#and yes i'm mangling i'm doing it on purpose

[dianartemiss]

i think what Jason wants (from Bruce at least) is to be loved transcendentally. he wants to be loved with earth shattering intensity, the kind that'll raze the world to the ground when lost and inspire greatness when present. Jason wants to mean something and to matter more than anything except for (maybe) another (worthy) human. Jason wants to be shown love in the way that he experiences love. but that kind of exclusive focus is impossible when your dad is Batman.

#Jason is the pathos of the batfam #Dick is also more pathos than logos but like he also didn't die so #and yes i'm mangling i'm doing it on purpose #Jay would die in a heartbeat for his family #and probably do any number of awful things #and what he wants is reciprocity #I see his as very much the kind to not ask anything of anyone that he isn't willing to do himself #but also expects others to live up to his morals #or standards or however #so he's not exactly fair but not entirely unfair either #idk there's a ton of posts right now on Jason's ideas about love and I also have a ton of thoughts myself #the dude is fucking intense #and speakign from experience #it's fuckign hard when that kind of intensity is one sided #even when you know it's unfair to expect it of the other party #jason todd #batfam

[writeroutoftime]

precious secret

pairing: eris vanserra x fem!reader

summary: eris has kept you - his mate - a secret for years, not wanting any harm to come to you. but when his hands are tied, he must turn to an unlikely ally to offer you protection

warnings: minor mentions of violence against reader (split lip, not graphic description), beron - enough said

words: 1.5k

a/n: alright, I am in love with eris - at least the fanon version of him lol. and I'm such a sucker for stories where he tries to protect his mate from his father, so I humbly offer this as my submission. please enjoy and it'd be great if you let me know what you think! have a great day everyone!

oOoOo

A sense of fear palpated through Eris' heart with every purposeful stride his took down the halls of Forest House. His palms were sweaty, and his skin felt flushed, a stark contrast to the cool and collected exterior he normally presented.

The moment his trusted guard had let him know of your situation, his mind could think only of the worst possible scenarios. The worst images his mind could mangle before his eyes flooded his senses, and he knew the only remedy would be to see, hear, and touch you.

Upon reaching your room, he slammed open the door and immediately rushed to your side. His hands automatically reached to cup your cheeks, eyes frantically scanning for blood, bruises, anything that could cause you pain. It didn't take long for his eyes to zero in on the blood that ran along your lips.

Hands shaking, Eris reached out to gently wipe the blood away with his thumb. Your instinctive flinch caused a pain to wash over his body. He never wanted to be the cause of your pain. You sent a wave of reassurance down the golden bond, but it did little to assure him.

"It's worse than it looks." you tried, grasping his wrist, holding his palm against your cheek.

Eris growled, eyes hardening as though his mind had not registered your words. "What happened?

There was a moment of hesitation from your side, but with a soft sigh you let your mate in the morning's events. "Word got out to Beron that there had been sightings of us together. He let me off with a warning for lesser fae such as myself to stay away from the likes of you."

"This can't go on." he spoke, scoffing at his father's words.

Now it was your turn to panic. "W-what do you mean?" 

"It's not safe for you to stay here any longer." he clarified, gaze softening ever so slightly.

"I'm not leaving you." you demanded, holding your ground.

"Love, we thought we were being careful and look what happened. What am I to do if this becomes a regular occurrence. It will ease my mind to know you are safe and out of harm's way." 

"Away from you." you argued, nuzzling your head into his neck as you tried to stop the tears that burned against your eyes. 

"Just for a little while." he promised. "Just until I know it's safe to bring you back." softly pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

"I don't know where I shall go." you admitted. 

It pained you to think of leaving the Autumn Court - your home. Yes, Beron was a horrible, cruel ruler, but there was still so much good to be found outside of his clutches. The breathtaking scenery, your family, and, of course, all the beautiful moments you and your mate created together. If you left would you ever see any of it again?

"I'll take care of it." Eris said, drifting off into silence as he savored the last night he had to hold you for the time being.

oOoOo

Eris strolled through the halls of River House, trademark smirk upon his features as he came into view of his reluctant allies. Rhysand and Feyre draped themselves across two chairs at their grand table, looking warily at the heir to the Autumn Court. 

"High Lord, High Lady, a pleasure as always." Eris greeted, bowing slightly to the rulers of the Night Court. Though, it didn't escape his notice the close eye that the rest of the Inner Circle kept on him.

"Eris," Rhysand acknowledged, trying to be diplomatic. "to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" 

There was a long pause in which Eris took a deep breath and pushed aside the snarky comments, the masked facade, and allowed the Night Court to see him in his true form. "I am here to ask you to provide sanctuary for a member of the Autumn Court." he spoke, choosing his words carefully. 

Feyre cocked her head to the side, as if trying to decipher a hidden cipher in Eris' words. "And why do you presume we have any obligation to help someone associated with you?"

Eris' palms burned with a heat that threatened to burst free and wreak havoc. A reaction that had become more common after solidifying the mating bond with you all those years ago. But he tamped down said flames, knowing anger wouldn't get him anywhere. So, the red-headed swallowed his pride and tried another approach.

"I know I have no room to ask such a request, but please." Eris pled, bending to bow before the Night Court on one knee. "If not for my sake, then do it for the sake of - of my mate. For the innocent female who has had the misfortune of falling in love with me." he confessed, revealing his most precious card.

All eyes of the Inner Circle widened in surprise, and Feyre couldn't contain her gasp at Eris' words. None of them had ever had any inkling there was someone tied to Eris in that way, but from the shake in his voice, to the bowing of his head, they knew he spoke only the truth. 

"I still need time to take control of Autumn from my father, and it is no longer safe for her there." he continued. "But once I am High Lord, she will be able to return to me. Until then, this is the safest place I know of for her. Name your price, and I swear it will be done." 

Rhys and Feyre shared a look, silently conversing. Even the powerful High Lord was taken aback by the confession and felt a small pang in his own heart. His mind shifted to Feyre and the lengths he had gone to protect and everything he would continue to do if necessary -what he would do, what he would promise, what he would give up. All just to know she was safe, regardless of his own well-being. He saw those same feelings reflected in Eris' eyes. No longer was he an arrogant heir before them, but a male in love and desperate. 

"That is a bold offer to make." Rhys spoke, his voice commanding always one with a flair for dramatics. He saw the way Eris flinched in worry, so he quickly put the male out of his misery. "But we accept."

The relief Eris felt washed over him instantaneously, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Thank you." he whispered, so overcome with emotion, he didn't know how else to emote his gratitude. "I am at your disposal to the best of my ability when you call in your favor" he spoke, standing up. 

The thought of Rhysand now having a favor to dangle over his head sent a small chill down his spine. But he would offer a thousand favors to the male if it would guarantee your safety. It should have scared him, but Eris knew that wasn't anything in this world (or the next) he wouldn't do to keep you protected. 

"No favor necessary." Feyre spoke gently, after sparing a quick glance in Rhys' direction. "We know the sanctity of the mating bond, and we will do our best to keep your mate safe." she vowed, seeing a new light to the male before her.

With another round of thanks, Eris bowed his head a final time before winnowing away and back to spend one last night with you.

oOoOo

The next day, under the cover of night, Eris stood with you in his arms, at the entrance to Velaris. Tears pulled in both of your eyes as your foreheads rest against each other's. Feelings of both love and despair were shot down the bond, leaving you feeling breathless.

"Please, we can figure this out." you tried one last time, not caring if the tears on your cheeks belonged to you and Eris. We don't have to separate."

"Trust me," Eris whispered, knowing that Rhys and Feyre stood only a few feet away. "I would wish for nothing more than to be selfish and keep you by your side. But this is the only way I can ensure you’re safe."

"What about you?"

Eris pulled back slightly to take in your form, sighing softly at your stubbornness. He gently cupped your cheek, pressing soft kisses to your skin. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, and we'll be back together before you know it, alright?" he asked, content with your reluctant nod.

One last time, Eris leaned in and captured your lips with his. You gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling your mate as close to your chest as was possible. The kiss was soft, but desperate and full of languish. Though you both wished the moment could last forever, you eventually pulled away, whispering words of love to each other.

"Until we see each other again, love." Eris vowed, watching your figure retreat into the safety of Velaris until you he could see you no more.

part two

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

[pansear-doodles]

Twitter doc version (which is slightly longer and more detailed)

I reflected a bit. I kept insisting i would change and stop making mistakes. However, some individuals made me snap to the reality that I have not been doing it, and they were right.

I realized that I have been blurring this line of something for myself and something for my standing. I kept telling myself that there aren't any true stakes when this blog is made for me and my twitter is made for me. I'm no longer in the area where I can wholly express my emotions (well, i still could, but with a limit), and I would constantly create posts that exhibit that I'm emotionally vulnerable, which to many, including Wayne, finds wrong and upsetting.

I have not been understanding my true needs and have been essentially denying it. I have mangled my love of art and something between personal and something thousands of people can see. I have been undermining how far my signals can reach, believing that "this is my art blog, so i do whatever i want", that's true, but i never really understood its limits.

Some of you may find me gross after the revelation. I suppose it was the manner of opinions from that topic. While it's wrong to leak private information, especially when you're not up to date with said information, the very information itself is not a matter of technicalities- that would be something that is up to you on deciding who i am as a person from there forward. I'm sorry you had to discover it. Everyone has a bit of their strange side. And I'm starting to accept that not everyone is going to agree or support me on this. It was an uncomfortable change. I'm going to miss some people. But holding onto this baggage will not do anything for me. I must carry on. Yes. I did draw those things. So what? I know it was a mistake to draw that very specific part and I'm sorry for that; I learned of it long before the rumors started to appear and I have stopped doing it since. Do I have irrefutable proof? Of course not, unfortunately. But I am telling the truth here.

People can absolutely choose to decide their opinion of the idea of it, and if you decide to see me as a bad person for it, that's okay, but I never intended to harm anyone with it. Nobody was harmed. It was only exchanged between consenting adults and nothing more.

I never asked to be popular, but i subconsciously rode that wave. If Wayne is correct on one thing they said about me, it's that i let these conflicting emotions control me. For years i have been doing this because I grew up in bad environments where stuff like this was desensitized. I thought Wayne wanted me gone because they hated me. Well perhaps, some of it is true. Even back when we were friends, it was hard to read them, which made me walk eggshells. But nonetheless I do think Wayne did it out of care, but they did it in the worst way possible.

I didn't have the best reaction. I was too hasty because I panicked. I should have made a document that really details things that's been going on between us and the other things Wayne's done in SC (im doing that actually, one step at a time). For now though, I want to make this post for the purpose of saying that- yes, I haven't been innocent and I have been constantly hurting myself, in front of so many others nonetheless.

You would see me vent. You would see me make "pity parties". You would see my emotional vulnerability. Again, i thought with this blog and my twitter account, since it is my personal spaces, i thought it was fine. But of course it wasn't. I forgot that there are thousands of eyes, even minors who aspire from my work.

I haven't been good to myself. I made things worse and worse. I didn't know how to handle it despite dozens, if not, hundreds of people telling me. And now after realizing it, I wanted to take it to my own matters, for my own good and safety, and for the safety of others and people who worry for me and care about me. Despite all the damages, if I really want to make a change, I must really show it.

