#this is what i was referring to in my last post

[ramp-it-up]

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?” 

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?” 

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?” 

There was an edge to the question. 

“And… My lips. All over you.” 

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.” 

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 

“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 

“You can have whatever you want...” 

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 

“I trust you.” 

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.” 

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.” 

“Fuck…” 

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…” 

“Of course you are.” 

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came. 

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.” 

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…” 

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit." 

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated. 

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. 

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled. 

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?" 

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…” 

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 

And he did. 

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured. 

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page. 

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath. 

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much. 

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 

“You do that to me, Peach.” 

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” 

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 

Not at all. 

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 

You gaped at him. 

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 

“Are you mine?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered out. 

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 8: Bleeding Out

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: sorry Pierre but I’m not gonna give you the perfect no damages season that you had

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 2,193,429 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing

y/n_rb: what a year it’s been…from car crashes to new girlfriends to lessons in menacing, 2024 you have been a dream!

I want to thank Redbull for taking a chance on me — hopefully I was worth it! Max, you have been absolutely the best teammate I could have asked for! Oscar and Logan, I am so glad we got to fulfill our dream of racing together this year! And Mr. Fenando sir it’s been a pleasure! I’ll make sure to make use of all of your advice!

One last race left! Abu Dhabi here we come!

view all comments

user1: anyone else catching those threatening tones in that last sentence??

↳y/n_rb: what tones???

↳user2: the very sweet tones you always talk in!

↳y/n_rb: that’s better!

↳user1: girl you’re kinda scary…

↳y/n_rb: 😁😁😁

oscarpiastri: you’re being suspiciously nice…what did you do!

↳logansargeant: why is my mom calling me!?! What did you do!!

↳y/n_rb: 😁😁

↳oscarpiastri: did you seriously call our mothers to plan a group vacation?

↳logansargeant: I want to use winter break as a time to get away from you! Stop invading my family time!

↳nicolepiastri: boys please be nicer to y/n! She was so kind to invite us on a European trip this winter!

↳oscarpiastri: stop trying to steal my mom!!

↳y/n_rb: who’s trying? I already won liked by nicolepiastri, hattiepiastri

↳oscarpiastri: I’m throwing things at you 🍎🛞🪨

user3: girl don’t remind us you haven’t been resigned yet 😭😭

user4: sooo did you like take actual notes from Alonso’s lessons or…

↳y/n_rb: if I told you, I’d have to kill you

↳redbullracing: y/n you can’t say that. please refer to the handbook, page 229

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Puede que ella no pueda pero yo lo haré. She might be able to but I will.

↳user5: i can’t believe we all forgot about her grid father 🙈 liked by y/n_rb

maxverstappen1: It certainly was…an experience…having you as a teammate

↳y/n_rb: don’t lie! I know I’m your favorite

↳danielricciardo: those are fighting words!

↳y/n_rb: bring it old man Aussie!! I bite

↳danielricciardo: stop calling me old! And threatening to bite me

↳oscarpiastri: it’s not a threat — she does

↳user6: if Daniel is old man Aussie — what are Oscar and Mark?

↳y/n_rb: baby Aussie and ancient Aussie

↳user6: 😂😂😂

↳aussiegrit: kid…

↳oscarpiastri: do you see what I have to put up with? redbullracing please don’t resign her

↳y/n_rb: well that’s fucking rude!

↳redbullracing: 🫢🫢🫢

↳y/n_rb: wait what does that mean?!?

francisca.cgomes: Mon amour! My love!

↳y/n_rb: run away with me

↳pierregasly: I’m gonna run you over

↳y/n_rb: try it!

alexandrasaintmleux: Ce fut un plaisir de faire votre connaissance cette année! It was a pleasure to get to know you this year!

↳y/n_rb: my offer still stands! I can treat you so much better

↳charles_leclerc: S'en aller! Go away!

↳alexandrasaintmleux:😘😘

↳charles_leclerc: Alex…

↳y/n_rb: haha

user7: I’ll certainly miss you terrorizing everyone…

↳y/n_rb: even if I’m not a driver, I’ll still be doing that!

↳charles_leclerc: fuck

↳pierregasly: non

↳oscarpiastri: please no

↳y/n_rb: 😁😁

f1

liked by user, user, user and 3,723,183 others

tagged: pierregasly, y/n_rb

f1: and that’s major contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly. This is not the first time this season these 2 have crashed together. The race is currently under red flag as the marshals work to clear the track of debris.

view all comments

user8: of course it was those 2…

user9: they couldn’t resist one last crash to finish off the season could they…

user10: it’s taking a while for the marshals to remove them from the car isn’t it?

↳user11: yeah…it doesn’t usually take this long unless something has happened…

↳user12: god I hope they’re both alright…

user13: did they have to bring in extra medical cars???

↳user14: they did — it’s not looking good…

↳user13: fuck

f1gossippage

liked by user, user, user, and 1,923,284 others

f1gossippage: during the beginning laps of Abu Dhabi - y/n l/n and Pierre Gasly made contact that resulted in a red flag. After a lengthy delay, extra medical cars were called to the site of the crash where both l/n and Gasly were cut from their cars. They were both rushed from the scene — it looked like they were bleeding out pretty badly…

view all comments

user15: I was right above them — it did NOT look good but they were both seemingly conscious

↳user16: Jesus…at least they were conscious?

↳user17: that is a good sign (I think)

user18: has anyone official said anything?

↳user20: not that I could tell but the race has been started again…

user21: I can’t even imagine going out again to race after seeing that crash

↳user22: those drivers are stronger than me for real

user23: listening to their radios right now — everyone keeps asking for updates on them!

↳user24: are they getting updates?

↳user23: everyone is being told that there are no updates yet

↳user24: ugh…

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @yawn-zi

[mlembug]

oh hey, this question was made for me. I'm gonna answer this directly as stated: "author knows about HRT, and has written at least a single manga featuring down to earth realistic transition". Therefore this list is gonna include autobiographies, manga which writes exposition explaining how transitioning works, porn and stuff that's otherwise I'm gonna have a hard time recommending.

Otherwise I'm gonna be referring to the list I made before (it's way overdue for an update tho)

trans_shojo and her Twitter manga My Future Self Is Persuading Me To Become a Woman. Exactly what it says in the title. Highly recommended.

half-me. Her manga I Quit Being a Man: Got Cancer so I Decided to Dress up as a Woman and Fall in Love is "based on true events", author knows about HRT. @skyekurisu translates this, and I typeset it. Highly recommended.

Hirasawa Yuuna. Knows about HRT by the virtue of drawing an autobiographical manga of her SRS, Boku ga Watashi ni Naru Tame ni.

Chii. Knows about HRT by the virtue of drawing an autobiographical manga of herself, The Bride Was a Boy.

Rei Taki. Knows about HRT, as evidenced in Last Gender: When We Are Nameless.

Kindaichi Renjuurou knows about HRT... weeeeeeell, somewhat. Author of Nicoichi (main character is not transfem... or are they) and the Ayumi and Aika oneshot manga (where main character is transfem) in the Mermaid Line compilation.

(I too, wish my voice got a bit higher thanks to HRT)

Asuka Miyazaki in their autobiographical manga X-Gender.

Toda Oto in his manga To Strip the Flesh.

Tsushima Tsushima. Knows about HRT, but the scanlation of her manga was dropped after it was discovered she posts on Twitter concerned about "people with penises in women's spaces".

So does Konishi Mafuyu who wrote a manga about her SRS, but started pulling similar bullshit.

Vae. Knows about HRT, but their stuff is mostly crossdressing and magical genderswap (also porn). Generally hard to recommend. Mentioning for completeness. Beware of brainworms.

(Josou Danshi no Tsukurikata. Not portrayed: force fem, prostitution)

Yoshida Gorou. Draws porn, knows about HRT, but their works mostly feature stuff that could be possible but currently isn't (like womb transplants). One of their works features no such stuff, which is why I'm listing them here. Some of their stuff is pretty wholesome, but beware of brainworms.

(on the left: I’m an Otaku Guy Who Tried Taking in Some Female Hormones. Not portrayed on this page but present in the work: sexual harassment, transphobia. on the right: TS Kanojo. Not portrayed on this page but present in the work: friend being a chaser, womb transplants, internalized transphobia)

is there a single mangaka that draws trans manga and actually knows about hrt?

all the manga ive read with transgender themes are always either magical genderswap or basically just crossdressing even if the character is explicitly said to be a girl

not that we know off the top of our head, but we've far from read every manga; any followers know any?

[badkitty3000]

Anonymous asked:

THE ONE FROM THE TRAILER BITTING HIS LIP AND THE SITTING ONE OH LORD HOLD ME BAAAACK please write something for those specific ones (+ last 2 ones duh) like i don’t even need plot atp the one bitting his lip made me go feral 😀

I needed a few days to work on this, but I got it done! This ask is referring to a post I made featuring some sexy Five gifs that you can see here.

And well, you said no plot was needed, so here you go!

Summary: You and Five get down and dirty on the train. 1.3k words

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, blow jobs

You hadn’t stopped nagging him about it since he came back and he told you about the never-ending time traveling subway that only he could access. He had deciphered the map fairly quickly after accidentally getting stuck and it had only been a few weeks for him, and only a few minutes for you. But in those few, lonely weeks, he had needed something to occupy his mind, and so he dreamt up multiple scenarios involving the two of you on that train. After your steamy reunion, when he told you about them, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

So, now here you both were, standing at the bottom of the subway stairs as the first train came squealing to a stop in front of you. Five wasn’t sure this was a good idea. He wanted this, but just because he had made his way out before didn’t guarantee that he’d be able to do it a second time. If you became lost in time, unable to get back home, he’d never forgive himself.

With a worried glance back at you, he saw that gleam in your eye that only meant one thing, and fuck, he was not a strong enough man to resist that look. Biting at his lip with hesitation, because he knew he shouldn’t be risking this, he gave in. When the doors slid open, he took your hand and led you inside.

The car was warm in contrast to the chilly platform. As it started to pull away, while some unintelligible voice that sounded awfully familiar spoke overhead, the hum of the train and the darkness of the tunnel created a false sense of security. As Five sat down, he spread his legs just enough to convey what he wanted. Then he looked up at you, settling into the seat like a king on his throne, resting his arms across the back, and raising an eyebrow. You knew what that look meant without any words being spoken.

Get over here. Now.

You obeyed his silent command, and you stood in front of him while his hand roamed up your bare thigh and under your skirt. You had specifically chosen to not wear any underwear today, and when his fingers grazed your bare ass, he smirked; clearly pleased with your wardrobe decision.

“On your knees,” he said plainly.

Dropping down onto the hard and dirty train floor, you rested your hands on his thighs. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Five shrugged off his overcoat and began unbuckling his belt. Just the sound of the clinking metal made your mouth water and your pussy ache. As he freed his hard cock, stroking it a few times, you licked your lips.

“Go ahead, honey. Make Daddy proud.”

There was nothing to say to that, and it didn’t matter anyway, because a second later your mouth was filled with his thick cock. Hissing through clenched teeth, Five dropped his head back. You knew how to drive him crazy by sucking hard on the head and using your hands to stroke his shaft and fondle his balls. The rocking of the train helped you out, and you moved your head up and down with the steady rhythm. Lights would pass over and then disappear again, creating a hypnotic effect over both of you. When you looked up, he was watching you again, those steely green eyes piercing right through you. 

“God, you’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he moaned, petting your hair gently while you choked and gagged on his dick.

Hearing him praise you like that would have soaked your panties if you had been wearing any, so instead you felt a warm trickle of wetness slide down your inner thigh. You increased your pace, quickening your hand and hollowing your cheeks to suck him off as hard as possible.

Five’s groans were growing louder and you focused on every beautiful sound that came out of his mouth. The way his breath caught in his throat, the thick swallows, the sharp gasps of air drawn in between the quiet whimpers you knew he was trying to hide. With his hand on the back of your head, he sank lower into his seat, opening his legs wider and thrusting his hips into your face.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmured through clenched teeth as his fingers flexed in your hair. “Keep going, just like that, honey. You know how Daddy likes it.”

Removing your hand from around his shaft, you took his entire length into your mouth, shoving it down your throat with each bob of your head, and expertly working through your gag reflex. This was nowhere near the first blow job you had given him, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. He loved watching you kneeling before him, worshipping his perfect cock with your hot mouth. But doing it here, in this weird, supernatural traincar, while your bare knees ached from the hard floor and you had no idea where you were going to end up… that just made it all the more erotic.

You could tell by the higher-pitched grunts and erratic thrusts of his hips that he was about done. With his cock slicked with your spit, you removed your mouth and started to jerk him off fast and hard, sliding your fist up and down at a frantic pace while Five let go of your hair. His eyes closed and lips parted as he let out a long, low moan.

“Fffff-UCK!” he cried out, right before he released himself to your amazing handwork.

Long ropes of cum spurted out of his twitching cock and into your open and waiting mouth. You lapped up the bitter-tasting semen, swallowing as much of it as you could, while the rest dripped down your chin and neck, and covered the front of your dress in white streaks.

As the last few drops were expelled, and Five’s hips stilled and then relaxed into the seat again, he let out a long sigh. When you let go of his slowly softening dick, you sat back on your heels and licked your lips and then the palm of your hand as you stared up at him with a coy smile.

“How was that, Daddy?” you asked, resting your chin on his knee as you blinked up at him.

“So damn good, darling,” he breathed out.

As you stood up and Five started to pack himself into his pants again, the train began to slow as it approached the next stop. You held onto the pole while the brakes screeched loudly and that same odd voice spoke gibberish through the speaker. You peered out of the grimy windows, trying to read the large neon sign that was just outside the platform. 

“Where are we now?” you asked, a little worried.

You had been hoping to stay on the train for a little while longer. Your groin was still throbbing and dripping wet, and you had assumed he would be repaying you for your generous service in the form of either his mouth or cock. Or both.

But when Five stood up and took your hand, the doors opened and he started to lead you out. You hesitated at the door, poking your head out and staring curiously at the sign that you could now read clearly.

“Max’s? What is this place?”

To your surprise, Five grinned widely in that way that meant he was up to something. Then he pulled you onto the platform, taking your chin in his hand and kissing you long enough that when he pulled away you whined a little at the loss of his lips on yours.

“Five, my dress is covered in your cum and I am not wearing any panties. I was also kind of hoping you’d you know…” you pointed to your much-neglected crotch region. “... Take care of this for me.”

He chuckled, pulling you along as he headed for the weird, random deli up ahead. “Come on, darling, I think you’ll like this place. They’ll take real good care of you here.” He looked back at you with a smirk. “And don’t worry about your dress… it’s about to get a lot dirtier.”

***************************

Thank you for this ask, this was fun!! ❤️

If you'd like to check another amazing sexy Five one-shot, featuring some very sexy artwork based off of a couple naughty pics that are included in the original post, @kaybreezy3000's Lips Of Wine will not disappoint 😉

[riacte]

Been thinking about HC fan discussion shifting over the last few years to become more focused on individual creators, and I think the reduced prominence of the Recap could be a contributing factor?

Speaking from my own experience as having gotten into HC in Season 6 along with Grian, I started watching Recap from the S6 Day One video (I was already familiar with the concept thanks to Evo in a Nutshell, which was openly inspired by HC Recap, so it was easy for me to get into), and it was really formative for getting to know all the hermits and HC in general.

I think it ties into what you said about engaging with the server as a whole, because even if you don't watch every hermit, with Recap you get to learn their names, hear their voices, and get exposed to their personality, projects, interests, and running jokes. It presented HC as an interconnected community, where all the hermits came together to create a collective art piece (the server itself). That sense of community has always been one of my favourite things about HC tbh

Recap also made it much easier for me to get into new hermits throughout s6/s7, bc I was already loosely familiar with who they were and what they were doing, so I could jump in midway through their season, or watch a one-off episode, without being too lost!

Meanwhile, with lots of people getting into HC through Life Series (and likely not being exposed to Recap), I think it's easy for people to just... stick with people they already know? And I don't blame anyone for watching people they like (time/energy for videos is limited, and plenty of my favourites are in Life Series too), but it also feels bad to see the work of so many hermits go unappreciated in their own community, especially when there was more of an effort to include them in the past :(

We need a new wave of Recap appreciation posts I think

I think this is very true. Lots of people just regurgitate Life series povs to people asking on the Reddit who to watch when you could just do Recap and didn’t they make a whole flowchart of who to watch? (Outdated but still a useful reference)

Unironically we need to bring back 2021 level of propaganda. Like whole posts on Hermitcraft propaganda that introduce all the listed hermits and their uniqueness. Sure, everyone has preferences, but they brand themselves as a server, so we should also brand them as a server. I do find it realllyyyyy weird that this phenomenon got worse after HC9 when HC9 had TCG (includes all hermits and “quirks” about them) and Decked Out (huge event that involved many hermits, including non Lifers). The hermits are literally producing merch as a server. It’s a game that appreciates each of them. The audience loves TCG too so ?? ??????

Another thing is that for me, sometimes I feel like I’m yelling into the void with my posts so I end up in a circle of people who main the same people (since we interact and talk to each other) and I don’t have the energy to do more because again, yelling into the void sucks. So I’m also part of the “problem”.

[pagan-stitches]

A new diagnosis, self help, and ritual cleansing

Recently organized and ritually cleansed bookshelves.

I was recently diagnosed with ADHD. Which was a huge eye opener for me. A lot of behaviors which I had for years negatively labeled, and not really understood, really affected my self esteem.

Realizing that my brain isn’t neurotypical and researching ways to adapt my focus, and just basically help myself function like everyone else, has been resulting in some big changes over the last couple of weeks.

One of the biggest helpers for me has been utilizing a “to do” app and calendar. I’ve programmed it to remind me throughout the day to do very basic tasks (it’s really embarrassing how basic some of these tasks are) and do things like text my mom and sister once a day, so a month doesn’t go by when they haven’t heard from me and start to assume I’m spiraling again. One of the worse things about ADHD has been the toll it has taken on my personal relationships because of the lack of appropriate prioritization on my part.

Which leads into what any of that has to do with this blog. 😊

With the end of my February Holy Week I’ve been going into a big ritual/folk magic cleansing of the household (which in itself will be spiritual cleansing of my psyche) leading into my devotional new year at the spring equinox.

During this time period I plan on researching and utilizing traditional folk cleansing rituals. So far I’ve sprinkled a lot of hátová salt and water.

Organized sewing boxes

If you saw my post last week about organizing my sewing boxes you might recognize the beginning of this project. I cannot and will not put up “before” pictures (I have carefully curated my blog photos over the years to not show physical evidence of the disaster that is my life).

Organized makeup, cleansers and creams, and jewelry.

Earlier this week I started with the bathroom, the smallest room in the house, untangling messes in drawers, jewelry boxes and cabinets. Yesterday I continued with the bookshelf in my bedroom. I discarded books that hadn’t been touched in years and whittled my collection down to what I consider necessary reference material for my folk practice. I interspersed baskets which will hold seasonal altar items.

I’m really excited about this massive ritual and feeling the most positive I have in over a year. Part of my hope with this cleansing ritual is that it will kickstart other necessary changes in my life.

Do any of you have go to folk cleansing rituals? I’d love to hear from you.

[these-detestable-hands]

It's been a bit since I've interacted with octopath so my stuff on these ships may be a little rusty but I'll argue for them anyway.

Castitio (Castti x Partitio)

Before the game even came out, I thought they'd be a silly couple. Lady who doesn't remember and guy bursting at the seems with kindness. I think they're got a neat dynamic, with Castti teasing him a bit but they get along and are friends. Some post canon hcs I have are that Partitio would help Castti set up an organization that produces medicine and teaches about it cause he loves her and he's got the funding anyway. Also I do think being exposed to the poison rain twice did stuff to Castti so I like to hc she's disabled post canon, being a wheelchair user due to muscle weakness, having very little lung capacity and CPTSD. Also not a disability but she has eczema-like purple splotches on her body. Sorry I needed an excuse to quickly mention my disabled Castti headcanons. While they're engaged, Partitio and Floyd work on completely renovating a house to accommodate all of Castti's needs, so like low counters she can reach while on her wheelchair, only one floor, wide doorways, blackout curtains so she can sleep during the day, etc. Castti keeps insisting that she doesn't need that much help and that she's navigating normal houses just fine but then she'd see all the accommodations in their new house and bawl for hours. She'd work less and take it easy post canon. Listen I just think they'd be a really cute couple. Castti patches up your broken arm then her husband comes in and starts cracking jokes and talking about affordable public transportation. I feel like I'm also forgetting a lot of stuff but oh well. I've got a few fics for them posted on ao3, account name: BigOrangeOnion

Ophikari (Ophilia x Hikari) (I also call them The Radiance (hollow knight reference and it makes sense for an au))

OKAY SO this ship started out as an au when the ot1 travelers were added to ot2 for that update last year. Basically, post canon, Hikari visits the arena whenever he's in Montwise. This time, he goes and there's some omega powerful warriors fighting ruthlessly and with no concern for themselves. He realizes it's because they've got some kinda of curse, similar to him with the shadow (I THINK that's what it was called).

So Hikari starts working on figuring out how to free them because their current existence seems miserable. The first he manages to free is Ophilia, by using light magic near her. The light magic makes her briefly remember who she was but it's enough for her to snap out of the mind control that she's been put under. She talks to Hikari and explains that her and her friends were mind controlled by a very weak but not quite dead Galdera, in attempts to conquer and gain more power so he could heal himself faster. So the two of them start working on freeing the other travelers together.

Along the way, they ofc fall in love. I don't remember an awful lot about them unfortunately but I implore anyone reading this to write stuff for them :]

Here's a little drawing I did of them together. I'd include Castitio drawings if I had any but I am not big on drawing ship art unfortunately.

H'aanit x Cyrus x Castti (in a QPR!!! :3)

So this is probably the one I've explored the least purely because I never really shared it with anyone. I keep it to myself because of the amount of hyper specific and sad headcanons. But basically it was an au where I'd just mix and match travelers n stuff. Like just putting different travelers in different continents with weird team compositions cause I'm a big fan of aus and crossovers.

One of the ones I liked the most is where Castti leaves Solistia by herself to explore post canon because she's not very close with the other travelers and self isolates a little. This au starts out kinda sad cause of the focus on my hcs for various characters' mental illnesses. H'aanit is initially traveling alone but Castti joins her and they're a relatively quiet but very effective and productive duo. Later, Cyrus, Olberic, Primrose and Ophilia join. They all have their problems to work through and get through them together.

Castti has to deal with self worth and realizing that she's more than just the team healer.

H'aanit has always had anxiety around losing Z'aanta, which is really bad throughout the entire story so Castti often ends up calming her down during panic attacks and they get really close because of the mutual trust there.

Idk exactly how to describe Cyrus' problems but he's really jumpy and nervous and a little bit angry all the time because of being accused of, y' know, sleeping with a student. Yeah no I never understood why Cyrus wasn't that angry about it, even when I first played the game at age 10.

I think Cyrus is just dealing with the new found rage he constantly has. He had anger management issues as a kid but worked through them and they're just now coming back cause he's been thrown out of his home and people he used to be friends with think the worst of him and he's got no one but this new friend group he hardly knows. You get it.

The story is the three of them (and Olberic, Ophilia and Prim, but this post is about ships so I'll talk about them another time) as they deal with their mental health issues. Through helping each other with these very personal problems, they become very close and eventually decide to be in a qpr together. I think they'd just live relatively quiet lives in S'warkii cause Cyrus is too upset to return to Atlasdam and Castti isn't too keen on going back to Solistia after falling head over heels in love with two people in Osterra.

I don't remember way too much for this au unfortunately. I think they should all cuddle and finally get a good night's sleep for once cause no way a single one of those bitches sleeps well with the crap they see and have experienced.

Sorry I wrote so much. Here is a little drawing based on an Olberic chapter 2 travel banter and the most important H'aanit fact.

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[sorceressofthesky]

Piltover and Zaun Lore Deep Dive

I've been doing extensive research into the history of P&Z for a Silco and Vander origin story fic, and I figured it could be helpful to share my findings here too!

My main goal was to try and integrate known Arcane lore with League lore and iron out some of the creases, to nail down exactly what the world of P&Z looked like in Arcane. I've done a lot of extrapolating and theorising to make sense of it all, but if you're just interested in the raw data from canon, I've compiled all my notes on a Google Doc. All sources are listed throughout.

