basis. Dealing with violent drunks, aggressive individuals who are occasionally under the influence of substance abuse or in the throws of a mental health episode. Now you may not think of them as heroic within that way but on some occasions they've got to deal with someone who others are too intimidated to be near I myself admit that though I don't have that much respect for all of the force I do admire that it takes a heck of a lot of Dutch courage to deal with even a fraction of what they do. In fact for any of them be they teachers, Soldiers, ambulance crew, in fact those who bravely face the day when the going gets tough yet just do it regardless. Total respect and are definitely heroes in the eyes of many Read the full article

[in-my-feels-probably]

This Is Me Trying

(Aegon Targaryen x Reader)

Request: Please write more HCs about Aegon, HCs how he reacts when he is loved, cherished and cared for (maybe by reader as his lovely widowed aunt, a younger sister / half-sister of Viserys and daemon) when Aegon is defended by someone, someone really stands up for him and defends and protects him against all hostilities and against the harsh treatment of Alicent, Otto and Aemond!

Requested by: @cara-eva

Hi! Thank you for the request, I’m sorry for the long wait. I don’t love the outcome, but I don’t want to make you wait any longer and I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get. I hope you like the story format instead of the headcanons, it was just easier for me to write this out that way. I’m hoping this is close to what you were looking for. If it’s not, I’m happy to write you another request.

Also, I didn’t really specify how you’re related to Aegon, but when I was writing I was intending for it to be a Targaryen reader that was close to him in age, who grew up in King’s Landing with him. So maybe a daughter to Daemon or Rhaenyra, or a really young sister to Daemon and Viserys. It doesn’t really matter how you choose to perceive it, it’s not important to the plot that much. I hope it’s ok that I left it open to interpretation.

Anyways, I hope you like it, let me know what you think!

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of physical and verbal abuse, mentions of alcohol and substances, references to the street of silk, very vague gore and blood, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You could recall almost all the times in your life where Aegon had looked to you for comfort, after someone in your family was particularly harsh to him.

Not that he didn’t occasionally deserve it, he really did know how to piss someone off if he wanted to. He’s done it to you more times than you can count. You’ve just apparently learned how to deal with him more positively than the rest of your family.

But more often than not, Aegon was criticized and humiliated by his own family, for no real reason at all.

It was something he had become accustomed to, and he no longer fought it. Which meant that you had to be the one to stand up for him, you had to be the shoulder to cry on, because nobody else was going to.

—

Aegon never felt respected or well regarded by most members of the court, particularly regarding his Grandsire. Despite Aegon having a higher position than him, the Hand had no problem making it known that he thought very little of his grandson.

The worst that ever occurred between the two of them that you can recall was when word was sent to King Viserys that Corlys Velaryon had been critically injured, and his impending succession was to be challenged in an upcoming gathering. With the King bedridden, Otto took the news as the perfect opportunity to begin subverting Princess Rhaenyra’s children’s positions.

In doing so, he advised all the King’s children to support Vaemond Velaryon’s claim. He attempted to convince you the evening the message arrived, but you wouldn’t hear it. You made your claim of support for Lucerys on the spot, more so to spite Otto than anything.

In the week before the whole family was set to arrive, he cracked down on you. You had gone to accompany Aegon to the dragonpit, when Ser Erryk found you and asked you both to report to the Tower of the Hand.

You could tell Otto wasn’t pleased with your presence, but you accompanied Aegon anyway, taking a seat while the two of them talked.

“Aegon, it is the same laws being twisted to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne that is preventing you from being named heir. You’re the King’s firstborn son, and you’re being robbed of the opportunity to rule.”

“Careful, My Lord,” you had said, grinning. “Your words are embarking upon treason.”

He ignored you, trying not to give you a reaction. “Those very same laws are once again being used to falsely back Lucerys, when the Driftwood Throne should pass to Vaemond Velaryon. Back his claim, My Prince. Out of principle, alone.”

“I don’t give a shit about the throne, Iron or otherwise,” Aegon huffed, like the conversation was the dullest thing he could have possibly endured that day.

Otto narrowed his eyes, speaking firmer. “Lucerys’s claim is illegitimate, even you can admit that. You’ve got more blood of Old Valyria than he does, and he carries the name Velaryon. Does that not unsettle you?”