From this day on, I'll be making different blogs. One is a more personal, smaller blog where I can really express myself and would not use primary popular tags. One where i dump all of my negative emotions that are private and overlyvulnerable. And one blog- this one- where I can show my art to the world. It was stupid of me to not have thought of this solution before, but it's better late than never. I would only show these side blogs to my friends and the people who are genuine with me rather than those who idolize me only for my art. I should really make a clear boundary between the me on the fandom side of things, and the me on the myself side of things.

I plan to make my twitter inactive. I don't know why I've been insistent on keeping it up, but now i know and it's an ugly side of me i denied constantly: I kept it up for fame, because I equated fame to my self importance- which isn't good. You would see it evidently when I get upset about the numbers. It was easier for people to access my stuff. This amount of attention has become a detriment to my mental health but, back then, shutting it down would subconsciously mean that "the bad people won". Throughout growing up on the internet, I'd see these artists back away from their popular accounts. I didn't really understand why. I never did. But now I really know. A sacrifice has to be made, and it would be something that helps me most of all. Plus, twitter is too negative for me. I would really only use it to look at art and news, but all the other drama sticks and paparazzi and blegh- no man i think id rather sit here.

I *may* still occasionally post things there, but I'd primarily post on tumblr, where things are more relaxed.

So what did I want? Fame or comfort? My comfort was entangled in fame and it became an uncomfortable experience. What I desired to draw became also the desire from others. In truth, i definitely enjoy making rain world art. I love making my anthro au. The very reason why I made Rain world fanart in the first place was because I was sad and drawing the characters where they were happier and loved helped me cope. I anthromorphize the characters with this empathy. I believe this was the biggest reason why the anthro au was made. It was made because of the high empathy, which is why it was meaningful and closest to me- and I loved when other people understood and loved it too. My feelings were understood. I surrounded myself with friends and people and took great comfort when they shared this experience with me. And I was touched every time someone else showed their anthro au, with or without my influence. I never felt alone in these moments. I felt like I was seen. But i know not everyone is going to be my friend and not every output everyone makes is for my own likeness. There were those who wanted to be my friend for my fame and nothing more. And those who expressed that they didn't like my anthro au, i unfortunately took them as personal attacks. This is definitely not the case at all, and I'm sorry for invalidating any forms of critiques. This was an awful thing for me to do and everything got carried away in the end. I likened my au too much to the point its starting to become something that controls my judgement.

The matter of filtering what I post isn't censorship. It isn't invalidating my feelings and it isn't the matter of controlling out of fame. It is a matter of defending myself and in turn keeping others safe. The very reason why my insecurities kept getting enabled was because of me and not what other people do to me (well, it can be, but i admit I'm not completely clean from it). If people truly want to empathize with me, it should really only be my loved ones and me taking alone time like watching yt videos or taking walks.

As for the frequency of updates, people take issue with my lack of time and breaks. Admittedly, I have been having issues of time senseless for the past months and amnesia. A whole week can feel like a few days, a single day can feel like a whole week, two weeks can feel like a month. So on. These are side effects of my mental illness and I should work on it better. Like making alarms.

I thank everyone who has been very patient with me throughout my time in this fandom. I thank my followers who stuck by me despite everything. I thank my friends who cared for me and remained my friends throughout it all. I'm sorry I haven't been the best artist to those I have affected. I'm sorry I haven't been giving great examples. I'm sorry for being stuck up on believing that whatever I'm doing is correct and have been avoiding the criticism of it. And most of all, I'm sorry to everyone whose advice I ignored, even Wayne.

Overall, I'm taking one step at a time for these things. Block people liberally- that's something I've been avoiding because it felt mean, but I should utilize more. Of all of my ignorance, emotional breakdowns, the wrongs i did upon myself which then to others, I never meant any of it maliciously. There is no black and white here. Only gray morals. Wayne was a shitty person, but I was a shitty person too. I haven't been nice to myself, but starting now, I will be a little bit more selfish (in a way that helps me and doesn't hurt other people). How you evaluate me as a person is up to you. I'll welcome anyone who's nice to me in my specific spaces regardless.

But no matter what happens, I'll push forward. Because I love art and I love my friends, and I'll keep fighting for it and against the horrors that keep me from self-respect. I should focus on the things that make me happy.

Thank you, everyone. I truly mean it.

#thoughts #drama #ask to tag #long

[yellowcry]

Yes, lyrics!

Based on YLMDITW au, because Luisa's villain song.

My purpose.

For hours long I searched the fields

Wouldn't ever show my worsening fears

They say I'm the strongest, defense

And I grew to know what my purpose was

Now I need to fix this mistakes

Protect you, make sure the story prevents

All it took was a sparkle on light

And I can't help but wonder in night

How long do you have without underwrite?

This is my purpose,

The protector of this family who holds it inside strict bounds

This is my purpose.

Can you ever know if they won't leave me when I'm fighting these chores?

This is my purpose.

I have to do what it takes if I want to fix these mistakes.

Drop by the drop, the candle wax glows

Drowns me down and separates

Pressure like a tip tip tip that can never stop

Pressure can just tip me until my brains are blown

Have you heard of Luisa? She's stronger.

She can do everything without bother.

And I know I must be the fixer

And heal this heavy

Pressure that holds my point within the knob

What I have to do to make it hone?

I know I must be the family's protector

My gift is for it, I can't be defector

So what can I do If the problem is bigger?

If It's crushes...

This is my purpose.

I can't stay away watching while you fall into the distance

This is my purpose

This ship's sinking from the inside, will she let it drown us?

This is my purpose.

I need to know about our roles, how much of purpose it holds

Line up the dominoes, a light wind blows

I try to stop it tumbling, but it just goes and goes

So how you know, my sister left from the candle

Being upset or maybe mad. She just needed a handle

Or if the magic had the intention to mangle

It's time to switch the core without demore

Do what it takes and protect from the gore

That's what Luisa's for

Keep them safe, protect, make sure no one is hurt.

If the candle harmed one it will be taken into the court.

Leave it to me, I will lead this show.

Close your eyes and wait for tomorrow.

I can't afford buckle right now.

Not at all

I will smash apart the candle art

Kill it from the pressure of heart

Give it to Luisa and don't you worry!

Who cares if my brain is a little foggy?

This is my role and I have to do what it takes.

No hestitations, no breaks, no stops

This is my purpose

#encanto #luisa madrigal #ylmditw au #lyrics

[lucibell-writes]

All right, listen, this isn't what I'm actively working on right now, but I am a graduate student and I study knights (among other things) and this bit hit me in a burst of inspiration a few minutes ago. Have an offering.

--

He heard his name—Anglicized, butchered as normal—from across the field. He turned quickly, holding tight tot he reins of a spooked and bloodied, but not bleeding, horse. He finds a knight, armored with the lord’s surcoat over his chest plate, standing eerily still in a sea of frenetic movement. Mud and grass and blood fly up around his sabatons and greaves as horses and other squires shuffle around him, giving him the widest berth they can afford. He glares at Iain from under heavy brows, his sword hanging loosely, bloody, from his right hand, his helmet tucked under his left.

“Sir?” Iain says.

“His Grace calls for you.” He pauses. “By name.”

Iain blinks. He quickly hands off the horse, explaining what he was about to do to a nearby squire whose name he does not know and whose face he has never seen, and rushes quickly over to the knight. The man turns without a word, striding with purpose across the field to the ornate tent behind the supply lines. Its linens and silks flutter in the wind, the grass around it mostly untouched, save for a worn path in front of the opening. The knight stops there and waves Iain in silently.

When he enters the dimly lit space, the first thing he notices is a set of battered and bloodied armor to his right, what he assumes to be the accompanying gambeson mangled next to it. His gaze lights on a vicious, stained tear on one side, just where two plates would meet, and looks quickly away. He feels his gorge rise, mingled hope and horror churning in his gut.

He steps lightly down the carpet trailing to the table in the center, the raised dais behind it. The duke is leaning on his hands, poring over a vellum map weighed down with stones. He glances up as Iain approaches.

“MacTavish,” he says. The duke’s voice has been gravel as long as Iain has been in his service, worn ragged, he assumes, by a combination of shouting in battle and the foreign tobacco he so favors. Iain picks his head up, fixing his eyes on the sliver of skin visible at the top of the duke’s tunic rather than his face.

“My lord,” he replies.

There’s a long, drawn out silence before the duke asks, “How long have you been in my family’s service, John?”

Iain takes a deep breath through his nose, the only indication of a long ignored fury at being called the Anglicized version of his name. He stifles down the impulse, the instinctive, It’s not as if you don’t have the same vowels in your own language.

“Twenty years, my lord,” he says instead.

The duke settles into the chair behind him with a sigh. “That long?” he asks. Iain watches him run a hand over his beard. “You’ve been with us since you were a tiny lad,” he says.

Iain nods. “Aye, sir.” He winces, forgetting briefly that his Northernness is a detriment here, not a boon. But the duke says nothing.

“I remember your father,” the duke replies. Iain only nods again. He and the duke are not terribly far apart in age—ten, maybe fifteen summers—but he prefers not to think of their other differences. “He was a good man,” the duke says quietly.

Iain swallows against the lie before he says, “Yes, sir, he was.”

“You’ve never thought so, have you, John?”

Iain, against his better judgement, snaps his gaze to the duke’s face, catching his blue eyes against his own. There’s a fatigue there, a weariness that hadn’t been there two months ago. But his look is also knowing, and Iain is struck by the innate realization that the duke knows him better than he’d realized.

“No, sir.” Iain says simply.

The duke taps his fingertips on the arm of his chair. He nods. “I suppose not, given what he sacrificed for power. What he forced you to sacrifice.”

Iain’s breath hitches for a different reason, never having expected an Englishman to see or understand the nuances of his presence under their lordship. He says nothing.

The duke’s gaze strays to the armor behind Iain. “I’ve lost too many, John.”

Iain says nothing.

The duke’s eyes return to his. “You’re the oldest.”

Iain blinks. The oldest squire. The most experienced. The one most likely to—

“My lord?” he asks quietly.

“It’s time,” the duke responds.

Iain thinks of his own half-formed suit of armor back at the manor’s barracks. The coin slowly racking up in a box under his pallet. His lack of proper weapon. Of horse.

He turns slowly to look at the suit of armor behind him, tracing its form. It looks about his size, if only a bit too big. Something about the detailing—the edges—is familiar, but he can’t place it. He looks back at the duke.

“Whose was it?”

If he’s going to be accoladed with a dead man’s property, he’d at least like to know who to honor.

His knees nearly buckle at the sorrow that washes over the duke’s face. “Riley’s.”

Everything inside of Iain goes silent.

Simon Riley.

The best and the brightest of them, the youngest ever formally knighted into the former duke’s service, nearly a decade ago. Six years Iain’s senior. Gone.

“I’m not—” worthy, Iain wants to say.

“He believed in you, you know. Praised you frequently.”

Iain blinks, and is surprised by the hot rush of tears down his face. Simon Riley. Shining, beautiful, bright Simon Riley wouldn’t. Would he?

“If anyone, he would want it to be you.”

Iain takes one look back at the armor. Nods.

The duke stands as he turns back to him. “It won’t be ceremonial, not like you were probably expecting. And we’ll have to work out other details later.”

Iain nods again, firm. “I’m ready, my lord.”

#ghostsoap #soapghost #john 'soap' mactavish #simon 'ghost' riley #cod: mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #fanfiction #cod: mw2 #captain john price #john price #medieval au #but like historically informed in ways that are super off brand for me #iykyk

[dolls-shoppe]

And so it begins.

