Besides - Tumblr Posts
TW language
context!
me and a friend where talking about how weird it was that Gregor was able to break Sandwiche’s sword so easily. Like that is a twelve year old boy against hard steel there ain’t no way. And while we came up with more logical answers, my favorite was the theory that everyone was pulling a prank on Gregor and gave him a fake bad sword as a joke and where going to give him the real one when he noticed. But he never did and everyone just assumed everyone else told him and years later they get talking about it again.
Re-reading "Anne of the Island" and uh oh scene of the first proposal 😳😳😳
#rant 😁
The Mad Scientist's Assistant - Chp 28
Chapter 28—Back to Work (AO3)
Full TMSA masterlist
Previous Chapter: Chapter 27
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI
Chapter Tags: Silco x Fem!Reader, Reader-Insert,
Chapter word count: 10.7k
Chapter Beta Readers: Thank you as always @purplefangirl42
Total word count: 183k
A/N: I ended up splitting the final chapter into two due to length. So this is actually the penultimate chapter and 29 will be the final. Thanks for your understanding and patience!
The following morning, after reheating some of the food that Zane had left in your fridge, you make your way down to the tailor shop.
It’s the first time you’ve ever returned to a job after disappearing. Typically your end of employment was marked by being fired or quitting on the spot; you’ve never left a job the “proper” way. But, you feel like you owe Thalia at least some notice that you were leaving. Some might think it silly, giving notice when you had already vanished for a week.
It’s the principle of it.
Timidly, you open the door to the shop. The bell chimes softly to signal your arrival. After a few moments, you hear Thalia’s voice calling to you from the back.
“Be with you in a moment!”
You clear your throat, tugging at the blouse you had managed to put on by yourself this morning.
“Thalia? It’s me.”
A pause.
Then, hurried footsteps and a warm call of your name.
The older woman steps out from the back, a welcoming smile on her face.
“You’re back!” she exclaims as she rounds the front counter to wrap you in a hug. “I thought maybe you had died,” she says with a laugh.
“I almost did,” you cough as she squeezes you. “Thalia, can you—”
She lets go of you, discerning eyes raking over your form.
“That’s uh… that’s tender.”
Her eyes squint as she tilts her head. But before you can explain yourself, she’s turned her back to you, waddling toward the counter. She plucks the broom from its resting spot before walking back and unceremoniously shoving it into your hands. You open your mouth to speak, but she’s already returning to the back room.
Laughing, you shrug and get to work.
Sweeping, counter-intuitively, actually helps with your back a lot. Just the act of moving after days of bedrest seems to do wonders for your aching muscles. After everything that’s happened, you’re thankful for the reprieve of simple busywork.
By the time lunch rolls around, Thalia invites you upstairs to her apartment. Over a few finger sandwiches, she eyes you with suspicion.
“So, where did you disappear for a week? If you needed a break, you could have asked.”
You hurriedly try to finish your bite, swallowing it down quickly to answer.
“Well, uhh… a friend needed my help.”
“Ah,” she says, tone full of understanding. “An emergency?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
She takes a bite of her sandwich, speaking around it.
“And it all went sideways.”
You blink.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
She laughs.
“It’s the Undercity; everything goes sideways.”
She’s not wrong.
You finish your sandwich in silence, appreciative for how everyone seems to be feeding you after the entire ordeal with Finn.
You clear your throat, looking for the words. Thalia looks at you with a cocked eyebrow as she stands, retrieving your empty plate.
“Something on your mind?”
“Uhh…”
How does one… do this?
When you don’t say anything immediately, she turns around, bringing the plates over to the sink. As she starts to wash them, you pick at one of your nails, your head hung low as you stare at the kitchen table.
“I’m back, but I’m not uhh… back for good.”
“What do you mean?” Thalia asks without pausing her work.
“I— I found another job.” You start to correct yourself, words suddenly flowing freely. “Well, actually, it’s an old job—the one I had before I started working for you. And I don’t know, it definitely suits me better, but I’m kind of scared of going back to it because there’s just all this other stuff attached to it and—”
Your words are cut short as Thalia brings a slightly damp hand to your shoulder, squeezing your arm.
“Go.”
“Wait, what?”
“Go!” she says before returning to the sink. “If I’m being honest, I couldn’t actually afford you in the first place.”
You shake your head, stunned by this revelation.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I really only needed someone temporarily, but you seemed so down on your luck, I thought I’d let you stay longer.” She dries her hands on a towel before sitting in the chair opposite you. “And, to be perfectly frank, I needed the company as well. Ever since my son left, it’s been lonely in the shop.”
Your heart aches and you reach a hand out across the table. She readily takes it in her own.
“Well, I was thinking of finishing out the week,” you offer.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Please,” you insist. “I want to.”
She smiles warmly at you.
“That’d be nice.”
“But, I can’t actually help with inventory anymore,” you add.
When she looks at you with an indignant expression, you’re quick to explain yourself. “Doctor’s orders! I’m not allowed to lift anything for a bit while my back heals.”
She narrows her eyes at you, lips thinning to a line as she pulls her hand out of your grasp.
“Then what good are you?”
Your heart drops into your stomach.
“I can still sweep! And, you know, maybe help with a button or two? And ironing, I could do that and—hey, wait a minute.” Your lips tug into a smile when you see the corners of her eyes crinkle and her mouth pull into a mischievous grin. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Language!” she gasps as she gets to her feet, donning her apron. But you can see the way smiles at you after.
You laugh as you follow her back down to the shop to finish out the day.
The next day, you wake up to the sound of knocking. Blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you pull on a robe before looking through the peephole of your door.
“Silco?”
You pull the door open, tugging your robe around yourself a little more.
“Did I wake you?” he asks as you step back to allow him inside. “This was the only free time I have.”
You cover your mouth as you yawn.
“It’s fine. It’s not like I really need to be awake for this.”
Silco shrugs out of his coat, draping it neatly over the couchback. The gesture feels strangely domestic and familiar, sending an odd warmth to your chest. After removing his bracers and laying them on your end table, he starts to roll up one of his sleeves to his elbows before grabbing the bag of medical supplies from beside your couch and following you into your bathroom.
You realize in your haste to answer the door that you’re only wearing your underwear and the bandages around your torso underneath your robe. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you slip into your closet to throw on a pair of pajama pants. When you return to the bathroom, Silco eyes you with a cocked eyebrow but says nothing.
“So… bandages…”
“Yes,” Silco hums.
Neither of you move.