The contents of this post are as follows:

Part 1: Chronology (the timeline)

Part 1.1: Chronology in League of Legends

Part 1.2: Chronology in Arcane

Part 1.3: Integrating the timelines

Part 2: Geography (the layout of P&Z)

Part 2.1: Existing maps of Piltover and Zaun

Part 2.2: Geography in League of Legends

Part 2.3: Geography in Arcane

Part 2.4: Integrating the layouts

Part 3: Modern Zaun (ft. Silco and Vander)

Part 3.0: Preamble

Part 3.1: The timeline of Zaun’s creation

Part 3.2: Vander and Silco’s early life

Part 3.3: Golden age of Vander and Silco

Part 3.4: After the betrayal

Part 4: Wrap-Up

Summary of the timeline

~~~

Part 1.1: Chronology (League of Legends)

Information derived from the LoL Fandom Wiki and official LoL website, with most details corroborated by various Reddit threads and similar forums. BN means Before Noxus, and AN means After Noxus.

6000-5000 BN: Westward Migration. Humans began to migrate from the eastern hemisphere to the western hemisphere, towards the Shuriman Continent. Settlers founded many new nations and cities. Among these was a sea port called Oshra Va’Zaun (also referred to in some places as Osha Va’Zaun or Kha’Zhun, but I went with what was most consistently used on the Wiki). Oshra Va’Zaun connected the Shuriman Continent to Valoran via an isthmus, or artificial land bridge, that allowed for free trade between the continents and also comprised docks from which sailors could travel in and out. The people of Oshra Va’Zaun worshipped Janna (then known as Jan’ahrem), the wind spirit. As a spirit god, she relies on prayers to keep her strong. Sailors and merchants would pray for calm seas, and she would deliver.

2000-3 BN: Various Wars. The fall of the Shuriman Empire (2000 BN), the Darkin War (550 BN) and the Rune Wars (25-3 BN) all took place during this time. Janna protected Oshra Va’Zaun from every conflict, preventing it from becoming rubble.

772 AN: The Collapse. The people of Oshra Va’Zaun planned to destroy a portion of the isthmus connecting Valoran and the Southern Continent, allowing for safe sea passage between eastern and western Valoran. The plan was to use thousands of Chemtech bombs to crack open an area of the land so that a cavern could be created. Instead, the bombs triggered a series of earthquakes that completely destroyed the isthmus and sank large districts of Zaun. Thousands of citizens were killed, and poisonous gases leaked into the city’s surviving areas. Allegedly, Janna saved many of the citizens by holding back the seas to prevent floods.

790 AN: Piltover is Established. Over the last 18 years, the ruins of Oshra Va’Zaun underwent extensive reconstruction. The Sun Gates were established to regulate travel through the oceanic passage that had opened up where the isthmus used to be. This essentially forced all ocean transport through these waters, which brought wealth to the city and spurred the development of Piltover - named after its construction over the Pilt River. Merchant clans dominated the trade route and built up towards the sky, while those still living in the ruins built down into the fissures.

~~~

Part 1.2: Chronology (Arcane)

The only traces I could find of a timeline were on the League of Legends Universe Wiki, where birth years are given for several of the main characters. Most were given a range, as follows:

676 AN: Heimerdinger is born

959-963 AN: Jayce is born

961-968 AN: Viktor is born

966-970 AN: Caitlyn is born

967-971 AN: Vi is born

972-976 AN: Jinx is born

In Season 1 Act 1, Heimerdinger specifically states that he is 307, and Jayce states that he is 24. The writers also stated that 7 years had passed between Acts 1 and 2. This gives us a good base to work from, especially since Heimerdinger's birth year is the only one that is dated precisely. 676 + 307 = 983; thus, Act 1 takes place in 983 AN, and Act 2 onwards takes place in 990 AN. Working backwards, we can determine that Jayce was born in 959 AN, and everything works itself out from there.

676 AN: Heimerdinger is born. He is 307 (Act 1) / 314 (Act 2 and beyond).

959 AN: Jayce is born. He is 24 / 31.

961 AN: Viktor is born. He is 22 / 29.

966 AN: Caitlyn is born. She is 17 / 24 (honestly 17 seems too old to me based on what we see of her in Act 1, but 966 is the earliest year listed on her wiki page, so this is what I’m running with).

967 AN: Vi is born. She is 16 / 23.

972 AN: Jinx is born. She is 11 / 18.

983 AN: Events of Act 1. Key events here are the raid on the Kiramman warehouse and the subsequent invention of Hextech.

990 AN: Events of Act 2. At the start of Act 2, Heimerdinger says that Piltover is turning 200, so this works out perfectly with the League of Legends timeline.

~~~

Part 1.3: Chronology (Integrated)

So, how exactly do Arcane and League lore fit together? The answer essentially boils down to: there isn't one. Everyone in every thread has a different solution, and the timeline is so messy that there is even a dedicated Wiki page to all the various contradictions. I'm going to spend this final section developing my own theories and solutions based on what I know; feel free to take or leave any of this.

Pre-772 AN: From everything I’ve read, it seems like there are hardly any indications of Zaun and Piltover’s history before the events of the main timeline. There is no mention of Janna at all in Arcane, but subtle imagery of her is sprinkled throughout the art, which suggests that she could still be a figure present in the history and protection of Zaun. Thus, I think we can reasonably assume that everything was much the same up to the collapse. There don't seem to be any lore inconsistencies prior to 772 AN that would make the timeline impossible (other than Heimerdinger having supposedly lived through the Rune Wars, but Yordle lore is a whole different ball game that I'm not even going to touch lmao).

Post-772 AN: From the collapse onwards, there are two main issues I ran into in getting the lore to match up. One of these issues is the absence of the Sun Gates in Arcane. Instead, the Hexgates play the role of facilitating trade, which is treated like a new and revolutionary invention. This raises questions regarding how exactly Piltover came to prosper for ~2 centuries before Hextech. It’s possible that the Sun Gates did exist at a point in time, but were destroyed for one reason or another before we get to the main timeline. Otherwise, it could just be that they flourished through maritime trade for a while without the Sun Gates, given that they are still positioned at the intersection between continents (the Hexgates facilitate air travel, not sea travel, so that would have still been a pivotal change). The council is made up of wealthy merchant clans, which suggests that Piltover was still a place of high traffic for traders. We also know that Piltover and Zaun are realms of innovation, and with Heimerdinger at the forefront of Piltover’s establishment, it seems viable that they had a lot to offer that made Piltover attractive to other regions. This also raises the question of what exactly Piltover was inventing before Hextech, but I'm going to shelve that question, as it integrates slightly better with the next section.

The other issue that came up is with regards to Chemtech. In League lore, Chemtech is consistently listed as “Zaun’s answer to Hextech”. The Wiki also mentions that it has existed in Zaun “since the early 900s AN”, but wasn’t widely used until “the later half of the 900s AN”. There are two issues with this. Firstly, the lore specifically mentions that Chemtech bombs were used to explode the land in 772 AN, which means that it did exist before the 900s. The second issue is that Hextech was not invented until 983 AN, which contradicts the notion that Chemtech was “Zaun’s answer” to it. We see green lights all over the Lanes in Arcane Episode 1, so it was definitely in use before Hextech existed. So the questions that arise are 1) What was the timeline of Chemtech usage in Zaun?, 2) Why wasn’t it ever used in Piltover?, and 3) Why was Piltover the city that prospered through trade and innovation, if Zaun was the one who had Chemtech?

I think the most sensible answer to question 2 is simply that it's toxic. People in Piltover are terrified of change, judging by the council’s reaction to magic the first time Jayce brings it up. If a Chemtech bomb was what caused the destruction of Oshra Va’Zaun in the first place, it makes sense that Piltover would have avoided using it. This could also help with the answer to question 1. If we believe that Chemtech wasn't widely used in Zaun until the 900s, it could just be that they were afraid to touch it again for a very long time after the collapse. That just leaves question 3, and I think to answer this, we need to return to that earlier question of what exactly Piltover invented/traded that cemented their position of affluence. The official League webpage for Piltover talks extensively about Hextech, and also includes images of Piltover's inventions under the umbrella of "Hextech". However, there are three images in that category that stand out to me as different:

In the bottom series of pictures, three of the images are in black and white, and look more like sketches than the fully-rendered designs of the other inventions. The first of these images is just a string of merchant clan sigils, which don't give us all that much information. What I'm most interested in are the second image, which is a dome-shaped streetlight:

And the third image, which is a "Pneuma-Tube Conduit":

The black-and-white design of these makes them look older, as opposed to the modern designs of objects like the gauntlets, which we know are newer. That indicates that these inventions existed before Hextech. The light source looks like it has a wire running through it and a switch of sorts, which suggests that they had some form of electricity. Another possibility is that it functions using solar power, given that the Zaunites, despite being inventors in their own rights, seem to rely mostly on Chemtech for light and haven't been able to built light sources that can pierce darkness/the Grey. It would make sense if they simply don't get the sunlight down there to operate them properly.

The pneuma tube is the most notable to me, given that it seems to match the tube Grayson gives Vander in Episode 1 as a method of contacting her ("this will reach me, and only me") - again, before Hextech existed. What's interesting about that tube is that, when I went back to the scene where Vi decides to turn herself in, the tube arrives with a puff of gas and a small lime-coloured light that turns on. There's also a green-tinted lamp in the police station where they appear to be located. It looks very Chemtech-like, which I'm intrigued by; it makes me wonder if Piltover actually does use Chemtech to some extent, but in much smaller doses with extensive safety measures to keep the gases from escaping.

I also found a Weebly website, which looks very unofficial (i.e. I cannot verify any of the information on there) but has a ton of lore for various regions, including the only mention I could find of a Piltovian energy source that wasn't Hextech. The site mentions that Piltover uses liquids and gases from a nearby marsh to power the city. This seems like a viable option to me, especially given the detail of the gases coming off the tube, and the images of factories with smoke coming from the underground. So I guess, rather than being Zaun's "answer" to Hextech, Chemtech is more like the toxic and volatile version of the various controlled gases and liquids that Piltover uses as an energy source.

On the topic of other things Piltover invented, here are some additional notes from my research:

Weaponry - There are guns everywhere in Piltover, particularly for the Enforcers. Presumably one of the wealthy clans had to manufacture these.

Tools - We know that the Talis family gained wealth and notoriety for their invention of various tools, including mostly hammers and the "collapsible pocket wrench".

Lock System - Amanda Overton stated that the Kirammans became wealthy for building "the very important lock system in the channel that first allowed trade between regions". I suppose this must have been instead of the Sun Gates, if we're assuming they don't exist?

Other Systems - The Kirammans also appeared to be the ones who built the underground ventilation system for Zaun. The tube conduit is also an example of a miscellaneous system invented by someone in Piltover, as well as presumably whatever wiring system allows the streetlights to function.

Machinery/Machine Parts - It's mentioned in League lore that the Medarda clan became wealthy for their invention of the piston, which is part of an engine. It's unclear whether this is still the case in Arcane, though.

Prosthetics - In the story The Lady of Clockwork, it's said that Corin Reveck was renowned for his design of prosthetics. Arcane canon calls him a "revered academy alchemist", so it seems like his creations there had more to do with chemistry and magic, but prosthetics could have been the specialty of someone else in Piltover.

Clockwork - I've also seen Corin Reveck described as a clockwork inventor, so revolutionary clocks and time-based inventions could have also come out of Piltover.

Cameras - Caitlyn has a camera in Act 1 when she's investigating the crime scene after the Firelights raided Silco's shipment. The flash has a blue tint, so this could have been a Hextech invention, but I was interested to see that it had a green pipe running along the side; perhaps it was a Zaunite camera that she asked Jayce to modify for her.

Food/Drink - In S1E4, it's mentioned that Councillor Hoskel ships wine to Noxus. Perhaps some clans in Piltover accumulated wealth from unique food/drink products that other regions could not cultivate.

Various Gadgets - Mel's very first scene shows her choosing a gift for Hoskel from an assortment of mechanical gadgets. These could have been a smaller byproduct of Piltover's invention boom. This category also covers the items in Jayce's lab, many of which seem to be assorted gadgets like the nose hair trimmer, the spinning mobile on the ceiling and the "real Valdiani".

So, to recap, here's a summary of the integrated timeline for P&Z in Arcane:

Pre-772 AN: Westward migration led to the establishment of the sea port of Oshra Va'Zaun. Wars ravaged the Shuriman Continent, but Oshra Va'Zaun was protected through all of it, until their own innovation caused the collapse of the isthmus via Chemtech bomb.

Post-772 AN: Piltover was gradually built over the ruins, and formally established in 790 AN. Meanwhile, those still living underground were forced into labour, working in the mines and factories to provide for Piltover's inventions. Piltover became richer and richer as trade increased, while the people of Zaun had nothing themselves.

959-972 AN: Births of the leading cast members. Jayce is the oldest, and Jinx is the youngest.

983 AN: Events of Act 1. Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor raid the Kiramman warehouse. Hextech is invented. Vander turns himself in for the raid, Silco intercepts the arrest, and Vander, Mylo and Claggor end up dead.

990 AN: Events of Act 2. The main Arcane timeline starts here.

~~~

Part 2.1: Geography (Maps)

Figure 1: Piltover and Zaun in the wider landscape of Runeterra (source)

Figure 2: Piltover trade routes per the Medarda Heirloom (source)

Figure 3: Piltover and Zaun map in Arcane (source)

Figure 4: Map of Piltover and Zaun from Jinx Fixes Everything (source)

Figure 5: Map of Piltover and Zaun from World Anvil (source)*

*I'm not sure of the exact source for this map; the page I found this from is a fanmade D&D campaign but the creator has a disclaimer that they sourced the artwork externally and do not own it.

Figures 6 and 7: Maps of P&Z from Arcane and the Medarda Heirloom respectively. The Arcane map has been rotated to align the structure of the land masses in the Medarda Heirloom.

~~~

Part 2.2: Geography (League of Legends)

In League, Zaun is built quite literally underneath Piltover; there are some absolutely beautiful official artworks depicting this. In the League version of Zaun, there are three levels, as per the Wiki page:

Promenade Level: The top level of Zaun. Described as an "entertainment and commercial zone", this is where Zaun's wealthy reside, and where the line between Piltover and Zaun blurs. Some of its features include a thriving marketplace on the boundary (several regions are named specifically; the Boundary Markets and the Skylight Commercia), a pump station to move clean air from Piltover into Zaun, and the College of Techmaturgy.

Entresol Level: The level just below Promenade, this is considered the main hub of activity for Zaunites. It's one of the most populated districts between the two cities, and is also where the Zaun Grey lingers most. Some of its features include augmentation parlours for prosthetics and other bodily augmentations, a breather station where Zaunites can find reprieve from the Grey, the Chemtech Seam in the cliffs where compounds for Chemtech are sourced, markets and greenhouses, and laboratories for science and invention.

Sump Level: Zaun's deepest level where the light doesn't reach. It's chaotic and grim, with disorderly piping everywhere and discarded waste from Piltover. This is the origin of the Grey, from polluted waterways and grilles. Some of its features include a pump station for removing sewage, a prison mine where convicts are forced to mine Chemtech compounds, factories and warehouses, a surviving clock tower from Oshra Va'Zaun, densely-populated slums, the Black Lanes where merchants and thieves do business, sewers, an orphanage and an asylum.

Other Features: There's a large cliff in Zaun that makes up part of the Promenade Level, and is home to shipping docks and the Sun Gates. There are also Hexdraulic Conveyors in various locations throughout Zaun, which allow Piltovans to descend into Zaun - some available to the public, and some for private use, especially for the Chem-Barons and wealthy Piltovans.

As for Piltover, per the Wiki page, there are only two main regions - North Piltover and South Piltover:

North Piltover: Most of the clans have their mansions and "heavily guarded workshop compounds" here, in a region called Bluewind Court. The north also contains a menagerie, theatres and workshops, a promenade of cafes and bistros, and a region dedicated to banks and secure vaults for the wealthy.

South Piltover: Not much is mentioned of South Piltover, but it seems like it involves several shopping districts, more workshops and lavish residences, and the fissures where Zaun is located.

I recognised a lot of the location names on the Wiki from the map in Figure 5, so presumably the north just means everything north of the canal and the south is the region on the other side; then Zaun exists directly underneath southern Piltover, carved out of the land underneath the fissures.

~~~

Part 2.3: Geography (Arcane)

The geography in Arcane was a little confusing to make sense of. These are the changes noted on the Wiki:

The Sun Gates do not exist

The fissures are narrower

Zaun does not have three levels, instead being divided into the Lanes which each represent one of the fissures

The tallest tower in Zaun is now the Chem-Baron tower, which replaces the College of Techmaturgy

There are no Hexdraulic Descenders, instead replaced by smaller elevators

The Lanes in Zaun are home to Babette's brothel and The Last Drop

The Firelight Hideout is built in a large, abandoned sewer

The north and south parts of Piltover are connected by The Bridge of Progress

In mid-Piltover is the University of Piltover, located near the Hexgates, where most council meetings take place

Stillwater Hold is located on an island just outside the eastern part of the city

I've read a lot of other forum threads, and it seems like there's no real consensus on where exactly Zaun is located in relation to Piltover. Some people say it's still directly underneath southern Piltover, while others think the entire region across the bridge (see Figure 3) is now entirely Zaun. I get the impression that a lot of the confusion comes from Arcane visuals that make it look like Zaun is just everything on the other side of the bridge. Vander also describes the Undercity as "our side", making it seem like Zaun is that entire side of the region rather than just a part of it built underground.

Personally, I'm inclined to think Zaun is still predominantly underneath Piltover, judging by the maps in Figures 3 & 4 from Arcane canon. It seems like the Alcove District, Low Piltover and South Side Harbour are still part of south Piltover, while everything around the Fissures are part of Zaun. The scene in Season 1 Episode 1 where Vi and the kids are running away from the Enforcers also seems to support this. They run through a corridor, then slide down a sewer grate, into the underground where we can see all of Piltover's metal scraps and parts discarded as per the lore. I presumed, from this, that the first place they entered across the bridge was still part of Piltover, and then they went down the pipe to get to Zaun. Deckard confronts them before they take the elevator even further down, and we know that this confrontation happened on their "side", per Vi's conversation with Vander, so this was likely an upper part of Zaun.

Additionally, we see this wide shot as they run across the bridge:

Figure 8: Wide shot of the Bridge of Progress from Season 1 Episode 1, timestamp 13:01

Figure 8 shows Zaun/South Piltover on the left side of the bridge, and North Piltover on the right side. The architecture immediately across the bridge still looks very Piltovian, while towards the back of the image, we can see large green towers and smoke, more akin to Zaunite infrastructure. This makes me think there's still something like the Promenade level at the same altitude as south Piltover, where the lines between cities are blurred, but most of the activity takes place underneath. The maps from Arcane are also specifically labelled "Piltover", which further supports the idea that the entire region is Piltover, with most of Zaun lying underneath.

~~~

Part 2.4: Geography (Integrated)

I don't think Zaun was just made up of the Lanes, as the Wiki page seems to imply. There's a line from Silco in S1E3 in which he says "not just for the Lanes, but the whole of the underground united as one". It seems like the Lanes were the region Silco and Vander had control over ("you had my respect, the Lanes' respect" - Vander, S1E3), but there were other parts to the underground too.

There's a really useful Twitter post here that proposes one theory as to how Arcane and League geography can be integrated. As previously mentioned, I like the idea that the levels still exist to some extent. The Promenade level bleeds into South Piltover, and looks to be where many of the factories and warehouses are located judging by the smoke - as well as, of course, the Chem-Baron tower where Silco gasses them all in S1E7. This is also where the fight with Deckard happened. Every theory I've seen that incorporates the levels places The Last Drop on Entresol, so I'm inclined to say that's where the Lanes are located, with The Last Drop a central feature, and quite close to the Sump. And the Sump is where the mines are, all the way down in the lowest inhabitable (using that term very loosely) part of Zaun. There are also ruins of Oshra Va'Zaun underneath this where it's completely deserted.

~~~

Part 3.0: The Creation of Modern Zaun (Preamble)

So all of this brings me back to the question at the heart of it all: where do Silco and Vander fit in? There are three big questions I am aiming to answer in this section.

Question 1: What is the timeline of Silco and Vander's past?

Question 2: What did Zaun look like before Silco and Vander took control of it?

Question 3: What was their vision for Zaun and how far did they get with it?

Before I can get into answering those questions, I want to compile everything that we already know about Silco and Vander. From Arcane canon, here is what we're given:

Vander and Silco started as miners who "had nothing" (Silco's words, S1E9), and had a shared vision for what Zaun could have been. Silco talks very distastefully about his experience in the mines, describing "air so thick it clogged your throat, stuck in your eyes".

They are said to have "built the underground", according to Sevika (or, at the very least, she says that Vander built the underground).

Zaun was governed by Piltover and their council; Silco and Vander wanted Zaun to become an independent nation in its own right.

Silco’s description in S1E3: “We shared a vision, Vander. A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but the whole of the underground united as one. The Nation of Zaun.” In S1E9, he also says "everything we ever wanted" when he's talking to the Vander statue about Jayce's offer of peace, so all signs point to them having both been set on independence for Zaun.

Sevika says that "Silco spent his whole life trying to rally the Undercity together" in S2E4.

At some point, Felicia joined their fight, and the three of them were seen at The Last Drop together around the time of its founding. Sevika and Connol also knew them in their youth. I don't believe it's ever explicitly stated whether Benzo knew them back then, but Vander mentions him by name to Silco, which suggests a mutual connection.

Felicia speaks about the vision for Zaun as theirs, not hers, so it seems like her role was not quite as prominent as theirs in the actual conception and construction of Zaun.

Felicia encourages Silco and Vander to "figure this Zaun thing out", even if they have to "carve it out of the bedrock, covered in blisters". Much like Sevika using the word "built", this seems to imply a very literal kind of construction.

When Vi, Powder and co raid the Kirammans' warehouse, Vi mentions that it's exactly the kind of job Vander would've done when he was their age. We know that Vi was 16 at the time, and Mylo and Claggor were also both older than Powder, so presumably she means 15-16.

In S1E2, Vander tells Vi that when he was younger, he "was angry" about the treatment of Zaun by Piltover, and led the bridge riot that killed Felicia and Connol.

Using this post and the Arcane artbook as a guide, I also pulled information out of comments from the creators, which I'm regarding as canon-adjacent:

The Lanes is the black market area of the Undercity, created through Vander and Silco's smuggling operation that gave them the chance to make money outside of working as miners for topsiders.

Silco "grew up working in the mines", which is where Vander, Silco and Felicia met. It's also mentioned that this is why he was the only one who could tolerate the gas in S1E7, but he specifically says that the Chem-Barons used to work in the mines as well (“The mines they had us in” / “I pulled you all up from the depths”), so that seems inconsistent. I'm inclined to believe that it's a combination of him growing up in the mines and continuing to live on the Entresol level (in The Last Drop), while the others lived on the Promenade level.

Silco and Vander led a movement towards independence. Both were unhappy with the "oppressive feeling" of being "under the thumb of Piltover".

In the artbook, it's said that Silco hated the way he was treated by Piltover and wanted to prove that he was more than what the world had made him out to be. He and Vander "tried to build this world together", with the main goal of independence and pride for Zaun. Ultimately, there were limits to what Vander was willing to lose, while Silco always wanted to keep fighting no matter the cost.

There's an image of young Benzo with Silco, Vander and Felicia in the artbook, confirming the implication that he knew them at that time.

The bridge riot was incited after Benzo got arrested, and Silco was the one really pushing for the uprising; hence he was the one who threw the first Molotov cocktail. This was when Vander decided that violence was not the way to achieve peace.

Amanda Overton frequently refers to that riot as the "Day of Ash". I could only find one source on this, a Fandom Wiki page with no additional references cited. According to this page, the Day of Ash took place on December 1st 979 AN, and involved a protest march on the Bridge of Progress in which over 100 unarmed Zaunites were shot and 84 died on the spot. This seems inconsistent with what we see in canon (the "unarmed" part specifically; Silco throwing the Molotov, Vander beating up Enforcers with his mining gloves), but I'm listing it here anyway for full disclosure.

The drowning incident happened after the riot, apparently after Vander had already taken the kids (so I guess he came back for Silco??? Or it happened a few days after?).

Something else worth noting is that in the Season 2 flashback, Felicia says that "tonight", their dream of turning the underground into a community became a reality. This obviously marks a very significant date for them, and they toast to the occasion. My assumption was that this was meant to show us the opening of The Last Drop, and that's what I ran with for much of my analysis throughout this section; however, I don't think it's ever actually specified which milestone they're celebrating, so this detail is ultimately up to interpretation.

~~~

Part 3.1: The Creation of Modern Zaun (Timeline)

All of the wiki pages I've looked at place Silco at 37-39 in Act 1, and 43-46 in Act 2; and for Vander, 43 in Act 1 and 50 in Act 2 (in the AU/as Warwick). As far as birth years go, this would translate to 944-946 AN for Silco, and 940 AN for Vander.

At the time of The Last Drop's opening, Felicia is pregnant with Vi. That would place this scene in either 966 or 967 AN. I struggled to find an official reference for Arcane character birthdays, but Vi's birthday is very consistently celebrated on December 19th across the fandom, which puts us in early 967. That makes Silco and Vander 21-23 and 27 respectively. Based on what we see of Silco in that scene, I'm inclined to place him at the upper end of that range, or even a year or two older. So more like 39-41 in Act 1 and 46-48 in Act 2.

The Day of Ash is an interesting conundrum. 979 AN, as per the wiki article I found, would make Vi and Powder 12 and 7 respectively. I'm not sure how reliable the source is, and my personal estimate would have been 977-978 AN, factoring in the kids' ages and the time it would take for Silco to rebuild his life from scratch.

Combining all of this information, we get the following timeline:

940 AN: Vander is born

942-944 AN: Silco is born

966-967 AN: The Last Drop is opened

977-979 AN: The Day of Ash

For the next few sections, I'd like to have precise years to focus on, so I'm going to run with these dates:

940 AN: Vander is born. He is 43 / 50.

943 AN: Silco is born. He is 40 / 47.

967 AN: The Last Drop is opened. This marks the birth of modern Zaun.

978 AN: The Day of Ash. Silco is betrayed, and Vander swears off violence.

~~~

Part 3.2: The Creation of Modern Zaun (Early Life of S&V)

Content warning for discussions of slavery/slave labour in this section; I'll mark the paragraph that includes this with ~!!~ at the start just in case anyone wants to skip it.

It's pretty solid canon that Vander and Silco started as miners, and built up their world of Zaun from there. The mining tunnels run all along the fissures, as per this map from the Jinx Fixes Everything minigame:

Figure 9: Map of mining tunnels from Jinx Fixes Everything

I get the impression, based on the prevalence of the tunnels & Silco's dialogue to the Chem-Barons ("We had nothing" / "Have you forgotten where we came from? The mines they had us in?") that the underground, at the time, was mostly just mines.