The first of many audios in a series of Empty Space comfort ASMR. Here's to new beginnings. Transcript Below:

[Wind-up Key start up sound] [Grandfather clock ticking begins in the background and persists] {Gentle sigh} Hello there, little one. I'm tasked with tending to your repairs for the day. You seem hesitant, is there something on your mind? I wouldn't want to begin while you're uneasy. {Soft, deep chuckle} I understand more than you know, I assure you. Though, I doubt one would just abandon you in the careful hands of another if they didn't love you. In my opinion.. some of the most well loved toys are worse for wear. When things like yourself are delivered to a place like this, that's because you are loved in such a way that every moment is precious. Your presence means so much, being able to prolong the time you'll share is worth a bit of time apart. {Approving hum} Now, I know you're anxious to get back to your home. Are you ready for me to look over you? How darling. Alright, let's get you set up here. {Another chuckle} You're in luck, there's only minor damage to your frame— Oh, don't misunderstand my earlier comments. Little things like you can be loved and whole all the same. You don't have to be broken or scarred, chewed up, mangled or missing pieces to have felt love. Here, let me see your arm. Interesting.. Hm? Ah, after how wary you were earlier, I didn't think you would be so obedient. I suppose I should expect as much given the marks you have. {Chuckle} Why the look? I've seen my fair share of all sorts of mishaps, this is nothing new. Especially for a doll of your purpose. Heh. Yes, yes. I was provided with some.. notes.. about your care. They have some special things in store for you. Worry not, you're in good hands. It wouldn't do to have such a unique gift repaired in a random store. No, this shoppe was founded with things like us in mind. Suprised? I don't see how, it's only right that we tend to eachother in times of need. Or.. in times when our makers are busy. Now, may I see your other arm? Good.. Turn, just a touch. Perfect. You've done well, keep this up and I'm sure they'll be proud of you. Bare with me for a moment, this may be cold to the touch. How does that feel? Not terrible? I'll keep that in mind for next time. Of course there will be a next time, our shoppe isn't usually a one time experience. Many visitors and walk ins have become regular clients, some have even grown close to my maker. Have I found a friend in the clientele? Hm.. I wouldn't know, those relationships are left to the others. I focus on the task at hand. Today, my task is you. I can't say whether its outside of my capacity, just that it's outside of my focus. My time per client is precious, and I value each one of you highly.. Thoughts beyond that are.. distracting. You need not apologize to me, It's alright. Feelings are a complicated thing for many others. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm no different. For this next part, I'll need you to relax and remain perfectly still. Don't worry, we're nearly done. Breathe in.. One.. Two.. Three.. Breathe out.. One.. Two.. Three.. Do that again for me. {Softly} In.. Two.. Out.. Two.. Good, good. That's the last of your repair. Let me help you up. Are you feeling as wonderful as you look? {Soft chuckle} I'm glad. Please, give our compliments to your maker. You've been a joy to meet.

#empty spaces #sfw audio #comfort #doll #dolls #maker #witch

[aetherialfalmer]

"Blackreach seems almost endless.. It would be more fascinating to study if it wasn't filled with Charus and blood thirsty Falmer." Lucien sat his bags down and rested inside the alchemist's makeshift refuge. "This Sinderion fellow did a lot to study the crimson nirnroot. Perhaps we should get some samples before we leave?"

Kaidan glanced at the dragonborn, "Keryth?"

The snow elf jerked his head upwards, "Huh? Oh.. yeah. Sure. That would be fascinating.."

"Sorry did I say something wrong again? I know Dwemer are a touchy topic-"

Keryth shook his head and sat down on a chair he found. His ears were pointed slightly downward but his expression remained the same. "I guess it's just a lot to take in really. We found geode veins that provided multiple soul gem samples and the implications unsettle me."

"How so?" Kaidan sat down nearby to pull out a ration.

Lucien hummed in thought, "I suppose the geode veins would make the location ideal for them, considering their automatons run on soul gems. Mostly anyway."

"Mmhm. The most common samples I found were for white souls. Black soul gems are harder to find."

"Right..." Kaidan blinked, "Sorry, I don't know much about enchanting."

"Our souls are black, animals have white souls. Less intelligent beings if you will." Lucien smiled.

"What's that got to do with the Snow Elves then?"

Keryth sighed and curled his cloak around his body, "The Falmer have white souls. Its a theory but..it makes me wonder if the Dwemer purposely made my people to be like cattle to fill soul gems."

Kaidan and Lucien got quiet while they shared a few looks. Lucien frowned and leaned against the stone wall.

"Hard to say, I'm afraid. We know next to nothing about what really happened to them. I can see why such a theory would unsettle you don't get me wrong. I-" Lucien sighed, "I'm sorry friend. Maybe we should get through this place as quick as we can."

"Its okay Lucien, I'll be fine. Just please don't use soul trap while we're down here. That's all I ask." Keryth looked toward the stone slab of a bed behind them and decided to just unfurl his bedroll.

"Course, I'll try my best to remember." Lucien rummaged in his bag for his own bedroll.

"You gonna eat?" Kaidan got next to Keryth, who didn't seem sleepy at all.

"Maybe later. My appetite was lost between seeing mangled corpses and charus hunters bursting from their cocoons."

"Aye. Could tell the noise bothered ya. You did that thing with your arms and made a gagging noise." Kaidan lightly teased.

Keryth sighed while playfully rolling his eyes, "Can't help it. Some noises cause me to just recoil and cringe. Those things are a sensory nightmare for me."

"Perhaps you should summon Inigo later with that spell of yours. He's adept at killing large bugs." Lucien slipped into his roll and got cozy.

"...Maybe. Yeah." He glanced over at his human companions and lightly smiled. "Thanks...for coming with me down here."

"Of course my friend. These ruins are fascinating but don't think I'm having more fun than you. It's more spooky than anything really. Although the giant glowing mushrooms are a nice touch." Lucien chuckled.

Keryth finally laid down. "Yeah.. They're beautiful in their own way."

"Would be nicer to look at if we weren't getting snuck up on every damn second. Speakin of which.. I'll keep watch while you two nap." Kaidan yawned. "Long as I get a turn."

"We'll try to remember, right Keryth?" Lucien looked over and saw the dragonborn had already dozed off from pure exhaustion. "We'll take that as a yes."

#dragonborn #falmer #snow elf #last dragonborn #elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim #elder scrolls #the elder scrolls #ldb #kaidan khim #kaidan skyrim #lucien flavius #lucien skyrim #skyrim modded followers #drabble #this has been in my drafts for fuckin ages #keryth blaiddyd

[jotun-philosopher]

Good Omens is living rent-free in my brain...

...and the resulting scenarios floating around in there are pretty varied and won't stop coming, so I hope you like 'em, however improbable they may be!

I'm no great shakes at story-writing or anything, so I can't do much more than fling these ideas into the void, but if you want to use one or more as fanfic/fanart prompts, go right ahead! (and tag me on the result pls! I'd love to see it :D)

Second part here, third part here

Crowley finding Jemimah's pot tucked away carefully in a corner of the bookshop (maybe in the vicinity of Aziraphale's journals?) and getting all sentimental

Crowley getting a text alert on his phone, and when he opens it he gets pelted with origami nightingales folded from pages of notes in Aziraphale's hand -- attempts to figure out his feelings, erotic haiku, doodles of things he'd like to do with Crowley, sketches for possible engagement ring designs, vital information on the Second Coming copied from the hyper-confidential files; the sort of thing an angel undercover might need to hide from the Metatron in a hurry

Aziraphale having really, really bad PTSD after Apocalypse 2 gets resolved/prevented (and Crowley supporting him through it from his own experience of trauma recovery)

Aziraphale barely escaping Heaven with his life when he finally makes the choice to fully break away, and wandering in a haze until he comes across an empty playground and sits disconsolately on one of the swings, trying to figure out what the heck he's going to do now. Meanwhile, Crowley's out for an aimless midnight drive when he passes a playground and-- Hang on a minute! *brakes hard* Pale figure with mangled white wings, looks like they've been dragged backward through a hedge and beaten up? Is it...? Could it be...? Yes, it is! *gets out, goes over and sits on the swing next to his angel* They sit together in silence for a while, quietly reconnecting, and when the moment feels right, Crowley starts speaking to sympathise about how much the permanent loss of innocence really f***ing sucks, whether it happens a bit at a time or all at once

Nina and Muriel separately then jointly figuring out the shape of at least some of the machinations happening, then the rest of the Shopkeepers' Association also figuring out that Something Weird is going on that they want to help with if they can, and sending an envoy to Crowley (who seems to them to be best placed to explain things). He ends up calling an Extraordinary Meeting of the Shopkeepers' Association for the purpose of explaining the story from The Beginning -- involving, among other things, the similar awfulness of Heaven and Hell, a dramatic re-enactment of the whole Job business and at least 30 minutes without hesitation, deviation, repetition or pausing for breath on why he's head over hindquarters for his soft, fluffy angel who gave away his flaming sword <3

Aziraphale correctly and unhesitatingly pronouncing 'Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch' and Crowley reacting appropriately <3

Gabriel and Beelzebub deciding to come back to help prevent the Second Coming (to repay Aziraphale's kindness/compassion? to make amends for all the trouble they caused and 6000+ years of being really awful? the lack of hot chocolate on Alpha Centauri? something else entirely?)

edit to add a couple I just remembered:

Crowley saying in reaction to some discovery or other: "Rrrrrrrrr, I am gonna PAMPER that angel SO HARD when I get my hands on him!!" Aziraphale (chimes in flirtatiously): "Was that a threat or a promise? Either way, I look forward to it!" *waggles eyebrows* Crowley: *flustered snake noises*

Jesus himself offering to cater the Ineffables' wedding for free as thanks for the 'all-the-kingdoms' thing and the world-saving

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable walnuts #fic prompt #art prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #fan art

[tarzinnia]

Image credit to @cherriedt

It's Not Science, But What Is Kenistry?

Let's face it, for all the wonderful things about Ryan Gosling (and there are many), the character he is playing is still Ken and Ken without Barbie is well, what exactly?

For most children who play with Barbies, the real chemistry takes place between Barbie and Barbie and Barbie and...you get the picture. They go places, they do things, they are living large.

And Ken is the neutral substance in the equation. I'm no scientist, and what little I recall I'm sure I've just mangled completely, but Kenistry serves Barbie so that Barbie can act and react. Does Ken neutralize Barbie? In the real world, yes, neutralization is a thing (IIRC, human saliva and water are neutral substances) but this is Barbieland and in Barbieland, Kenistry exists so all the Barbies can go out and blow shit up and make things happen; all in whatever outfit serves the purpose. Or nude, if the case may be. All with a big "So cool" and "I'm coming with you" from Ken.

Do your thing Margot Robbie.

*If I messed up the chemistry, don't 'at' me too hard; it wasn't meant to be precise.

#Barbie #barbie the movie #barbie and ken #barbie 2023 #ryan gosling #margot robbie #did I really compare Ken and saliva #Kenistry #barbie movie

[cogs-inc-tech-support]

Welcome to the official Tech Support blog for C.O.G.S. Incorporated. This is Théoden Bähr speaking, Theo for short. Codename "Maintenance Teddy-Bear," Mr./Mx. honorifics. As laid out between my staff and I, I will use uncolored text in posts. I primarily handle general maintenance supervision. For corporate purposes, I am considered a Bossbot. "Level 50.mgr," apparently.

Webmaster speaking! Full name Archimedes Webster. If you're respectful, you can call me Archie. Any and all pronouns and honorifics. I use blue text! I handle anything related to the cogs.ink website. If you have inquiries related to that, I will likely be the person answering them, unless I am out of commission. I am a Boardbot.