Despite having been completely naked around him before, your body hums with nerves as if it’s your very first time. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, your arms wrapped around your middle.
After a few more tense moments of silence, you finally say something.
“It’s awkward, right?”
“A little,” he agrees.
“We just have to get it over with.”
“Of course.”
“It’s not like you’ve never seen me shirtless before.”
“Correct.”
You look into his dual-toned eyes to find the same look of anxiety reflected back at you. Taking a deep breath, you shrug your shoulders.
“Well, how did I get bandaged when I was unconscious?”
“Oh,” Silco hums, blinking. “I held you in place and Jinx did your bandaging.”
You pull your lips between your teeth.
“I didn’t look,” he offers unprompted.
That gets a small chuckle out of you.
“I appreciate that.”
You take another deep breath, letting it come out your nose as a long sigh.
“Just…” you take your robe off, draping it over the sink counter. “The quicker we do this, the sooner you can get back to work.”
“And you as well,” he offers.
You hold your arms out at your side to give him room, a slight tug along the long gash along your back. The pain has lessened considerably and you suspect the Shimmer within your cure is to thank for that.
After washing his hands, Silco stands behind you to carefully and slowly remove your bandaging. Each time he unwraps a strip around you, you can feel his heat on your back, his arms surrounding you to pass the fabric between his hands. Occasionally, his bare forearms will make contact with your sides and you can’t help the tiny imperceptible jump at his touch.
The relief you feel once all the gauze has been removed is palpable, like removing ten bras at once. You let out a content sigh as Silco immediately turns his attention away from you, discarding the gauze and picking up a small hand towel. Arms covering your chest, you look at your back in the reflection.
The gash looks a lot worse than it actually feels, the skin around it taking on a deep red color. You take a step backward toward the mirror, studying it closer.
There doesn’t seem to be any signs of decay, no graying skin or discoloration other than the obvious cut itself. You can see the dark lines of the stitches that Silco had done. But the color most interesting of all to find on your back is the faint purple hue you can see at the edges.
Definitely from the Shimmer.
Silco’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he notes you studying your wound.
“I should have been faster.”
When you look at him, his eyes are focused on your back, a slight inward curl of his eyebrows as he strains to get the words out, shaking his head.
“I should have killed that man before he ever touched you—”
“Silco, it’s—”
You pause.
You were about to say that “it’s okay.”
But it’s not.
While you don’t blame Silco for what happened to you at the greenhouse building, saying that it was okay is so far from the truth.
You let out a sigh.
“It is what it is.”
“I suppose so.”
Your eyes find his in the mirror’s reflection. There’s so much guilt behind his gaze, guilt you don’t want him to carry forever.
“There’s nothing we can do about the past,” you whisper. “My back will heal. It just takes time.”
A small tug at scarred lips before Silco nods, lowering his gaze as he soaks the towel under the tap.
“Water first, then saline, then bandages,” he instructs.
The cloth is warm and soft as Silco presses it gently into your skin, rubbing small circles around the long wound. Then, with featherlight pats, he goes over the stitched up parts of your back with the cloth.
The contact is nice. You’ve never been so cared for before. But then Silco is pulling away and you can hear him grabbing the bottle of saline solution.
"This may sting,” he says as he preps a second cloth. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”
You nod mutely, your arms covering your chest. And then, you feel warmth on your bare shoulder as Silco rests his right hand on it, holding himself steady. You find yourself closing your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his palm on your skin. But then—
“Ah!”
Your skin prickles and lightning shoots through you at the point of contact where Silco dabs you, an intense but brief flash of pain. You suck air through your teeth as he does it again, working his way down the entire wound. By the time he reaches the end of it, a small tear trickles out of your eye.
You hear him set down the cloth and shift behind you, his voice soft and reassuring.
"The worst is over." There’s shuffling as he readies the gauze. “Just one more step and we’re done.”
You’re thankful for the way he talks you through it, how his tone is professional yet soft. You had worried that this would be awkward given the way you both had left things, but there’s an odd familiarity to it. It’s almost routine now, the way you two tend to each other’s physical ailments.
Arm still covering your chest, you wipe the tear from your eye quickly before he can see it.
Silco stands behind you, gauze in hand.
“Just breathe normally,” he says. “And tell me if it’s too tight.”
You nod, bringing your arms up again.
You feel Silco press the gauze to your upper back, just to the left of where your cut starts. His palm is warm as it gently smooths the stretchy fabric over the cut, working its way around to your side and then your front. Like before, you can feel Silco’s body heat behind you as he works and you try your best not to move. It wouldn’t do either of you any good if he messed up and had to do this part again, not when you can feel your arms aching from holding them up.
He manages to wrap your chest quickly. Once he reaches your ribs, he softly instructs that you can lower your arms a little. You let out a sigh as he wraps your stomach and then lower back.
“There,” he says, cutting the excess gauze off before patting the end down gently with his palm. “All done.”
His hand lingers on your lower back and you can feel the warmth of his palm through the gauze. You close your eyes, savoring the contact.
When finally he removes his hand, you turn around to face him.
“Thank you.”
He nods, good eye fluttering closed.
“Would you like an escort to work?”
“Oh, umm… that’s okay. I need to finish getting changed and do breakfast first.”
“Of course,” he says, taking a step backwards out of the bathroom, slightly bowing.
Chuckling, you follow him out to the living room. When he reaches for the handle, you call out to him.
“If you can manage to come a little later next time, maybe you can walk me to work then?”
He smiles.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
A firelight wing flutters in your ribs, delicate and hopeful.
Tentatively, he pauses at the doorway.
“Two days?”
You nod. “Two days.”
He leans forward and brings his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss.
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Silco.”
The next time Silco comes to your apartment, you’re ready for him. You greet him at your door after having already taken your sponge bath, made and eaten breakfast, and laid out the medical supplies on the bathroom counter.
The awkwardness from last time seems to have dissipated as he removes your bandaging, conversation flowing freely. He asks about work at the tailor shop and you ask him about the meeting with Piltover.
“Everything, for the most part, is in place. We do, however, need more canisters of the sleeping agent.”
“Oh?” you say, trying to look at Silco’s face through your periphery.
“Yes, I just hope my brilliant scientist returns to work soon to make them.”
You chuckle as Silco tosses the old gauze into the trash bin next to your toilet.
“Well, you tell me: Am I ready to go back to work?”
You turn slightly, just enough to see the reflection of your back in the mirror. The color is looking much better already and the dark black lines of sutures have faded, looking less like continuous lines and more like small dashes.