“Bastard or not, it is of no consequence to me,” Aegon said, shrugging his shoulders. “Let my nephew have it, or don’t let him have it, I don’t care. I’m not interested enough to involve myself.”

Otto stood from his chair, leaning over his desk to look Aegon in the eye. He almost shook with a silent fury, his voice laced with venom.

“Everything handed to you on a silver platter,” he spat, his face cold. “And you waste it. The Seven Kingdoms in the palm of your hand, and you don’t even bat an eye. You may have the pure blood of Old Valyria, but you’re more of a bastard than Lucerys will ever be.”

This caught your attention, making you stand and move behind the chair Aegon was sitting in. You had no problem standing up for Aegon, considering your position was also higher than Otto’s, and you simply enjoyed aggravating him.

“It would be in your best interest to hold your tongue, My Lord. It would be a shame to have to see to it that it is removed from your head.”

Otto took a step toward you, glaring, before leaning down to whisper into Aegon’s ear.

“Look at you…hiding behind a little girl. You’re lazy, arrogant, and a miserable excuse for a Targaryen. You bring shame upon your house, and humiliate yourself while doing so. It’s no wonder our Queen, your own mother, despises you so.”

You shook your head in disbelief, peering down at Aegon to see that his eyes had glossed over, and he had gone rigid in his chair. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb in circles on the exposed skin peeking out of his shirt.

Aegon took a shaky breath, and you felt a rage course through you that expelled itself before you could stop it. You stepped in between Aegon and Otto, blocking Aegon from Otto’s sight. You reached a hand behind you, offering it for Aegon to take, which he gladly accepted.

With your free hand, you pressed your finger into Otto’s chest, inadvertently pushing him to take a step back.

“You forget yourself, My Lord. What about the phrase, ‘hold your tongue,’ did you not understand? You’re speaking to the Prince, at least pretend to act like it.”

You coaxed Aegon to stand, pulling him with you to head for the door. Otto nearly smirked as he watched, leaning back against his desk. His face fell when you turned around to speak to him, just before you stepped out the door.

“You’re weak, Otto. Pathetic. Half the man Aegon is, if even that. The stewards have more honor and merit than you. You burn bridges with every word you speak against the Crown and its children. As much as you hate to admit it, it still doesn’t change the fact that the histories will record Aegon’s and Lucerys’s names, bastard or not.”

Aegon smirked, watching Otto soak in your words like a slow acting poison, killing its victim cell by cell.

“Your name, however, will be forgotten. Far gone and lost to the obscurity of every man like you that has come before. Your efforts will be for naught, and the rest of your existence will be a miserable one. I hope you’ll come to understand that, because it is undoubtedly your fate. And I, for one, cannot wait to witness it.”

—

Aegon’s Grandsire was not the only member of his family that was known to be unnecessarily cruel. Amongst his siblings, Aegon really only dealt with Aemond’s hostility.

You could recall countless fights between the two of them, always squabbling with each other.

It took a lot for Aemond to actually get physical, or put any real malice behind his words. He was usually content to ignore Aegon’s presence entirely. But when provoked, it was probably better that you were there to intervene.

Despite how harsh Aemond could be, he was the easiest to deal with. You were one of the few members of the family Aemond actually liked, and he normally listened to you when you told him to pipe down. Plus, his and Aegon’s spats were normally sibling derived, and of no major consequence.

The worst between them was when Aemond finally snapped, and the two of them got into a screaming match about Aegon’s lack of ambition. Aegon had just returned from Flea Bottom, and Aemond had returned from an evening flight on Vhagar.

You heard them all the way from your chambers, finding them nearly throwing blows in the courtyard.

“I did not ask for this!” Aegon yelled, making Aemond sneer.

“Clearly. And yet, it was handed to you anyway. Why not take advantage of it?”

Aegon groaned, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. “I don’t care, brother. Why does everyone expect so much from me?”

“Because you piss it all away,” Aemond said, stepping forward and shoving Aegon’s shoulder. “You don’t have any idea how lucky you are.”

Before anyone could actually get hurt, you rushed in between them, pushing them both a few steps back.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you have any idea how late the hour is?”

“Yes, brother,” Aemond said, exasperatedly throwing his hands up. “Do you? Or have you forgotten the time in the bottom of a cup? Perhaps on the Street of Silk?”

Aegon grumbled, trying to step past you, but you held him back. You narrowed your eyes at him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stop. I won’t ask again.”