Tobias Boswell the Service Manager here. He/nix pronouns, and Mr. honorifics. I'll use green text. I handle general technological services, such as external social media... like this. I'm a Sellbot.

As the lead of the Tech Support team, I have elected to lay out some interaction rules. First and most foremost, we will not do battles. It is my understanding that Toons typically do not challenge suits to battle via Tumblr, however I felt it needed stating anyways. Secondly, we will not participate in Toon activities. We have important work to do. And thirdly... refrain from using Toon magic, please. Keep it away from us.

(ooc under cut)

Welcome to the Tech Support blog! Temporarily text-only. I have basic ideas for their apperance but no refs.

I, the mod, prefer Maes or PeachyMun. Do not call me Peachy. If you must shorten my name, use "PM" instead. Pronouns page here.

Archie is a Level 32.mgr v2.0, Tobias is a Level 18.mgr.

Théoden, obviously, is a teddy bear-based suit. Archimedes is based off a Fighting Spider (pretty lads!!), and Tobias has a smartphone for a head.

Actual Rules

No NSFW allowed.

I reserve the right to reject or modify any M!As that I receive. (yes, I take M!As)

Please follow standard roleplay etiquette: no godmodding, please respond with at least half a sentence, respect my boundaries, ask first before killing/maiming my character, etcetera.

These guys are newer characters, so bear with me! This is also my first multi-character blog in a bit.

Facts about Theo that he won't tell you

Secretly, he has a soft spot for bear toons. They're so much like him... (This does not extend to U. N. Kani.)

They are literally in their 60s. Sir, please.

If a toon came with intentions of just hanging out and NOT trying to beat him into scrap metal and mangled stuffing, he would probably actually let them hang out. It's a well-needed break from toons convinced he's the next "boss fight" or something.

Facts about Archie they won't tell you

A bit scared of cats, and cat toons by extension. Not for any tangible reason that xe know of, just a deep-seated fear from early childhood. It's a lot better than it used to be, at least!

She actually has god-awful vision. Thankfully, she has contacts. Glasses are too easy to break or lose... though she does own a pair or two.

Utterly oblivious to Mac Opsys having access to Cogs.Ink. Too busy dealing with other stuff... overworked.

Facts about Tobias he won't tell you

Knows about Tiberius' Acorn Acres activities. Does not care, but definitely knows that he (used to?) hang out there to do detective work and be an information broker.

He's actually really weak for his level. Only 1200 or so HP.

If he could bite, he would be biting toons.

#in the sky the clouds are so far they're out of reach // service manager tag #you attempt to hold your ground like being weak is being strong // webmaster tag #tidy up the toys we do it every single night // maintenance teddy-bear tag #and why do living things need feeling? // cogs inc tech support tag #ttcc #ttccommunity #ttcc oc #toontown #toontown cogs #toontown corporate clash #corporate clash #toonblr #cogblr #toontown ask blog #eyestrain tw

[honeybeewhereartthee]

PINK KKOMAS KOHAKU OUKAWA 79

Spoiler for my stories

MC: hello everyone, it's the start of fall now in this world. So we're going to held a play!

You said to the pink kkomas, one of them suddenly look at you with sparkling eyes.

Reaper:... How soon is winter...?

MC: ah... I dunno. It depends. Maybe in a month or two.

Reaper:... (｡☬０☬｡)Oh! I see... Soon.

You stared at the excited one before giving the script to doll.

MC: hello your the leader.

Doll:... Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)why am I the leader ...

MC: I wanna see you suffer. (ㆁωㆁ)

Doll:... (• ▽ •;)

MC: just kidding. I pulled a lottery and your name is chosen by fate!

Doll:... (ー_ー゛) ok.

Doll look at the story scripts as you look at bee who's talking to mad hatter and saw Bee(?) Just being alone in one corner. You went toward bee(?) And

Bee(?), Who's suddenly been carried by you: o-omae...?! ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

MC: don't be a loner. Let's go toward Bee.

Bee(?): I'm not! I want to don't want to mangle with those wannabees

MC: woah is that a pun? How cute!!

You put him besides you as you seat beside Bee.

Bee, hugs you: omae... (｡・//ε//・｡)

Blood: (◕દ◕)his staring at you caring the other one. He most be jelly.

Bee, denies: nooo... Maybe. (´ε｀ )

Bee(?): Fuck off. (눈‸눈)

Bee: (｡•́︿•̀｡)

MC: no bullying. (´ε｀ )

You quickly stop Bee(?) From doing anything to the other one. While you did so.

Doll: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS STORY???!!!! (ʘ言ʘ╬)

Reaper: what's wrong doll?(• ▽ •;)

Reaper quickly tried to look but he was slapped by doll with a script. And run towards you.

Doll, starts to shakes you: why is the choice two questionable stories?!

MC: ehhh. I don't wrote that. It's that landlord of hanii. (´ε｀ )

Bee(?) Removes doll from strangling you and yeet him a few feet away and hugs you with bee: You mean that damn butterfly? (;;;・_・)

MC: ye. He give me scripts of supposed to be drafts. (◕દ◕)

Doll: DRAFT... THOSE ARE MEANT TO BE AUS???? THE FUCK.

MC: not anymore. That's why he want to make a play out of the lay out of the plot. So it could live it's purpose to be known (●´u`●)

Doll: ... I wish I burn this script.

MC: can't do that. You still have to choice from the two to play!

Doll: you really want me to suffer...

MC: obviously not... (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)I don't even know what's in those scripts.. (；^ω^）

Doll:... You sure you don't know this?

He show you one of the book but won't let you peak but you saw the title

MC: oh. The reverse au of your world. (・_・;) Is that why your being dramatic about it.

Doll: IM NOT DRAMATIC. WHY IS THE CONTENT LIKE THIS??!

MC: like what. (ꏿ﹏ꏿ;)

Doll:..

Doll, realize no one know the content but him: none of your business. (ب_ب)

MC: ah... Ok.

Blood, who is a tapeworm to everyone's stomach: is it smut? (ㆁωㆁ)

Doll: n-no????!. W-why would you--(‘◉⌓◉’)

Blood: there's different type of dolls. There's adult dolls too. Your world is the fluffy one. So it's probably the dark version which would center the other doll version... (*´ω｀*)

Doll: ... NO ITS NOT. SHUT UP. END OF TOPIC!!

Blood: (✿^‿^) in some aus your probably (censored) too.

Doll:...

Doll: that's kohaku Oukawa other version. That's not me!! (╯°□°）╯︵ 📖

Blood: but are you and everyone here a version of that guy? We are still him in name.

Bee(?): Do I look like that damn original? I'm taller than him!! And clearly we don't have similarities anymore!! ರ_ರ

Blood: what you once are can never be erase. You can't turn back from your roots. (ㆁωㆁ)

Bee(?): Says the fucking guy who dislike being called kohaku Oukawa.

Blood: were the same situation aren't we? Don't tag me like you aren't one that react such way.

Bee(?):... No. I don't needed to be tagged with him anymore. The tag of this world only apply for the rest of you. →_→

Blood:...+hmm... Is that so...

Reaper who finally wake up from being slap to unconscious by Doll earlier: WHAT DID I MISS!?

Sea, gives note to reaper whats the recap:... (ㆀ˘･з･˘)

Reaper: woah thank you!! ♡(> ਊ <)♡

Sea: (´ε｀ )

Reaper who reads it: oh doll your world is a smut---

Doll, rolled the script again: NO!!!!!!!!!! (ʘ言ʘ╬)

He once again smack the life out of reaper. Someone really have to do something about that pink kkomas anger management.

#PINK KKOMAS #kohaku oukawa x reader

[districtunrest]

Favourite Katniss' moment or quote in each books?

Thank you 😊

@curiouskatnisseverdeen

this was kinda hard, I take Katniss for granted...

in the hunger games, her story about getting Lady the goat for Prim. it really endears Katniss to me, sharing such a nice, normal (for Panem) memory when we’ve met her at a more difficult time in her life and only know her through that. and I love this bit:

“I can see why that day made you happy.” 

“Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine,” I say. 

“Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping,” says Peeta drily.

in catching fire, when she tricks the Peacekeepers with a whole-ass bruised pelvis and sprained ankle. I love the quick-thinking and teamwork shown in spinning together a believable cover story, complete with mundane banter and pilfered candy.

“From Head Peacekeeper Thread,” says the woman. “He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day.” 

“Didn't it already?” I ask, a little too innocently. 

“He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin,” says the woman. 

“Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse.” I'm pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction.

she’s so petty <3

in mockingjay, the hospital propo scene:

"I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women, and children. There will be no survivors." The shock I've been feeling begins to give way to fury. "I want to tell people that if you think for one second the Capitol will treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you're deluding yourself. Because you know who they are and what they do." My hands go out automatically, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. "This is what they do! And we must fight back!" 

I'm moving in toward the camera now, carried forward by my rage. "President Snow says he's sending us a message? Well, I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?" One of the cameras follows as I point to the planes burning on the roof of the warehouse across from us. The Capitol seal on a wing glows clearly through the flames. "Fire is catching!" I am shouting now, determined that he will not miss a word. "And if we burn, you burn with us!" 

shivers every time. the war machine will mangle her and take almost everything away from her, but for a time her purpose was good and right, and it was powerfully done.

#hunger games #katniss everdeen

[psychokiiller]

TW: Self-uniliving

I was fourteen when I died for the first time

Or maybe I died before that and were just confused about why my body keep on existing without decay

I remember taking the poison bottle from the cabinet and tasting the bitterness of it

I remember sitting in the bed and waiting for it to work as my mother wailed

I remember smiling as I lost conciousness while the paramedics begged me to stay awake

I remember closing my eyes on purpose

I remember the disdain in the nurses eyes and the pain from them pulling the tubes from my body while sneering at me

I remember him, in the entrance of the room, cruelly smiling as I called him father for the last time and begged for it to stop

I remember my mother's soft hands and discerning eyes pretending she didn't seen it

I don't remember anyone asking why

I don't remember a friendly face, a warm hug or a comforting hand

I don't remember most of my life before and most of my life after

I don't remember what it was like on the other side

But I remember peace and I never felt that while breathing

So, sometimes, I like to close my eyes and pretend I'm there with the fourteen year old me who died that day

I pretend we're under a tree and she has her head on my lap. I stroke her hair while singing her favorite songs.

She'll ask me if it got better

I'll would lie and say yes

She'd ask me for a hug

And I would give her the warmest hug I could and I'd feel her doing the same

She'd say she love me and I would not be able to say it back

I would look into her eyes and see what she was: broken in a million pieces, but kind.

Kind enough to turn her broken pieces inside so they could only hurt herself

She would look into my eyes and see what I am now: broken in hundreds of millions pieces and cruel

Cruel enough to turn my fractures outwards and hurt every single one that comes near

She would look down at her mangled and bloodied body in confusion and stare at me in horror as I watch her die once more

She remembers what happened

I don't and I refuse to do so

So she has to go

Memories, or what I have left of them

#writing #book #poetry #tw depressing thoughts

[wincestisasincest]

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 5: Leo's Equation

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: Okay so I know I SAID Friday and that will probably be true in the future but I was done early and I'm impatient so enjoy. Holy shit this is long heheheh sorry. Also sorry that the updates have slowed down, I have midterms, but y'all are still coming in with this fresh support and I am so :)))))))))))))))))) Enough from me, enjoy this episode of 'Two Idiots Cannot Handle Being Wrong and Make It Everyone's Problem'

Word Count: 8.6k

Taglist: @edenstarkk, @modernamilf

Mentions of: Prison, guns, death

Triggers: Explosions, earthquakes and general things associated with earthquake disaster relief, heights, sinkholes, blood, hypothermia, general pain and malaise, language

“I should begin by stating that this is partially my fault,” Heimerdinger’s voice, though it had once commanded the open air of the Council room, was now as weightless as a feather, “I gave this field test my approval. I can only assume that, like myself, these two gentlemen did not foresee this happening. I cannot, however, make the same assumption about the young lady.”