Silco stands behind you, bringing both his hands to hold your upper arms as he surveys your injury. He hums in thought.
“At this rate, your sutures will fully dissolve or fall off in a couple days.” His thumb rubs a small circle into your skin where he holds you. “How's the pain been?”
“Good, actually,” you say, relieved. “Practically completely gone. Some positions hurt more than others, but I think the Shimmer has helped substantially.”
“That's good,” he says, squeezing your arm. “I'm glad.”
Just like before, Silco wipes and cleans your back before redressing it. When he finishes with the gauze, his hands linger at your hips and you feel him step a bit closer into your space. It sends a small thrill up your spine as you're reminded of another time you had your back pressed up against his chest.
“I want to thank you,” he starts, voice low. “For giving me another chance.”
You turn your face up to him, offering a small smile.
“I could say the same thing.”
You turn completely around, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, his hands still at your hips.
“I…” Your eyes swim back and forth between his calming green and warming orange irises. “I think I'd like to come back to work next week… if that's okay.”
He nods. It's so small you almost miss it.
“I…” He clears his throat. “Jinx has missed you so much since you left—”
“Since you fired me,” you correct, rolling your eyes.
His good eye closes as he nods in defeat.
“Yes, since I fired you.” He relents. “I'll let Singed know to expect you.”
Warmth fills your chest at the thought of returning to Singed and the lab. To Jinx and her workshop.
To Silco and his office?
That thought sends warmth to your belly and you're quick to gulp down the frankly premature feelings bubbling up within you.
Slow. Take it slow.
You take a deep breath.
One step at a time.
But as you stand in Silco's arms, his dual-toned gaze soft as he looks down at you, you cannot help the way your heart starts to beat just a tad faster. The way your breaths come out just a bit shallower.
Silco seems to feel it too, if the way his lips part slightly and his eyes fall to your mouth is any indication. Your eyes trail over the scarred lines of his face, your hand delicately lifting to trace over them.
“I never had the chance to ask you,” you start. “The cure I made you… has it helped at all?”
His lips pull into a line, a small peek of his tongue as he wets them.
“Hard to say, long-term,” he says softly.
“And short-term?”
The scar at his lips tugs up ever so slightly.
“Yes.”
You feel pride bubble up within your chest.
“There's virtually been no pain since I started,” he continues. “And…” he brings one hand up, cradling yours at his cheek. “Remarkably… some feeling has returned.”
Your eyes widen.
“Really?”
He nods gently.
“It's small, but…” he squeezes your hand, guiding it to lightly smooth against his ruined skin, “it's more than I've felt in years.”
Your mouth falls open, stunned.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Even if it doesn't stop the toxin’s progression, at least I'll be comfortable.”
Your eyebrows furrow as you shake your head.
“No, don't talk like that.” You bring your other hand up to mirror the one at Silco's cheek. “You're going to live a very long and very prosperous life, you hear me?”
He chuckles under his breath.
“Is that an order?”
“Yes,” you say defiantly.
“On whose authority?”
“On…” Your throat bobs. “On your… girlfriend's authority…?”
He blinks. You immediately backpedal.
“No, sorry, that's so stupid. I don't know what I'm saying. Just ignore that—”
Silco brings both hands up to cradle your jawline before capturing your lips in a tender kiss, pressing his chest into yours when he feels you melt under his touch. Your hand shifts, fingers moving to grab at the short hairs at the base of his neck, pulling him closer.
Before you know it, you're both stumbling out of your bathroom, hands grabbing at each other as you tumble onto your bed, Silco first with you close behind, falling on top of him. Knees straddling his hips, you laugh at where you find yourself.
“Me on top again?” You joke.
“It's only fair,” he hums. “One of us has a back injury, afterall.”
You smile wickedly at him before bending down to lock lips with him again. His hands trail over your form and you curse the gauze that keeps you from feeling his skin on your skin. You're about to press yourself up to give yourself enough room to take off his shirt when—
“Fuck!” You cry out as a familiar lightning bolt of pain shoots through your back. Your spine curves as you fist the sheets on either side of Silco's head, riding out the pain.
Eyes squeezed shut, you're thrust back to that moment at the warehouse. Jinx crouched ahead of you, reassuring you. The sounds of gunfire and yelling. Your hands clenched so tight you're certain you'll break all the bones in your fingers.
The pain comes in waves, throbbing and pulsing as if alive. You're adrift in its current, helpless against the torrential power, cast in an unbearable storm.
But then, daybreak.
A voice, calling you back to shore.
A siren song, your name, the lyrics to the melody.
“Breathe,” Silco whispers. “Just breathe.”
You do as instructed, but your breaths come out shallow and rushed.
“Breathe,” he says, drawing out the syllable.
You mimic it, taking in one deep inhale. When you let it out your mouth, you feel a bit better.
After a few minutes of getting your breath under control, you collapse atop Silco. Gingerly, he brings both his arms to wrap around your middle.
“Perhaps we wait,” he offers softly.
“Yeah,” you half sigh, half laugh. “Probably a good idea.”
You lift your head to gaze down at him. He offers you a smile.
“Wouldn’t want to hurt my girlfriend.”
Blush rushes to your cheeks just as Silco makes a face.
“That doesn't—”
“No,” you agree, shaking your head. “That feels wrong.”
“Childish, really.”
“Mmhmm,” you hum. Experimentally, as if trying it on for size, you tentatively say, “Boyfriend.”
Immediately, you both shake your heads.
“Yeah, see, that's weird.”
“Not right at all,” he confirms.
After a moment of quiet contemplation, he offers a different title.
“Partner.”
Your eyebrows lift.
“Partner,” you repeat.
It sounds good. It feels good.
“Partner,” you say again, slowly nodding your head, smiling.
“Partner,” he echoes with finality before bringing a hand up to your cheek and stretching forward to kiss you sweetly on the lips.
You lay your head down on his chest, content to listen to his heartbeat as he holds you. After weeks of isolation, being enveloped by his warmth is a welcomed change. You start to almost feel yourself drifting off to sleep when you finally shift above him.
“We should probably get to work, huh?”
“That would be wise,” he agrees, propping himself up on his elbows.
After getting dressed and locking up, you make the short trek to Thalia’s shop, escorted by Silco. Standing at the door, you fetch the key to unlock it out of your pocket.
“Two days,” he says in farewell.
“Two days,” you repeat, smiling.