You turned back to Aemond, who looked like he had grown tired of the conversation already.

“Are you done?” You asked, raising a brow. “Must you antagonize him? You know it will do no good.”

Aemond groaned, taking a step back. “Must you always defend him? He’s infuriating. You’re never nearly as harsh enough with him as you should be.”

“He’s not my child, he’s not mine to discipline,” you said, nodding your head towards Aegon. “The Gods know you and your family do that enough to him already.”

Aemond scoffed, turning around, but you caught his arm, making him wait.

“Wait…listen. Trust me, he doesn’t get away with being an ass around me. He knows well enough that it won’t end well for him.”

Aegon had grown quiet, sulking behind you. You kept your eyes on Aemond, not letting him go.

“But I also don’t purposely antagonize him to warrant a reaction. I understand your frustrations, believe me, I do. But squabbling like children does neither of you any good. He’s your brother, Aemond. Ease up…let it go.”

Aemond grumbled, his face cold, like he was debating on if he should walk away or not. Finally, he softened, gently easing his arm from your grip.

“Fine,” he said, turning around to leave the courtyard. “As you wish.”

Once he was out of earshot, you turned around to face Aegon. He had gone pink, awkwardly shifting back and forth from foot to foot. You gave him a less than impressed look, before turning back in the direction of your chambers.

“Come along, then. You can explain to me what happened on the way. I swear, it is baffling how you two manage to annoy me more and more every day.”

Aegon lightened up, moving to match your stride. “Oh, come on, darling. Just admit it. You enjoy it, you know you do.”

You rolled your eyes at his improved mood, walking faster, letting him trail you all the way back to your chambers.

—

Settling tensions between Aemond and Aegon was far easier than dealing with Otto and the court. Plus, you found it to be the least hurtful to Aegon.

The harsh words that hurt the most…were from his own mother, Queen Alicent.

Aegon knew he was the least favorite, of both his mother and his father. He knew how she valued Aemond, and how she doted on Helaena. He knew that, despite his father neglecting all his youngest children, the King at least had something in common with his younger siblings.

Aegon was almost foreign to him, like a granted wish gone awry.

Despite being the King’s firstborn son, Aegon’s very existence was a constant reminder of all the King and Queen’s failures in the family, and of all the wasted opportunities to strengthen House Targaryen.

To the King, Aegon was a reminder of the years he wasted on wanting a son, neglecting Rhaenyra as his first born.

To Alicent, Aegon was a reminder of how she was a child herself, practically sold and made to squeeze out heirs for the Crown. Aegon was a product of her father’s own selfish ambition, a point of view she could not bring herself to look past.

She loved her son, nobody doubted that.

But she did not like him. The same could be said for the King.

Considering she was the Queen, Aegon’s mother was a lot more difficult for you to stand up to. Speaking directly against her in her presence was not wise, and you often had to bite your tongue and console Aegon about it later.

This evening in particular was proving to be one of the worst times she had publicly treated him, both verbally and physically. Apparently, she had grown quite used to disciplining him in front of you.

If you could even call it that.

It had all happened so fast. You were in the Queen’s chambers, sitting by the fire with her.

One minute, you were having tea with Alicent and listening to her tell you about her day. The next, Aegon had been dragged in by Ser Criston, unsuccessfully fighting against his hold.

Ser Criston dragged him into the center of the room, letting him go before standing in front of the door to block the exit. Not that he necessarily needed to. Aegon couldn’t beat Ser Criston in a fight on a good day. Let alone as drunk as he apparently was.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Grace, My Lady. I found him nearly passed out on the steps outside the training yard. The Prince has apparently already had his fill. Didn’t even make it to Flea Bottom, which is where I presume he was going.”

Alicent closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “You found him? Or someone alerted you of his presence?”

“One of the servants, Your Grace. Apparently he was making quite the fuss before he passed out.”

Aegon collapsed into a nearby chair, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. He let out a groan, leaning back.

As you looked at him, you realized it wasn’t just wine that had weakened his resolve. His eyes were hazy, his movements staggered. He had taken milk of the poppy, and quite a high dosage at that.

An option that he rarely referred to anymore, knowing how much you hated seeing him on it. Something must’ve happened, something bad.

“A fuss?” You asked, trying to avoid staring at Aegon.