You looked at your lap. They were wrong about you, like they always were, but you held back from giving them that defiance that you had fresh in your capture per Jayce and Viktor’s advice. Now that you three were technically on the same team, they had taken the liberty of demystifying the Council for you.

“The purpose of this trial is twofold: we will determine who was at fault for the disaster that occurred in our city.”

You grunted in spite of yourself. In their city?

“And we will determine what steps should be taken to protect Piltover from such disasters in the future.”

You knew the greater implication here. Heimerdinger was encouraging, but he never made it a secret that he considered Hextech’s research highly dangerous. And this was just the nail in the coffin that he needed to sway the rest of the Council.

“We’ll start with the testimony of the defendants,” he gestured down to where you and the boys were sitting.

“Yes,” Jayce began, quicker than usual, “and we would like to start by saying that, despite Penny having a history, we expect that she will be given a fair chance in court just like Viktor and I. There is no evidence of her being the culprit, and she has already taken more than enough responsibility. If you cannot accept her word, please accept ours.”

Viktor nodded affirmatively. You bit your lip to keep the shame from showing on your face.

“You would defend her despite her various crimes against Piltover prior to this? Despite the blatant criminal charge that she has now?” you recognized the voice of Old Money.

“Her ‘criminal charge’ is the reason that Mr. Talis is alive,” Mel, who Jayce had pointed out earlier, said coolly.

“Settle. We’ll ask questions later,” Heimerdinger broke the tension before any arguments could break out, “why don’t we start with her testimony, then? Miss Penny?”

The lights hurt worse than the first time. They felt like razors mangling your senses, leaving you sure of nothing but the event that you had been pouring over by yourself in your cell.

“Alright, so we started early in the morning…”

*****

The sun dawned over the boring, peaceful sea. If you were back in Bilgewater, you would’ve been fighting off exhaustion right now, but since you had literally nothing to do in your downtime but sleep, you were filled with energy.

The boys wanted to do this early in the morning to limit possible witnesses. They weren’t concerned with public safety – your plan for the experiment had been checked over a thousand times with the sole purpose of ensuring that Piltover was out of harm’s way – they just didn’t like people watching them.

And they paid you the same respect as they hung back on the other edge of the island while you worked your magic.

You straddled the cannon with your wrench, as inelegant as you were effective. According to Jayce, the artillery was a feature of the island, recovered from some ship that sunk in the bay. It was a monument of sorts, pointing in the direction that the ship had been found. Following the bore, you weren’t surprised that something met its end here. The opposite side of the bay clattered into a rocky cliffside and tweaked off into several smaller channels that lead to rapids.

Your side was connected back to Piltover by a small bridge. The only attraction that this island had besides the cannon was greenery and rocks, so there was little public interest, but Piltover liked cohesion.

You gave the wrench a final pull and dismounted the cannon.

It felt surreal, seeing such a well-made version of the ramshackle weapon you had pulled out of your ass. Your modifications looked natural, like they had always been there, made of Piltover iron and attached with Piltover tools. You knew that the City of Progress would never make this kind of weaponry, but gods if it didn’t look that way right now.

“I think we’re good,” you called back to the boys, giving them a thumbs up.

They broke their conversation and switched places with you. To get the field test approved, you weren’t allowed to be near the cannon when it went off, which everyone was fine with. The rules were already being stretched in your favor, and none of you dared to challenge them any further. The only change it made was that you got to teach them how to fire a cannon, which was fun, even if they would’ve been awful pirates.

“All yours,” you said as you passed them.

You pressed your back against the trunk of a sturdy tree and slid to the ground. Jayce crouched and examined your work, mentally checking it against all the information that you had provided them. You settled into the ridges of the bark, retrieving a piece of paper and a stopwatch from your pocket. Since you were so far, your only job was to record the time that the waves took to dissipate.

Jayce stood up and gave his partner a nod. Viktor returned it and backed out of range. He leaned on his good leg so he could balance the journal he was recording his own observations in – the ones that required equipment and terms you were unfamiliar with.

“Ready?!” Jayce shouted, matches in hand. He looked like a kid on the Winter Solstice.

“Ready!” you answered.

“Ready?!” he repeated to Viktor, just as loud.

“Ready,” Viktor said with more excitement than usual, though that wasn’t a high bar to clear when you were around.

You leaned forward, eyes wide and thumb on the timer. The small flame at the end of Jayce’s match pirouetted under the ignition chamber. It seized the wick and Jayce sprinted back while the friendly hiss counted down.

BOOM

Your head pealed with ringing, as if someone had shot a musket right next to your ear. Your vision was saturated with colors vomiting unrecognizable lines and blurs to make one, hellish tie-dye mess. Your chest ached and your heart was thumping. You heaved against the air clogged in your throat, but instead of passage to your lungs all you got were startled tears.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at where you were just sitting. Sharp pieces of wood crisscrossed between a stump and a felled trunk in the bushes. The tree had been split in two. You failed to breathe again and your head was swimming.

This was not supposed to happen.

The island shivered beneath you. You practically went blind from the stars in your vision when you hauled yourself up, desperately clinging to a rock to steady yourself.

You rubbed your eyes with your free hand. Finally, the air caved, and you took a long, deep breath. The ripples in your vision subsided and you took stock of your surroundings - Viktor’s body was closer to you, limp, with his cane between the trees and Jayce’s body was stirring, uncomfortably close to the edge.

The island trembled. And then it quaked.

And then Jayce screamed so hard that it tore his throat, and the echoes banged against the rocks long after he crashed into the convulsing sea.

*****

“Jayce brought a radio with him, so I went through his stuff and found it, and I tried to contact an Enforcer station, but it wouldn’t reach them,” your throat tightened, “but I knew that they were friends with the Kiramanns and that Caitlyn had a line of contact to the Enforcers, so I called her, and it worked.”

“And Miss Kiramann clearly informed you that you would be given another criminal charge if you left an area of Enforcer supervision, did she not?” Old Money asked.

“She did. It was when I told her that I was going after Jayce.”

“And you went anyway?”

“Yes,” you said.

“I believe I am more qualified to tell the next part,” Viktor interrupted, sensing the ‘no shit, lady’ that you were about to add to the end of your answer, “given that I am familiar with the area.”

“Proceed,” Heimerdinger granted.

*****

Viktor woke to the sting of four knuckles against his cheek and the clap of a backhand resonating in his jaw. You sighed.

“Oh, thank fuck. We gotta go,” you stood up and cracked each of your knuckles.

He pressed his palm against the ground, fingers touching the wood of his cane. His memory came back in flashes. Gradually, the pain of your slap dulled and the rest of his senses turned back on, giving him enough lucidity to recognize the swelling pain in his neck. He stabbed his cane into the dirt and hoisted himself up. When he saw that Jayce wasn’t there, he remembered everything.

“Where’s Jayce?”

“He fell into the ocean,” you said, blunt and unbothered, “the cannon and its recoil caused some quakes. He’s alive. He was holding onto something. And then he went through those cliffs.”

You pointed behind him, but he didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.

“Those rapids lead straight to the Undercity,” he said darkly, feeling the fire curl in his belly. He was quiet for a moment.

He abruptly planted his cane behind your right leg and dragged it forward, tripping you to the ground. A rock collided against your head with a satisfying smack, leaving you completely disarmed. He icily watched you press your hands into the dirt to back yourself away from him, barely acknowledging whatever agony you had to be in right now. He cornered you against a rock, and for the first time, you looked afraid.

“How dare you?” he growled, “After everything Jayce did for you, after everything I let slide, how dare you do this? Attack us on your own turf, with our own equipment, abuse the trust that he placed in you? Jayce in 100 times the person that you ever were, and you have thrown him away like he is nothing. You,” he jabbed your chest with the end of his cane, quick and sharp, like a bullet, “should be the one getting torn apart by those rocks and then by the Undercity.”

“You,” he pressed again, baring his teeth and leaning in, “should be rotting in jail.”

You said nothing, face raw with dread, and he thought he had bested you. But, as quickly as it came, your lips twisted into a determined scowl and your fear vanished. He moved his cane again, but you grabbed it, wrested it from his grip, and hooked it behind his neck with the same savvy of his trip. You brought him down to your level, so close that he could smell the copper in your breath.

“Let’s get something straight,” you were dangerously controlled, “I did not plan this. And I didn’t slap you back to life to waste more time. Jayce is still alive. You’re going to help me find him before he isn’t. So,” you pulled him closer, and he could separate the individual eyelashes on your face as you blinked furiously, “get the fuck over yourself.”

You released him and stood up, shoving the cane into his arms brusquely to push him out of your way. He was still.

He could not understand it. One moment, you were callously telling him that his best friend was heading towards death, and the next you had the coldness of a warrior as you explained that it was time to save him. You had decimated a fleet and kept every bit of your pride, only to sacrifice it when you collaborated with him on the Hextech mystery. You jumped off a building out of the sheer need for freedom, and now you were giving up the clear shot you had to run away to save someone you barely knew.

In that moment, something clicked in his brain, and he grasped the crux of this inconsistency. He had been fooling himself.

He thought that your lack of principles made you easy to understand. And half the time, you were easy to understand. But the other half, well… he didn’t have to think about the other half when it was petty bickering on the lab or mutual distrust on the ship, but now, Jayce needed him. If you hadn’t stopped him when you did, if he kept going, if he scared you out of talking, if he hurt you, then Jayce would be lost. Now, he was wrong where it mattered.

You were a lot of things, a lot of bad things, but you weren’t simple. And you were right - this was a waste of time.

He looked to the side and saw the Fissures crumbling like a sandcastle. They were in the cannon’s direct line of fire, and the Undercity would not be pleased.

“I know where Jayce is going,” he turned to you, “I will take us there.”

He let the shock take hold, knowing now was not the time to mourn a loss that could still be prevented.

You trailed behind him discretely, letting him guide the pair of you down into the trenches. After crossing the bridge, the pink of the sunrise gradually fizzled into Zaun gray, and he was home.

Everything in Zaun pushed up and away from the ground, reaching for a sky that would always be too far. They were not new to earthquakes. Buildings and bridges that webbed between the city’s layers were anchored to the rock of the Fissures, steady as ever, with only a few neon-filled cracked windows betraying signs of damage. Smog bared down like a weighted blanket on the people crouched against the ground in hysterics, prepared but distraught, wailing for their loved ones. The human casualties for these things were always low, if not nonexistent, though that said nothing of the trauma of separation.

Viktor knew that the greatest damage would be on the delicate, important things – wires, pipes, mining structures – things that even Zaunites didn’t see or think about as much as they should.

He was finally compelled to speak again when he grew irritated with the sound of pen against skin.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, looking at the sleeve of equations your arm wore.

“We got some time. I’m trying to figure out what went wrong,” you said, not looking up.