~!!~ I'm particularly interested in how this fits in with the original League geography of the Sump, given that's where the mines are located. In League, the Sump included a prison mine for "Chemtech compounds", factories, warehouses, and slums where the workers lived. There's one particular factory mentioned which involved "slave labour camps" and "tightly controlled torture chambers". This is a very dark but plausible look into one possibility for the Undercity's past. Since Silco and Vander were said to have grown up in the mines, I assume it's most likely that they were the children of prisoners, rather than prisoners themselves - although it isn't outside the realm of possibility, since Powder's visibly young age did not stop the Enforcers from going after her at the beginning of the show. Alternatively (if we want to assume the slave labour aspect did not exist/was very far in the past) we could just assume Vander and Silco were children of people who worked in the mines, and were essentially born into it.

Regardless, I don't think they had many other options outside of mining, so we can assume that this was much the same for most people living in the Undercity. Something I'm curious about is, with the interpretation that there was still some semblance of a level system in modern Zaun, when and how Entresol and Promenade came about.

My personal assumption for Promenade is that the level existed as a sort of gateway between south Piltover and the underground. The elevator from S1E1 is on this level, and it looks to be in an abandoned house, judging by the stairs, furniture and paintings on the walls. The decor is quite fancy and the people in the paintings are dressed similarly to the Kirammans in their family portraits, which makes me think this was the repurposed home of a wealthy topsider. One possibility is that Promenade held the residences of Piltovan elites who worked close to Zaun (e.g. owned factories, oversaw mining operations). I think it's unlikely that Promenade had anything to do with Silco and Vander's operations, since it's much closer to the surface than where they reside, but their revolution could have been the force that drove many of the topsiders out.

Entresol is where the Lanes and The Last Drop are located, so I'm inclined to assume this was the part that Silco and Vander built. This is also corroborated by the various references to the Lanes in S1E3, which I elaborated on in Part 2.4, that makes it sound like this was the part that they had the most involvement with. This was where both of them ended up living, and Vander says that Silco "had the Lanes' respect", suggesting that this was where they started out, too.

The way Sevika and Felicia both talk about Silco and Vander's work makes it sound like they built the Lanes in a very literal sense. This leaves us with two main questions; 1) What was there before?, and 2) How much of it was built by them?. Unfortunately for us, I don't think there's actually enough in canon to answer either of those questions with any real certainty. The best I can do is suggest possibilities. We do know that there were other parts to the underground outside of the Lanes, so one possibility is that there was already a community inhabiting Entresol that they took over as their own - perhaps a small rebel group, or colonies of Zaunite labourers who lived on that level. These are all the other options I came up with:

There were semi-intact ruins still lying around Entresol that they built out of.

There was a large, empty space in the place that would later become the Lanes. They built on top of this and filled out the entire region.

They literally built the Entresol level themselves. The mining tunnels had been dug out of nothing, and all that was lying on top of them was rock; they quite literally "carve[d] it out of the bedrock", as Felicia's phrasing would imply.

So in summary, I'm imagining that the Sump was the main region of the Undercity at the time, comprising a network of mines where the Grey originated, sewers for wastage from up above, and potentially factories or warehouses as well. Another question is what exactly was being mined here, and again, we can turn to League lore for possible ideas. The prison mines mentioned on the Zaun wiki page were for "Chemtech compounds". Amanda Overton described Silco and Vander as "miners working for topsiders", which makes me wonder - if they were mining for Chemtech compounds - what exactly the topsiders in question wanted to do with those compounds. This brings me back to my long-winded Chemtech musings from Part 1.3. I can think of three primary explanations for this:

The compounds in question could be used for a variety of inventions, not just Chemtech. Perhaps there were elements involved that had to be chemically separated; one of which was safer and used to power Piltover's inventions, while the other was highly toxic and was originally discarded as waste, but later became the basis for Chemtech.

Chemtech was mined and used in smaller doses/quantities in Piltovian inventions, while the people of the Undercity began to use it in larger quantities, harnessing the toxic properties that released the Grey as a byproduct.

Chemtech compounds were one of many things mined, and were used for inventions that were limited to the underground, like mechanical mining and factory tools (drills, bombs, transport, etc.)

Alternatively, if we ignore the mention of Chemtech, we could assume that the underground was rich in natural minerals and resources that Piltovans needed for their inventions. We could also assume they were mining for the other gases and/or liquids that Piltovans used as an energy source (it's mentioned that these came from a "nearby marsh", but I couldn't find an actual canon source for that, so I think it's fine to take some liberties with it). I suspect that there are many other possible explanations, with the foundational principle being that they were mining for materials which the topsiders would then use to boost their own wealth, one way or another.

~~~

Part 3.3: The Creation of Modern Zaun (Golden Age of S&V)

In S1E5, we see an old hideout of Silco and Vander's, with plans for the Nation of Zaun strewn all over the desk and plastered on the walls. I've compiled a list of everything we see in that hideout and where it's all located:

CEILING/TOP

Pipework

Low wooden beams

Lantern box hanging from the ceiling

LEFT OF THE ENTRANCE

Boxes/crates

Barrels

Mining gloves

Shovel

Something coiled and hanging on the left wall - perhaps a rope? Or a hose?

RIGHT OF THE ENTRANCE

Small wooden table

Vanity next to the coat rack

Another shovel

Time-worn plans covering the right wall (maps, tables, lots of illegible writing)

BACK OF THE ROOM

Left corner, storage unit/bookshelf (books, boxes, small lopsided paper bag, cylindrical flask or thick drink bottle?)

Left of centre, jackets and hats

Centre, flag with green, red and gold detailing, NoZ logo in gold

Right corner, coat rack and a ledge with hangers and a kettle

CENTRE OF THE ROOM

Desk (more books, flask, glass, tobacco pipe, letter)

Another crate

Knocked-over stool

Tall chair (for the vanity?)

TRIVIA

Walls are all boarded up with wooden planks and metal reinforcements

Vander’s number: 135 714 (from the canon scene)

Silco’s number: 132 219 (loosely interpreted from the very grainy image in the artbook)

I think it's safe to say that they started devising their vision of Zaun in the mines, with comprehensive plans for the nation that include maps and diagrams, a flag with a logo, and many long pages of writing. I'm guessing they were living here for a while, judging by the flask, the kettle, the paper bag that looks like the kind used to carry food, and the clothes hung up on the wall. The furniture is an interesting detail; I'm struggling to imagine that they got away with dragging all of that furniture down to the mines, which makes me wonder if it was there before. Perhaps it used to be someone's office down there? Or some kind of bunker/storm shelter? I have no clear answer for this so I guess it's entirely up to the imagination.

Then at some point, they got out of the mines and began a smuggling operation to make money. I assume this is the era Vi was talking about when she said the break-in was "the kind of job Vander would've pulled when he was [their] age". I'm not sure exactly how reliable this statement is, or whether it even really tells us anything; Vander could've snuck away from the mines to steal from topside when he was a teenager, before he had even developed the goal of an independent nation, or Vi could've heard rumours about Vander's past that weren't entirely accurate. Still, it's the best we have to go on, and if we assume this references Vander and Silco's smuggling operation, it would imply that they started relatively young. In my opinion, 16-year-old Vi saying "our age" could imply anywhere from about 15-18 realistically, and that gives us a maximum of about a decade between the start of their smuggling ventures and The Last Drop opening. We also have to factor in Silco being 2-3 years younger, which means I'm more inclined to assume Vander was an older teen, if not already in his 20s (unless we're meant to assume they were just extremely young when they started all this, but I think that's unlikely, given they already look like adults while still working in the mines). For the sake of the timeline, we'll say they started their smuggling operation somewhere between the late 950s and early 960s AN.

We also don't know for sure when the Lanes were actually built; whether they started with The Last Drop and built everything around it, or built the Lanes and opened The Last Drop as a finishing touch of sorts. Felicia's lines in the flashback - "You two are going to figure this Zaun thing out. I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock covered in blisters." - definitely make it sound like The Last Drop was built first, and everything else followed. Amanda Overton also specified that the smuggling operation helped Vander and Silco make money, so it seems like they were selling their stolen goods (to topsiders?) and running a back-alley black market operation until they had enough to actually start building.

There were about 10-11 years between the opening of The Last Drop and the estrangement of Silco from his allies, which they spent building the Lanes. I was initially thinking this sounded insane, but from this Reddit thread, I gathered that it's actually a fairly reasonable timeline - especially if we assume that they had others helping them with the physical construction, which I'm certain they would've. One of the commenters in the thread brought up the city of Brasilia, which was a planned city built over the span of about 3.5 years. It has a total federal district area of 5,802km^2 built by about 60,000 people (not sure exactly how much of that area was actually built up; the Demographia World Urban Areas Report 2023 counts a total urban area of 963km^2, similar to the size of Buffalo NY).

There's another post I found by a Redditor who calculated the area and population of Piltover and Zaun using the height of streetlamps as a reference. These totals came out to 5.30km^2 (~100,000 population) and 4.12km^2 (~400,000 population) for Zaun. This was calculated under the assumption that Zaun and Piltover each covered one region on either side of the bridge, so the sizes might differ under the model with Zaun being mostly underneath. However, in this case, the Entresol level alone would be even smaller than 4.12km^2, so the task sounds overall very manageable. Worth noting that I think it's unlikely that Zaun was a precisely planned city like Brasilia was, and more likely that they built up the city around themselves, in response to the growing population and demands for facilities. Although we do see very thorough-looking diagrams on the walls of Vander and Silco's hideout, so I suppose you could reasonably assume any degree of planning.

In canon, we do see some glimpses into the post-Last Drop era through the sequence of Warwick/Vander's memories in S1E6. Here are all the memories we see, in order:

Vander and Silco in the mines

Silco sitting at a bar with a book open in his hands

The flashback from S2E5 with Felicia, Silco and Vander toasting in the bar

Young Vander and Benzo leaning over a counter; both look to be around the same age as they were in Act 1, maybe slightly younger

Felicia pregnant with Powder, and a man (presumably Connol) holding child Vi

Powder, Vi, Mylo and Claggor all standing in a group with their backs turned

Vi sparring with Vander, starting around the age she was in Act 1 and then morphing into her younger child self

Felicia and Connol come home with their mining hats and gloves, and Vi and Powder get excited to see them

Vi tries on the mining glove Felicia gives her

Felicia and Powder cook together

Felicia cuts Vi's hair

Felicia, Powder and Vi chase each other around a post

Felicia measures Vi's height

These being Vander's memories, it seems like the kids had a much more resonant impact on him at the time than Silco or the fight for independence did. This explains a lot with regards to the difference in ideologies that eventually divided Vander and Silco. We also see that Felicia and Connol were still working in the mines when the kids were young, implying that Silco and Vander did not shut down mining operations (perhaps they cleaned it up so the work was less dangerous?). The logo for the Nation of Zaun that we see on the flag & on Silco's notebook doesn't come up ever again, and seems to be absent from the modern timeline.

I'm guessing the focus during this period was on the physical construction of the Lanes, and accumulating more and more capital to distribute among the people of the underground. It definitely seems like they were intending to go to war for their independence, judging by Vander's assumption in S1E3 that Silco wanted to use Shimmer to start a war - as well as Vander telling Vi that he "was angry" when he was younger and wanted to fight for change (S1E2). The flag/logo in their hideout was presumably something they planned to fly once they had achieved an independent Nation of Zaun.

They never did end up engaging in a full-on war though, based on various context clues and dialogue exchanges implying that a) Vander and Silco's revolution was never successful, and b) war between Piltover and Zaun is only hypothetical, rather than something that has happened once before. Vander also indicates that the Day of Ash was a one-off incident ("we crossed that bridge once before" in S1E2), which is consistent with how peaceful his early memories are. I presume they wanted to focus on establishing Zaun as a thriving community first before escalating the issue with Piltover; they couldn't exactly fight for independence if there was no nation to fight for in the first place. They most likely didn't have the numbers to form an actual army either, especially not with the Lanes alone.

Eventually, Vander and Silco incited the bridge riot as what was meant to be the start of a bigger revolution, "thinking things could change". The riot was a massive failure for Zaun, and most of the fighters ended up dead. Vander decided that he had too much to lose and attempted to drown Silco to end the cycle of violence. I tend to assume this happened before Vander picked up the kids, but if you want to stay as loyal as possible to the creators' comments, I think this is a very plausible theory that explains the weird timeline and visual continuity errors.

~~~

Part 3.4: The Creation of Modern Zaun (Aftermath of S&V)

Bonus section to discuss my thoughts on what exactly happened to Silco after the Day of Ash; most of this is conjecture rather than fact.

It's pretty obvious what Vander got up to after the drowning attempt. He made a deal with Grayson to keep Zaunites off of Piltover's streets in return for peace. Much of the infrastructure in The Lanes was built during Vander and Silco's era, but I imagine construction continued into this era as well. However, any progress towards independence stagnated under Vander's leadership.

As for Silco, it seems most likely that he met up with Singed pretty soon after the betrayal. There seems to be a distinct lack of trust between them - Singed hasn't told Silco what his true motivations are, per him vaguely telling Silco "I, too, once had a daughter" (S1E8), and Silco tells Jinx that "you're the only one I can trust with this" when she suggests that he give the Hex crystal to Singed instead (S1E5). Thus, I'm inclined to believe it's a purely practical partnership, unlike Silco's relationship with Vander which was much more personal.

Silco's intention with Shimmer, as he tells Vander, was to mass-produce it at such a scale that it would scare Piltover out of entering the Lanes (many of the wiki pages say he wanted to start a war with Shimmer-enhanced soldiers, but he outright tells Vander that this is not the case). It could be that he wanted a bargaining chip too, given that "discontinue the production of Shimmer" was one of Jayce's conditions for independence in S1E9. So, Silco and Singed joined forces at some point to mass-produce Shimmer, Silco used a variant in the meantime to keep his eye infection at bay, and that brings us to the canon timeline.

I want to look a little bit into Singed and his past, as I'm very curious to know where Silco's vision fits in with Singed's motivations. We don't know exactly how much of Dr. Reveck/Orianna's story translates into Arcane, but we do know the following:

Singed was Dr. Reveck, a "revered academy alchemist" in Piltover. His work was "unparalleled", but he was dismissed from the academy with "no mention of his crime" (from Caitlyn; S2E5).

Everything he's done since his dismissal was to cure his daughter. This included the creation of Shimmer, which he did using Rio (the giant purple creature in the cave) as a vessel through which to sustain the regenerative mutation he wanted to harness. When questioned by Ambessa, he says that he's trying to cure "death".

He runs his operations out of the cave in Zaun where Rio is kept. Viktor worked with him briefly as a child, but became horrified by the sight of Rio connected to a series of wires and clearly in pain, so he left. Later, he is seen working out of several locations that all look slightly different (the place where Warwick is created, and Silco's first office under the river), so either the cave is massive with many rooms, or he has several different HQs for his experiments.

Singed uses Chemtech and Shimmer for all his experiments, often a combination of the two. It seems like Chemtech has the potential to sustain life, and Shimmer has the potential to enhance it.

In comparison, these are the main details of Orianna's origin story in League of Legends:

Corin Reveck was famous for making artificial limbs with intricate brass designs.

His daughter, Orianna, was his apprentice. She was adventurous and inquisitive, and wanted to explore the world outside of Piltover, but Dr. Reveck told her it was too dangerous.

An explosion in Zaun ruptured a chemical line and released clouds of poisonous gas. Orianna wanted to help the victims, but Dr. Reveck wouldn’t let her.

Orianna snuck away at night and helped fix the damage, repairing respirators and installing esophilters (described on the wiki as “a Chemtech augmentation that allows people to breathe noxious fumes safely”). She offered her own mask to a child who was struggling to breathe.

After returning to Piltover, Orianna became terminally ill, lungs ravaged by the toxic fumes. Dr. Reveck built her a new set of lungs, and as the poison spread throughout her body, he continued to build new implants and prosthetics for her until most of her body was mechanical.

The process cost Dr. Reveck his entire fortune, which forced them to relocate to Zaun.

Eventually Dr. Reveck fell ill, and she gave up her last remaining human organ for him - her heart.

There are obvious changes that would have to be made to this story to fit with Arcane lore. For example, Singed was already living in Zaun by the time he met up with Viktor, well before Orianna was revived. It also doesn't seem like he built her "piece by piece" as stated in the original story, instead keeping her alive and unconscious until he was certain he could save her. However, I think a lot of these details can be integrated with Arcane lore, and I have some ideas about exactly where it fits in.

As with all things, I want to figure out a timeline first before anything else. This is what we know so far:

Late 950s-960s AN: Silco and Vander start their smuggling operation with the goal of establishing the Lanes

961 AN: Viktor is born

967 AN: The Last Drop is opened

978 AN: Silco is betrayed by Vander

983 AN: Silco and Singed are working together by this point

I found no information on how old Viktor was when he met Singed, so I'm going to estimate around 12-13 judging by his appearance and voice. This would mean they met around 973-974 AN, which matches up with the timeline, given that Zaun looks quite built-up where we see other children playing (although I'm pretty sure this takes place on the Promenade level? Since it seems to be in direct sunlight). It seems like Singed is a fair way into his venture when Viktor runs into him; he's managed to cultivate the mutation he is looking for, and he has a laboratory of sorts that he operates inside the cave, with a vast array of potions, many different vats and test tubes with mutilated animals inside, and a network of pipes and wires that power his equipment. From this, I presume he's been at it for at least a few years.

With this timeline, Orianna would have fallen ill somewhere in the late 960s, right at the height of Vander and Silco's golden age when they were still building the Lanes. An explosion that ruptured a chemical line is an extremely plausible event to happen during this era, for any number of reasons; a riot in the underground, Enforcers trying to halt the construction of Zaun, explosions used to clear rocks so they had a clear path to build, etc etc. It could've been any number of things. Orianna went down there, against her father's orders, and her lungs were ravaged by the gas. Singed started to focus his research on keeping Orianna's condition stable and devising a cure by testing on animals. His unethical activities were discovered, and he was kicked out of the academy in the early 970s for his experiments. He permanently relocated to Zaun.

Sometime after Silco was betrayed, he and Singed met. I am quite confident that Silco was the one to approach Singed, and my primary justification for this comes from Singed's conversation with Viktor in S1E7. Viktor tries to pretend that he wants to use Shimmer on plants, and Singed expresses that he knows what Viktor is really there for, by saying "I know the look of a doomed man". I am convinced that he is talking about Silco here. From what we see of Singed's past before meeting Silco, he had only experimented on animals, and the only human involved before Viktor was his daughter. None of that would justify him "know[ing] the look of a doomed man". I don't think he's talking about himself either, since his injuries don't appear to be fatal and we never see him using himself as a test subject.

So I think Silco somehow found out about his operations and came to him seeking help after the betrayal. Silco had no power without Vander - all their friends/allies that we know of were either dead (Felicia and Connol) or took Vander's side (Benzo and Sevika) - and after being exposed to the toxins in the Pilt, he definitely would have been at risk for a much worse infection if left untreated. He was already taking his injections when we first see him in canon, and it actually looks like Singed might have even performed surgery of some kind on Silco, given that he has both eyelids in the actual drowning scene but one of them is missing later on.

This also helps explain what Singed was getting out of the deal, since Silco couldn't offer him anything tangible at the time; he essentially acted as Singed's first human test subject for a cure. We don't know if Silco's early injections involved Shimmer though, or if he was using some other temporary cure (Chemtech?) that Singed came up with for him before Shimmer had been perfected. Singed mentions to Viktor that he has several different variants of Shimmer, and he was already working on it for at least a little while before Silco came to him, so I'm assuming it was probably one of these variants. If that's the case, I'd guess that Silco is using a stronger dosage after the timeskip, since he responds to it differently (in S1E1 he injects it very calmly with no visible reaction at all, while later on in the series, his body seizes up and he looks to be in pain).

I'm interested in what comes after that, too. I could absolutely understand Singed agreeing to help Silco out after the betrayal, since Silco is in a similar position to Viktor at that point, and a very valuable tool in Singed's research. What I'm curious about is why Singed then agrees to mass-produce Shimmer and "flood the lanes" with it, as it's often described. These are the two explanations I came up with:

Singed wanted to explore the effects of Shimmer on the "average person", so to speak. Flooding the Lanes with Shimmer means putting it in the hands of anyone and everyone, which means ample test subjects for Singed to observe and learn from. The main issue I can think of with this theory is that Singed does all of his research from inside his lab, and one of the key things he notes about himself is that he's a loner, so it doesn't seem like he was going out there and doing field research. There could have been ways for him to learn from afar, though.

Silco offered to make Singed rich. Silco knew Shimmer could turn the tides back in his favour, and he could have tempted Singed to join him with the promise of everything they could eventually have. Early in Season 1, they share an office space underwater, and they have many giant factories with regular shipments in and out of Piltover after the timeskip. We can only assume that both of them became wealthy from this, with Singed making enough money to continue his research, and Silco making enough to build the version of the underground that he always envisioned.

And finally, I want to jump back to the aforementioned discussions about Chemtech, because something is still bugging me about it. If Chemtech existed before Hextech, and it's supposed to be this brilliant but toxic formula at the heart of Zaun's inventions, why didn't they ever weaponise it against Piltover? We know that Jinx uses Chemtech for her bombs, and Renni is seen using a chainsaw powered by Chemtech - and we also know that Silco and Vander both wanted to fight Piltover. So if Chemtech is a power source exclusive to Zaun, why didn't they mass-produce Chemtech weapons or release toxic gases into the streets of Piltover as part of their fight for independence? And after the timeskip, when Silco is working on his own, why did he focus on the production of Shimmer when Chemtech already existed?

By the time we catch up with everyone in canon in S1E1, Chemtech is very widespread. It looks like the Undercity is essentially built on it, with green lights everywhere and massive structures powered entirely by chemicals. I think it's reasonable to assume that Vander and Silco were the ones who facilitated the widespread use of Chemtech. This would fill in a lot of the gaps with regards to the precise timeline of Chemtech usage; it could have been something they once used sparingly, for things like mining equipment and light sources, but when Silco and Vander built the Undercity, it became a staple of Zaunite infrastructure. Since there was a long period over which they were smuggling goods out of Piltover and preparing to start building their nation, they could have also used that time to start developing Chemtech. I'm guessing they would've recruited someone to do this for them, since neither Vander nor Silco seem to have a knack for invention.

This leaves me with three theories with regards to the potential for Chemtech to become a weapon:

Theory 1 - They did try to use it against Piltover, but their attempts were always unsuccessful (e.g. the Day of Ash riot).

This one is pretty self-explanatory. They tried to use Chemtech weapons against Piltover, but the Enforcers were just too powerful. There are two main issues with this theory; the first being that we don't know how exactly the Enforcers would have overpowered them without Hextech, and the second being that, when we see Silco and Vander on the bridge during that riot, there's no sign of Chemtech's trademark green. Silco has a very standard-looking Molotov cocktail that produces orange flames, and Vander uses his mining gloves to beat up the Enforcers using brute force. I suppose the Molotov could have been filled with chemicals, so it's still an option.

Theory 2 - Chemtech isn't powerful enough on its own.

I believe this is the most plausible theory of the three. Chemtech is an energy source, good for powering things like light sources and machinery, but in itself, we don't actually see any evidence to suggest that it's useful on a larger scale. Powder's bombs don't work when she's younger, despite being powered by Chemtech - and even then, Chemtech is never the main feature anyway, with her bombs either being smoke-powered or filled with nails. In S1E4, Councilor Hoskel describes Zaun's "ingenuity over the years", with specific mentions of "Shimmer" and "body replacements"; I would assume, if Zaun really was capable of making deadly weapons with Chemtech, he would have mentioned that as well. Chemtech does appear to be the sole power source behind Renni's chainsaw, but mass-producing chainsaws as a war weapon is not the most practical nor smart strategy. Chemtech just isn't effective enough to make weapons that can be used to fight Piltover with, or on a large enough scale to put them in the hands of average Zaunites.

A major point in favour of this theory is the fact that no one in the Undercity seems to have guns except Jinx, which I find really interesting. During the bridge riot, all of the Enforcers are armed with guns, while Vander fights with his fists, and Silco fights with the aforementioned Molotov cocktail. Later, we see that Sevika and Vi also fight with their fists, and the Firelights use hoverboards and spears. Vander has a dagger which Silco later uses as his own melee weapon of choice. So why does no one in Zaun have guns? Surely Jinx can't be the only person who's ever thought to make her own? The answer has to be that they don't have access to them; either the money to buy them or the materials to make them. The Enforcers are always armed with them, and families like the Kirammans are known to hunt recreationally, which seems to demonstrate that guns are a mark of wealth and status. Jinx is only able to make hers once she's living with Silco, who could easily source the supplies for her.

Theory 3 - They did manage to successfully weaponise Chemtech against Piltover, but Piltover was able to harness the chemicals for themselves before Zaun could take advantage of it.

We know in canon that Silco's goal was to use Shimmer as something powerful enough to scare Piltover off their streets. I think it could be interesting if this was initially the plan for Chemtech, but the council caught wind of this dangerous invention, and commissioned the academy to work on a solution - just like Silco does with Jinx when Hextech becomes an issue. Piltover created Chemtech weapons of their own, so that Zaun would no longer have a technological advantage.