“It is not for a Lady’s ears, I’m afraid,” Ser Criston hesitated. “He was…rather crude, I should say. Speaking incoherently to himself, loud enough for the servants to take notice.”

Alicent stood and nodded, brushing her skirts down. “Thank you, Ser Criston. I appreciate your discretion. I will handle it from here, you may go.”

“Yes, My Queen,” he said, nodding to her before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You stood, unsure of whether or not you should leave as well. You would later come to regret not doing so.

Alicent stood in front of Aegon, glaring down at him. “Have you no shame? Is the reputation you already uphold not bad enough? Do you have any idea about the kind of burden you are, not only on yourself, but on your family?”

Aegon didn’t look up, keeping his eyes on the floor. He slumped down in his chair, shielding his eyes from the light of the fire.

“Look at me,” Alicent said, before sharpening her tone enough to make Aegon flinch. “Look at me!”

When he didn’t, she pulled his hair at the nape of his neck back to tilt his head up, before backhanding him across the face. Her ring caught on his cheek, leaving a small cut at the top of his cheekbone.

You quietly gasped, bringing a hand to your mouth to stifle the noise.

Alicent didn’t seem fazed, now gaining Aegon’s attention. “Is it not enough to embarrass me, not only as your Mother and as your Queen, but to embarrass the whole of your family, as well? Does it not embarrass you, carrying yourself like this, in front of them…in front of Y/N? Does it not bother you, what she must think of you?”

Aegon’s eyes flitted to yours, before turning away in shame. You felt your heart ache at the sight, keeping quiet beside your chair.

“How many times must I discuss this with you, Aegon? When will you learn?”

“What’s the point, Mother?” Aegon finally asked, giving her a sad smile. “You’ll be disappointed in me anyway, no matter what I do. Why even bother?”

She slapped him across his cheek again, adding to the already reddened skin. The blood from his cut smeared along his cheekbone. Aegon let out a sound of pain, swallowing his words.

You couldn’t take it any longer, walking over and gently placing your arm on Alicent’s, turning her to you.

“You Grace, I am sorry to interrupt. But it seems I have overstayed my welcome, and I would hate to intrude. I’ll be on my way, if you’ll excuse me.”

She shook her head, grabbing one of your hands in hers. “Not at all, my dear. I enjoyed your company. I thank you for it, and I apologize for my son’s interruption.”

“He was no trouble, My Queen. If you’d like, I can see to it that he makes it back safely to his chambers?”

“That is quite alright, darling,” she said, turning back to Aegon. “I have a few more things I’d like to discuss with my son, but it is kind of you to offer. You may go, Y/N. Thank you for the tea.”

You politely smiled. “Of course. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

You turned to go, hesitating at the door when you heard Alicent retreat back to stand in front of Aegon.

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to leave him there, to endure any more of his mother’s wrath. But there was nothing you could do.

There was little you could say this time. There was no way to protect him while it happened, not without risking yourself in the process. And you knew how much Aegon hated when you did that, when it was actually dangerous.

So, you left, returning to your chambers.

You simply had to wait for Aegon to make a decision. It usually boiled down to two options.

Go to Flea Bottom, start drinking, and keep drinking until whatever memory he had of the night disappeared into his cups. Or…he could go to your chambers, and find another kind of comfort there.

You prayed that he’d choose the latter, tonight. You paced back and forth in your chambers for what seemed like hours before you got any answers. You knew the gods ruled in your favor when a feeble knock was heard on your chamber door later that night, making you sigh in relief.

“Come in,” you said, anxiously standing at the foot of your bed.

There was a pause, and then the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled and apprehensive Aegon. He closed the door behind him, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You took the time to look at him, observing his form. The bruise on his cheek had settled in, all black and blue. The cut from his mother’s ring was beginning to scab over, dry blood crusted along his cheekbone. His cheek was reddened, with the slightest imprint of a hand, marking the flesh. A fresh bruise was beginning to form around his temple, a garish green encircling it.

You didn’t even want to know what that one was from.

You slowly approached him, careful not to make any rash movements. “Can I touch you?”

He still didn’t meet your eyes, but slowly nodded.

Gently, you cupped his jaw so you could turn his head, checking for any wounds you could have missed. Slowly and carefully, you moved your hands up to cup his face in your palms, gently running your thumbs across his cheekbones.

Aegon let out a pained whimper, leaning into your touch.