“You don’t know?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No. And judging from the fact that you haven’t accused me of tampering with anything in the last hour, you don’t either,” you exhaled in frustration, “I just don’t get it. Everything that could’ve gone wrong would’ve lessened the impact, not made it worse.”

Viktor resented the double standard. You had forced him to stay present and now you were distracting yourself with your own non-essential problem at hand. However, in the interest of not jumping to some conclusion that would backfire as spectacularly as his last had, he reined his temper and answered with a question.

“Why do you care what went wrong?”

You turned to him, pissed as always, but humbled by some cryptic docility in your brooding.

“Goddamnit, do you think I want more damage on my account?”

And suddenly, he was listening to a younger version of himself trying to tell this kid with the crazy idea to study magic that it was never his dream to be a professor’s assistant. It was not an appeal to intelligence, but to humanity, saying look at me. Would you want to be this? Would any kid want to be me when they grew up?

“I understand the urge,” he said, against his better judgement, “but there will be time for that later. And you look like you have gang tattoos.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I want to look like I have gang tats?” you were testy, but you did stop writing.

“You don’t. Not here.”

“Says who?”

“I watched so many people get beat up for that kind of thing when I was a kid.”

“In Piltover?” you asked, raising your pitch dubiously.

“No. Here.”

“You grew up here?!”

He was used to the surprise, but it came from elitists he met at the Academy who would follow with some remark about how his progress was impressive for someone with his “background.” You definitely weren’t that, but he wasn’t sure what you were instead. All he saw was a curious perk in your eyes as you waited for him to respond.

“Yes, I did. Does it matter?”

“I dunno, you tell me,” you shrugged, grinning, “does it matter?”

He didn’t have an answer.

You both dropped the topic when you heard Jayce’s panicked yell.

*****

“So, we followed the sound to its source, and that was where we found Jayce. I believe he can pick up where I left off.”

“Mr. Talis?”

“Sure thing, though I don’t remember much from the fall,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “but the next thing I knew, I woke up in an alley…”

*****

All Jayce could do was howl swear words against his frigid, burning stasis. He was so cold that he started to feel warm again, but he was still unable to peel the wet clothes from his body with his trembling fingers or say anything coherent through his chattering teeth.

Out of energy, out of time, and now, out in the open with a group of people staring down at him. He had no idea where he was specifically, but once the river had relaxed enough for him to squirm out, he recognized the distinct darkness of the Zaun sky. He’d gotten as far as a wide alleyway filled with trash in the backstreets before his strength finally failed him.

Someone with a mask stepped forward. They were speaking to him, but his head felt like it was underwater and all he could hear was his heartbeat.

“HEY!” the person barked. Jayce’s ears curdled and sound returned.

“Do you…” Jayce panted.

The mask was white and owl-like, with gold contours funneling around the nose. Every part of the person was covered with crude armor or earth-toned fabric – they were especially fond of green. His associates were no different, save for the color scheme.

“No, no, I’m asking the questions here,” he said, hands on his hips, “do you have any idea how much damage you just caused?”

He was young and defiant, all but confirming Jayce’s location.

“I- what?”

“I didn’t know Pilties could do quakes now,” the mask crossed his arms, “but now that I doknow, I must say, you’ve got a lot to answer for.”

“He doesn’t have any answers,” your voice, coarse and insistent, sprang from the street, “I do.”

Jayce leaned his head on the brick wall to get a better look. Viktor was behind you, focused as always, until he caught sighed of his partner. He poked you with his cane and pointed. You both winced. Damn, he must’ve looked bad.

“And you are?” the mask turned around and crossed his arms, accepting the standoff.

“I’m the one who made the quake. He didn’t do anything,” you motioned to Jayce with an open palm.

“Really?” the mask asked, theatrically condescending.

“Yes. I can explain everything, I swear, and I can help you with whatever you need, as long as you need. I promise. Please, just let him go back, he’s freezing to death, for gods’ sake.”

“What are you doing?” Viktor mouthed. You didn’t answer.

“What good is a Piltie’s promise?” the mask retorted.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “I’m not from Piltover. I’m from Bilgewater.”

“And you’re proud of that?” he chuckled.

“I am,” you said, “do you want to know why, despite the lack of laws, general manners, or lower class to build our successes upon, Bilgewater does so well?”

You advanced gracefully, like a wolf stalking its prey. Viktor was just as frozen as Jayce as you tried to talk your way out of this.

“Because we always pay our debts,” you said, your expression as staunch as his mask, “let me pay this one.”

The mask looked back at Jayce, shaking with lifeless bite in his bones.

“Alright, Rat,” the mask turned on his heel, “you’ve got a deal.”

He offered his hand, which was not for a shake, as you assumed, but to sweep you on top of a hoverboard. The mask’s arms collared your waist, devoid of any affection or concern for your comfort.

“Let’s move out,” he ordered, signaling to his group.

A gust of brief, glowing wind, and they vanished from the alleyway, leaving Jayce and Viktor staring at each other in their wake.

“Viktor,” Jayce coughed as his friend hastily knelt down in front of him, “what the hell happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” Viktor brushed his friend’s hair out of his face to check for injuries, “the cannon was more powerful than we could’ve imagined.”

“Does Penny know?”

“No, I don’t think she does,” Viktor grabbed Jayce’s lax wrist and checked his pulse.

“Then what’s she gonna tell that guy?”

“I don’t know, Jayce,” he sighed, “let’s get you back to Piltover. You’re hypothermic.”

He pulled his friend’s arm over his shoulder and straightened his back while Jayce pushed against the wall to gain his balance. They both knew that Jayce probably did not need to rest most of his weight on his friend, but it was more the gesture of support than anything else.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Jayce looked in the direction that the group had sped off.

“I don’t think they’re going to hurt her, if that’s what you mean,” Viktor said, “but I don’t know when she’ll be back, either.”

“You don’t know much, huh?” Jayce tried to lighten the mood as they both stumbled through the street.

“No, it seems I do not.”

*****

“And then we met up with the Enforcers at the bridge. You know the rest.”

“So, Miss Penny, this offer was unplanned?” Heimerdinger addressed you again.

“They were looking for answers and I had them. Not all of them, but more than Jayce, who was also dying and stuff. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“And you offered your assistance as well?”

“Yeah. And they made good use of it.”

*****

“Grab my hand!” you shouted across the way.

The kid’s eyes were wide. You couldn’t imagine that you looked friendly, covered in dirt, hair smattered across your sweaty forehead, and your face piqued with exhaustion. But considering that his only alternative was a very painful long fall, you couldn’t have been that unappealing.

“You’ve got to jump. I promise I’ll catch you,” you said, trying to keep him in the moment.

There was that word again – ‘promise.’ You didn’t like making promises, but somehow you had made more of them in the last 24 hours than you had during the rest of your life. And now, deep into a sinkhole and a climb away from the ladder back to the surface, hanging by one hand from a former rafter and while the other reached for the kid on the ledge, it was your default,

The kid wasn’t budging.

“Alright, let’s try this,” you swallowed, “what’s your name?!”

“Leo,” he replied, on the verge of tears.

“Alright, Leo. I’m Penny. Do you know the song ‘Pop! Goes the poro?’”

He nodded. Your head felt a bit light.

“Okay. We’re going to play a game. I’m going to sing the song, and when I say ‘pop,’ you jump. Can you do that?”

He nodded again.

“Alright,” you sucked in a breath, wondering if this was all some surreal dream, and began to sing: “Have you seen my favorite pet? I lost him in the sno-ow. He’s short and round, and makes a cute sound. Pop!”

He jumped. You caught him with your clammy hand and gripped him like iron, digging your nails into his skin.

“-goes the poro!” you finished, just as you said you would, “See? Easy. Alright, almost done.”

His eyes began to shift, begging to look down or up or anywhere away from yours. Shit, shit, you were losing him again.

“Leo! What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?” you sounded so desperate as you begged for this kid’s attention, but you didn’t care.

He didn’t answer, gaze locked with the void.

“LEO!” your shout bounced around the sinkhole and finally hit him like a boomerang. His concentration was back on you, his face red and puffy.

“What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?” you repeated.

“What?” he said shyly.

“Thunderwear.”

He snorted. Okay. Okay, you could do this.

“More where that came from. Tell you what. If you can climb up to my shoulders – don’t worry, I’ll have your hand the whole time – then I can keep telling you jokes. We got a deal?”

Nod. You clenched both of your fists and pulled him up slightly.

“How did the scientist make his breath smell good?”

“How?” he planted both his feet on your pelvis and reached for your clavicle with his free hand.

“With experi-mints.”

A laugh. He gripped your upper body. His crimp strength was surprisingly strong for someone that young.

“What did the banana say to the dog?”

“What?” he put one foot into the crook of your elbow.

“Nothing. Bananas can’t talk.”

He laughed and a little spit got on your cheek. His shoe slipped, but you dug into your reserve and pressed even a little more strength from your bicep, elevating him so he could pull up both feet.

“What is a ghost’s nose full of?”

“What?” he clambered up your shoulders from the front and went around to the other side. He was properly holding onto you by the back of your head, with his legs dangling against your chest.

“Boo-gers.”

He giggled into your hair.

“Okay. Okay, I’m going to let go of your hand now. Can you hold onto my head? As tight as you can?”

Both arms wrapped around your skull like he was trying to crush it. At least you knew he wouldn’t fall.

“Okay. One last thing – close your eyes.”

You couldn’t actually see if he did this, but you were already bullshitting through this rescue, so you just decided to keep going. Edging along the underside of the rafter and back to the dents in the sinkhole that you had climbed down, you stopped for a moment to rest your weight against the grimy surface of the rock and let your arms melt with exhaustion.

Your muscles were going to give out soon. You better hurry up.

Finally reaching the ladder, you climbed up to the ledge and wriggled onto the surface. You didn’t bother standing up once the better half of you was on solid land – you just left yourself sprawled out like a starfish. Leo took the initiative to get off your shoulders and let you slack off in peace.

You rolled over on your back and wiped your face with your arm. Gods, you could just fall asleep here.

“They teach you that shit in Bilgewater?” you heard the voice from earlier say over you.

His mask was gone. In its stead was a charming face with large brown eyes that pinched an hourglass shape between them. The hourglass and his hair were the same shocking white.

“Higher you climb, the less likely you are to down. Just, uh,” you exhaled, “just did it in reverse, I guess.”

“I think you’ve earned a break,” he stuck out his hand again, which you hesitantly took. He hauled you to your feet like you were a sack of potatoes.

You’d joined their little search and rescue team at dawn and now the sun was dipping behind the cliffs. It felt longer than a day. Time does not fly when you’re freaking out about someone’s safety every 10 minutes.

At least it kept you from wondering about what you left behind – a vacuum of blame, a freezing Jayce, and possibly something broken inside of Viktor.

He had retreated into his own head after you told him to get a grip, which you thought was just the shock at first, but then he pulled himself together enough to yell at you. And then he said those words: “I understand.” Gods, you might’ve killed him for confusing you so much if you didn’t learn that you were walking through his hometown two seconds later.

You thought it mattered. Even if it didn’t change anything for him, it changed things for you. Because, maybe, he actually did understand.

But that was only more of a reason to hate him, because despite being aware of that similarity, he had been a dickhead to you from the start.

“We’re here,” the now mask-less leader announced, taking his hands off your waist and deactivating the hoverboard.

“Woah.”