This is where Singed comes in. I think it could be interesting if Singed was the alchemist recruited to work on Chemtech; perhaps even Heimerdinger too, given that Singed mentions them having worked together. Singed managed to extract the chemicals used for Chemtech and create defensive measures against it for Piltover, thus explaining why he had such a good handle on it when he transferred his operations to Zaun. Either he managed to safely extract it, and it was subsequently used for smaller inventions in Piltover (thus explaining the green lamp and the pneuma tube gas in Grayson's office), or he made weapons that were just as toxic and dangerous as those in Zaun, which had to be locked away in case of absolute emergency (this would make sense if we assume Heimerdinger had a part in it; there's no way he would let them use it freely). This theory also explains why Singed would be especially cautious about letting Orianna visit the underground, if he was working with Chemtech himself at the time and knew how dangerous it could be.

Here's my proposal for a rough timeline, using this theory:

Late 950s-960s AN: Silco and Vander start their smuggling operation with the goal of establishing the Lanes.

Early 960s AN: Chemical compounds are smuggled out of the mines, and a group of rebels start using it to develop new inventions, per Silco and Vander's plan.

967 AN: The Last Drop is opened; Vander and Silco start actually building the Lanes. Piltover catches wind of the construction and tries to send Enforcers down there to stop them, but they use newly-forged Chemtech weapons to keep them out. Enforcers are ordered by the council to stay out of the underground due to the danger. Singed (and possibly Heimerdinger) starts working with the compounds mined for Chemtech to develop stronger defensive measures.

Late 960s AN: During construction of the Lanes, something goes wrong that results in the release of toxic gases from Chemtech (a "ruptured chemical line", according to Orianna's League lore story). Singed is the first in Piltover to learn about it, and Orianna overhears. He warns her not to go down there; she does not listen. She goes to help the victims, and falls gravely ill. Singed continues his Chemtech research as authorised, but starts a side project using the chemicals to develop a cure, with a giant vat of liquid to keep her alive in the meantime.

Early 970s AN: Singed's unethical experiments are discovered, and he is booted out of the academy and stripped of his status. He permanently relocates to Zaun.

978 AN: The Day of Ash; Vander and Silco lead an army across the bridge, Enforcers fight back, disaster strikes. It's the first fight for which Piltover brings out the locked-away Chemtech weapons, which is what makes it so explosive (we see Enforcers' guns explode on impact in S1E1, which they don't seem to do any other time).

978 AN (cont'd): Silco finds out about Singed's research somehow and they meet up. Silco knows that Chemtech is no longer an advantage for the Undercity, so he seeks a new solution. Meanwhile, Vander makes his deal with Grayson, and Chemtech weapons on both sides are destroyed.