Silco grabs your hand in his, stepping forward to close the distance between you, leaning in to give you a kiss. But then, he pauses when his good eye spots through the glass door Thalia turning the lights on in the shop. Smiling, he opts for bringing your hand up to his lips to plant a gentle kiss to the back of it. The display sends warmth to your cheeks and you feel as if you might float away.
“Have a good day,” he hums.
“You too, Silco.”
As soon as the door closes behind you, Thalia is making a long, exaggerated cooing sound.
“Ooooh,” she singsongs, walking toward you. “Who is this dashing suitor?”
You roll your eyes but don't bother to deny it.
“Well, get your head outta the clouds. Shop's not gonna clean itself!”
Two days later, you wake up before your alarm.
Today may very well be the day that Silco removes your bandages for good.
When you open the door to find him standing in the hallway, you greet him with a wide smile.
“Someone's excited,” he says, smirking.
“I've got a good feeling about today.”
“Do you?” He hums, crossing over the threshold.
“Yup!”
You're practically skipping as you make your way to the bathroom. You'd put out the usual towel, saline solution, and gauze, but you're hopeful that they won't be necessary this morning.
As Silco stands behind you, his hands warm as always, he works silently to undo the gauze.
“Well?” You ask expectantly. “How do I look?”
He takes off the last of the gauze, tossing it into the trash bin before holding you by your shoulders and gently turning you toward the mirror
“Look for yourself.”
You take a deep breath in before turning over your shoulder to look at your reflection. You gasp as you realize not only have all your stitches dissolved, but the color around your scar has improved dramatically. The only evidence left on your back is the long scar, slightly purplish in color. The skin that had been eaten away by the river toxins has healed to the point that it’s almost as if it never happened at all.
You twist your arm behind you to lightly trace the scar at your lower back, marveling at how quickly the Shimmer had worked its magic.
“Does it hurt at all?” Silco asks, watching as you continue to gawk at your recovered back.
You shake your head wordlessly, for once at a loss for words.
“That cure of yours did a lot of good.”
You turn back to Silco, smiling softly at the praise. But then your smile fades when you see no noticeable change to the scars that adorn Silco’s face. Reaching up, you bring the pads of your fingers to graze the rough surface of his cheek.
“I’m sorry that it doesn’t seem to be helping you as much,” you say, wincing as if in pain.
His good eye closes as he shakes his head.
“I’ve long accepted that I will not have the face I knew in my youth.” He brings one hand up to cradle yours. “The damage was too deep and for too long. It’s a small miracle that feeling has returned at all.”
You try to look on the bright side, hopeful that your hard work will be fruitful, even if you won’t know the results until much later.
“Well, maybe it’ll at least stop the spread of the toxins,” you offer, voice meek.
His eyebrows lift, his head tilting. “I certainly don’t feel worse, I can tell you that much.”
He gives you a soft smile, you grin up at him in return.
“So… I’m… good?” you ask, acutely aware of how topless you are at the moment.
He nods. “I would say so. How do you feel?”
You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Chewing on your bottom lip, you shrug up at him. “Good enough to come back to work?”
He chuckles.
“Why are you asking me? You already know you have your job waiting for you. Timeline and terms are entirely up to you.”
Your eyes sparkle, ears prickling at one word.
“Entirely?”
He narrows his good eye at you. “Within reason,” he corrects himself.
You shift your weight, thinking.
“Well… my last shift at the shop is tomorrow. It’d be nice to take the weekend and come back on Monday.”
“Monday it is, then,” Silco replies, almost chipper.
But then you’re remembering the conversation you overheard between Silco and Sevika. It sends a knot to your stomach, guilt weighing you down like a stone.
“I hope all this—” you gesture to the supplies on the bathroom counter, “didn’t delay any of your operations…”
He shakes his head.
“Everything’s going smoothly.” And then he adds, as if reading your mind, “Sevika’s just anxious to get to the next step. We all are.”
You nod.
Silco’s life’s work. The mission to end all missions. Now that it’s fast approaching, you cannot believe that it’s actually happening. For years, it seemed like just a fever dream, an unattainable goal that would never be reached. But now…
Silco’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, his tone warm.
“Your return couldn’t be better timed. We could really use you next week on the mission Topside.”
Warmth floods your chest as you remember Silco’s broken words at your bedside.
“I need you. I cannot see a life in Zaun without you.”
You reach your hand out to grab his. He readily accepts, allowing you to gently hold him by his fingertips.
“I’ll be there.”
You smile at each other.
“Now let me get some damn clothes on so I can go to work.”
He chuckles before retreating to your living room, allowing you to get changed in privacy.
This time when he escorts you to Thalia’s shop, he steals a kiss, planting it quickly on your lips before darting away without saying a word. But as you stand there with your hands on your mouth, blush rushing to your cheeks, you catch the way he looks over his shoulder at you, smiling.
On your last day of work, you sweep the front of the shop before straightening out the bolts on the shelves. As you redress one of the mannequins in the front window, you struggle to think of what to say to Thalia at the end of your shift.
You've never been good at goodbyes.
“Looks great out here!” she says, stepping into the front foyer. “Well done.”
You nod meekly before walking past her to store last season’s garments away. When you return, you find Thalia standing at the cutting counter holding a box up in offering to you.
It's about the size of a novel—a very thick one—and wrapped in plain brown paper.
“What is this?”
“Open it!” She says, shoving the box into your hands.
You blink, taking it, expression unsure. She nods to you in eager instruction and you start to peel away the paper.
“Think of it as a going away present,” she says as you unwrap it.
Paper discarded, you lift the lid of the box to find a small leather purse, charcoal in color. The stitching is deep maroon while the metal clasp and other details are in gold. Blinking, you lift your gaze back up to Thalia.
“Your gentleman friend commissioned it the day before you came back,” she says before you can voice the questions running through your mind.
You’re unable to look away from the beautiful craftsmanship of the satchel. Lifting it out of the box, you marvel at the gold and maroon details as well as Thalia's shop’s logo embossed on the back of it.
“Now that I think of it: whatever happened to your other bag? I haven’t seen it all week.”
You shrug your shoulders.
“Things went sideways,” you chuckle.
Your fingers trail over the golden pieces, featherlight.
“I was happy to take the man’s money,” she jokes. “Material like that doesn't come cheap.”
You open the bag and see it's got a small compartment closed with a zipper as well as a section for a notebook and pen.
“Well? Try it on!”
You duck your head under the strap, letting it fall onto your shoulder. It rests against your hip and you suddenly feel whole again.