The makeshift camp built around a tenacious tree was infected with liveliness. The branches offered support for the upper parts of the stone structure, its walls vivacious with spray paint. The inhabitants bustled with chatter and arguments and cheers, enjoying the shade from the leaves as they sat around the sturdy base of the trunk. Tiny specks of light hung in the air like a lazy swarm of fireflies.

“C’mon Rat, we got food over here,” you followed Mask-less wordlessly, still hypnotized with whatever you were seeing, “and then, I believe, I was promised an explanation.”

Over hearty bowls of stew, you spilled everything, starting at your capture by Iron Leg and ending when you met him in the alleyway. You thought that you were being a bit excessive at points, but he just kept listening, so you kept talking. You attempted to leave out your personal feelings and stay objective, but everything was so inescapably tied to you.

And you hated it. You hated being at the center of this whole shitty thing. You hated Viktor for forcing you to draw a line in the sand, saying that you were a person who did not want this, as if there weren’t a lot of other things that you didn’t want but couldn’t do anything about. You hated how you saw Jayce, looking so dead, and how you knew that in that moment you couldn’t leave him to the mercy of these people. You hated how that gave the repressed guilt permission to churn in your stomach like an angry squall, and how it only got worse upon seeing what you had done to the people of Zaun. You hated how it made it even more frustrating that you couldn’t find some real, concrete error to pin it on and distract you from how much everything hurt.

You hated that you were no longer a nomad just trying to make sense of the blameless word. You hated having to define yourself, to take a stand for the values you apparently had, to know who you are even in the dark, because maybe that meant that just trying to survive, just telling yourself that everything would be okay as long as you made it to tomorrow, wasn’t enough for you and never had been.

After you finished, Ekko, as he introduced himself, left you for the night, saying that you would “need the rest because it only gets more busy.”

You curled into a ball and hated everything some more, letting hot tears spill onto your sweater as you cried yourself to sleep.

*****

“And you just… told them?” a Scottish voice was having trouble keeping himself in check.

“Yeah?”

“Have you any idea how dangerous that is?”

“I didn’t like, give him blueprints or anything. And even if I did, I don’t think he would’ve used them. He just saw the kinda shit that can result from that. He was working to prevent it, not repeat it. And besides, we had a deal.”

“You do not represent Piltover,” Mechanical Voice said.

“You know, I think you and him would agree on that.

*****

The culture shock was a good one. It wasn’t like Bilgewater, but it wasn’t like Piltover either. People accepted help, especially from Ekko and his friends, and once you were a part of that group they looked out for you like one of their own. Capitalism was ruthless, but Zaun was not financially independent from Piltover, meaning that even the richest, nastiest chem barons had to use fear more than money to get what they wanted. No one was truly comfortable.

You had been at it for a week. Every night you went to bed exhausted, and every morning you woke up sore, but you didn’t mind. There was a lot of stuff that needed to be done. Once everyone who needed it had been secured to a temporary shelter, you began work on fixing powerlines, restoring access to clean water, and cleaning broken glass from the streets.

And then, one morning, sitting on the dirt and fixing a drainage pipe, you were suddenly relieved from your duties.

“Alright, you’re done.”

“What?!” you looked at Ekko, crossing his arms like he was the first time you met.

“Go back to Piltover,” he said.

“But… but there’s so much more to do!” you put down the wrench and stood up.

“I know. But you’ve done your time. We can take it from here.”

“This whole thing is my fault, I can’t just leave,” you said, surprised at your own selflessness.

“Hm. I mean, if you wanna stay, I’m not gonna be against an extra set of hands.”

“Why are you letting me leave, then?”

“You’re not the one who’s gotta answer for all of this,” he moved his arms in a circle, “you got caught up in it. You’re not perfect. But the way I see it, we’re both victims of Piltover’s bullshit. Working you until you’re dead won’t fix anything. We got bigger fish to fry.”

“I- yeah.”

He wasn’t wrong. And besides, you were needed in Piltover, so more people didn’t get screwed over for this.

But you left with a final promise to come back when you could. He just chuckled.

“Heh. Heard that one before.”

*****

“So, yeah,” you said, congratulating yourself for leaving all your mushy, emotional thoughts out of your testimony.

Unfortunately, at least one person in the Council wasn’t having it.

“Why did you come back, then, if you knew you were walking straight into another criminal charge?” Mel asked.

“Dunno. Guess I wanted to see if anyone else had figured out what happened.”

“No thoughts of personal responsibility, then? Perhaps a conscience?”

“I would hope that my actions speak more to that than my words,” you said, praying that you would not have to talk about your personal allegiance. You were not here for them, you were here for Jayce and maybe also Viktor. And, of course, your own sake.

“We did not figure out what happened,” Viktor answered your prayer, “though not for lack of trying.”

*****

Viktor and Jayce milled about the lab, fighting the onset of headaches and languor as they did the exact same thing they did yesterday: review numbers, look at your blueprints, and worry.

Piltover had pulled through just fine, having only been subject to the recoil, but that didn’t mean that the city, especially the Council, wasn’t in an uproar over the minor disturbance to their morning. Not that Jayce or Viktor particularly cared, but it was a good excuse to throw themselves into research trying to find the loose screw that ruined everything.

Jayce was convinced that you were innocent, not because of your character, but because he was sure that either he or Viktor would’ve caught your tampering by now. And he agreed with what you’d said to Viktor – any possible adjustment would’ve made the cannon less powerful, not more.

They were trying their hardest not to think about whatever was happening to you in Zaun. Jayce didn’t think you were a bad person, but he had not expected you to offer yourself in exchange for him, especially for something that wasn’t even your fault. Viktor didn’t even know what he thought of you anymore. You had left them confounded, with nothing they could do to help you, so they decided that the best use of their time was to find the root of the problem – both to clear their minds and your name.

That day, however, Caitlyn poked her head into the doorway:

“She’s back.”

They looked up, bags heavy under their eyes.

“Would a visit be appropriate, do you think?” Viktor asked his partner.

“I don’t know,” Jayce said, “is she alright, Cait?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Then perhaps we should meet before the trial that will inevitably be called,” Viktor said. There was no disagreement.

Caitlyn had to return to her shift, given that she had already gone over her lunch break to race to the Academy, leaving Viktor and Jayce to walk the bleak halls of the central jail with the guidance of an indifferent guard. The Enforcers had not bothered to return you to the campus station.

At the end of the corridor, they heard the frantic scratching of someone who did not know how to properly hold a pencil spilling every thought onto their cell walls like it was killing them from the inside out. Before they even saw you, they saw the sleepless numbers clogging every inch of your box-like room, with lines, arrows, and circles representing frayed conclusions and leading nowhere.

“Yeah, she’s been like that ever since she came back. Couldn’t find a good reason to stop her, so…” the guard fingered through his keys in front of the cell door, “you got visitors!”

“Hm?” you said from inside, stopping your scratching. The silence was sobering.

“Penny?” Jayce ducked underneath the doorway, looking for the person to match to the wall ravings.

You looked fine, like Caitlyn had said. It was disquieting how normal you looked in this paranoid cell. He wanted to worry about something, but what was he supposed to say? You were fine, even if you were just keeping yourself alive to go deeper into this hole you were digging.

“Oh. You look less… dead” you said when you saw him. Instead of chalk, you were using a pointed rock to etch things into the concrete. You had accumulated a small pile of similar rocks in the corner underneath the bench.

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I feel less dead. Any luck?”

“No.”

“How the hell did you do that?” Viktor said from behind Jayce, eyes squinted at the marks you’d left on the ceiling, far out of even Jayce’s reach.

“Did you guys find anything?” you ignored his question.

“No,” Jayce shook his head.

You sighed and sat down on the bench, chin in your hands and cheek between your teeth.

“There’s going to be a trial, now that you’re back,” Jayce said, hoping to keep you from going completely catatonic.

“I figured. I’ll be fine, though.”

“No, you do not understand,” Viktor said, “we’re all going to be tried.”

“What? Why? You guys didn’t do anything,” you studied them.

“Perhaps not deliberately, but when we took you on, we accepted the potential consequences of this line of research.”

“Wh- I mean, I guess, but you don’t have to like, take the fall or anything. My sentence is already infinity years. A few more won’t hurt.”

“As tempting as that offer is, it would be immoral to implicate someone just for convenience,” he said standoffishly, “especially since you have already, eh, ‘taken the fall’ once.”

You tsked dreamily.

“So… you don’t think I did it?”

“No, Penny, we don’t,” Jayce rubbed his temple.

“Do youthink you did it?” Viktor asked.

“Well, no, but I didn’t think anyone would agree with me.”

Jayce sat down next to you on the bench, eyes forward.

“We’ve looked at it from every angle. There’s no evidence that there was even something wrong, let alone a culprit.”

“Do you think that’ll convince the Council?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” Jayce rested his hands in his chin in his hands as you had.

Viktor saw what Jayce must’ve seen once. You two were side by side, in the exact same position, contemplating the same horrible fate, and trying to save each other just as much as you were yourselves. Gods, you were both ridiculous.

“Well then,” you suddenly rose to your feet, clapping your hands, “I guess I better get back to work. Because if we don’t come up with something, we’re all screwed.”

Jayce and Viktor stared at each other as you resumed your scratching, silently deliberating if someone ought to intervene, but ultimately deciding against it. They left you to your numbers and walked back up the hall.

“We’re never going to see that lab again, are we?” Viktor asked dryly.

“Psh. Don’t think like that,” Jayce bumped his friend’s shoulder, “we’ll come up with something.”

“I believe our greatest asset in that department is going insane.”

“Yeah… can’t say we’re any better though.”

“Quite.”

*****

“We are still at a loss for possible causes, but one thing is clear – the blast was not intentional on any of our parts.”

“Thank you, Viktor,” Heimerdinger said, “and I do believe that concludes our testimony. The floor is open.”

“Well, someone still made a mistake,” the Scottish voice said instantly, “the defendants themselves said that it should not have been this powerful. We’ve seen it in action before, so we know that it should not have been this powerful. So, either the defendants are not qualified enough to catch a damning error, or magic really is this unreliable.”

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions. I’d argue that the girl should still be held responsible. It was her design in the first place,” Old Money said.

“Nonsense,” Golden Nails said, “if anything, we ought to blame the people who encouraged field testing of such destruction.”

“Why are we so keen to blame? The entire incident seems like an unfortunate accident,” Mel said, “and we must at least continue study of magic to find out why it happened before we jump to any overall conclusions.”

“Someone must take responsibility for this.”

“I mean, technically we were the ones who okay-ed her for questioning.”

“You okay-ed that. My vote was against.”

You wanted to make a snide remark about how quickly they’d brushed over Zaun, but you held back, eyeing Jayce and Viktor. They were quiet as the Council argued, filled with fear that would be difficult for anyone else to pick up on. You, however, had also lost everything once.

An Enforcer whispered something in Heimerdinger’s ear.

“Oh? Very well, bring him in,” he nodded.

The arguing waned as slow, heavy footsteps approached the semicircle table. They crossed in front of you, and a flash of recognition lit up your face.

“You know him?” Jayce whispered.

“Yeah… he questioned me a while back.”

The man took of his hat and addressed the Council.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Theodore Foster. I’m an Enforcer in the Detective Unit, and I have been for the last 15 years,” he spoke with the same comprehensive monotone that you remembered, “I questioned Miss Penny about the captain of her former ship – Finn Byrne, alias ‘Iron Leg.’ I also investigated the break in on Mr. Byrne’s former vessel, which yielded 4 hexcrystals that, using Miss Penny’s information, we concluded were purchased from the same buyer that provided the hexcrystal she used in her original weapon.”