983 AN: Singed tests his newest Shimmer variant on a rat. He determines that it's now adequate for a human to drink.

This theory does have a few minor holes - Hoskel's line in S1E4 again being one of them, as well as the fact that Silco doesn't consider the possibility of weaponising Hextech until after Jinx steals the crystal - but I find it to be the most intriguing, and could be a compelling way of tying all these stories together.

~~~

Part 4: Wrap-Up

PHEW. We've finally reached the Sump. If you read this entire post, congrats on making it all the way down here! This was over 12k words total so certainly a behemoth to get through; thank you so much for sticking with me <3

I wanted to include one final summary of the timeline, colour-coded to indicate where all this information comes from. I’ve used blue to indicate origins in League of Legends lore, green to indicate Arcane lore (according to the wiki), and red to indicate that I extrapolated the dates myself. In case anyone has trouble distinguishing red and green, I’ve also included an asterisk (*) next to all the reds.

6000-5000 BN: Westward Migration. Humans began to migrate towards the Shuriman Continent. One of the new cities founded was a sea port called Oshra Va’Zaun.

2000-3 BN: Various Wars. Several wars happened during this time; Janna protected Oshra Va’Zaun from every conflict.

676 AN: Heimerdinger is born. He is 307 (Act 1) / 314 (Act 2).

772 AN: The Collapse. The people of Oshra Va’Zaun attempted to crack open an area of the land using Chemtech bombs. The bombs triggered a series of earthquakes that destroyed the isthmus.

790 AN: Piltover is Established. The ruins of Oshra Va’Zaun underwent extensive reconstruction, and the new city of Piltover was built over the Pilt River.

940 AN: Vander is born. He is 43 / 50.

*943 AN: Silco is born. He is 40 / 47.

*Late 950s-Early 960s AN: Smuggling begins. Vander and Silco start their smuggling operation.

959 AN: Jayce is born. He is 24 / 31.

961 AN: Viktor is born. He is 22 / 29.

966 AN: Caitlyn is born. She is 17 / 24.

966-67 AN: Felicia-Vander-Silco scene. A milestone of Zaun's development is celebrated in The Last Drop.

967 AN: Vi is born. She is 16 / 23.

972 AN: Jinx is born. She is 11 / 18.

*978 AN: Silco is betrayed. Beginning of Vander's solo reign and an armistice between Piltover and Zaun.

983 AN: Events of Season 1 Act 1. The Kiramman warehouse is raided, Hextech is invented, and Powder accidentally kills most of her family.

990 AN: Events of Season 1 Act 2. The main Arcane timeline starts here.

I cannot emphasise enough that I put this all together on my own with zero knowledge of League lore going into it, so there are bound to be gaps and inaccuracies somewhere along the way. This is by no means intended as the be-all and end-all of Arcane lore guides, but hopefully there are things in here that someone else will find helpful!

Good luck with your fanworks ventures :-)

[quibbs126]

I didn’t mean for this page to have like, the exact same format as the last one, but it does

I tried to design the kids from that one TFA fanfic I read once because they come into my brain every now and then. I feel like I’m undermining the fic by saying that. It’s part of a collection, called Blessings in Disguise by Quiet_Shadow on Ao3 (idk if they have a tumblr), where basically post Archa 7 and being kicked out of the Academy, Optimus finds out he’s sparked, and later has twins who were sired by both Elita and Sentinel, one for each, and he’s basically raising them with his space bridge crew, since Elita’s supposedly dead and Sentinel keeps ignoring Optimus’ repeated attempts to contact him. The kids are named Ariel and Dion, in reference to the War Dawn characters, and I think are also supposed to somewhat resemble them

I felt I should give a summary for anyone who doesn’t have yesterday’s context. The fics are both relatively short and the second one remains unfinished, but I liked it well enough

But yeah, as alluded to yesterday, I’ve been debating whether or not to draw the kids, and after yesterday I decided “screw it, why not”

As it turns out, the first fic actually did have descriptions for each of the kids, so I had more to work with, which honestly I probably needed

I don’t know how to draw sparklings, so I think I ended up making them look older than they’re supposed to be in the fic. Sorry

And also, while Ariel I think turned out really well, Dion isn’t the best. I actually had to redo him partially because I was trying to give him a Sentinel chin (though far smaller), while also trying to give him a helmet like he was supposed to have (in the fic he has both), but it wasn’t looking right so I changed it to what it is now, which is still kind of wonky. He’s also described as looking a lot like Sentinel, but because I wanted to give him Optimus’ blue skin, among other traits, he ended up resembling Optimus far more than Sentinel

I also gave them both Optimus’ chin thing, initially as coincidence but screw it, shared trait

Ariel was described as pink, so I conceded that she’s pink, but I gave her a more peach tone instead, and overall I quite like her color scheme. Dion too, just not as much

I’m not super sure about the bodies though, particularly the arms. I was drawing that part while bored at work, so it may have affected my creativity. I mean, I guess they’re fine, but I don’t know

But yeah I’m not sure I have more to say, so just know that I did this

Honestly it actually was a lot of fun, at least until the struggle with Dion’s head came into play. I really do need to get around to making my own fankids at some point

And also with this and yesterday, I really do see why people like the TFA style, it’s pretty fun to draw. I need to incorporate it more, but my AU already has another style it’s trying to emulate

*sigh*, if only I had a way to incorporate the TFA style more while also drawing characters and designs separate from the continuity, just borrowing a similar style. I don’t know

[pileofboneswrites]

THINGS ARE DIFFERENT.

SUMMARY — this year brought a world of horrors for you. a car accident just weeks before your first day of sophomore year leaves you with no memory of the last year of your life. six months later, things have settled for you; you've got perfect grades, you're a cheerleader and your boyfriend is the quarterback. life is great, perfect even, until a certain raven-haired boy comes crashing into your life, causing chaos and triggering some of your memories to come back.

PAIRING — sweet pea x fem!andrews!reader | reggie mantle x fem!andrews! reader

WORD COUNT — 9.6k

WARNINGS — shitty friends, mentions of a car accident, cheating (caught in the act), lying, angst, fighting, swearing, i think that's it???? (let me know if i missed anything!!!!)

A/N — the plot of riverdale is kind of muddled in this fic; hiram logde's plans are apart of it somewhat, but jason is still alive. no mention of "yn" everyone mostly refers to her as andrews, reg refers to reader as "sunshine" a few times, and fred refers to her as kiddo, also the absolute SHITSHOW i went through to post this, oh my god, tumblr formatting is FUCKED (i usually write everything in my notes app or on wattpad bc i have lost so many partially done fics to shitty service). like i get WHY, but AHHHHHHHH (that's me screaming at the top of my lungs,,, 24 hour loop edition), not proof read

MASTERLIST | RIVERDALE

YOU.

"ronnie needs our support on this," your twin brother archie explains, he's leaning against the door frame of your bedroom.

your back is to him, and you're trying to get ready to head out for school. your homework, laptop and other things sit spewed around your room. utter chaos from your midnight homework session. you straighten yourself, finally meeting his eyes.

"yeah, and? veronica is your girlfriend, not mine archie." you reply, leaning down to shove your laptop into your school bag.

"please?" he pleads, and you roll your eyes.

veronica lodge's dad is no good for riverdale, you can feel it. every move he makes seems to rattle one of archie's friends, or cause a disturbance within the town. since hiram rolled in it seems like one half of riverdale is always up in arms. first jughead when the serpents trashed the drive-in, and the northsiders because of the southsiders joining the now only school in riverdale.

"arch, i don't have the same kind of love from my friends you do. i step on their toes over this, i'm going to be an outcast." you reply, zipping up your bag.

"you can always hang with us," archie sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i know that betty misses you a lot, same with jughead."

"then why haven't they reached out?" you snap, sick of the conversation at hand.

archie always gets your hopes up, then plans fall through or they "unintentionally" leave you out. so, you're done. they know that you don't remember anything from the last year; the good, the bad or the petty. you're done trying to change things when with every effort you're shot down. you want normalcy. you want your friends back, but if they're not going to tell you what's going on, or make an effort, then why should you?

"just think about it, okay?" archie says, and you shake my head.

you throw my bag over your shoulder and push past him. you pause in the hallway, guilt creeping up on you, but ultimately decide not to worry about it. archie's been babying you, coddling you even since the accident. which to an extent you can understand it; you could have died. at the same time you feel like you never have a moment to yourself. archie's always lurking. you jog down the stairs, patting vegas as you slip out the front door onto the footpath.

the weather is hazy, it's damp out, fog lining the streets obscuring vision twenty feet head. you thank the powers that be for you remember a jacket. you pull your hood up as you walk towards the sidewalk, but you catch sight of your boyfriend's car parked on the street.

"morning princess," reggie calls through the open passenger window.

"morning reg," you reply pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.

"did you hear about southside high closing?" he prompts after you give him a quick peck on the lips. "means all the trash is going to be clogging the halls of riverdale high,"

"yeah, arch filled me in this morning. you'd think after all the drama surrounding archie and the serpents he'd be less than excited about them transferring in." you sigh, tossing your bag into the backseat.

"he's on their side?" reggie asks, mouth twisting in disgust.

"guess so," you shrug, pulling on your seatbelt as reggie pulls away from the curb.

"but you're not?"

"i'm indifferent," you reply. "i don't care one way or the other,"

"cheryl's going to hate it," he says, and you shrug again.

the drive is relatively short, and silent. when you and reggie aren't making out, it's usually pretty quiet. you're together on the principle of "it makes sense". that's quite literally how he phrased it when he asked you out. and to an extent he's right. it makes sense for a football player to be dating a cheerleader. it makes sense. that being said, your relationship is entirely physical and for show. you're more along the lines of friends with benefits than an actual relationship. he only calls you when there's a party, or he's horny. romantic, you know. reggie grabs your backpack, and you climb out of the car.

"morning!" betty shouts, climbing out of her mom's car.

"hey," you reply, watching as she b-lines towards you.

"you friends with cooper again?" reggie whispers, leaning against the passenger side door.

"no, her friends want my support about the southside," you whisper back, plastering on a fake smile.

"good morning," mrs. cooper says as she drives past.

"good morning mrs. cooper!" you reply cheerily, she smiles and waves before turning out onto the street.

"hey, can we talk for a minute?" betty asks, stopping a few feet away.

she looks like she always does. blonde hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, makeup pretty minimal and natural, and her signature grey crown sweatshirt.

"sure," you say, and reggie leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, as you grab your backpack from him. "see you in homeroom."

he just smirks at you, as you turn away. you feel his eyes on your back until the two of you slip inside of the school. you feel slightly more at ease without reggie by your side. you follow betty to the room dedicated to the blue and gold (your school newspaper). betty drops into her seat at her desk, and you drop your bag on the table and plop down in the chair on the otherside of her desk. you sit, crossing your arms over your chest.

"whats do you want?" you ask, your question coming out ruder than you'd intended.

"i uh, i wanted to touch base." she says, averting eye conact.

"touch base? we haven't spoken since before my accident, betty. what do you really want?" you snap, becoming both annoyed and upset that she didn't actually mean it.

you could have played dumb, you could have gossiped, you could have gave her a life update. but you spend so much time being fake with your 'friends' that you can't handle any more superficial small talk that neither of you will remember. she looks taken a back by your brashness, and you feel a twinge of guilt. just a twinge.

"i—" she starts, but you cut her off as you forcfully shove your chair back, causing an awful screeching sound as it drags across the tile floor.

"look, cooper, if you need something, be straight with me and don't get my hopes up to use me for information." you grab your backpack and trudge into the hallway crashing straight into someone sending you flying back.

you grunt, bracing for the impact but instead you feel two hands on my arms steadying me. you peak your eyes open, and see a tall guy with dark hair and a leather jacket.

"oh shit, i'm sorry," you mutter slipping past him as you rush up the stairs.

you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, like someone's watching you. you turn your head as you head up, and see the guy who caught you staring in your direction. he looks pissed, and you wonder for a brief moment if that anger is directed at you. you feel someone poke you in the shoulder and you turn your head to look at them. you jump in shock at how close she is.

"you good?" cheryl asks, the usual distaste in her voice, one eyebrow raised in question.

"yeah, fine," you reply walking in step with her, glancing down the stairs, to see a brown and pink haired girl pulling him away.

"—and i don't know why she wants this so bad—" cheryl's voice drifts off into backgroung noise, something that tends to happen more and more frequently.

that guy looked weirdly familiar. you swear you've seen his face before but you can't seem to place it. which is also happening more, and more frequently to you. you know it's going to bug the hell out of you.

"—and i said—" cheryl continues, as you head towards english.

"andrews!" you feel two arms wrap around your middle, and you're yanked backwards and lifted up.

"ahhhhhh!" you shout, startled by the sudden movement and contact, your kneejerk reaction is to raise your elbow and throw it into the first piece of flesh you connect with.

"andr- shit!" a familiar voice yells, as you free fall to the ground, landing on your ass hard. "what the hell, dude!?"

you lift my head and see cheryl's twin brother jason leaning over, clutching his stomach in pain. you clap your hand over your mouth in a mix of embarrassment. he glances down at you, rubbing the tender area, mouthing 'what the fuck' over and over.

"shit! jason, i'm so sorry—" you say, quickly standing up, he waves you away so he can take a second.

"what has you so jumpy this morning?" cheryl asks, crossing her arms and raising both her eye brows at me.

"no clue," you reply truthfully.

"too much caffeine likely," jason says, standing up right and throwing his arms cross both mine and cheryl's shoulders to guide us to class.

"how many cups a day are you drinking?"

"two," you reply, no hesitation.

you haven't been sleeping much lately, or at all really. you weren't sure what was worse; the lack of sleep, or the fact that when you do manage to fall alseep all you seem to dream of is the four agonizing hours you were trapped in your car after the accident.

"four with extra espresso." jason chirps, and you mock elbow him and he flinches, dropping his arm from your shoulder to shield himself. "not cool dude,"

"aw, prwincess," you mutter tapping his cheek with your hand.

you duck under his arms at a weak attempt to catch you, and slide into class dropping into your usual seat beside ethel muggs. mrs. leroy has all the desks grouped in twos. she likes to assign a lot of partner assignments and classwork, so you ended up with desk pairs.

"good morning," ethel says brightly, and you smile at her.

"good morning ethel, how was your weekend?"

"it was good, how was yours?"

"it was okay," you reply and shrug as mrs. leroy, our english teacher waddles into the room.

she drops her bag beside her desk and takes off her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair before standing at the front of the room and clearing her throat.

"alright guys, we have a bunch of new students joining us. i'm sure you heard about the students from southside high tranfering in, and we're going to be very welcoming. as such, i've decided to change up your desk partners to kick off our next project." she says, and everyone groans. "hey! who knows, maybe you'll meet your new best friend!"

you drop your head down on the desk as she continues to speak.

"i call your pairs and you'll move to the assigned set of desk pairs, every up."

everyone obeys, clearing to the back, front and sides of the room as she spends the next fifteen minutes reseating you.

"mr. blossom and ms. topaz, these desks please." jason nudges your foot as he passes.

"she's pretty," he mouths and you roll your eyes, a shit eating grin on his face.

"mr. sweet pea, and ms. andrews."

"sweet pea, what kind of name is that?" cheryl snickers, rolling her eyes.

you step forward, dropping into the closest desk to you, ducking your head to look into your backpack for my notebook and pencil. you drop them onto the desk, and look ahead to the board.

"uh, excuse me—?" you turn my head, and see the guy who caught me in the hallway.

"yeah?"

he's cute. messy—but like the intentional kind of messy—dark hair, with curls over his forehead, and dark eyes. there's a hint of ink poking out over the collar of his leather jacket, you catch sight of a snake's head.

"can i— uh— can i borrow a pencil or pen?" he asks, and you nod, turning to dig into you backpack for one.

you feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you dig. you pull out the first pen you find and hand it over. he reaches out, grabbing hold of it, and your fingers briefly touch. a shiver immediately shoots down my spine, and you drop your hand. you get a flash of a memory, it's difficult to piece together what you're remembering. you see a flash of a half empty vodka bottle, a leather jacket, and a tattoo gun. you gather your things, and jump out of your seat rushing to the bathroom, you hastily shove your notebook away and drop your bag upon entering the bathroom. you drop to your knees in front of the first toilet you find, and empty the contents of your stomach. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean back against the stall dividers, trying to catch your breath.

it was like for a brief moment you was there. you could hear the tattoo gun buzzing, you could feel the scratch against your skin and you could taste the vodka. you stand up, and walk over to the mirror. maybe you're losing your mind. you would notice a tattoo, wouldn't you? if you didn't know to look for one, maybe you wouldn't... you lift your hoodie a little, and catch sight of one of the snake's heads poking out from under the underwire of your bra.

"holy shit," you breath, pulling your hoodie back down.

you lean down, and turn on the water slashing it onto your face. you stare hard at yourself in the mirror. how could you not see something like that? why didn't anyone tell you? you were told that you grew apart from your friends, but by the looks of things you had a whole other set that no one knew about, or at the very least didn't want you to go back to. the bell rings, signaling the end of first period, and you stand there staring at yourself in the mirror. the door opens slightly, and the brown and pick haired girl sticks her head in and sees you.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, opening the door fully to come in.

"uh, yeah, i think so." you reply, and she nods, not pushing the topic any further, which you appreciate.

checking in on you is a small act of kindness that not even my so-called 'best friend' cheryl could give. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, and pull it out, turning away from the sink to lean on it. think of the devil, a text from cheryl.

you don't reply, you just sigh, and shove your phone back into your pocket. you look up and catch the girl's reflection staring at you.

"uh, sorry." she says and you shake your head, mustering a small smile.

"it's okay, i'm—," you say, sticking out your hand to her.

"actually, we've met bef—" she cuts you off, but is cut off by the bell ringing.

then there's a loud bang on the door, and it opens slightly.

"topaz! we need to talk," it's sweet pea.

she throws you a sympathetic smile and heads out to the hallway. you there for another few minutes, fully aware of the fact that you're missing chemistry before you pull your phone back out, and call your dad. i can't handle this, i'm incredibly overwhelmed. all of this is too much. i know toni? i'm a southside serpent?

"hey kiddo, what's up?" he asks, answering on the first ring, it's his coffee break. "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"i am," you reply, your voice shaking, immediately giving away how you're feeling. "i just— dad—"

"sweetheart?" he prompts.

fred andrews, a saint walking, ever understanding. you're incredibly blessed to have him for a dad. you force yourself to take a shaky breath, you're on the verge of tears and your eyes burn.

"can i have a day? i just— i'm so overwhelmed. can i go home?" you ask, the dam breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"yeah, kiddo, i'll come get you and sign you out for the day, okay?" he says, and you whisper okay. "hang tight, i'll be there soon."

"thanks dad," you say, and hang up.

you stare at your reflection, your eyes are puffy and you look like hell. your hair is a mess, but you really don't have the energy to fix it. you grab a couple paper towels from the dispenser and wipe your face. you grab your backpack and head down to the office. you drop into one of the chairs across from mrs. bell's desk to wait.

"oh, hi," she says, exiting mr. weatherbee's office holding a folder. "how can i help you dear?"

"i'm not feeling well, my dad's coming to pick me up." you reply, forcing a small smile.

"oh i'm sorry to hear that dear, i hope you feel better," she gives you a sympathetic look as she plops down at her desk.

you're used to the look; the sad eyes with a small forced smile, you'd recived it a lot since the accident. there were no fatalities thankfully, but it drastically changed your life. at least you have to assume it did, you'd lost a year's worth of memories and it only took you a severe concussion and a couple weeks of physical therapy.

"good morning, dorris," comes your dad's voice, he steps into the office and mrs. bell smiles at him.

"well hello, fred." she says, a faint smile on her lips.

everyone on this side of town loves your dad. fred andrews is the kind of guy who will drop everything if you're in a bind, whether you're a friend or not. he signs you out on the sign out clipboard and turns to you.

"ready to go?" he asks, and you nod, standing up.

he slings an arm around your shoulders, and you wrap an arm around his middle as you walk. he doesn't ask you any questions, but you're sure when you get home he's going to have some.

SWEETPEA.

"she acts like she's never met us before," fangs says, sitting down beside sweet pea on the steps leading up to the bleachers.

they need privacy to talk about what's happening, this was the closest thing sweet pea could find. especially with all the gawking, stares and judgemental looks they'd been receiving since showing up to their new school this morning.

"i know, she didn't even say "hi" or anything. it's the least she could have done given everything," sweet pea grumbles, watching as toni walks towards them.

"she doesn't remember us," toni says, coming to a stop in front of them. "she literally doesn't remember us. like at all, she introduced herself to me in the bathroom,"

"what the hell?" fangs mutters, "maybe it's an elaborate plan to keep her summer in the snakes den a secret?"

"that is the dumbest thing i have ever heard," toni says crossing her arms over her chest. "you heard how she was talking before she ghosted us, she was over it all, the cliques, school, all of it."

"she said we were her family," sweet pea mumbles, "and then she disappeared. maybe it was all a lie,"

"jesus christ, or maybe, something bad happened to her, and she actually doesn't remember us." toni replies, the annoyance in her voice prominent. "and if she didn't remember us, then how would she know to contact us?"

"i sent her over a hundred texts since she disappeared, none of them have even been opened."

"case and point," toni says, rolling her eyes. "look, sit and stew in your misery, or confront her. i don't know about you guys, but i plan on getting my friend back."

with that toni turns on her heel, and heads back towards the school. fangs sighs, and stands up, brushing the dust off his ass as he turns to stand where toni had just been.

"maybe she's right," he says, looking down at sweet pea. "we know elly, she wouldn't just up and ghost us like this unless something happened. i want our friend back, and i'm with toni on trying by any means necessary to get her back,"

fangs studies sweet pea's face, looking for any indication that he's heard anything he said. after a moment, fangs sighs again, and turns to follow toni back into the school. sweet pea sits there on the bleachers, he watches as his friends grow smaller and smaller the further they get. he groans, and throws his head back. he's frustrated. he hasn't heard a damn thing from you in months, and then he sees you at his new school and suddenly his whole world collapses. he sighs, and pulls his cellphone out of the pocket of his leather jacket. he opens up his texts, and pulls up your messages.

you never showed up, you never called, you just disappeared. well, apparently you hadn't, but for sweet pea you did. other than toni and fangs he had no other friends in common at the time. no way of getting a hold of you when his calls all suddenly hit you voicemail. now here you are, back in his life, but so far from his reach. he had hoped a million times over the last six months that he'd find out what happened, that he'd get some kind of explanation or closure. something. anything.

but when his eyes landed on you, it was like all the anger towards you, and the situation melted away. for a second, it was like you were never gone. then that daydream snapped, and you were rushing away. not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. it hurt. his phone vibrates in his hand, and it brings him back. back to the bleachers, back to the harsh reality that you might have no clue who he is, back to the anger that swirls in his head, back to how much he loves you, and how much his heart hurts because you might no remember any of it.

he looks down at the screen, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as the bell rings again.

YOU.

"alright, so, what's up?" he asks, as you drop onto the couch.

vegas jumps up beside you, and drops his head into your lap. you run your fingers through his soft fur and try to figure out a way to start this conversation.

"what was i like over the summer?" you ask, looking up at him.

he's standing by the front door, leaning against the archway leading into the living room. he's got his arms crossed and he's watching you silently.

"you were like you are now," he shrugs, "you didn't spend much time home, at first you were busy with cheryl and then you got a job."

"a job?" you ask, that's new information. "where?"

"the twilight drive-in," he replies, "you made some new friends with your co-workers, or so you said. you and archie were barely home over the summer,"

there's a few moments of silence as you digest this new information.

"dad?"

"yeah kiddo?"

"where was i going? why was i in that car?"

"truthfully, i don't know. archie said the two of you had gotten in a pretty heated fight, and you'd stormed out. a few hours later i got a call from sheriff keller,"

you nod, and sigh, leaning forward. you rest your elbows on your knees, and rub your eyes.

"i had a memory come back," you say after a minute, you don't look up at him. "it was weird though, it was really intense. it was like i was inside the memory."

"do you know what triggered it?"

"no," you lie, until you figure out what's going on with you, you plan to keep sweet pea and toni out of things. "it just hit me in the middle of english, and i had to get out of the room. i went to the bathroom and i puked."

"you puked?"

"yeah, nausea hit me seconds after the memory."

"well, at least you're making progress. the doctor said it could take a while,"

you nod, finally looking up at him. he checks his watch, and comes into the livingroom.

"you take it easy okay? don't strain yourself," he kisses your forehead and heads back to the front door. "i love you,"

"love you too dad," you murmur, watching him leave.

when you can no longer hear the rumble of his truck, you decide to head up to your room. until the accident you'd kept a near meticulous set of diaries, if you can find the one you was working on, maybe it can shed some light on what's going on.

it's weird, you're you, living in your body, but up until six months ago you were a completely different person. it's like living inside a stranger. you step into your room, it's a mess. clothes litter the floor, spilling from your closet, empty take away coffee cups, empty mugs from downstairs and energy drink cans litter the top of your dresser and desk. you go to the hall closet across from your room and grab a garbage bag and head back in. might as well clean up.

a few hours later you stand in the center of your now clean room. all your clean clothes have been re-folded or hung up, all the dirty clothes are in the wash and there's not a single thing out of place. except for—you squint, dropping to your knees in front of your bed, leaning down to pull two cardboard boxes from underneath. one is marked MY NOTEBOOKS, DON'T TOUCH (THAT MEANS YOU ARCH) in all caps—obviously your diaries, but the other has no label. you take off the lid and audibly gasp at the contents. sitting on top is a leather jacket with the southside serpents logo on the back, under the jacket is a dark green journal, a white handled switchblade, your old cellphone and a set of keys.

the screen on the phone is shattered, pretty near unusable by most people's standards. no one knew where your phone was after the crash. you'd just written it off as lost... finding it here, in this box changes things. you put it on the charger, and sit cross legged on the floor. maybe it'll be able to turn it on, if not you could to take it to a repair shop. you pick up the jacket, and check all the pockets. inside the left pocket is a half crumpled note, you pull it out and flatten it. it's definitely not your writing. it has one sentence, and it crushes you.

i love you too - sweet pea

you drop your hand holding the paper into your lap. that just makes everything even worse. does he know that you lost your memories? does he know about the accident? does toni? do they think you're pretending? were you on your way to see him when you crashed?

"fuck," you whisper, pulling your knees up to your chest.

you wanted the truth, and you got it, well part of it. how do you process all of this? how do you fix this? god, you just want to scream. throw things. have a little bit of a meltdown. it won't fix anything, but it might make you feel better. you rest your forehead on the edge of your bed and sit there on the floor, the jacket half hanging out of the box.

"hey?" comes archie's voice from the hallway, i jump at the sound. "hey- are you okay?"

you kick the box under your bed and glance up to see archie. he stops at the threshold, looking intently at you. you hear more sets of feet coming up the steps.

"i—"

you want to lie, you want to tell him you're fine. say everything's a-ok. but it's not. it's really not. and then betty, jughead and veronica come up behind archie and the damn breaks. you start violently, and uncontrollably sobbing into my arms. how did you wake up a year and a half older with such resentment for your three best friends? how did your life fall apart so quickly?

"hey, sh, sh, you're okay, everything's okay," archie says dropping to his knees to envelope you in a hug.

the other drop down on the floor with you. veronica and betty rub your back soothingly. you need to apologize, but you can't stop crying. maybe that's just as well, still a meltdown, just a different kind you suppose.

"i'm sorry!" you cry, frantically wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

you dislike crying in front of people, and you know most people don't like having someone cry in front of them. you try and steady your breathing.

"hey, you don't have to apologize," veronica says. "we've all kind of been terrible friends since your accident,"

"that's why we're here," betty adds, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

"that's why they're here," jughead says, and betty swats at him and misses. "hey! let me finish woman! i was going to say, i've been a great friend. we had lots of fun working at the drive-in together,"

"jug..." betty says softly, using that same tone people often use when they're tip-toing around things that might hurt you. she shakes her head slightly, "she doesn't—"

"hey! don't talk about me like i'm not here!" you say loudly, all three of them turn to look at you. "i'm not fragile, you don't have to choose your words carefully around me, i have amnesia not brain damage."

"you're right," veronica says, staring each of them down until they nod. "we all need to stop treating you like glass,"

you quickly stand, your back to them for a minute. you take a deep breath, and turn around.

"arch, what were we fighting about when i left?" you ask, and he looks at you for a moment before swallowing, hard.

"you felt abandoned," he says, his eyes falling to the black rug they're sitting on. "you were upset because we were going on our annual nyc trip, but i'd also promised ronnie i'd help her with something in the morning, and i wanted to push the trip back by two, three hours. and you got really upset and exploded on me—it was entirely justified on your end—there was a lot of things you wanted to do together over the summer and i either canceled or forgot. i was a shitty brother."

"no, arch, you weren't. i'm sure i was just being drama—" you start, but archie raises his hand and you stop.

"no, i was being selfish. i made you a promise, and i broke it. i'm sorry," archie says, standing up and pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm sorry, i really am."

"and we're sorry," jughead says, as archie lets you go. "we thought that giving you some space would be a good thing, but we all got a little caught up in our own shit."

"i understand that, however, i've been alone pretty much for six months." you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

"you've had cheryl, and jason, and reggie—you seemed like you were pretty happy..." betty says, and you shrug, looking away from her. 

"cheryl is nice— but all we talk about is her. jason's fun to hang with but we have nothing in common other than reggie and cheryl. and reggie.." you sigh, staring out your window over their heads. "reggie made sense."

"he made sense?" veronica asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"picking reggie made sense, and don't get me wrong i do like reggie, he's a great guy—a good listener, great at solving problems, fun to hang out with and all—but there's no connection." you sigh, you briefly contemplate telling them about the jacket, about your supposed summer with the serpents, but decide against it for now.

"are you going to break up with him?" archie asks, and you shrug in reply.

"i probably should," you sigh again, why does all of this have to be so damn hard? "did he ask about me when i disappeared this morning?"

"yeah, i told him you weren't feeling well. dad text me about you being home," archie says, and you nod.

"well, i say we grab dinner at pops tonight like old times," veronica says when the silence goes on a beat too long.

"honestly, i would love that, but i have to tie up some lose ends first. i'll meet you guys there at," you pause, walking over to your old phone, tapping the screen, relief shoots through you when it lights up, "say, 6?"

"sounds good," betty says, and they all stand up.

you unplug your phone, pocketing it as jughead, archie and veronica file out, heading back downstairs, but betty lingers.

"you okay, cooper?" you ask, teasingly.

she turns towards you sharply, hands clasped behind her back, "this morning, i— i really was trying to touch base with you. i know that the whole southside thing kind of has half the school losing it, but you told archie no, and i wasn't going to push it. he mentioned that you were upset about the group not reconnecting with you after everything, and i just wanted to see how you were— are."

"i owe you an apology for how i acted, i was frustrated with arch, not that that's an excuse, but i just kind of snapped. i'm really sorry, i shouldn't have taken that out on you betty,"