“Why is it…” You lift the bag to look more closely at it. “Why is it kind of…” You shake it. “Hefty?”
“Oh!” She says, her eyes lighting up. “Your friend had me line it with kevlar to make it bulletproof.”
Your eyes widen and dart down to the bag, perplexed.
“Yeah, that's why it was so expensive,” she adds.
You blink the growing sting away from your eyes.
“Thalia, it's beautiful.” You let out a chuckle. “Not to mention a bit of overkill with the kevlar.”
She chuckles.
You look back at her, shaking your head. “I don't know what to say.” You take a step toward her. “Thank you.”
She smiles, opening up her arms. As you embrace, you pinch your lips together, willing yourself not to cry.
This is why I'm terrible at goodbyes.
When you pull apart, you swallow down your nerves, knowing what you're about to ask and worrying that she won't like it. Or think it's stupid. You take a deep breath.
“I thought about what you said before. About the shop being lonely.” You chew the inside of your mouth. “I thought— if you're okay with it, that is—maybe I could come visit you every once in a while?” You point over your shoulder in the direction of your apartment. “I live so close, it wouldn't be any problem.”
She shakes her head.
“You don't have to do that. I can manage on my own.”
“I know, but… I don't know— I thought I could just keep you company a bit. Like maybe once a week?”
You can see the faint hint of a smile on her lips as she considers your proposal.
“I'll have finger sandwiches waiting for you.”
Your chest fills with warmth.
But then, without warning, she's turning on her heel and walking toward the back of the shop. When she reemerges, she has to walk through the door sideways in order to maneuver a massive roll of red velvet in her arms.
“You’re allowed to lift things again, right?”
With a grunt and without waiting for your reply, she shoves the comically large bolt into your arms. Your legs buckle a little under the weight and you almost panic, waiting for the familiar sting of pain to shoot through your back. When it doesn't come, you breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Uhhhh, Thalia, what’s this?”
“Oh, that’s for your gentleman friend. Be a dear and deliver that to him for me. That's your very last task,” she says, brushing her hands off on her apron.
You adjust your grip, resting the large roll—that has to be about six feet long—onto your right shoulder. It juts out and threatens to brush the ceiling. With a hop, you try to get it situated comfortably, but it's an impossible task.
There's no way I'm walking this all the way to The Drop.
“Don't we have a cart I could carry this on?”
“Oh, I suppose you can use that.” She retreats back to the storage room before rolling out a long metal cart. “Just leave it in the back alley when you're done.”
After flopping the roll onto the cart, you smile and offer your hand. Thalia takes one look at it before scoffing and going in for a hug, your name a warm hum on her lips.
“Take care of yourself, dear.”
You return the embrace, letting your eyes close as you savor it.
“You too, Thalia. Thank you.”
No one is posted at the entrance by the time you get to The Last Drop. It takes some very awkward maneuvering to hold the door open and shove the large cart in. As soon as you get the cart and its cargo through, you're ambushed by a blue blur.
“You're back!” Jinx squeals as she launches herself at you.
Bracing yourself and planting your feet, you take the full brunt of impact, laughing. Arms wrap around her small frame, holding her up so her feet don't touch the ground.
“Yup!” You laugh. “I'm back!”
You catch movement out of the corner of your eyes and see Zane bending down to effortlessly lift the fabric from the cart. When he straightens up, your eyes meet and you offer him a smile.
Still embracing Jinx, you take a few steps toward the large bartender.
“Hey, Zane… thank you for—”
He cuts you off with a shake of his head.
“Don't mention it.” With ease, he hoists the fabric onto his shoulder. “Just glad you're back.”
Warmth tickles your ribs and you can't help the smile at your lips. Just as you finally set Jinx down, you hear a call of your name.
Chin lifting, you look up at the balcony to see a familiar figure standing at the railings. Firelights' flutter in your stomach at the image of Silco towering over the club and you internally chide yourself for your adolescent-like giddiness.
Eyes locked with Silco, you wet your lips as you take in his visage.
After everything you've been through in the past few months, he still manages to make your heart do somersaults just by standing there. Just by being him.
Your lips tug upward into a grin.
That's my partner up there.
His eyebrows lift and his head tilts toward his office.
“Oh!” You quickly turn to Jinx, hand on the long metal handle of the cart. “Could you do me a favor?”
She straightens up, bringing one painted hand to her forehead in a salute.
“Could you return this cart to the tailor shop? It's that one close to my apartment. Just leave it in the back alley for me.”
“Roger!” She chirps before jumping onto the cart. Hands wrapped around the handle, she pushes off the ground with one foot, rolling the entire thing toward the door as if it's a scooter.
Laughing, you hold the door open for her.
“Thank you!”
She barely hears you, too busy cackling as she picks up speed down the sidewalk.
Turning back around, you find the balcony empty.
“Oh crap!”
You take the steps two at a time. With a small nod to Dax, you make your way to Silco's office door which has been left open.
“Shut the door,” Silco instructs from his desk.
You obey.
When you turn back to face him, you find Silco gesturing with one hand to the empty chair across from him. Hands fidgeting with the strap of your new bag, you take the offered seat. Dual-toned eyes track the movement, glancing down at the satchel at your hip.
“I notice you received my gift.”
“Yes, thank you.” You place it on your lap, turning it over in your hands. “Though, I don’t know: the style is quite garish, isn’t it?” You look back up at him, grinning.
He returns the smirk.
“Well, maybe you’ll find this more to your fashion sense.”
He reaches down into a drawer before placing something small yet heavy on the desktop between you. When he pulls his hand away, you can't help the small gasp or leaping to your feet.
“My pistol!”
“You’ll be needing it next week when we go Topside.”
You reach for it, your palm on the grip, but Silco halts your movements, covering your hand with his. When you look up at him, mouth agape, you’re surprised to see an almost pleading look on his face.
“If you’re to have this back,” he starts, voice gravel, “I need to know that you won’t do anything foolish.”
You blink.
“Do not try to sacrifice yourself for me— for anyone for that matter.” His voice comes out uneven, no trace of the unwavering crime lord you had come to know. “If things go south, your priority is getting yourself and Jinx out of there, do you understand?”
Your heart leaps into your throat.
You nod.
He shakes his head.
“I need to hear you say it.”
You wet your lips with your tongue, take a deep breath, and recite, “If things go south, my priority is to get myself and Jinx out.”
Your promise lingers in the air, traveling up to the rafters.
Finally, Silco lets go of your hand.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
You nod.