You shared a look with Viktor. Apparently, your assailant on the ship had not thought to make off with the hexcrystals that you left in the open.

“Upon further inspection, we uncovered something about the hexcrystals that I believe is relevant to this trial.”

“Then share it, detective,” Heimerdinger said.

“The hexcrystal that Miss Penny was using aboard the ship was a dupe, sir, designed to look like it had more magic than it actually did. Our estimates put it at about an eighth to a quarter of the strength of your average hexcrystal. Mr. Byrne was unaware of this, and our sources indicate that dupes were uncommon with this merchant, so there was no reason to suspect foul play.”

Jayce subtly placed a pen on your leg. You got the message and busied yourself with scrawling fresh calculations on your arm over the faded ones from last week.

“I believe the implication is clear, sir. The defendants were operating under the assumption that the cannon, an exact copy of its predecessor, would produce a reaction consistent with the manageable one that we saw on the ship, therefore leading to no modification to accommodate the massive increase in power. The mistake happened long before construction on this device even began.”

“It tracks,” you whispered, Viktor and Jayce looking over your shoulder. This was where your hunch had been trying to point you back when you’d asked Viktor to check your numbers – the missing link.

“Thank you, detective. This has been most helpful,” Heimerdinger dismissed him.

“Anytime, sir,” Theodore put his hat back on and walked out, not acknowledging your existence.

“That does clear a few things up,” Heimerdinger mused, “and it is, perhaps, reassuring to know that no deception happened right under our nose.”

You were sure that he was looking at you, but you were pretending to review your math so you wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

“In that case, I, for one, believe that there should be some leniency here,” Mel tactfully kept the room from settling into silence, “given that there were no fatalities in Piltover, and the corrective actions on the part of the researchers were more than satisfactory. If the experiment was safe enough for the Professor to approve of and the danger came from an element entirely out of the defendants’ knowledge or control, then there was no criminal intent, and therefore no reason for criminal charges.”

“And would you extend that to the girl’s abandonment?” Old Money said.

“I would.”

“I would as well,” Mechanical Voice said, much to Old Money’s chagrin, “other crimes aside, her actions were nothing short of self-sacrificial in the Undercity. There is value in that. However, I would urge us to consider the more pressing question – what may be done to prevent such damage occurring in the future?”

“I hate to suggest it, but perhaps putting more limitations on Hextech’s research is necessary,” Gold Fingernails said.

“It feels as though we’ve had this conversation before,” a refined voice added, “about the potential dangers of magic.”

“Hextech crystals are not a trade secret,” Jayce interrupted, his patience finally breaking, “we did not invent them. It’s public knowledge that they’re made from Galsite and available for purchase from Shuriman. Even if we stop using them, that doesn’t mean the rest of the world will. They can be dangerous, I will be the first to admit that, but if your concern is protecting people, then you must see that we have to study them. If they keep going around as these unpredictable sources of power, people will get hurt.”

“Doesn’t this experiment prove that it is impossible to predict them through scientific means?” Gold Fingernails said.

Viktor nudged you. Oh, right, you had an answer for this one.

“No,” you faced them, “we’ve been working on an equation for the speed of magic. It didn’t make sense before because, well, we were using data from the fake hextech crystal. But now that we know its actual magic output, the numbers check out. If we use the force output of the crystal that was used in the experiment, AKA your average hextech crystal, then the results stay consistent. Basically, as long as our data is correct, then we have a rule for how the magic will behave. It can be done.”

“Using magic will never not be a risk, but given that it is one we cannot avoid, it is best to eliminate as many unknown variables as possible. And we can only do that through experimentation and observation, which, thanks to this equation, will be safer in the future,” Viktor said.

The Council receded thoughtfully, leaving you to doodle on your arm while Jayce and Viktor quietly chatted over you. After what felt like forever, a vote was called. You didn’t look, just waited for the sounds of the lights turning on and tallying them up in your head.

All but 2 were in your favor. You would be fine.

*****

You were at the lab because there was nowhere else to go. Not after that. You rested your head on the table and looked out the window at the mid-afternoon sky, offering one-word inputs on Jayce and Viktor’s refinements to your equation when you felt like it.

You’d given it a name – ‘Leo’s Equation’ – in honor of the most responsive audience you’d ever had.

“What’s going to happen to the Undercity?” you had asked before, on the way back.

“What indeed,” Viktor scoffed, “the Council will be no help there. They never were.”

“Can we do something?”

“Welcome to Hextech, that’s kind of our thing,” Jayce joked, “but, yeah, we’ve already got some stuff in the works if you wanna take a look.”

And you were planning to take a look, but once you’d opened the door to the lab, the massive window in the back reminded you of your first night all over again. Reality punched you in the face.

You were going to prison soon. Every step you took wasn’t forward, it was just getting you closer to your freedom disappearing. When you first came here you weren’t afraid of it. After all, you had nothing to lose. But things had changed, and all you could do was Byronically contemplate your end.

“How much longer am I going to be here?” you asked suddenly, lifting your head.

Viktor and Jayce stopped writing.

“At Hextech? I’m not sure, but at least until you’ve finished with this wave inverter idea you’ve got,” Jayce said, “why?”

“No reason. Just thinking,” you put your head back down and left them to their work.

You didn’t hear their pencils resume.

“And we’ve still got to figure out what’s going on with this Hextech merchant in Bilgewater,” Viktor said after a pause, “you will probably be here for that.”

“Yeah, and we don’t even know if that’s related to the person on the ship,” Jayce added, “so you’ll be here for a while yet.”

You nodded but kept your head down. Eventually they went back to discussing the equation.

You surveyed the city, finding the small traces of black rocks between the rows of buildings that lead back to Zaun. The ocean was dull as ever, and you still hated it, but it was hard not to get pulled into the ebb and flow of the waves as ships came into the harbor.

You looked at the sun and wondered if it really was the same one that you looked at when you were back home.

~ End Notes ~

End credits song: "Who Loves the Sun" by The Velvet Underground

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #viktor x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #jayce talis #mel medarda #mel #caitlyn #jayce #waves on the shore #caitlyn kiramann #ekko #ekkoarcane #Spotify

[savageandwise]

"So do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?"

"Pardon?"

"Any tricks up your white sports coat sleeve."

"Who is this?"

"Didn't your dad say? John Lennon. Skiffle band...um...Quarrymen John Lennon."

"Oh yes."

"Oh yes…are you still there, James Paul McCartney?"

"I'm here…"

"Have you given it any thought?"

"It's only been a day. I didn't have much time, did I?"

"Playing hard to get, you tease."

"As it happens I do have tricks. Lots of tricks."

"You? A mere child? An infant."

"For starters I'm ambidextrous."

"I think there are laws against that, son."

"I know I can depend on you to keep it on the down low."

"Ah, but can you?"

"I think so, yes. Yes. I can."

"Such a trusting young flower."

"You'll hardly grass on me when I'm the only one who knows more than three chords, will you?"

"Ah ha! I knew you had tricks!"

"I know a few chords and I know how to tune a guitar like a guitar anyway."

"So you're joining, are you? Because it's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"I didn't say that, you know. I said you wouldn't turn me in."

"You might have a point."

"I know I do. The police will just question your involvement."

"My involvement?"

"Yes. Your involvement, Mr. Lennon. What is your relationship with Mr. McCartney?"

"Relationship? He auditioned to join my band."

"Is that so? But did you or did you not ask your mate, one Ivan Vaughan, to invite him to the church fete with the express purpose of having him join your skiffle group."

"Not the express purpose...I wouldn't go that far, no."

"What other purpose, then?"

"That's between me and Mr. McCartney."

"And what is between you and Mr. McCartney? Was said church fete the first time you met the man?"

"Not exactly."

"So you do have a relationship with Mr. McCartney. That's nepotism, you know."

"Nepotism?"

"Yes. The offer of the band position wasn't based on merit alone."

"Well...when you put it like that guv'nor. He is a very pretty boy. He looks like Elvis."

"Elvis Presley? Thank you, thank you very much…"

"I reckon I'd seen him around a few times before the fete."

"Elvis?!"

"Paul. Paul McCartney."

"The pretty boy?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Where had you seen him?"

"You know, around. The bus. The chippy. Um...the music store. Around."

"So he was following you? Or were you following him?"

"Perhaps a little bit of both."

"Were you? Following me?"

"Mmm."

"I never noticed."

"Didn't you? Did you think it was a coincidence?"

"Luck of the Irish."

"Go on, Paul. Join the band. Teach me some new chords."

"I'll teach you some lyrics too. You mangled that poor song. The police will be round to question you about that as well."

"I'll be ready for them when they come."

"What will I get for my efforts?"

"The honour of being allowed to join the best bloody band this side of Memphis?"

"What else?"

"That's not enough? Your name next to mine in the history books."

"Yeah, alright, then. It's a start. Paul McCartney and John Lennon."

"John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Has a nobler ring to it."

"I get to play lead guitar."

"You drive a hard bargain, lad. We'll see about that."

"Something hard anyway."

"Filthy...Hang up now."

"Why? Dad's down the pub. He won't be back for ages."

"Hang up till I come over."

"Oh, you might as well."

#mclennon fanfiction #first phone call #quarrymen #just a bit of fun to celebrate John instead of focusing on the tragedy

[notradiohead]

Misery loves company

There is a feeling that continues to burn

as fragile ashes scatter in turn.

You took from me what matters most

shattering my heart with malicious boasts.

You dug in my chest and ripped it out

sealing my mind with misery and doubt.

Because of you, I can't feel the same

and will always feel that I'm to blame.

The grip you have on my feeble mind

makes me angry, makes me blind.

You've taken all that was good in me

and cast it into the merciless sea.

Now all of my worth is dead and gone

there is nothing driving me to move on.

This tattered vessel has lost it's purpose

no heart and no mind, thus utterly worthless.

So what do you think of what you've done?

Do you see my destruction as some kind of fun?

What remains of this man, is brittle and broken

useless affections will remain unspoken.

So I will wait here upon my knees

and tremble in the might of the roaring seas.

As dawn approaches, the tides begin rising

and the time has past for compromising.

As the size of the wave continues to increase

a brief thought brought me a sliver of peace.

"Maybe this wave will succeed

in giving me what I truly need!"

I raised my brittle arms to the air

in hopes of release from this horrid nightmare.

"Yes! Yes! Make it all end

numb the pain time cannot mend!

Please deliver me from this life!

Where pain and misfortune still run rife!"

But just as I had previously stated

the sea is merciless, and remained dissuaded.

The waves crashed in every other direction

for I was under misery's sadistic protection.

Peace felt so close, it was almost surreal

but reality struck...like cold, hard steel.

There was nothing left for me to deny

I was enveloped by water, yet still remained dry.

So I must continue on this aimless course

in this withered, battered, loveless corpse.

As I drag this body in a reluctant crawl

I finally begin making sense of it all.

I'm merely a trophy on misery's wall

a puppet who is victim to it's wicked call.

I'm displayed on the stage of endless despair

violated and destroyed beyond all repair.

Just a dangling mass of pulverized hope

yet misery continues to tighten the rope.

Because the master will always find a use...

for the mangled puppet on a tangled noose.

Found this somewhere, anon author 🤷🏽

#poetry #poet #dark academia poetry #spilled poetry #writers and poets #new poets society #poets corner #poetscommunity #poets on tumblr #poetsofig #poets #misery loves company #misery vents #anonymous #anonymous poet #dark acamedia #Spotify