"your anger is justified, we should have been by you every step of the way—"

"you were busy, things happen. i missed you guys, sure, but this entire thing has been insane. i woke up six months ago with no memories from the last year. and to be fair, it's not like i made much of an effort with you guys."

"well, we're all okay now. and, you could never truly get rid of us,"

you let out a short laugh, throwing your arm over her shoulder, leading her out into the hallway.

"and you couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you say, and betty grins at you, her arm circling your back as you descend the stairs.

you're standing outside the mantle's house, trying to decide if now is really the best time to be doing this, but your rationality wins out and you move towards the door before you lose your nerve. you raise your hand to knock, but the door flies open and you're met face to face with mrs. mantle. 

"hi dear, are you okay?" she asks, a warm smile on her face. 

"yes. ma'am, i just..." you were not prepared for his mom to open the door. 

that was actually the worse possible thing that could have happened. mrs. mantle has always been such a kind, and wonderful person towards you. you almost wonder if she's the reason you'd let things between you and reggie continue as long as they have. 

"sorry, is reggie home?" you ask, and she nods, stepping out of the way to let you in.

"he's upstairs doing homework, are you staying for supper?" 

the longer you speak to her the more you're dreading following through with this. she's such a nice lady, and you're not entirely sure how reggie's going to handle this. you really don't want to lose her. 

you force yourself to shake your head, "no ma'am, i just have to talk to reggie and then i have dinner plans with my brother," 

she nods again, and you slip your shoes off, and head upstairs. 

you've been here so many times that you don't even have to think about where you're going. as such, this leaves time for you to panic and try to talk yourself out of it. you're not sure why. reggie had been a crush of yours for a long time, from middle school to freshman year at least. when you woke up without your memories from the last year, you'd still felt that way about him. you'd been excited when he initially asked you out. mind you that excitement fizzled rather quickly, realizing what the arrangement meant for your relationship.

you were disappointed, sure, but you weren't blindsided by any means. reggie had always given you the kind of vibe that he wasn't interested in settling down just yet. so, when you push his partially closed door open and find him with his tongue down the throat of a different cheerleader, you're not entirely shocked. the girl notices you first, she's younger than you and reggie by at least a year, and she squeals, pulling away from him. he doesn't notice you at first, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion before he follows her eyeline. they both look like deer, and you're the headlights.

"uh, h-hey..." reggie musters, sitting down beside the girl, "i think you should probably go,"

"y-yeah, g-go...." she says, jumping up and flying out of the room.

you stare at him, unsure of how to continue. sure, he'd made this infinitely easier on you, but at the same time you still find yourself hurting a bit.

"i'm sorry," he says, dropping his head into his hands.

"despite our "arrangement", reg," you use air quotes, "i thought you respected me more than this,"

"i do!" his voice comes out loud, then softer, "i do."

the silence that follows is deafening, and feels like it stretches for hours. he doesn't look at you the whole time, his eyes trained on the ground.

"well, you've made this decision a whole lot easier for me. i'm breaking up with you, reg." you sigh, "i don't hate you; i'm not mad at you; i am a bit disappointed, but i think we were kind of doomed from the start. maybe in a couple months we can try to be friends, just friends. if you're down with that..."

he raises his head, guilt written clear across his features, but he nods, "i'm sorry, sunshine. i really, really am."

"i know reg," you say, leaning down to give his hand a squeeze. "so am i,"

you turn to leave, hesitanting in the doorway.

"reg?"

"yeah?"

you turn to look at him, "see you around,"

4:50pm. you have about an hour and ten minutes before you have to meet archie and the others. you plop down on your bed, and flip your diary open. there are only eight entries.

entry 1: may 16th

i can't do this anymore. faking everything. it's driving me fucking insane. betty, ronnie, and archie are always flaking on me. internship this. summer job that. charity this. sorry i forgot that. jug is the only one who hasn't consistently left me hanging, and we're not even all that close. that being said, out of all of them, i'm starting to change my tune on that. he's even offered to talk to his manager about possibly getting me a summer job at the twilight. which would be killer, i'm there for most of the showings anyway. at least i'll get paid for doing something i already enjoy. then at least i'll have something going on. i'm honestly not ok with them constantly rescheduling things but for whatever reason i just sit there and take it. i need to start putting myself first, and find some friends that put in just as much effort as i do. i wonder if the three of them will even notice if i stop putting in the effort.

entry 2: may 19th

guess who has a new job!!! me!!!!!!!! i'm so excited, i don't think i've been this happy about something in a long time. i start tomorrow night, and jug's already introduced me to some of his coworkers. i'll be working in concession. we're even allowed to sit outside and watch the movie when we're between customers. i'm so looking forward to having this. betty, ronnie and i were supposed to go shopping today but they both just texted to cancel. go figure.

entry 3: may 20th

first day was a success! my new coworkers are so nice, i even made quick friends with a girl named toni. she's got pink highlights in her hair which really suit her. i also overheard that she's a southside serpent. mind you she doesn't really seem like the kind of people i’ve been told are in that motorcycle gang. then again, you're not supposed to believe everything you hear.

okay!! it's later now, and toni asked me if i wanted to hang out with her and her friends at the quarry tomorrow!! that's the first time in a really long time someone’s asked me to do something with them! i, of course said yes! i’m so excited!!

just got back from the quarry, i had so much fun. more fun than i’ve had all year! toni is so much fun to be around, she has the best energy, and it's just so refreshing to be around someone who actually wants to do things and live in the moment. the last time i hung out with ronnie and betty they were both glued to their cellphones, undoubtedly texting jug and archie. i also met her two best friends sweet pea and fangs, who are also super cool. they were really nice, and welcoming. i was pretty nervous, because i’d seen the two of them at the drive-in with fp a bunch of times, so i knew they were serpents, but they were both so nice! i’m really starting to wonder if the serpents are as “bad” and as much of a problem as other northsiders insist they are.

entry 4: june 21st

oh god, it’s been a month since my last entry. i have so much to write about… i honestly don't know where to start. i’ve been hanging out with toni, sweet pea and fangs pretty consistently since that day they invited me to the quarry. i’ve stopped chasing archie and his friends to hang out, and i was right in my guess that they wouldn't notice if i stopped trying. i haven't received a single text from any of them. i mean, i have from archie, but he’s my brother so that doesn't really count in my opinion. and i guess jug too, but we're coworkers and he was the only non-flake before anyway. either way, it’s been so nice having toni, fangs and sweet pea reaching out to make plans with me and when i reach out to them they actually follow through. we all have a lot in common; we enjoy a lot of the same music and tv shows.

toni is a god with her camera, i don't think i’ve seen more beautiful photography, and she takes the BEST candids. she’s taken so many pictures of us, she’s going to get me some physical copies for my scrapbook.

fangs can get you ANYTHING. he’s such a smooth talker that people just end up giving him things. he even got us into a sold out _ show. i’m really not sure how he managed, but we got escorted by security to the barricade.

i was supposed to go with betty, archie and ronnie, but i decided to flake on them for a change. that did get me a few texts from each of them, and i didn't answer them. i just turned off my phone and enjoyed the show. it was amazing!!!!!! i had an absolute blast.

i’ve also been spending more time with sweet pea… alone… (obviously, with toni & fangs too) he’s nothing like i thought he’d be when we met. here i go again judging a book by its cover, shame on me. but he’s so sweet, it took a bit to get him to open up to me, toni says he’s just protective, which i both completely agree and understand. with friends as cool as those two, i don't blame him. he goes out of his way for everyone; holding the door for old ladies, standing in the middle of a busy street so kids can cross. he seems so scary and mean, but that's just his defence. we've been getting a really close, and every time he asks me to hangout i get butterflies.

we're hanging out tonight too, i’m going to pick him up in twenty minutes and we're going to the quarry. i’m sitting in a booth at pop’s waiting for our food. i really like him, and i enjoy spending time with him. toni said she’s never seen him so happy, and that she thinks he likes me. i really hope he does, because i like him. i might even tell him as much tonight… that might be a bit too much, actually. i don't know. oh, pop’s calling my order, i’ll update you later!

just got back from the quarry, and oh. my. god. sweet pea kissed me! i was all nervous, and i decided i was going to tell him how i felt and before i got the words out, he leaned over and just did it! i’ve had a few kisses before, some good, some not so much, but this one? it was the BEST i’ve ever had. that thing you read about in fanfics or novels about fireworks or butterflies, it's REAL. he asked me out on a date too, and i’m literally so excited. i called toni before i added this update and she squealed. she was right, he does like me. mine and sweet pea’s date is wednesday night, we're going to watch a movieat the drive-in and then in the morning we're all going camping at sweetwater river.

my phone is ringing… it’s archie? weird, he usually texts me. i’m going to answer him, i’ll be right back.

just got off the phone with arch. mom is coming down from chicago for the weekend, and we were supposed to go together to pick her up, now he’s backed out on me and i have to go alone. what could be more important than picking mom up from the airport?! especially considering we rarely see her. whatever, i guess it’ll give us time to talk.

entry 5: june 30th

just dropped mom back off at the airport. this visit was so fucked. i picked her up, we had a lovely conversation, and then she asked me where arch was and i had to lie to her. he said he was going to call her and let her know, but apparently he didn't. then, he didn’t show up for family dinner, which he was also supposed to help me cook (spoiler: he DIDN’T). when mom and dad asked where he was, i was like a dear caught in headlights. i have no fucking clue!! i called him, and BAM! voicemail. mom calls him and woah, he picks up first ring. he lies, and gets away with it. arch was gone all weekend which screwed up my itinerary. i mean, seeing mom was the highlight, obviously, but archie and i planned all this stuff and we didn't get to do any of it. not to mention, archie had promised he’s take mom to the airport because he was gone all weekend, and then he didn't show! again! i had plans with toni, and i had to apologize and cancel on her (which isn't fair to her or me (but fuck us i guess??)) anyway, i’m banking on archie cancelling our yearly trip to nyc with everything going on. i’d lay money on it now.

entry 6: july 1st

i’m so mad right now. archie saw me and sweet pea coming out of pop’s with lunch, and got in sweets face. he has NO RIGHT. especially considering how much he's left me hanging lately. i will admit, i did something i shouldn't have, but he said something he definitely shouldn't have (that i shant repeat here (just know it's vile)) and i then punched him. sweets then threw me over his shoulder and carried me to my car. i bruised the crap out of my hand, archie’s got a hard face i guess. toni and fangs tried to lighten the mood when we got back but i couldn't help myself. sweet pea and i ended up leaving early, and we just drove around for a while. when i finally did calm down, he thanked me for standing up for him. why wouldn't i?? archie has no right to treat any of my friends like that, let alone my maybe boyfriend (we haven't really labelled it yet). and archie’s one to talk about people’s “priorities” and who they “really” are, seeing as toni, sweet pea and fangs have done nothing but be great friends and have been there for me all summer and he (MY! TWIN! BROTHER!) couldn’t even see his mother while she was down from chicago. i haven't seen archie since our altercation at pop’s and i’m more than okay with that.

entry 7: august 15th

sweet pea and i got into a fight. it’s nothing major, and i know he’s just looking out for me, but somethings aren’t really any of his business. namely, things involving my family. i was telling him about mine and archie’s annual trip to nyc, and how this will be the first year that it’s just the two of us. mom and dad usually go with us, and it’s the highlight of our summer. i’ve been really looking forward to it, and that i’m hoping this will help mend the tear we’ve both been helping create in our relationship. i’m not going to entirely blame arch because i’ve definitely not helped… especially when i punched him in the face in july. he’s finally speaking to me again. it took a couple of weeks and awkwardly dodging each other but we’re at least talking again. which is progress i guess. we haven’t talked about it either. he just walked into my room last tuesday and started telling about this video he saw, and then everything was fine again. we’ve always been like that, but what archie said really isn’t ok, and what i did really isn’t ok either. i plan to bring it up on our trip. anyway, back to sweets, he’s worried i’m going to get super hyped up about this trip and then archie’s going to yank the carpet from under my feet (kind of like he’s been doing all summer, but i digress). we leave in two days, and so far everything seems to be going well. i should apologize to sweets before we leave though, cause i did kind of snap at him… adding that to the to-do list.

entry 8: august 17th

fuck archie. FUCK. HIM. sweets was right. FUCK EVERYTHING. GODDAMN NORTHSIDERS. 

that was it, the last entry. you wrote that the night of your accident. that's why you were in your car. that's where you were headed. you close the diary, and smack it off your forehead. you close your eyes, and then let out a scream of frustration. you throw the book across your room, and pull your old phone from your pocket. you sift through your text threads, you'd sent more outgoing messages to betty, veronica and archie then they'd sent back to you for months before your accident. turns out they weren't  just shitty friends afterwards. 

you pause for a moment, your finger hovering over fp jones' contact. why would you have jughead's dad's number? up until hiram started causing a stir in town, jughead hadn't even been living with his dad so you never would've needed to contact him. you click it and a bunch of text messages load in. 

things were falling into place for you. they were shitty friends before. you were going to need new ones regardless, that's how you ended up in friendship purgatory at riverdale high. cheryl just isn't your cup of tea, and you're still not sure how you feel about reggie after everything you witnessed this afternoon. one thing you do know; you owe some people an explanation. you close out of the messages, and go to your gallery. the first picture that you see is one of you, toni, sweet pea and fangs, your faces all pressed together cheek to cheek, smiling widely. you smile, and then suddenly it's like a damn breaks and a years worth of memories come flooding in. you drop the phone, and rush downstairs, grabbing your keys from the bowl by the front door. 

"you guys are terrible fucking friends," you say, not really caring to control the level of your voice as you stomp towards your brother and his friends. "not you jug, you're fine, i'm talking about these three."

archie, veronica and betty share confused looks then look up at you. you tower over their table, anger coursing through you. you stare the three of them down quietly, eyes darting from one to the other, to the other.

"uh, didn't we already go over that?" veronica asks, her tone light and joking. 

"not really," you say, "i got my memories back, and you guys were fucking terrible. what did i do to deserve being cancelled on, and forgotten about so easily by you three? especially you arch, you're my brother. my twin. you of everyone are supposed to have my back!"

betty and veronica's eyes drop to their laps, and archie freezes, his eyes wide. 

 "while i appreciate your apology from before archie, with all the facts, i don't accept. what you did was fucking shitty, and i never would have done that to you. never. as for you two, if you don't like me, or just don't like hanging out with me, or just don't want to be my friend, stop making plans with me. i'm done being treated like that, and if any of you want to make things right, actually make things right, you'll be able to find me with my real friends; toni, sweet pea and fangs. who, unlike you three, actually like spending time with me. and for the record, are really good people, and deserve to be treated with respect." you turn on your heels to leave, and then pause at the last booth, whipping back around, "also, fuck you guys."

you pray that you're right about this. you never hung out with them during school, so you weren't sure if they were going to be at the quarry tonight. the weather's still nice, so you're hoping that you're right. you turn onto the familiar dirt road, and catch sight of their bikes in the distance of your headlights. relief washes over you as you get closer, you see three figures walking towards you and you pull in beside the bikes, like you had so many times before. you turn the car off, and jump out. 

"fucking hell, andrews! you scared the shit out of us!" you hear fangs yell, a bark of laughter leaving him. 

"guys--" you say, walking closer to them, your heart beating hard against your ribs. 

you almost wonder if it's going to beat right out of your chest, you're  so nervous, but you're so happy to see them. you missed them. 

"told you she knew who we were." sweet pea sneers, cutting you off. "what schools out so you can be friends with us again?"

"what? no--" you start but he cuts you off again. 

"where were you? why are you back now?" he bites out, and toni smacks him. 

"shut up and let her talk." toni says, nodding at you. "go,"

"i got into a car accident on august 17th. i have no idea how, or what happened, but i was trapped in that car for four hours, and spent two days in a coma. then when i woke up, i couldn't remember anything that happened over the last year. i now remember everything, and am really, really sorry for unintentionally ghosting you guys for six months." you pause to take a breath, and gage their reactions, "i know how this all sounds, but i promise i'm telling the truth,"

toni smirks, stepping forward to throw her arms around you, "i'm glad you're back, i fucking missed you."

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

she turns to look at fangs, and sweet pea and holds her hand out, “c’mon boys, cough it up.”

begrudgingly, they both pull five dollars out of their pockets and drop it into her hand. fangs then moves past her, and scoops you into a bone crushing hug.

“missed you,” he whispers, then lets you go.

“missed you too,” you smile, and the pair of them slowly slink back to the fire they’d been sitting around, giving you and sweet pea space.

sweet pea stares at you, dark eyes unreadable, his posture tense. it takes you back to how he was when you met for the first time. closed off, on guard, and analytical. you want to reach out for him, wrap yourself around him and never let go. you’re not sure he’s ready for that, so you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. your fingers catching the slip of paper he’d given you months ago, curling around it, you put it out and his eyes close briefly.

“i understand if you need space,” you say carefully, unfolding the small scrap. “but if you ever actually meant this, you have to know that i never would have left you hanging like that intentionally.”

he takes the note from you, his eyes leaving yours to look at it. he stays quiet for what feels like an eternity.

“i know.” he finally speaks, eyes still on the note. “deep down, i knew you wouldn't have left. not when you socked your brother for me. i was just so mad… at myself for what i said to you last, at you, for not following through on your text… then seeing you at school– it didn't make sense. instead of really thinking about it, like toni did, i just–” his eyes meet yours again, “i don't know, i let my fears take hold, i guess.”

"i--"

"JUST KISS ALREADY; YOU LOVE HER, HE LOVES YOU, THE END-"

"FANGS, SHUT UP!" toni yells, the sound of her smacking him and him asking her to stop follows.

you and sweet pea share a glance, and then both break out in giggles. when the giggles subside, you step closer to him, your hand landing on his shoulder.

"i love you, sweets, and if you need time--"

"i've had enough time, what i need now, is you." he says before pulling you against him, and kissing you.

he pulls back briefly, letting you catch your breath, "i love you too,"

[ask-codeearasure]

Okay I know I said I'd send a mile-long ask about Histrionic Error sometime after I finished my post analyzing Covert Narcissist Cross, but at the time I forgot this blog is a side blog and I can't send asks from it. I would use my main instead and clarify this is the same guy yapping to you, but I don't feel like it.

A reblog might be more convenient for you anyway, we'll see.

I have much different headcanons for Error. Before I came across your version of the little bastard, my headcanons for him, that being based on the canon Error from askerrorsans, was that he's a Cluster A disaster (Paranoid, Schizoid, Schizotypal) with traits of BPD. But upon closer inspection of Histrionic Personality Disorder based on your version of Error, I've had to rearrange and rethink my approach and prior conclusion.

There have been theories about what exactly Error suffers from, for reference. This is one of the oldest, reblogged by CrayonQueen herself. Very thorough, but I can't say I agree with every symptom and diagnosis listed. I just can't vibe with the idea that yet another mass fucking murderer has Schizophrenia. I've seen other headcanons where Error is a Covert Malignant Narcissist (BPD + ASPD + NPD), and I dislike that for the same reasons. I'm tired of it only being murderers and abusers being headcanoned with some of the most stigmatized mental illnesses.

Here's the thing, and this may or may not apply to your variant of Error and that's fine, I'd just like to rant about this real quick.

The idea that Error in general seeks out attention is a concept that might have been introduced by Underverse, when Error showed up in that one Outertale genocide timeline to ask Nightmare where the fuck Ink went and Nightmare asked him "Are you looking for attention again?". I don't recall an older source, so that's the one I'm defaulting to.

That's a fun idea, that Error seeks out specific people for attention. Unfortunately this wasn't a thing with the original variation of Error, who was more than happy to isolate and compliment himself. He appreciated attention from Tumblr Users, but it was evident his sense of self-esteem was not dependent on them. Heck, one could say he prefers his own company over that of other people's in general, because even following positive or somewhat positive encounters with others, both characters like Blueberry and Tumblr Users alike, it would quickly be followed up by paranoid suspicion that he was going to be taken advantage of and/or manipulated. This is where my primary headcanons for Error come in, mainly that he's got Paranoid and Schizotypal Personality Disorders, which greatly interfere with how he interacts with others and where his delusions and fears of losing agency or control come from. The isolation and lack of much care or interest in others is where the Schizoid traits come in.

There's also the fact he acts very different depending on where he is. The Anti-Void is his safespace. It is the dimension where he harbors the most control over himself and others, and that is why he's the most relaxed, so to speak. Outside the Anti-Void though, he's guarded and on the attack. He is on a mission either to destroy a reality with no mercy in mind or he wants to go to Outertale and not be bothered.

However, your Error is clearly meant to be different, and he intrigues me. I said before that I have a special interest in personality disorders, and just before I saw your posts about some of your boys being Cluster B (we share a braincell in Ink having ASPD, I am so happy about that), I was going to lose my mind from a complete lack of Histrionic acknowledgement. I was just about to add traits of HPD to my version of Error just for the fuck of it, so in a way you have both inspired me further and saved my last quarter of a marble.

Now, I haven't seen everything about your Error, but from what art I have seen, he's a total bitch <3. He's fuckin hilarious, I like him.

Here's the thing. Because I don't know everything about your Error that you have shared on your blog thus far, I am not gonna make accurate observations about how HPD fits with him. What I do know is he seeks attention, especially from what I assume would be Ink and Geno (based on your previous asks and art), who may serve as his "Attention People" (ATP is the shorthand), and if he's anything like Underverse's Error, he'll go absolutely hogwild if he needs their attention and can't fucking find them to save his life.

Note how this list of diagnostic criteria cites sexual and/or provocative behavior as a quite common variation of behavior Histrionics use to attract attention, implying that many Histrionics have been sexually abused in some way. This may or may not apply to your version of Error, I don't know, and I'm not going to assume that's the case. Here's a source that doesn't cite implications of sexual abuse as much in HPD criteria.

There are Histrionics who have not suffered sexual abuse and they seek attention through other means, expressing themselves in whatever way that's loud and extreme enough to get the attention they desire.

Just like with BPD and NPD, which I have talked about around five, six days ago? For a patient to be diagnosed with HPD, they need to experience at least 5 of the diagnostic criteria presented. With your Error, again from what I am aware of, he matches with 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7. That's six of the criterion. Could be more, could be less.

He feels very intensely and expresses it in impressionable and extreme manners, his mood swings are off the fucking shits, he's always admiring his appearance and seeks validation for that, is ridiculously dramatic and theatrical whenever he feels wronged or is recounting events where he felt cheated, and is gullible and easily led on to think or feel something about a subject that he previously had no reason to have a differing opinion for or an opinion at all on.

Would you say this is accurate or semi-accurate to your interpretation so far? I wanna know more. Histrionic Error scratches my brain in a way I need more of.

-- Sarco

LOOKS AT ERROR WITH HPD

I DIDNT KNOW THAT EXISTED BUT MY GOD YES THAT IS HIM,,,

I see him as being autistic too and it being the other reason why he is scared of people touching him apart from being in the antivoid for so long (feel like it’s both and they go hand in hand tbh, I have the same fear and getting overwhelmed with being touched due to being not used to it hence making the fear worse sucks ass)

that and him having the special interest of undernovalla and the seeing the puppets as comfort items

Also yes I see Geno as autistic too, and sans that he’s connected too

IKR?

And oh yeah Error is definitely both histrionic and Autistic, I even think he also has ADHD actually

Also his fear of touch with his autism is just a perfect combo shhdhd

(And hell ya Geno and Sans are autistic)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi! can i ask you have a certain research workflow for your writing materials?

Hi, here is a great explanation on secondary research, with a 5-step tutorial: The Research Process, which I try to follow.

If you want my longwinded answer...

It depends on the topic. But this is more or less what I do for the requested posts:

Collect information I can find related to the topic (my old files, bookmarks, a quick internet search...)

Integrate all (or most) of that in one post (always interesting to see where the different sources overlap, disagree etc.)

Reformat the post (bullet points & numbered lists, might include a bit of my thoughts/opinions ... but on the most part, it's basically just copied & pasted, especially when I'm not that familiar with the topic)

Link to the sources I used (sometimes posts don't save properly when my connection fluctuates so I appreciate when people point out missing/broken links, which I'll edit as soon as I see the messages)

Might include a photo (like the one above & then I link to the photo in the Image Description)

Add tags (because tumblr keeps reminding me when I don't, so I usually just copy & paste from my previous posts)

Add to queue (or "schedule" because I keep accidentally clicking the "shuffle queue" & it messes up the queue)

But on a more serious note, these posts really are just surface-level secondary research, mostly internet research, done really late at night or on lazy weekends, in an overly-caffeinated state. So please do research more for your writing projects. These may just be useful as starting points or to get a few ideas/inspiration, maybe. This blog is ever-growing & there are many research databases I don't have access to (+ considering my limited/lack of knowledge on certain topics), so all the additional information & corrections are always appreciated and won't just be helpful to me, but everyone who uses these references as well!

(As for the non-requested queued posts, that's just me going through my bookmarks and old files. Just been clearing them out as another ongoing little side project for me that I started last year. Okay, I should stop talking now. Bye for now, dear anon.)

[orangez3st]

Coruscant's Finest Detective

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.10.25: Introduction | Event Masterlist

Part 1 of 5 | Next to Part 2 ↦

Summary: Following the mysterious series of murders that involved countless shock troopers, Marshal Commander Fox, on behalf of the Coruscant Guard, had been advocated to seek the famous natborn investigator Detective Lesiil Thrace from CSF Criminal Investigations Department for her exceptional expertise. Tags & Warnings: serial killer case, typical murder investigation, brief graphic condition of murdered victim, author watches true crime (on regular basis) for reference, intellectually bamf oc (incl. her rambling), inaccurate criminal investigation Pairing: Fox × Det. Lesiil Thrace (OFC Crime Investigator) Word Count: 8.2k A/N: Huzzah, posting 6 hrs earlier from schedule! First of my three clone x oc pairings spanning from Day 1 to Day 4/5 – allow me to introduce you to my child born out of my fixation on true crime videos. I have fun studying body languages in interrogation footages (tho I perfectly know how unreliable that is), so that inspires me to make Lesiil and her story with the Coruscant Guard involved. Also Lesiil is read LESS-EEL. Enjoy!

𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆

— Eat Your Young - Hozier [X]

Standing atop the landing pad underneath the artificial warm Coruscant weather, Marshal Commander Fox watches the door of the transport gunship slide open.

It isn’t usual for them to issue a gunship for civilian transport, nor did they ever do, but they are the Coruscant Guard.

And their guest, after all, is an ad hoc recruit to aid in their investigation over a series of murder that's been occuring in the last three months – the ill-fated victims being Fox’s own shock troopers. Even as resourceful as they get with abundant security footage, plus the ones from the victims’ HUD; their own investigation, quite frankly, has been leading nowhere. With the pressing demand to solve the case, someone had to call the shots.

The investigator steps out, raising a bronze-toned hand to momentarily shade her eyes from the sun. With them being on the top landing pad of the building, the slight breeze sends her curly dark hair that’s bound over one shoulder aflutter. Fox notices one of her arms tucked into a sling. She catches him observing her, even though he’s got his helmet on dutifully that it supposedly gives away nothing, and briskly makes her way over.

“Ah. Morning, Marshal!” she greets him with a polite smile, taking his offered hand and shaking it. “So kind of you to welcome me personally.”

Fox nods, replacing his hands behind his back. “Just abiding protocols, Inspector Thrace. Welcome to Coruscant Guard Headquarters.”

A brief glint of amusement flies across storm grey eyes. “Thank you, sir,” she says, subtly shrugging, “And it's Detective, actually. Inspector Thrace is my father.”

Fox swallows his embarrassment. “Of course, Detective Thrace,” he mutters stiffly, loud enough for his voice to carry out through his bucket’s vocoder. He nods towards the sling. “What happened to the arm?”

She glances down. “Unfortunate physical altercation in what was supposed to be a good ole by-the-book crime scene investigation,” she explains, smirking ever so slightly, “Turns out, the culprit was hiding in the attic the whole time.”

“So you were ambushed.”

“Got hit, wrist shattered.” Fox notices a slight uplift in her tone to mask her sheer embarrassment. “But the others managed to prevent him from escaping and eventually subdued him.”

Fox nods along, a glance to over her shoulder watching one of his men pushing a hover cart of her necessities out from the gunship. 

“Why didn't they treat you in a bacta tank?” he asks again, noting how obviously dumb that is, even if by her own choice.

“Because I’m having an appointment with the Coruscant Guard the next day,” the detective lets out a chuckle, “I sort my priorities. Work comes first. Bacta can wait. This'll do for a while until I decide to schedule an appointment when the coming days seem free.”

Fox resists the urge to roll his eyes. Just great. In his hands now is a stubborn detective who prioritizes work over their physical wellbeing. Who knows what more of her personality is yet to come out.

“Sorry I'm late!”

Fox turns around to the voice. Upon looking who’s running towards them, he audibly sighs, his voice filtering through the vocoder gruffly.

“Unforgiven, Commander Thorn,” Detective Thrace quips before he could chide, the action done so casually with a wide grin that gets Fox slightly surprised.

Thorn lets out a noise similar to a whine that makes Fox shudder a little in disgust. “Aww, don't be like that, Les,” he laughs, clasping her good forearm in greeting. He turns to Fox and nods. “Sir. Apologies for running a little late. Got to straighten up some shinies on the way.”

Fox grunts a reply. He waves a finger between the two. “So you two know each other personally?” he demands. Though he knows Thorn had been the one most vocal in their particularly decisive meeting, he’d only thought he and the natborn detective were strictly professional acquaintances.

“We’re keeping comms two days prior, and yeah,” Thorn answers colloquially, “And I bumped into her on my caf run a few months ago.”

The detective lightly shoves an elbow into Thorn’s ribs. “A delightful accident that involved spilling yours all over my white top.”

Thorn brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

She throws a smile his way. “Now that I’m happy to land myself up here to aid in CG special investigation, that might be as good as my forgiveness.”

Fox straightens up and mentally swats the warm and casual fog away, remembering the current circumstances. While he admits he enjoys knowing his batchmate acquires himself perhaps some friends outside their ranks, the casual yet punctual cue from the detective steers him back to the grim, pressing matters.

The detective gestures forward. “Shall we, Commanders?”

Fox nods wordlessly, motioning them to follow him back out the landing pad and into the building. He hears Thorn muttering to the detective, “You go on ahead with Fox. I'll handle your hover cart.”

He sneers inside his helmet. They’ve got a shock trooper for that already. Is Thorn trying to woo her or something with that act of service?

He leads them through a series of hallways and an elevator ride, and more hallways, passing by a few troopers either standing by or in their downtime.

“Do you think your injury would hinder your work today?” Fox asks the detective.

“Negative, sir,” she answers, “I'm perfectly capable of doing flimsiwork with just one arm.”