“Thanks for getting my gun back.”
With practiced hands, you holster your gun at your hip, feeling more complete than you had in weeks. You let out a content sigh.
New bag, old gun.
Everything’s falling back into place.
You smile at Silco, unable to move.
You should leave and head home. But as you stand in Silco’s office, surrounded by all the things that make him so very Silco, you can’t seem to move your feet. After losing everything and clawing them all back, leaving feels wrong. Like you’re tempting fate by being apart again.
Silco watches as you internally wrestle with yourself, a slight furrow to his brow.
“What’s the matter?”
“I… I know I should leave, but…”
I don’t want to.
Recognition spreads across Silco’s face and he offers you a soft, albeit tired, smile.
“You can stay if you like, but I won’t be much of a conversation partner. There’s lots to do,” he says, gesturing to his desk that is littered with papers.
You can tell by the way he looks at you that he wants you to stay as well. But if the way he’s already gripping his pen in his hand is any indication, his attention is elsewhere.
This time is crucial. Everything has to be perfect. The whole of the Undercity’s fate is at stake.
You get to your feet, making your way around the desk to stand next to him. He follows your journey, turning the chair to face you.
If I’m to be his partner, I have to let him do his job.
“It’s okay; I understand.” You bend down and kiss his unmarred temple, savoring the smell of the pomade in his hair and the cigar on his breath. Straightening up, you offer him a smile. “I’ll see you Monday?”
He nods.
“Monday.”
Too anxious to get back to work, you don’t wait until Monday to bring your stuff to the lab. You spend Saturday gathering your things, packing them back into the boxes Singed had given you. On Sunday, you trek your stuff back to the cave, getting reacquainted with your workstation.
As you're unpacking, you feel a presence stalk behind you. Turning, you see Singed standing over you. He's in his usual attire, but the maroon scarf that covers his face seems looser, as if he had hurriedly put it on when he heard you come in.
“Hey,” you say, turning back to your desk. “I was just dropping my stuff off so I can start working immediately tomorrow morning.”
He hums behind you. With the way his voice rasps, it sounds less like hum and more like a rattle.
“Good to have you back.”
“Thanks.” You turn to face him. “Good to be back.”
You stand there for a moment, unsure if you should go in for a hug or a handshake or maybe just do neither. You offer him a small smile and you catch him giving you one in return, the ruined skin of his cheekbones pulling upward.
The movement causes the scarf to fall, cascading to his shoulders. He moves to tug it back up into place, but you reach out to stop him.
“It's okay. You don't have to do that.”
His head tilts curiously.
“It’s just us here. You know I don't mind.” You reach up, tugging the maroon fabric down to lay on his shoulders. “It’s probably more annoying than anything else, right? Just gets in the way.”
His head tilts minutely, his brows lifting slightly. Without the scarf, you can see that the lower half of his face is covered in bandages, wrapping around where his upper lips would be if he still had them. His teeth jut out, all crooked angles surrounded by burnt flesh.
It's a face many—especially Topsiders—would consider ugly. Monstrous even.
But as you look up at your mentor, you can't help but see the beauty behind it. How wonderfully unique. How miraculous that he could survive such a thing. A testament to his tenacity.
“Thank you, again, for everything.” You shift your weight. “Saving my life and all that.”
He nods before turning on his heel. He's a few steps away from your desk when he pauses to look over his shoulder.
“Try not to do it again,” he rasps.
You chuckle and smile to yourself.
Monday morning, you’re pleasantly surprised to come into the lab and find Silco seated in your chair. At the sound of your footsteps, he turns over his shoulder, abyss eye glowing especially bright. He rises to meet you, hands clasped behind his back.
“Thought I’d formally welcome you back,” he says, a bemused smirk on his lips.
“Thank you,” you say as you don your lab coat, which Singed had kept despite your absence.
“I cannot stay long, but I need two things from you.”
Taking a seat, you grab your notebook out of your bag and search your desk for a pen. When you find none, you turn to see Silco holding one up for you, smirking. You take it before flipping to a blank page.
“First, we’re going to need more canisters of the sleeping agent for tomorrow’s mission.”
Your pen stops abruptly as you look up at him. “Tomorrow?!”
He nods, lips pressed together.
“Which leads me to the second item: the team is to meet in my office tomorrow at four to go over the final details before our rendezvous at six. I expect—” He pauses, his good eye closing and head tilting as he corrects himself. “I’m hoping you will be joining us.”
You finish writing down the notes with a flourish before shutting your notebook decisively on the desk.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
You grin.
Silco grins back.
You hold each other’s gaze for a moment—you, staring up at him from your chair; him, looking down his nose at you. After what feels like centuries, he bends down, bringing an elegant hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I regret that I’ve been so busy—”
“Don’t.” You shake your head. “This mission is important. This is so much bigger than the two of us.”
His good eye flutters closed as he hangs his head.
“I know.”
He gets down on one knee to get eye-level with you, one hand cradling your face.
“I was a fool for not apologizing sooner. All those wasted weeks—”
“Stop,” you plead, bringing your hand up to hold his. “We both needed time. And we’ll have plenty after we’re free.”
He nods gently in agreement, a sadness behind his dual-toned gaze. He lets out a small breath, something between a sigh and a laugh as he hangs his head.
“Free,” he repeats, the weight of all of Zaun in that one syllable. His other knee lowers to the stone floor, his entire body sinking down. The hand at your face falls into your lap. “It’s been so long; it doesn’t even feel real.”
You reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it.
“Everything's going to be okay.”
He lifts his chin to look up at you, frustration furrowing his brow.
“How can you know that?”
You offer him a small shrug and a gentle smile, dimples forming in one of your cheeks.
“Because we'll be together. Whatever happens, we’ll have each other.”
That seems to be enough for him. There's still a hint of uncertainty behind his eyes, but with the way his lips thin and his jaw sets, you can tell that he's pushing it down, fighting it. He nods and you think that'll be the end of this interaction, but then he's letting a sigh out of his nose and turning his head. Before you have a chance to react, he's resting his unmarred cheek on your lap.
Your chest tightens at the gesture, unsure of what to do. After being apart for so long, you've almost forgotten how to handle such a tender, vulnerable display.
Your free hand moves hesitantly, hovering over his head, your lips pinched together tightly. After a moment, you gently place your hand on the crown of his head. At the touch, he seems to sink deeper into your lap, as if melting.
A broken exhale escapes you and your throat bobs.
The Eye of Zaun.
On his knees.