“Did I hurt you?” You asked, moving to pull your hands away. He quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding you still, silently asking for you to not let go.

His voice was shaky. “No.”

“You weren’t drunk, were you?” You asked, resuming running your thumbs across the top of his cheekbones. “It was milk of the poppy.”

His eyes met yours, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You shook your head, shushing him.

“I’m not angry. Just tell me the truth.”

He was reluctant to, but he finally nodded, confirming your suspicions. You sighed deeply, moving your hands to brush his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ears.

“Why?”

“You know why,” he replied, his voice quiet.

You did.

Sometimes, getting drunk wasn’t enough. Sometimes, Aegon felt like he was suffocating, and the only way to fill his lungs was to cloud his mind first, easing his thoughts. Milk of the poppy usually did the trick.

You didn’t press the matter further, nodding. “Are you going to tell me what happened after I left?”

“The usual happened,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Mother yelled, I listened. She hit, I got hit. Don’t worry, though, you witnessed the best of it. Don’t think you missed the entertaining part.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sharpening your tone. “Don’t say that. I didn’t enjoy a moment of it, not a single second. Do you think I like watching you get hurt?”

He returned his gaze to the floor, flinching at your sudden change in demeanor. You stopped yourself, not wanting to sound like you were scolding him, like his mother does all too frequently. Gently, you lifted your sleeve and tried to softly wipe away the blood that had stained his cheek.

You were interrupted by a sudden tear, rolling down his cheek. You looked up, only to be met with Aegon’s eyes brimming with tears that were slowly falling down his face like fresh snow from the sky.

“Aegon?” You asked, cupping his chin, trying to make him look at you. The tears kept flowing. Finally, his eyes met yours.

“Am I a burden?”

Your jaw slacked in shock. “What? Of course not, why would you ask that?”

“My Mother believes it to be true,” he said, face crumbling. “That’s what she said, after you left. That I’m a burden to you, always making you clean up my messes.”

You quickly shook your head, gently wiping away his tears. “That’s not true, Aegon. She’s wrong. I don’t do anything for you out of obligation, or because I feel I need to. I do it because I want to. If nobody in this family is going to give you even an ounce of optimism or support, then I’ll happily be the one to do it.”

“You shouldn’t have to–,” he starts, pulling himself from your grip.

“I want to.”

Aegon took a deep breath, and you watched as his shoulders shook and his eyes clouded with tears, all red and bloodshot. He made a sound of frustration, balling his hands into fists at his sides. His voice was desperate.

“I’m trying, Y/N…I’m trying so fucking hard.”

You felt your heart shatter, quickly throwing your arms around his neck. You pulled him close to you, cradling his head with one hand, squeezing him tightly to you with the other. Aegon melted into your embrace, locking his arms around you, desperately clutching at the fabric of your clothes. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt hot tears landing on your skin. You paid them no mind, gently shushing him.

“I know you’re trying,” you said, willing yourself not to cry as well, staying strong for him. “I know. And that’s all I could ever ask of you.”

You leaned back far enough to cup his jaw, wiping away the tears. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, gently caressing his face.

“I know it seems like nobody is seeing your efforts, or that nobody cares enough to acknowledge them. But I care, alright? I care. I see it, I see you trying. You’re doing your best, Aegon. That’s all you can really do. And if our family can’t see or understand that, it’s their problem. Not yours. Alright?”

He slowly nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright.”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours, pulling him along with you to your bed.

“Come on, then. It’s late, you need to lie down. I refuse to deal with you all cranky and sleep deprived in the morning because you were too stubborn to rest.”

Aegon softly grinned, letting you guide him. “What are you talking about? I’m a delight in the mornings.”

“You’re a gremlin in the mornings,” you retorted, patting the space of the bed next to you. “Now lie down. That wasn’t a request.”

Aegon could feel the troubles lifting from his shoulders already, watching you invite him into your space with open arms. He nearly chuckled at the serious face you had put on, one you normally reserved for scoldings.

“As you command, darling,” he said, crawling in next to you. “Who would I be to deny you?”

“A fool.”

Your reply was quick, with absolutely no hesitation in your voice. It made Aegon grin wider as he felt his heart warm, settling himself close beside you.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

—

A/N - Hi! I don’t love this outcome honestly, but I hope this is what you were looking for. If it’s not, I’ll gladly accept another request and try to do better. Let me know what you think.