Fox looks at her a second too long. He bites back a sigh. “We have bacta tank in our medwing. I can comm our CMO so we can treat you firsthand if it's not in use.”

The detective nods curtly. “That’s very kind, but instead of brooding for hours in the medwing, I'd like to start my first day in the Coruscant Guard working,” 

Fox keeps his eye straight forward. “You may as well do both.”

“You're saying I'm dipping the hand?”

“Dipping the hand.”

She lets out an amused noise. “That's actually a sound idea,” she quips, “But until I agree to accept your offer, I'd like to see my office first.”

The edge of his lip lifts momentarily. So far in their conversation, he's been taking notes of the detective's Coruscanti accent and the littlest roundness in it – a telltale of someone who definitely lives topside.

He quickens his pace. “Right up this way, Detective.”

“You know,” Thorn says later after Fox left, his helmet off as he's helping to unpack the crates, “you can just call him Commander.”

Lesiil hums in acknowledgment while adjusting her sling. “I call him Marshal to tell him apart from you lot.”

“Yeah, anyway,” he says, “If you ever accidentally call him by his name when he's on his good side, he'll let it slide.”

“And if he isn't?”

“He'll make it clear it's your problem, too.” He throws a playful yet sympathetic smile her way. “What I mean is, don't mind him. He's like that. Almost everyone's scared of him, anyway. Too demanding, too stern. But honestly? It's just his physical exhaustion.”

Lesiil pauses in her effort in unpacking the other crate. She turns around to him. “So he rarely rests?”

“A sleeping Fox is a myth nowadays in the CGHQ,” he sighs, looking like he’s taken the plunge himself to look after his marshal commander several times. “He's dedicated. We respect him. Respect and loyalty is everything to us clones. He makes sure everything is in perfect order, he tolerates no failure, he's the one head of our corps planet-wide. I'm sure you understand. So, sleep is never on his mind.”

She goes quiet for a moment, conflicting between the Marshal's condition and all the positive outcomes that would've come from a properly run circadian rhythm. “But… surely he realizes how dangerous that is?”

Thorn shakes his head, chuckling. “You tell him.”

For the past half an hour after arriving, so far so great, she thinks. The Marshal Commander has been welcoming, and Thorn's presence is such a friendly comfort. As a foreign presence in a clone-only institution, it suffices just enough.

There's something about the Marshal, though. Lesiil does notice he doesn't treat her any differently – but then again she wouldn't go far to think about what's supposed to fit as ‘different’ in its context. She notes his gait; hands behind his back, shoulders back – signs of being observant of his surroundings, ready at any moment's notice while being neutral.

And clone trooper helmets. Those buckets prevent her from reading facial expressions and making a verdict of what these people actually think.

It saddens her sometimes. How these soldiers are put to marshal themselves behind masks of indifference and identical stoicism.

“You know him a lot, Thorn,” she prompts again, “What do you think is his first impression of me?”

“Really?” The commander's tone is high-pitched in surprise. “That's what you're worried about?”

She sighs. “Not worried. Just curious. I'd know, but I need some more words of affirmation here. Plus your helmet prevents me from spotting any facial expression to back up my initial assessment.”

Thorn had been gaping incredulously at her as she said that. “You're practically an A-list celebrity in all of Coruscant police ranks!” he boasts, “Kriff, you're famous, Les! You're the talk of the week among the Corries, y'know? All that, and you're worried about the Coruscant Guard Marshal Commander’s first impression of you?”

Lesiil stares at him, both hands on her hip as she demands further, “You know he's practically my CO now, so yes, and I'd love to know.”

Thorn rolls his eyes skyward at her stubbornness. “Well, when I vouched for you, he seemed pretty much convinced,” he says, “He's determined to catch this serial killer and solve and close the case, so I'd say he'd put some good credits on you.��

She hums, urging him to continue.

“Well,” he shrugs, “Tooka’s ain't out of the bag yet. I can tell you tomorrow if Fox and I get to talk later today.”

“Of course,” she smiles. Both then continue to unpack and set things down where the detective wants. Not ten minutes later, they’ve moved the empty crates away to one of the corners. Glancing around her office, Lesiil rubs her hand together and hums in satisfaction. “This looks decent enough.”

“For now,” Thorn gives out a smile of his own, “You need some decorations here and there.”

“Already on my to-do list,” she winks at him. “Now, would you please be a dear and fetch me everything you've got in this case?”

Thorn blinks. “But we haven't briefed you yet.”

Lesiil looks at him incredulously. “Well I wanna start right away, Commander, because you stated ‘urgent matters’ in your request letter last week, so help me here, yes?”

“Droid repair delivery for a, uh, Lesiil Thrace.”

After sparing a second more of his helmeted apathetic look towards the delivery guy, Fox turns to watch the front desk officer tapping away on the holoterminal. It beeps.

“No delivery confirmation from the detective, sir.”

“What?!” the delivery guy blurts out, “I swear to Maker the address is headed to the Corrie headquarters.”

“And this is the Corrie headquarters. She’s here,” Fox deadpans. He faces the desk officer again. “Comm her to come down and pick up her package.”

“Yes, sir.”

The poor delivery guy shifts uncomfortably. “Well, sorry for this, but I don't think I can stay any longer. I've got more to deliver.” He thrusts his datapad towards Fox. “Would you just please sign here as prove that someone’s received it?”

Fox glares down at the datapad, the delivery confirmation form glaring back at him, before dutifully deadpanning, “I can't do that.”

And that'll be the exact moment where Thorn comes out of nowhere. Again. Twice today.

“Here, I'll sign it,” he offers traitorously.

With the stylus and the datapad in hand, he offers a series of vigorous head nods as he drinks in the content of the form with a ridiculous amount of meticulousness. Fox watches his commander jotting down his CC number before returning the things back. The delivery man flies out the door without so much as a second glance, the package quite ceremoniously left by both commanders’ feet. The air about the front desk goes silently awkward for a while.

Until Thorn squats down to unclasp the locks on the tiny crate.

Fox clicks his tongue in reprimand. “The hell are you doing, Thorn?”

Thorn glances up at him before continuing his endeavors to peel off the many layers of safety wrap inside the crate. “This is just Lesiil’s droid,” he casually explains.

Fox blinks. How close they are that the detective presumably trusts Thorn to unbox her delivery is beyond him. That, or Thorn just acts out of kindness. If opening someone else's package is called kindness. But since it's for security purposes and the front desk is not a delivered package post, that'd be sensible to do.

With a soft grunt, Thorn picks up a small bipedal droid with a rectangular head and large pair of lenses from the crate. He gets to his feet in reined excitement. “A BD unit! Always aids in her investigation. Had to be broken previously, somehow.”

“Detective Thrace hasn't responded, sir,” the desk officer behind them chimes in.

Thorn sighs audibly, clutching the offline droid close to his torso. “I'll get this up, then.”

Fox’s hand on Thorn’s arm stops the latter. “I want confirmation that’s her droid. Run a scan on its serial numbers,” he says to another strooper on stand by. He turns back to Thorn. “Put it down and power it on.”

“...sir?”

“You heard me.”

Thorn stares at him almost incredulously for another second before reluctantly putting the droid down right on the desk. He fumbles for some kind of switch for a good minute or so, until the trooper with the scanner aids him while starting to run the ordered scan.

The small droid goes online with a rousing beep, its lenses blinking to life. Its bipedal legs extend and remind Fox of some avian creature. Throughout his life, he’s never seen this kind of droid before, not in the Senate Building or even in the GARHQ.

The BD unit tilts its rectangular head down, examining and wiggling its feet and beeping out all the way a little noisily, the binary voices filling the dull lobby.

Thorn crouches down to its level and catches its attention. “Hey, BD-6.” Fox can hear the excited grin in his brother’s voice. “Remember me? It’s Thorn.”

Its lens whirs in examination for three long seconds, before chirping and hopping up and down on its feet.

Thorn chuckles. “I'll take that as a yes.”

It then whirls around, taking its surroundings almost questioningly.

“You're in the Coruscant Guard Headquarters,” Thorn mindfully provides, “Lesiil works here now for a time being.”

The trooper with the scans steps forward and begins to check all over it. The droid beeps in alarm.

“Don’t worry,” Thorn puts a hand out to calm it down, “They’re just checking you over for a bit.”

Fox can’t contain his snickers any longer. “Since when you’re speaking binary, vod?”

Thorn looks at him straight on, the helmet helpfully provides a deadpan expression. “I don’t. Just a feeling. He looks anxious– oh, hey!” Upon completing the check, the droid had jumped onto his back with a trill. “He likes getting to people’s backs once allowed,” Thorn chuckles, reaching a hand backward to pat its head, “Hey, Beedee-bud. Yeah, good to see you again.”

“Commanders,” the scans trooper announces, “It’s registered as Detective Lesiil Thrace’s droid. BD series, sixth model.”

Thorn deadpanningly tilts his head at Fox, the droid on his back following the motion a second after.

Fox lets out a snort and waves them off.

The droid beeps again, and suddenly Fox gets hit by a vertical ray of red light coming from its lens. Once he's done scanning, he lets out a questioning beep from Thorn’s back.

“This is Marshal Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. He leads our corps,” Thorn introduces. At Fox’s inquiring stance, Thorn shrugs. “I think he's putting you in his memory banks.”

“And you know it just how?”

“He just met you and he just scanned you. You're, uh, noticeable, sir. You have distinct markings on your armor. The droid’s just doing his thing.” Thorn tilts his head slightly. “Right, Beedee?”

BD-6 lets out a confirming trill.

“Satisfied, sir?” Fox is certain of the shit-eating grin manifesting behind Thorn’s helmet right now. “He looks like you, though.”

He does have crimson red paint on its entire rectangular head.

Fox sighs harshly. “Don’t start, Thorn. I’ve got a lot on my mind, my caf machine broke, I have a meeting with the Chancellor before lunch break, it's not even 1100 and I'm tired.”

Thorn snickers. “Sir, yes sir.”

“I’ll take him up to her office,” Fox says. He points a finger to the droid. “You, follow me.”

One short goodbye between the BD unit and his batchmate later, Fox leads the droid to the main elevator area. His pace is surprisingly quick, swerving around and through seas of walking feet seamlessly and shooting down empty corridors with a beeping noise.

Fox is grateful for the quiet elevator ride. Besides that it’s empty throughout the ascend, the droid is too busy observing the planet-wide city through the transparisteel view panel. Fox throws subtle glances to check he's still there. The droid is just so kriffing small he’s almost afraid it would suddenly vanish out of existence. Well, not that small, but maybe it’s because he’s never seen it. The situation is a bit bizarre for him.

He catches Fox staring too long.

Then, he beeps loudly at him, scurrying by his feet hopping and nudging the rectangular head towards his back almost pleadingly.

“No,” he says coldly.

The droid boops in disappointment, his head dropping.

From the elevator area, the walk to the detective's office is short. The droid easily keeps up with his wider strides, seemingly excited to meet with his owner again. Fox is really set to get it back to his owner, and to demand why she hasn't been answering her comm.

The door swishes open almost instantly after he knocks, and it makes him flinch when the detective stands in front of him in an unexpected proximity, a sight of storm grey eyes and dark bronze skin and bound dark curly hair over one shoulder abruptly greeting him. Kark, he needs caf. He prays to whatever divine being there is that she didn't notice him jumping out of his skin.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Marshal. I was drowning in work,” Thrace says sincerely, commlink in hand, seemingly having only just read the messages.

The excited, long trill that comes out of the droid shakes Fox out of his trance. Detective Thrace lets out a small pleased laugh when she crouches down and extends her uninjured arm, and Fox watches how she's letting the little droid run up her arm and settling onto her back the way he did to Thorn moments ago.

“Good to have you back, Beedee,” she grins, earning a series of happy beeps from the droid. Thrace gently turns back to Fox, a modest smile slides into her lips. “Thank you for bringing BD-6 up, Marshal.”

Despite earning himself a view of a happy reunion between the droid and the owner, Fox gets reminded of the little predicament in the lobby.

“Please inform the front desk every time you’re having an incoming package, Detective. I nearly had to summon a bomb disarming unit just to make sure this isn't a bomb threat or any sort.”

Well it isn't true, but it usually serves well enough as a warning to his troopers.

Thrace acknowledges seriously, nodding once and sending him a look of apology. “Yes, sir. I'll be careful. It won't happen again.”

Fox murmurs a silent acknowledgement as he cranes his neck over the detective's shoulder, spotting piles of datapad on her table, empty crates of her things tucked into a corner, and a totally operating caf machine on the side table.

“Yeah, Beedee, new work here. Take your time scanning and prodding, will you?” He didn't notice the detective had stepped back into her office and showed her droid around. After letting BD-6 jump down from her shoulder, Thrace turns around, noting Fox still standing there expressionlessly.

She regains his precious attention when she marches towards her totally operating caf machine.

“Caf, Marshal?”

“Please,” he replies too quickly. In an instant, he hates it. He sounds desperate and he hates it, kriff’s sake.

Fox steps in, the door sliding close behind him. As the detective is busying herself making a fresh cup for him, he takes the graciously given opportunity to glance around the room. Despite being on the middle floor of the building, the first wall offers a decent span of busy Coruscant skyline through transparisteel, the vast compound of GARHQ a modest size in the distance within the military district. It provides so much natural light, something Fox thinks an average natborn would appreciate.

There are small mementos scattered around the room. A small artificial pot of plant on the desk, her holocomputer, and holostills of various people that Fox guesses as her natborn family and coworkers. The pile of Corrie datapads, however, intrigues him the most.

“Starting?” he prompts, “We haven't even briefed you on anything yet.”

Thrace glances at him. “I understand, but seeing now that I took it into my hands myself due to the nature of the urgency, the brief you're talking about now, though no less necessary, has turned into a mere formality.”

At the audacious proposition, Fox scowls in annoyance. He isn't ready for insubordination this early. Just great.

A mug of hot caf is suddenly thrusted in his direction. Steam rises from the red-colored drinkware and wafts through his helmet's breath filter, deliciously overwhelming him with sweet promises of surviving the long day. Its enticing aroma is nothing like mud water sprouting out from his caf machine or the one in the mess hall. It's rich, nutty, and dancing all over his taste buds already.

Thrace’s storm grey eyes fixate on his visor, as if piercing through it and straight into his eyes. “Though, if you've got any input, sir, be it trivial thoughts or factual, please send it over.”

He suddenly forgets what he's annoyed at.

“Understood,” he mutters, accepting the mug carefully with both hands. About that input, he does remember putting a personal commentary in a few of those cases due to the bizarre nature of some.

Fox shakes out of his trance, trying to not fall into the caf’s inviting aroma again. He clears his throat. “We'll be having a meeting with the entire CG command at 1500, Detective,” he says somewhat softly, the usual sternness in his tone already dissipating. This beautiful damn caf. “You're required to attend. You'll have to formally introduce yourself to everyone.”

Thrace’s dark brows furrow. “Why, it's in the middle of my peak work hour.”

Fox allows himself a sigh. “It's set. And I won't take any complaints.”

“I have already emerged deep in my progress, as you can see,” Thrace gestures around her table, datapads scattered all over it and BD-6 is downloading the data into its memory banks. The detective looks at him almost pleadingly, though her polite tone remains the same. “And as you perhaps may understand, a break of another activity in the middle of progress may hinder and slow it down.”

Fox lets out a breathy scoff. “And not a shattered wrist on a sling, Detective?”

“And not a sleepless and constantly caffeinated shell of a body, Marshal?” Thrace shoots back with a lift of her eyebrow. Fox inhales a breath. She glowers him down. “But I'm working, aren't I?”

“And so am I, Detective Thrace,” he grits his teeth, already feeling a migraine forming. “You're going to introduce yourself to command in this meeting. Share your portfolio, your previous cases, your methods. When we called the shots to whether or not to recruit you ad hoc, some were skeptical. Roughly put, you'll have to prove yourself that bringing you in today isn't a bad decision the entire command of the Coruscant Guard has made.”

Thrace breaks her glare, the hardness on her countenance breaking apart as well and softening as she nods in acknowledgment. 

Fox puffs out his chest, satisfied with her reaction. “Commander Thorn was persistent and fought to the end to convince everyone.”

“Thanks to him, I'm here. And I'm honored,” she says back without missing a beat, the corner of her lips lifting momentarily.

“The honor is ours,” he replies easily. With a single nod, he departs towards the door, “I'll come by and escort you to the meeting room. 1500, Detective.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The second the door closes behind him, Fox clicks off his helmet, the pressurization giving away with a hiss. Curls of dark hair fall into his eyes, yet it doesn't hinder him from the dark exotic drink in his hands. He lifts the mug to his nose, almost moaning to the exquisite aroma. Then, he catches the printed Aurebesh around the side of the mug.

#1 Person of Interest

And at that moment, for the first time that day, he lets out a laugh. At some poor excuse of a casual police pun, no less.

Once the Marshal Commander walks out the door, Lesiil allows herself a deep sigh. “And there goes my second favorite mug.” She then shrugs, turning to her ever loyal companion. “Did you hear that, Beedee? We have to prove ourselves.”

BD-6 lets out a series of boops.

“Of course we're taking that as a challenge. Aren't we always?” Lesiil grins, slurping her caf and turning back to the datapad pile on her table. “Now that you've scanned all of these, I need you to run a match scan for me. It's perfect timing that they've finished repairing you today.”

Hours fly by with more skimming and more logging. In the past three months while still at the CSF, Lesiil had heard about a serial murder in which the Corrie shock troopers had fallen prey to. She did try to poke around for more details, but seeing it was guarded behind the very walls she's currently in right now, she is easily, quite simply, invigorated, showering herself with all the details.

BD-6 keeps her company, chirping a few possible inputs of his own based on the data he’d downloaded earlier from the humongous pile of datapads.

Between the hours, with BD-6’s guidance (who had acquired a holomap of this very building including the ventilation and sewer system and the sublevels – the very notion that screams plausible deniability for when suddenly a shock trooper would knock on her door and ask around about a minor security breach – so she never asks Beedee just how and when and the ethics and the like), she takes the elevator down to the mess hall at lunch time.

It's bustling with sans helmet troopers, queuing for their share of meal that day and picking at them once sat. Lesiil grabs her own tray and scoops accordingly, mindful to show some neutrality in her countenance to not offend these troopers about the choice of food. She's had military-grade rations several times, anyway. When she takes a bite at the one in front of her, honestly, that's not the worst she's tried.

Several troopers pass by her lone table, politely asking her business. Those who know her, or more like, know her fame, well, they don't hesitate to ask for her autograph or holostills with her. The last thing she wants is to make bad impressions, and she wants to make an impression that she enjoys being here despite the bleak serial murder case, so Lesiil takes each and every request kindly until they're satisfied and her food unfortunately has gone cold.

After that, a quick elevator ride back to her office, BD-6 loyally perching on her back.

Then, more skimming and more logging.

A knock resounds at the door, and a quick glance at the chrono tells her that it's time.

“How many are you on the command board?” Lesiil asks the Marshal Commander as they march side by side heading for the designated meeting room, somewhere a few floors down from her office.

“64 commanders plus myself,” the Marshal answers curtly, his helmeted head straight on ahead.

Lesiil hums. “Did you like the caf?” she asks. It's one of those artisan blends she likes to pick up every now and then.

The Marshal throws a glance at her, almost in surprise, as if caught off guard by the question.

“It's… good,” he replies, before adding, “Thank you, Detective. I'll make sure to return the mug.”

Lesiil merely nods in return, and they talk no more past that, both enjoying the silence, safe for BD-6’s curious boops every time he catches a passing trooper's bewildered glance.

The meeting room is packed once they arrive. What's better is, they all have already taken off their helmets, talking among themselves either in quiet or in a playfully boisterous manner, showing all these facial expression variants of glee, seriousness, and gloom.

Lesiil is reinvigorated and almost giddily sweeps her gaze across the room, mentally taking notes of their reaction as both her and the Marshal Commander stride further into the room.

Thorn calls for her, waving her over and patting down the empty seat beside him. She abides, grinning, BD-6 trilling in excitement upon seeing the commander, whose several coils of dyed russet hair escape its bun stop his head, adorning his hairline messily.

“Hey, Beedee-bud,” Thorn instantly pats the droid's rectangular head once he perches on his spot on the desk.

After a few introductions to the commanders around her with Thorn's prompt (she now knows some of them are pretty close to the Marshal and practically forms a clique with him), Lesiil settles into her seat with eyes to the front of the stage, only to fail to be mindful of her own facial expressions to the sight up in front.

Her lips part. Her eyebrows, raised. The Marshal Commander, with the usual stance of his hands behind his back, sweeps his gaze around the room sharply. It is only then she realizes his crimson bucket is absent from its usual place.

Dark curls sit on top of his head, slicked back and away from his forehead by the necessary combing of gloved fingers, grey streaks of hair adorning his temples, each silvery strands a sign of constant wariness in corporate work and planet-wide security. Faded lines of scars mar his tawny face – a slash across his nose and a gash on his left cheek. Five day old stubble and the faint dark bags under his eyes that echo the very air of weariness and the hectic nature of his lasting career. Even then, his amber brown eyes don't fail his blasé countenance; always sharp, always critical, sparking with indefinite authority.

The Marshal leads the introduction briefly and goes past it quickly, almost startling Lesiil out of her seat since she's used to many welcoming speeches before getting to the main course.

But now, she's among clones. And that spells enough difference.

“I know I've only been here for a few hours, but that doesn't hinder me to say that I'm honored to be recruited ad hoc to work with the Coruscant Guard,” Lesiil begins promptly after being taken to the floor. The Marshal has retreated to his designated seat that happens to be just next to hers.

With another vigilant glance around the room, spotting every nonverbal cues at her talking, Lesiil inhales a soft breath before continuing, “In the grim circumstances of this serial murder case, I promise I shall do my best to help, and to serve justice for the souls of your lost brothers.”

Thorn is starting to clap his hands, ever showing support and making the others follow suit. Lesiil now could see some excitement and relief in few of those faces – looks like they know of her notoriousness.

And…

Lesiil knows that's her cue to step off the stage, plus the Marshal himself is starting to get off his seat to join her, but if she's not mistaken, he did tell her to prove herself.

“Now about this serial killer case, whose perpetrator has been labeled with the nickname The Corrie Butcher…” she begins unwaveringly, trailing off to catch the commanders she knows. Thorn is expressing every kind of being surprised while the Marshal has settled back into his seat and is smirking so subtly she almost misses it.

So, Lesiil graciously takes that as her cue.

“Not long after I settled in my office, I asked Commander Thorn to pull up everything there is about this case.”

“We haven't briefed you yet,” the Marshal pipes in, seemingly to disclaim to the audience in the room.

Lesiil’s stare bears down on him hard. “Yes, you already said that a few hours ago in my office upon finding out and again, Marshal, I apologize.” It invites a few chuckles from the audience. She exhales softly. “But what's one or two protocol breaches if compared to peace and justice served quickly? It's only a matter of time.”

Thorn discreetly gives her two thumbs up from his seat, and Lesiil throws a smile his way.

She starts to pace to regain her confidence. “I've skimmed through and reviewed at least an eighth of 160 or so case files along with some of the footage, enough to place a profile on our killer with a great level of confidence,” Lesiil orients thoughtfully, “So the Corrie Butcher's profile, unsurprisingly and quite anticlimactically, is an anti-clone middle-class natborn male worker. Unfortunately I haven't been able to provide more than this finding yet.”

A hand comes up from the crowd.

“I get anti-clone,” the clone commander states once Lesiil permits him, “But middle-class worker?”

“Out of all 160 or so of HUD footage, I ran a match scan on the timestamps at the time of the murders. Narrowed down, our killer goes with the murder between 1700 hours and midnight. 1700 is a typical time for most middle-class workers to get off work.” Lesiil inhales a sharp breath. “Not to mention the advantageous cover of the dark. So, our killer ventures and prowls the streets of Coruscant to hunt for unsuspecting shock troopers when he gets off work.”

Lesiil notes how it sparks some reactions. Some are nodding thoughtfully, some others are frowning to grasp.

“There's a reason why I brought up about him being an anti-clone,” she picks up again, “And it's not about how he despises your very existence in general as stated by the statistically huge number of other Coruscant citizens who feel the same.”

“So what would that be, then?” someone from the audience shouts.

Lesiil ponders for a while. “I have confidence that you'd somehow know about serial killers. I do know this because of my study and experience being involved in several serial murder cases.”

Yeah you're great, someone remarks loudly, inviting another round of chuckles. Lesiil smiles appreciatively at the spot she thinks it came from. Well, at least some of them know who she is and what she can do.

“The thing about serial killers,” she begins after a moment, ��is that they have the same trademark and typically the same motive when they go for the kill. Our killer goes for the shanks. Thirty stab wounds on average 95% of the time. After they died, he'd run his knife into their forehead and carve the word ‘why?’. A message of anguish. The Corrie Butcher is an attention-seeking individual with personal vendetta in his agenda. A killer who seeks attention for their heinous act to be noticed by the public and the police is typically a trait or symptom of, say, about three different mental disorders, but I digress. This is a validated disturbed individual, though I think it doesn't need a thorough personal judgement to notice.”

The images are harrowing. Lesiil has grown to be used to the sight of blood and body horrors that follow her steps everywhere she goes, but even seeing another holostill of a fallen victim lying in the pool of their own blood still leaves her head blank for a moment, like walking with a hollow stomach and cotton-stuffed ears, no matter how calm she tries to be.

“But… that's kinda just describing every single anti-clone natborns out there,” another from the audience states hesitantly. “Kind of.”

“But not everyone kills shock troopers. Not even 160 times,” Lesiil rebuts firmly, “Nor stabbing them thirty times. One might be a crime of passion, two or three might be premeditated murder, but thirty? Thirty is overkill. Thirty is too much. They drive their knife in, over and over, even after the victim has passed.”

She pauses to give them a moment as some begin to draw deep, distressed breaths and clench their fists. Their brothers sitting next to them offer some words and comforting pats to the back.

She knows they're all tightly knitted, being brothers in arms and in blood. And those fallen men must be the very ones under their commands. This must be affecting them too much. However, no one abruptly marches out of the room. They're all hanging on, putting on solemn expressions, though perhaps a part of the reason is to respect the one currently talking on stage.

“Thirty is driven by extreme emotions, and not just for the sheer murderous thrill of it,” she continues, gentler this time, being mindful of those who still haven't looked up from their feet. ”I place my bets on, perhaps, a particular revengeful motive. There has to be a reason why the Corrie Butcher goes for the overkill, and with that carved message, he wants attention. He needs to deliver his revenge. The catalyst that leads our killer to do so is yet to be discovered, but I'm confident that we will manage to unravel this part by part.”

The Marshal Commander meets her gaze.

Lesiil takes notes of his arms, folded across his chest, and his foot over his knee, red-trimmed black kama spilling around him and onto the seat. Is he cold? The room is warm enough. Closed off demeanor, then. Defensive. But what for? Is he still skeptical?

She breaks his gaze, placing the Marshal's expression in the back burner.

“If everybody has gathered their bearings, I'd like to continue for a few more moments.” Lesiil rubs her hands together. She turns to her droid still perching on Thorn's desk. “BD-6?”

The droid boops in attention, drawing everyone's attention to it.

“Come up here and show the class, please,” she waves her good hand over, “And pull up that footage.”

BD-6 scurries along the table, passing Thorn and the Marshal Commander and completely unaware of the latter's following eyes.

Its holoprojector lens activates, casting a blue projection of an HUD footage it had downloaded from one of the datapads earlier. Lesiil begins to direct it to fast forward and rewind to get to the perfect frame she spotted earlier while trying her best to steel herself. This is, after all, merely seconds before the HUD feed got abruptly cut off, assuming the helmet had been forcefully removed without properly disengaging the feed and internal comm systems.

Seconds later, BD-6 manages to pause on a particular frame they'd been looking for. Among the blurred motions indicating a clear struggle between the victim and the Corrie Butcher, is close-up of a hooded figure, lower part of the face covered with a mask to obscure his identity, leaving his eyes and forehead to peek through the hood, along with stray strands of blond hair sweeping across his forehead.

“This is one of the clearest moments we could get about the culprit from HUD point of view,” Lesiil finally presents, “I'd like to personally thank whoever this man is for not wearing any eye covering because it's easier for me to do my job, but that would be inappropriate. Now,” she points, “His eyes. His stare. His look. Full of anger, full of passion, he's manic. Not exactly excitement nor for the mere thrill unlike most serial killers diagnosed with psychopathy, but there's a very distinctive rage in his eyes. This, I think, aligns with those thirty overkill stab wounds.”

“Detective.”

Another raised arm. This time it's coming from the front row. It's the one two seats down from Thorn with a shaved head. He was introduced as Commander Stone earlier, and had been the one overseeing the investigation before she got called in.

“With all due respect, this profiling method of yours is highly unusual, not to mention unconventional,” Commander Stone argues, “It's based on assumptions and not concrete evidence. We're looking for security footage, any traces of DNA, and the likes to help us identify this serial killer. Not assumptions.”

“My analysis isn't based on assumptions,” Lesiil asserts neutrally, as it's not her first Kessel Run to face such doubts, “I've managed to compare this to serial killer cases I had my hands in. I have the baseline experience to recognize a serial killer's motive.”

Commander Stone had been acknowledging her with nods as she spoke, waiting for her to finish before rebutting, “It’s only due to all your behavioral analysis, which lacks concrete evidence such as the killer's statement, cannot be taken for granted. You’re not a licensed psychologist, you are a detective.”

Lesiil watches how Thorn and the Marshal crane their necks over to glare warningly at the other commander.

Right. How dare he, right.

She takes a deep breath. “And a detective seeks deeply to find a killer's motive,” she counters, “It can always be done presumptively by reading their emotions, and if we’re also able to identify not only how they act, but their nonverbal cues as well.”

Commander Stone lets out a low scoff. “Nonverbal cues are subjective and thus not valid.”

She exhales. “Wrong. They could be valid, helping you to build an initial profile of the perpetrator.”

“Why are you so insistent about this behavioral analysis thing?”

“Why, because of my Lorrdian lineage, of course.”

The entire room suddenly breaks out into loud chatters of amazement.

Yes, well… it's a close guarded secret. Not even every personel in CSF knows. The public – the media that documents her – has no idea.

“Being a part-Lorrdian provided me the gracious opportunity to train and learn from them. I am a master nonverbal communications analyzer, if that wasn't clear enough,” Lesiil clarifies. She does catch some confused looks among these men. Moreover, it's actually documented in her portfolio.

“I've been trained to read people for half of my life, so much so that I am capable of telling the difference between ambiguity and sincerity,” she declares, “And that is exactly why I make an excellent detective even among my peers. Have I mentioned my specialty is interrogation? One incriminating move of the hands, and I can pull the guilty or not guilty verdict and throw life imprisonment without parole in their face right there and then had I been the judge.”

Fox is feeling so kriffing smug right now.

Not only does he generally enjoy watching people losing their shit and slam the other back down with intellectual savagery that makes them look dumb in the end, but he's chuffed he put his foot down yesterday to bring in Lesiil Thrace.

“So, that's the entire anti-clone behavioral analysis of the Corrie Butcher for you. All I ask is your full support. And with all that said, we can move on with the investigation and hopefully subdue this serial killer before the increasing number of victims bears too much,” she concludes firmly, and she turns in his direction, meeting his gaze in faint bewilderment.

Fox realizes his face muscles are creasing – he's been beaming at her.

“That is all, Marshal Commander,” Thrace cues him with her own contented smile, “Thank you for letting me have the floor.”

He then closes the session and dismisses everyone as fast as he can, knowing the others and himself have matters to do.

Fox lets his gaze trail the detective as she exits the room with her droid on her back alongside the other commanders, engaging in small conversation about some of her notorious cases.

“So,” Thorn starts, approaching Fox on the stage, “Start throwing in your opinions, vod. What do you think of her?”

Fox hooks his fingers into his belt and shrugs. “Didn't know she's a Lorrdian.”

Thorn sighs. “Yeah, me neither. I'm as surprised as you are.”

“Really?”

“She told me her home planet is Alderaan. So yeah, her being part Lorrdian is a sure shock.”