Looking to you for reassurance. For comfort.
How did I end up here?
Tentatively, you run your fingers through his hair, gently stroking his head. The more you do it, the more you relax. It starts to feel natural again.
Silco shifts, one hand coming around to rest on your hip as he lifts his chin to look into your eyes.
And then you feel it. That familiar tug. The one, you realize, that led you here in the first place.
You lean down and bring your lips to his in a quiet, gentle kiss.
It feels different from all your previous kisses. There’s no desperation, no unrestrained lust, no unfathomable need. Instead, there’s this delicate lightness. Familiar yet foreign at the same time. There’s comfort in this kiss. A stillness. The feeling of coming home.
When you break off the kiss and open your eyes (not even realizing they had fluttered close), you extend your hand out to Silco. He looks at it, a little confused, before taking it. You pull him up to his feet just as you get to yours, your height differences reversed so you’re looking up at him.
You offer him a smile before wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your face to the crook of his neck. You feel his shoulders sag as he returns the embrace, holding you close.
You have no words for this moment. Nothing would do. So you simply cling to him, knowing there is a chance—a small chance—that it could be your last time. With the mission tomorrow, survival is not guaranteed. Either of you (or heaven forbid, both) may find yourselves horribly injured or worse.
Silco seems to have the same realization as he tightens his grip on you, fingers digging into the fabric of your lab coat. You focus on his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. His heartbeat at your ear a calming rhythm.
You don’t want to let go.
But duty calls.
You pull back a little, chuckling.
“We should probably get back to work.”
He hums, nodding.
Bringing both hands up to your shoulders, he holds you at arms length, ocean green and volcanic orange taking in your form, as if committing your image to memory.
“Tomorrow, four o’clock,” he reminds.
You nod. He lets go of your arms and takes a step back, pulling his shoulders back as he resumes his professional demeanor.
“Sevika will come tomorrow morning to pick up the supplies.”
“We’ll have them ready for her.”
He considers you for a moment and you can’t quite read him. Whatever conclusion he reaches, he seems satisfied as he gives you a small nod before turning on his heel. He reaches the edge of the cave and steps out of sight.
You let out one long sigh, squaring your shoulders.
“Back to work.”
You fall into a steady rhythm working with Singed, as if you had never left. Comfortable. Natural. Dare you say—fun. You finish the sleeping agent canisters with some time to spare, so you get to work on making more extras for the mission.
Might as well.
By the time you get home that evening, you’re mentally and physically exhausted. Your back, thankfully, had not hurt at all. A surprise given the manual labor of moving supplies to prepare for Sevika’s pick up tomorrow morning. But as you lay in bed, tired as you may be, you cannot fall asleep.
Everything culminates tomorrow.
All the weeks, months, years. All the countless deaths. The sacrifices made.
It all ends tomorrow.
You lay on your side, staring out your window, wondering if Silco feels the same thing. Excitement. Anxiety. With the way he collapsed into your lap at the lab, he must. He’s been carrying this burden on his shoulders for so long. And to think, tomorrow, it’s all coming to a head.
You take a few deep breaths, letting them wash over you and still your nerves. Any other time, you would have resorted to your sleep serum to get you through the night. Not tonight. Not ever again.
As you finally start to feel drowsy, your lips curl into a soft smile. One thought soothes and comforts you so that you drift into a dreamless sleep.
A free Zaun.
With Silco.
“This is all of them?” Sevika says, surrounded by a series of large wooden crates and pre-packed backpacks of supplies.
“Yes, those backpacks all have sleeping agent canisters and then these—” you point to the wooden crates, “will need to be set up around the city.” You unfurl a map onto one of the crates, pointing to the various X’s you have marked on it. “If our calculations are correct, they should be spread out enough for maximum effect.”
Sevika studies the map, nodding. “Good. Is there anything else they need to know?”
You wave her over, lifting one of the lids off a crate. “Once the payload is where it needs to be, all they need to do is flip this switch.” You point to a small switch at the base of a tall, thin metal machine. “The machine will take care of the rest. But it’s paramount that all of these are protected; we were only able to make exactly enough. If one breaks, we won’t be able to get the results we need.”
She nods, dark lips a thin line before letting a soft chuckle out of her nose.
“Well, good thing each of these will have its own Chemtank.”
As if on cue, you can feel heavy vibrations underneath your feet as a massive figure of metal lumbers toward you. Glass vials, books, and instruments rattle with each loud footstep. As you look up at your visitor, you marvel at his ability to fit in the cave at all.
The Turbo Chemtank suit is a formidable sight: standing at almost ten feet tall, the most striking part of its appearance is the large chrome helmet, its interior filled with a familiar violet light while its exterior is fitted with various pipes. You can see a man piloting the suit, his face deformed in such a way that tells you the exact source of the violet light. And when he picks up the crate with ease, it all but confirms your suspicions.
“Get these on the truck,” Sevika instructs the man, who wordlessly takes the crate before slowly making his way to the back exit of the cave. She turns back to you, an uncharacteristic amount of doubt in her eyes. “These better work.”
“They will,” you insist, both hands in your pockets.
When finally all the crates and backpacks have been distributed and you find yourself alone in the lab again, you pull your hands out of your lab coat. Knuckles white, crescent moons dug into your palms, you unclench your fists. Your fingers twitch and you’re unable to stop the uncontrollable shake that has set in.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath.
“They’ll work.” You open your eyes and set your jaw. “They have to work.”
When you get to The Last Drop, you find the front door unguarded and already open. You step over the threshold, eyes darting around as you take in your surroundings. The club is packed. But not with the usual clientele, it would seem every single one of Silco’s crew is in attendance. There’s hushed chatter, but the mood is tense.
You manage to slip through the crowd unnoticed, working your way to the green-lit staircase that will take you up to Silco’s office. When you reach the landing, you find Dax’s post empty.
You check your watch.
3:58.
Pistol holstered at one hip, pocket knife at your other hip, and bullet-proof bag slung over your shoulder, you bite down on your bottom lip as your hand hovers over the doorknob, a bead of sweat cascading down your temple.
Now or never.
When you open the door, several pairs of eyes turn in your direction in unison: bright blue, dark gray, deep brown, and…
Ocean green and volcanic orange.
They flick up to the clock above you and back down.
“Right on time,” Silco says, smirking.
It’s a familiar crowd in Silco’s office, the same inner circle that accompanied him to the greenhouse before Finn’s untimely death. Jinx stands behind her father and, upon locking eyes with you, excitedly unfurls the map you had given Sevika this morning.