Fox stores that piece of information in his brain. “Is she a member of one of the noble houses or something?” he wonders, gesturing with his hand, “With that… formal tone. Courteous speaking mannerisms and whatnot.”

“Her record didn't say anything about that,” Thorn shakes his head, unsurprised. He continues to prod as Fox gathers his helmet. “So. What do you think?”

“I reckon she'd be a challenge to our internal network and to outside forces,” Fox admits.

“‘Our internal network’?” Thorn snorts.

“Thorn,” Fox begins almost sharply, “did you see how she went against protocol?”

“To work faster, Fox,” his batchmate defends with an amused look in his face, “And we asked for her help, remember? We want this case solved, and she wants nothing but identifying the Corrie Butcher and having him detained.”

Fox is silent for a moment before stating, “She's in Corrie territory.”

“Uh huh.”

“Doesn't mean she can do whatever she likes.”

“You're her CO.”

“Unfortunately.”

“That's cold, sir.”

“She’s stubborn as kark,” Fox sighs, leading out of the meeting room, “Refused a bacta tank when I offered just because she didn't want to brood in the medwing.”

Thorn catches up beside him, bucket clutched under his arm. “Stubborn is the first thing that comes to your mind? Mine is friendly,” he says, “Talks when the situation is fit for her to. Knows her boundaries. Wouldn't prod your privacy.”

“So is it ‘friendly’ or those three points that flew across that head of yours?”

“All of the above, but across time and time again,” Thorn remarks cheekily, “What else?”

Fox suddenly remembers their first meeting he'd just learned about this morning. Thorn, the son of a droid, accidentally spilled caf on her.

“Her caf is nice,” Fox finds himself mumbling, before donning his bucket because he's about to mull. Face obscurity is the very first thing he needs.

“Oh so that's her mug?” Thorn laughs, having noticed the red drinkware with the person of interest pun on Fox's table earlier that day. “Makes sense. You'll never come up with that kind of joke, you're too gruff.”

Yeah, that's right. Fox does admit he's gruff and stern and stiff and whatever krayt spit his brothers come up with about his uptight personal branding. The contrast makes him wonder about that pun line on the red mug; did she come up with that and commission that thing or is it a gift from a cheeky friend? She looks like the kind of person that does have that kind of friend. Thorn, for example.

Lesiil Thrace is courteous. Utter professional. Blunt around the edges. Resilient, though sometimes it comes as annoying because of how smart the words that come out of her mouth are. Duty-bound. Focused.

Some of those remind Fox of himself.

He understands those traits, drawing him to be considering being a little lenient to her in the future.

But declaring her appreciation to be working with them, what could that possibly mean? Coming from a shared background of law-upholding authorities, perhaps, then yes, Fox can understand.

But she's a natborn. In fact, the one and only natborn in the clone-only institution called the Coruscant Guard.

Why the honor that simply manifests by working with… clones?

Whatever that is, Lesiil Thrace has gained Marshall Commander Fox's respect already.

“Stubborn. Workaholic,” are the things that fly out of his mouth instead, “An apparent professional, but if she goes against even the most basic protocols again, m’gonna go ballistic.”

Thorn snorts. “Ain’t that you, vod? Maybe you and her do have something in common.”

Fox kicks his shin. “Shut your shebs up.”

And shut his brother's shebs did, and Fox is grateful because he thinks he's captivated by the detective, but of course, as the most dutiful Marshal Commander of his corps, he would downplay and bury that bit of feeling deep into the earth and pray someone wouldn't notice the soil has been upturned.

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose @filamentlights

[bunnysdollette]

₊⊹⁀➴ How to get your shit together in a slump: BD’s instant guide to feeling 100% again! ⟡﹒⪩⪨ 🫧🌸🧁

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧ Hi angels :) Thank you so much for the positive reception on my last posts. Anyway, I’ve been super down lately so I’d thought I’d create this post as a bit of a reference point for anyone who feels like their life is going off of the rails these days. This is how I get myself out of a slump. 💬

♫ todays song is…some by SOYOU

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET OFF THAT DAMN PHONE.. 📝 ⊹₊⟡⋆

wait! I was just joking. don’t close your phone until you finish reading (haha). anyway, take a look at your screentime for me. you might have been scrolling for hours or trying to distract yourself from how horrible you felt by doomscrolling endlessly…no. we can’t do that.

usually when I’m in a slump I feel damp, it’s not just about laziness. this could also be the result of exhaustion or a number of factors. dampness is an evil condition in chinese medicine where you feel heavy, tired, and dead. scrolling will only make this worse because you’re prolonging the pain. the first thing you should do is get up, stretch, breathe, and maybe crack a window. the airflow will make a big difference, I promise. 🌿

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CLEAN UP GUIDE. 🌸 ⊹₊⟡⋆

when my room is a mess my state of mind is a mess. I can’t do anything, I’m literally loosing my marbles bc all I can see is a messy space. if your brain is in shambles rn, the smallest amount of organization you can do right now is tidy up your room a little bit.

this doesn’t even have to be a big clean, but small steps make a big impact!… remember your space is sacred. 🧘🏾‍♀️

make the bed. doesn’t have to be fancy, just make sure everything is where it needs to be.

wipe down surfaces like desks, mirrors, and vanities. you can even include a scented spray whilst doing this to make your space smell much cleaner and nicer!! I literally cannot function when my room smells like asscheeks.

remove any old cups, or food waste that you were procrastinating from doing so. don’t want to attract any bugs.

Sweep the floor. You probably don’t notice how many crumbs are on the ground, but please just do it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ RECHARGE YOUR “STATS”. 🛁 ⊹₊⟡⋆

honestly the best way to get out of a slump is self care. neglecting your needs and body can often lead to things going downhill, depressive episodes, etc. We all forget to take care of ourselves properly sometimes, but it’s important to pay attention to our needs and personal wellness.

Ask yourself.

“Did I shower today?” ➜ Take yourself a nice, warm shower and stay in as long as you want.

Take some time to reflect on your day or anything that’s been on your mind. And be sure to wash up well, so you can feel really nice after and tap into your feminine energy. You can even add bath salts, milk, or bubble bath. It will literally make you feel like a princess. . . 👑

“Did I eat/drink today?” ➜ Go eat something.

I prefer light meals or snacks that are cold like fruit, water, or a juice when I’m feeling dead but you can also eat whatever you want. Just think about what will make you feel good and reduce the dampness as much as possible, and will prevent brain fog. Heavier meals aren’t the best for that though.

I bet you feel better already after doing these things! Remember that taking care of yourself is the most important and you are a priority.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ REFLECTING AND MAKING A GAME PLAN 🧁 ⊹₊⟡⋆

Lastly after you feel a little bit better now and you took care of yourself, I would really suggest reflecting either through journaling or shadow work questions. They’re the easiest way to just brain dump all of the crap you’ve been thinking about lately and get it out of your system in a healthy and helpful way.

You can write about things like “how have I been feeling lately?” “What’s one way I can improve in xyz” and so on. This is a mundane activity you can do at the end to organize your thoughts. Mental health is a huge thing after your physical health, as it literally not only affects your world but the world around us. Especially if you are trying to achieve your dream life/dream self, manifest anything, etc. you will need to take care of your mental health to not be consumed by your emotions and keep your mind in check.

Also something that is crucial is practicing gratitude and mentally grounding yourself. You can list things your grateful for, mediate, or exercise. Anything to get yourself into that mindset you need going forward. I personally love to listen to the wizard liz’s podcast in times like these, it’s a great motivation for me.

Remember that slumps, dampness, depressive episodes, all of it, is normal. We are just humans at the end of the day. Be a little nicer to yourself today and take some small active steps towards your goals. ✨🫶🏽

✧ thanks for reading beautiful !! ; so basically I’m thinking of maybe making a community here on tumblr for the girl bloggers that share dream girl content and stuff like that? idk let me know what u think. inbox is always open, stay hydrated and cute, buh bye 👋🏾

[the-bee-graveyard]

Yellowjackets S3 theories

I've been wanting to make a post on this for a while so instead of making a bunch of little ones I've decided to just make one big one. I don't necessarily believe all of these to be true but I think they're all very interesting and I wanted to talk about them all. They're in this order:

Queen Card Theory (Alternating Antler Queens)

Pit Girl Theory

Woman In Trailer

Coach Ben is alive

Split Theory

I'd be really interested in discussing these or hearing any other theories!

Queen Card Theory (Alternating Antler Queens)

This is the first theory that really captured my attention when I watched Yellowjackets, and it's basically that there will be four antler queens throughout their time in the wilderness, each representing a different one of the missing queen cards. Natalie is obviously the queen of hearts, but there would also be a queen of spades, queen of diamonds, and queen of clubs.

I've gone away from this theory for the most part since the season 3 trailer, since there's obviously been a significant time jump and I'm not sure if they have enough time in the woods left for there to be three more different antler queens. I do however think the remaining three queen cards will become a significant plot point at some point in the show, and that they will be uncovered.

Pit Girl Theory

I don't have much to say on this one, other then I think that the Pit Girl will be there last kill in the wilderness. I do believe in to be Mari, and I don't think they're hunting her in the scenes from the trailer. The parallels in those scenes though confirmed it for me.

For side characters I think will die this season, I think because Melissa is getting a larger role in the trailer, she's most likely to die. Which brings me to my next theory.

Woman in Trailer

I know a lot of people think that the woman in the trailer is adult Melissa, I personally do not think this. I don't think she's any of the Yellowjackets, really based on one line she says "you really are crazy" (or something like that). If it was one of the Yellowjackets I feel like she would know this.

More likely I think she's a private investigator, or a family member of one of the deceased Yellowjackets, poking around in the Yellowjackets investigation. I think both Travis and Natalie's death happening in such close proximity to each other would seem highly suspicious to anyone who's been following the Yellowjackets, and could get them some attention.

I saw a really interesting theory on tiktok that she's hired by Paul, who is trying to find out what happened to Ben, which I'm not going to cover in this post but I thought it was really compelling and would love to explore more.

I do believe all of the living Yellowjackets have been revealed. In the trailer Van says, "everyone who knows about this is us or dead", which could be said after the eighth survivor is revealed, but I don't think so. I think the eighth survivor is either already dead in the adult timeline or...

Coach Ben Is Alive

This one is a longshot I know but I've been obsessed with it for a while. I originally was a Javi is alive truther, but since that obviously is not the case, I've turned my attention to Coach Ben being the eighth survivor. I just feel like him dying is too obvious.

It's assumed from the trailer that Natalie is protecting Coach Ben from the Yellowjackets, maybe even helping him. I think the trial shown in the trailer is not for him, but for Natalie, for helping him.

Somehow Ben makes it back, whether he is rescued with the girls or on his own. For whatever reason the girls either do not know he was rescued, or believe him to be dead.

The "somebody wants us dead" in the trailer in this case would be referring to Ben, who, after learning about Travis and Natalie's deaths, could believe the Yellowjackets are up to their old tricks again.

Split Theory

This theory follows the Lord of the Flies parallels in Yellowjackets, which I simply had to talk about because I love the book. Basically sometime during their time in the wilderness, the girls split into two separate factions.

Based on the path the end of season two and season three seem to be following, I believe the group will split in half, half of them following Natalie (who represents Ralph in Lord of the Flies, righteous, "chosen leader") and Shauna (who represents Jack in LOTF, more violent and careless)

I believe the groups will split like this

Natalie's group: Travis (obvious reasons), Lottie (she believes Natalie is the rightful leader), Mari (follows Lottie loyally, also if she's Pit Girl her death could represent Piggy's in LOTF)

Shauna's group: Taissa (follows Shauna, pictured with her a few times in the S3 trailer), Van (follows Tai), Akilah (again, close with Tai, not very invested in Lottie's spiritual stuff)

Unsure: Melissa, Gen, any new characters

I'm also on the fence with Misty. Although she does seem very devoted to Natalie in the adult timeline, if we're following Lord of the Flies imagery, I could see Misty falling into the role of Roger, who does side with Jack. I also believe Misty could possibly switch sides to protect herself if she sees Natalie losing support.

Either way I think the groups come together at some point before the death of the pit girl.

[ohmybueckers]

Never Strangers: Chapter Three

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: binge drinking, I think that’s it???

Authors Note: heyyyyy guys. Sorry this chapter took a hot second to come out and sorry it’s a lot more filler than other chapters - a LOT more was supposed to happen in this one, but I realized I could cut them into two and get this one posted faster. Which means 1. chapter four will come out a lot quicker than this one did and 2. it will be a lot more exciting than this one (based on the ending you can see why). anyways xoxo enjoy!

“No fucking way!”

Brooke braced herself on our kitchen counter, examined my phone like she had never seen one before. I was very aware of the fact my behead was still intact and I hadn’t even washed my face this morning, but I knew Brooke would classify this as an emergency that needed attending to ASAP.

“There’s no way,” I groan, wondering how my mission of avoiding Paige and all feelings associated with her at all cost had blown up in my face less than twenty four hours after getting here. “How does she even know?”

Brooke looked equally puzzled, her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing before her posture straightened comically fast like a puppet. She shouted, “Adria!”

I was still confused, now even more so. “What?”

“Her story from last night must have gotten to KK, which somehow made it to Paige.”

In recent years I have become what my friends have lovingly referred to as “chronically offline” - it had to have at least been 2 days since I had opened Instagram, and I certainly didn’t follow the younger girl last night. Safe to say I had zero clue what she was referring to. “What story?”

Brooke grabbed her phone from the kitchen countertop, typing quickly before shoving her phone back in my face. Sure enough, Brooke and I were the stars of the story, both holding our glasses and wearing big smiles (certainly a symptom of the cheap wine). How Adria managed to find my account to tag me, I was not sure. All I knew is that Paige most likely saw it, and that a shameful part of me was at least a little happy that I looked good in the photo.

There was certainly no erasing Paige’s memory, so this text was mine to tackle. “Alright, how do I even respond to this?”

From the way Brooke looked at me, you would think I just suggested transferring again. “Respond? You’re kidding, right?”

I shrug, not exactly enthused by the idea of interacting with Paige on my first full day, but not enjoying the alternative either. “I mean, she knows now. It’s kinda rude to not say anything, isn’t it?”

“What’s rude is talking to a girl as if she’s your girlfriend, treating her like your girlfriend, and then disappearing out of nowhere and lying to her about it. You know exactly why she’s trying to hit you up again,” Brooke grabs my shoulder with care, a gesture I leaned into, “If she thinks you’re easy enough to let her in again, you gotta show her she’s dead wrong.”

My mind felt like it was destroying itself trying to figure out the truth. Part of me wanted to listen to Brooke, who had never once led me astray in her advice and had enough experience with fuck boys to know how they tick - even if the fuckboy in question was actually a girl. Everything she was saying matched the image I had built up about Paige in my head for years. 

Once my heartbreak molded into anger, it became a hell of a lot easier to get over Paige, at least enough to date other people at Minnesota. Anger became comfortable for me - except the occasional nights I spent alone in my dorm, looking back at old photos I couldn’t bring myself to delete permanently from my ICloud. Nights where I wondered if I actually had it all wrong, and if somehow I let myself get too comfortable hating Paige to consider any alternative to what was my truth. Was it pathetic to hold on to a grudge from over three years ago? I really didn’t know sometimes. 

I shut my phone off, reassuring Brooke that I was not going to fall back into Paige, which she seemed to accept fairly easily. Brooke ultimately just wants what’s best for me, and the last thing I wanted was for her to spend her last year at UConn worried about me. She had the LSAT to focus on, not my situation with my ex.

Which is why I conveniently forgot to inform her when I decided to respond to Paige that night, waiting until the sun had set and nearly twenty four hours had passed before sending a simple “yes”, throwing my phone on my bed and taking a long shower before I could decide I made a grave mistake. 

———-

The first day of classes came quick, which I was thankful for - there’s only so much time a girl can spend in her poorly air conditioned apartment, and it’s not like Storrs had that much going on when school was not in session. What I was not thankful for was my packed Monday schedule, starting with an 8am economics lecture that I wouldn’t have taken if it wasn’t the last one available to satisfy a requirement, and ending with general chemistry (again, would not take if I didn’t need to squeeze a science credit in). 

If my 3 alarms weren’t enough to wake me up, I could rely on the sun blazing through my apartment at 5:30AM. After making a mental note to finally order some curtains, my full morning routine commenced, the one I saved for special occasions (or for when I simply could not fall back asleep): 20 minutes of pilates, followed by a citrus scented shower, a full makeup routine, and styling my nearly black hair in loose curls. 

By 7:30 I was ready to begin my walk to the business school, smoothing out my floral sundress and hoping it would instill some confidence in me. I would probably lean back into wearing jeans within the next week, but I still had some belief in my mom’s insistence that dressing well on any first day or impression mattered. I guess it did make me feel pretty, in a “belongs more on a Hollister catalogue than a college campus” kinda way. The dress did not fix the way my my first day nerves seemed to wreak havoc on my body, causing me to barely shove a protein bar down my throat before my body decided that was all the breakfast it could handle.

If I were still in Minnesota, my walk to classes would have been a whole lot louder. It was not often I had a commute where I didn’t curse the incompetence of Minnesota drivers. This was not the case in Storrs, partially because there were no drivers. Aside from the shuttle that passed me as I turned onto Alumni Drive, the only sound to accompany me was Beyoncé serenading me through my headphones. While Minnesota was simply a college with a large city unrelated to it, it was evident that Storrs would be almost nonexistent without UConn - if Minnesota was a city school, this felt almost like summer camp in comparison.

 I didn’t know exactly what to make of it yet, but I promised myself I would keep an open mind. I had to. There was no turning back now. 

———-

The day ended up being just as exhausting as I anticipated, potentially even more so. I’m used to liking first days. The idea of a new start each semester usually feels exciting, but this time I may have bit off more than I can chew. Syllabus week at Minnesota was a breeze, my calendar filled with classes where we just went over standard course expectations followed by frat parties I pretended to have interest in. The second my economics professor began lecturing after covering the syllabus for a measly 10 minutes, I knew he did not roll that way.

I genuinely have no idea how I made it through my high school schedule every day: multiple AP classes, followed by an afternoon job tutoring middle schoolers, with mock trial practice shortly after. It’s a miracle I found time to actually have a social life. Clearly my stamina had depleted severely, as by the time I stepped into my history discussion (seriously, who holds discussion when there isn’t anything to discuss yet), I had already made an emergency stop for coffee and was contemplating whether it was possible to take a nap in my thirty minute passing period before my chemistry lecture.

I made quick stop in the bathroom to fix my mascara and ensure the concealer under my eyes wasn’t crumbling (it was). Leave it to a hot September day and a bathroom with yellow tinted lighting to deplete my confidence: my once voluminous curls fell flat to my face, frizz accumulating at the roots. My concealer which had been matched to fit my warm skin tone now made me appear sallow, and my eyes were not fooling anyone - I was truly, undoubtedly tired. Not much I could do at this point other than use a generous amount of travel size dry shampoo, wipe the remnants of my mascara from under my eyes, and hope that the lighting in my discussion wasn’t as harsh.

I stepped into the classroom and was quickly overwhelmed by the size of it - not because it was too big, but because it was intimately tiny. I had been comfortable in my two previous classes, the large lecture halls allowing me to fade a little into anonymity - just another body struggling to stay awake as my professor explains the importance of studying economic law in the most monotonous tone possible. Looking at the long fake wood table and the twelve chairs, four of which were filled, I realized my streak of avoiding introductions had ended. 

After a quick scan, I chose to set my stuff down next to the person who scared me the least: a tall girl with pin straight long black hair, dressed in black baggy cargo pants and an oversized SZA shirt, complete with silver rings on her fingers which were currently in use scrolling her laptop. I offered a customary closed mouth smile as I sat down and set my book bag down on the table. 

There was a short pause where the only sound to hit my ears was the hum of the far too harsh overhead lighting as I took out my laptop, before I heard a deep voice ask, “long day, huh?”

As I turned to face the girl and processed her statement, it was evident that my attempt at looking put together was no longer working, especially now that the humidity had done a number on my hair. To be fair, I did feel like I was about to crash. “Tell me about it,” I replied, face flushed. I began to wonder if I should have sat next to the frat boy who was scrolling on UConn’s barstool account instead.

Maybe she took pity on how embarrassed I looked, because the smirk was erased from her tanned face and was replaced by a look of sympathy. “Hey, I don’t blame you. My 8AM econ lecture was brutal.”

The gears turned in my brain before I realized just what she had said. “Wait, which econ class?” After the taller girl recited a number from the schedule on her lock screen, I grinned. “We’re in the same lecture!”

“I cannot believe he would teach that much content on the first day.” She rolled her brown eyes, “Ok, let me guess. History and economics classes, leather planner… you’re pre-law, aren’t you?”

I mean, she technically wasn’t completely wrong. “Yes?”

“Then why haven’t I seen you try out for mock trial?” She asked, a perfectly shaped brow raised high and the Colgate smile smirk returning to her face. Her voice was low and teasing - definitely the flirty personality type. I could recognize it all too well.

Not wanting to explain my long and complicated history with the organization, I settled for the easy answer. “I just transferred here.”

“Well, we’ll be at the org fair if you want to sign up for a tryout spot,” She smiled, “Just tell them that Alex sent you.”

“Going to take a wild guess here and assume you’re Alex,” I quipped, though I will admit the effort did bring a small smile to my face. “I’m Maya.”

“See! I can already tell you’re clever enough for us,” Alex joked, a ring clad hand bracing her head on the table as she stared at me. I noticed the way she scanned me, her eyes falling down to the v neck of my dress before tracing back up to my smile. I suddenly felt the need to smooth out the bottom of my dress against my legs, my hands feeling very sweaty. 

 Before I could respond, the TA announced the start of the period, and both of our heads turned to the front. The rest of discussion was spent typing notes on when my paper was due and what constitutes academic dishonesty, all while trying to ignore the way the girl next to me kept shooting looks my way.

————

The one benefit of my packed Monday/Wednesday schedule was that my weekend was essentially four days long. I had two classes on Thursday, both criminally early, but it meant that I was done by noon and ready to enjoy a few days with nothing on my agenda… at least once I finished all of my assignments my professors had mercilessly assigned on the first week. 

A groan left my lips for what had to have been the third time in ten minutes as my eyes squinted to make out my general chemistry textbook. I had read the same paragraph around 5 times now, and each time I seemed to understand it less. Even though Adria invited me to study with her on the patio of her favorite coffee shop, I was sure she was about to tell me to leave. “I don’t know how I did AP Chem in high school, this is like a whole other language to me now.”

Adria laughed, looking up from her organic chemistry book (the contents of which I’m pretty sure would give me an aneurysm). “Not a STEM girl?”

“Definitely not a STEM girl,” I shook my head, unsure why the version of me who picked her schedule over the summer decided taking a notorious weed out course was a great idea. Taking a quick sip of my matcha, I added, “But I don’t know if I’m necessarily a law girl either. Been a real pain trying to figure it all out.”

“You will, I promise. Besides, I can always tutor you,” Adria reassured me softly, a gesture that would be a lot sweeter if there wasn’t a tiny voice in the back of my head nagging me for needing a pep talk from someone so much younger than me. If Adria can have everything figured out, why can’t I? “Enjoying UConn so far though?”

“Yeah, it’s been okay! I’ve met some nice people in my classes,” I think about how Alex quickly spotted me yesterday morning in lecture and gestured to have me sit with her and her mock trial friends. Turns out sitting through an 8AM lecture on law and economics was a lot easier when you had a friend next to you. “I think Brooke wants to go to bars this weekend though, and I just know the lines are going to be awful.”

Adria lit up at this. “There’s a party being thrown by members of the mens basketball team tomorrow - someone basically rented out Huskies. I got access to one over the summer and it was a ton of fun - you should come!” 

My mouth opened, trying to form a response. On one hand, it’s not like I had any concrete plans yet, and staying in on the first weekend after classes just felt wrong. But the words basketball rung in my ears like an unwelcome echo. Brooke’s warning that Paige was everywhere on campus rung true already, already overhearing her name in conversations more times than I could count. Seeing her and possibly talking to her? That was a whole other ball game, one that I weren’t sure I was ready to play. It wasn’t even necessarily that I wasn’t over her yet, but rather that we hadn’t spoken beyond a couple of short text exchanges in years (the most recent of which Paige hadn’t even responded to). Running into her was bound to be awkward, and I was determined to avoid the discomfort.

“Oh Adria, I don’t know…”

Adria cut me off, her voice insistent and almost desperate. “Please come. Brooke usually ends up leaving with some guy and I don’t want to be alone. All of my other friends can’t come, they have to be dry for sorority rush.”

I scoffed, though there’s no bite as I joke, “So you’re saying I’m your last option?”

“I’m saying I saved the best for last,” Adria gave a sheepish shrug. “If it helps change your mind at all, the women’s team won’t be there. KK said they were all going to Ted’s.”

I knew that there was no point of basing my choices at UConn based on whether or not I could run into Paige, but I would be lying if I said the reassurance wasn’t helpful. “I guess I could be convinced.” 

Adria clapped, her smile big enough that agreeing already felt like the correct decision. “You won’t regret it, I promise. Pregame at yours?”

————

If there’s one thing I learned after two years going to college in the midwest, it’s how to throw a damn good pregame.

I felt the bass of my music from my JBL speaker course through my body as I set a shot glass back down on the faux granite countertop, wincing as the cheap tequila flowed down my throat. Brooke, Adria, and Brooke’s friend Marley stared at me, a mix of both amazement and slight concern on their face. On nights out, I have been known to pregame heavy, especially nights where I don’t know most people there. For one, it means I spend less money, plus it gives me some much needed extroversion to make it through the night. 

“Damn girl, I did not know you could drink like that,” Brooke whistled, sipping on her High Noon tenderly. Her and Marley had other plans for the night, some frat event. Brooke claimed the only reason she would be caught dead at a frat as a senior is because Marley’s boyfriend was the president and so they got special treatment, but I had my suspicions she might have a frat crush of her own. 

I felt the buzz as the four of us left our apartment, Adria and I running to catch our bus in order to avoid the thirty minute walk. In my alcohol induced giddiness, I noted how the sky faded from a bright blue into a mosaic of purples, pinks and yellows as the sun set over the lush trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adria’s phone face me as I gripped the pole, looking out the window of our bus with the amazement of a kid in a candy store. I had spent the past week unsure of what to make of Storrs, but it felt almost romanticized in this moment.

Unfortunately, the picturesque moment did not carry into Huskies, an establishment that was far more of a restaurant than a true bar. A tennis game played over the TV, paired with the speakers blasting Drake as we were surrounded by a sea of girls with bleach and tones and Princess Polly crop tops. The basketball players seemed almost allergic to mingling with their invitees: aside from one or two attempting to chat up one of the girls, they all stood at their own table sipping beers and looking like they would rather be anywhere else. 

Adria ordered us drinks as I snagged us a table. Soon enough we stood side by side, sipping on Captain Morgan and Coke and a tequila sunrise respectively, unsure of what to make of what we were seeing. “It was a lot more exciting over the summer, I swear,” Adria looked apologetic, “Maybe it’s just one of those things where we have to get drunker?”

I was making a mental note to take two Tylenol before bed for the sake of my tomorrow morning self when a man’s voice emerged from the crowd. 

“Adria, you made it!” A pale man with floppy brown hair and impossibly long legs emerged, grin on his face as he wrapped Adria in a side hug. She returned the hug and the smile while brushing a braid away from her face, though hers seemed more forced. She finally pulled away when he began rubbing her arm, her face lighting up upon making eye contact with me.

“This is my friend Maya, she just transferred here.”

He grinned, reaching a hand out to shake hers with a firm grip. “Hey, I’m Noah. You made a good choice!” 

“He plays for the team, I think he might be a bit biased,” Adria remarks, earning her a shocked look from her friend who quickly turned his attention away from me and onto her.

“Me and some of the guys were going to play some darts, you wanna be my partner? I’m sure we can find a partner for Maya as well,” Noah gestures to me without turning his head, as though I am an afterthought. While it’s not like I’m dying to play drinking games with a group of NBA hopefuls, it wouldn’t hurt to at least act like I’m there.

Adria clearly did not want to play as well, as she stuttered out some half-assed excuse. “I think we’ll stay here! Don’t want to risk, um, losing this table.”

Losing this table? Looks like I also needed to make a note to teach Adria how to lie. It was beyond obvious that Noah wasn’t buying it, but I guess  he was choosing not to be confrontational. With a cough, he replied. “Right, um, well I’ll catch up with you later tonight then!”

The second he was well out of earshot (not that far, considering the volume they were playing Passionfruit at), my interrogation began. “Who was that?”

Adria looked down at her drink, looking uncharacteristically unconfident. “That was my in to this bar. We met over the summer.”

I nodded, watching as Noah stopped to chat with a mix of guys and girls under the flashing blue and pink lights. “Well I’m pretty sure he wants to get with you.”

“Oh trust me, he’s tried.” Adria deadpanned, evoking a laugh from my glossed lips. “He’s still a good guy, and I like being his friend. But I’m not into him like that.”

“Is it KK?”

Adria bit her bottom lip, and for a moment I feared I had gone too far, like we weren’t quite at the point in our friendship where that wouldn’t be a sensitive subject. I was ready to retract my question when she spoke softly. “We’re not exclusive… at least I don’t think so. I haven’t been with anyone else, but who knows if she has.”

Man, Adria really liked this girl. Some part of me was thankful to give some advice to her for once, although it’s not like my history gives me the authority to give relationship advice. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I’m way too scared to hear the answer.”

I felt a pang in my chest, relating to that feeling all too well. I’ve always had a tendency to protect my peace too hard, avoid asking questions to escape conflict - through the years, I’ve discovered it almost never ends well. “But do you think you might be hurting yourself more by not knowing?”

Adria took a pause, staring off as Noah and his friends began frat flicking to some song that did not warrant that at all. “I am not drunk enough to think about that right now.” 

We both laughed, silently agreeing to down the remainder of our drinks at the same time. The ice had melted well with the remainder of my sunrise, dulling the burn of the tequila. This was probably a good thing - I’m pretty sure my tolerance was lowered over the summer, because I felt my body get warmer than anticipated despite the air conditioning working overtime. Adria set her drink down on the table, turning to me once more. From the glint in her eye, I knew she was about to return my line of questioning. “What about you? Are you looking to get set up, because I’m sure that’s the reason those guys invited all of us here in the first place.” 

“First of all, I’m gay,” I began, examining the crowd in front of me. “I’ve been here like a week, haven’t really had the time to think about hooking up with anyone.”

“Well, what’s your type?”

I thought for a moment about my (limited) history. “Tall, athletic, nice eyes…”

“Paige.”

I rolled my eyes, though I would be lying if I said the blonde was not included in my thought process. “I mean it, I’m done with her.”

“No, no. Paige. Right over there.”

It felt like my heart plummeted to my ass, the effects of the alcohol consumed unable to keep me cold as a chill rushed through me. Before my brain could tell me not to look, my head snapped to the front. Two girls now stood at the front of the bar, talking to the male players. One girls laugh cut through the crowd, and I saw a small smile erupt in Adria. That must be KK. The girl next to her, hands shoved in the pockets of her cargo pants, didn’t even need to say or do anything. I could tell Paige Bueckers from any crowd.  

---

taglist (open!): @paiges-1vur @unadulteratedcyclepaper