“Each team will deliver our Hextech devices to these locations,” she starts, pointing to the black X’s with a pink-painted finger. “Just flick the switch and stand back! And don’t forget your masks!” She rolls the map back up, tucking it under her arm. “Oh and your torches!”
Silco nods in thanks to his daughter before addressing the group.
“Expect some chaos once the device has been activated,” he says, eyes tracking over each face of his team. “You’ll have enforcers and concerned citizens alike running amok. Your priority is protecting those machines until the mission is done.”
“How long will that take?” You turn and are surprised to find Ran speaking. With how important this mission is, it makes sense that absolutely nothing be left in the dark.
“There’s no telling for sure.” Silco’s voice is low but resolute. “Could be minutes, could be hours. We’ll draw it out as long as necessary. Keep your comms on; we’ll inform you if and when it’s time to pull out.”
Your eyebrows furrow.
“Would we be leaving the machines behind?”
Silco rises to his feet, long fingers splayed against the desktop in front of him.
“If that’s what it takes.”
Your eyes lock with his from across the room, your throat bobbing. You pull your shoulders back and offer him a smile. He responds with the smallest twitch of a nod in return before lifting his eyes back to the rest of his crew.
“You’re in this room because you have proven yourselves reliable, trustworthy, and strong. Any doubts—any fears—you leave them here. Everyone downstairs looks to you for leadership. For this to work, we must be perfect. Do you understand?”
There’s muffled hums of quiet, “yes, sir,” in the room as heads nod in agreement.
“Good,” Silco says, satisfied. “Now grab yourself a drink downstairs.” His voice lifts, almost airy. “And ready yourselves for the most important night of our lives.”
There's electricity in the air as you all depart Silco’s office. One by one, you file out of the door. As you approach it, you can hear the familiar chatter coming from the ground floor. Dax gives you a smile and a nod and you return the greeting. After reaching the landing, you start toward the stairs when something wraps around your wrist, stopping you. Turning over your shoulder, you see Silco, arm outstretched as he holds you in place tilting his head in silent instruction. Your eyebrows furrow and he repeats the gesture, tilting his head toward the empty space beside him.
A mixture of excitement and fear bubbles up within your chest as you take the offered spot, eyes flitting across the scene below you. The Last Drop is buzzing with anticipation.
Silco adjusts his grip on your arm to grab your hand, squeezing it briefly before stepping forward toward the railing. Shoulders pull back as he takes a familiar stance, his hands clasped behind his back.
A hush falls over the crowd.
Silco towers over his establishment, his dual-toned eyes scanning his employees. When he speaks, it’s with that same enchanting melodic tone that you’ve come to recognize as so quintessentially “Silco.”
"Decades ago, a small sump rat boy worked as a canary in the mines. Every morning, without a mask or an oxygen tank, he crawled on all fours through the deepest, darkest recesses of those caves. His only purpose? To die.”
You steal a glance toward the people below you. All eyes are on Silco, all jaws clenched, all faces resolute as they stare up at him. Looking back at the man you’d only ever heard whispers of almost a year ago, you feel a sense of pride blossom within your chest.
"Yet every night, he crawled out of those caves,” he continues. “Broken, battered, starving, but alive. Over the years, he grew so accustomed to the noxious fumes from the Fissures that, upon reaching adulthood when he brought clean air to the Undercity, his lungs couldn't handle it.”
There’s a pause as it becomes clear that Silco is speaking about himself.
"Perhaps that is why he is so fond of cigars.”
You hear a few chuckles from below and the movement of a few people nodding in agreement.
"You all joined this cause because you believed in one thing.” His hands wrap around the railing, bringing himself closer to the edge. “Not me. And not Vander. But an ideal: The Nation of Zaun.”
He looks out into the crowd where more heads start to nod in agreement.
"Sons. Daughters. Our time has come.” His voice shifts from reverent to commanding, booming and decisive. “In a few short hours, we will close the doors to The Last Drop as we all take our places in this grand revolution. Each and every one of you plays a crucial role tonight.
"The Council meets to decide Zaun's fate, without a single Undercity citizen present. We will not let them silence our voices. Every day without action is another day for the Topsiders to leave us further and further behind. But that ends tonight.”
A few cheers ring out, fists lifted into the air. Your eyes catch movement and you notice that Sevika is making her way up the steps toward Silco, something in both of her hands.
"So drink. Enjoy your time together. For it may very well be your last chance.”
Sevika stands beside him, surveying the crowd below her as Silco continues.
“But keep your wits about you. Because if we do this right, we can—all of us—step out of the darkness and into the light."
Silco turns to Sevika, who passes him a tumbler of bourbon. He raises his glass in the air and she follows suit, a matching tumbler in her flesh hand.
On the landing, overlooking the large crowd, standing beside Silco and his second-in-command in a place of honor, you feel out of place. Your hands are woefully empty, nothing to raise and join in the celebration. Again, you find yourself asking the same question as before:
How did I end up here?
But then you feel something cold press on your elbow and turn to see Dax handing you a similar glass. You blink, stunned, before taking the tumbler and offering a silent, “thanks.”
He nods, holding a glass for himself in his other hand.
Heart pounding, you turn back around and raise your glass, eyes fixed on the man beside you. The man you love. The man who started it all.
Time seems to slow down as you realize you are crossing a threshold, walking through a door that will change the course of your life forever. As you take in your surroundings, you're acutely aware of the feeling that this is a pivotal moment. From here on out, your time on Runeterra—your entire life—will be split in two: before and after this moment.
Time speeds back up, sound rushing back to your ears just as Silco's voice calls out to the crowd.
"To the Nation of Zaun."
"The Nation of Zaun!" the bar chants back, the building filled with the sound of clinking glasses and cheers.
The crowd comes to life, the mood in the club at complete odds to what it was when you first arrived. Below you, people share drinks and laughs. Connecting with their brothers and sisters in arms for what could be the very last time. Around the bar, on the dance floor, in the booths, everyone toasts for good luck and to the future of Zaun.
But you only have eyes for Silco.
You watch him as he takes a sip from his drink, so small it looks as if it barely touched his lips at all. When he catches you staring, you down your drink in one swig, gulping it down.
“Nervous?” he asks, his voice low, but just loud enough for you to hear over the din of the crowd below.
You remember his words in his office.
Any doubts—any fears—you leave them here.
You pull your shoulders back, lifting your chin.
“Not at all.”
He takes another sip from his drink, finishing it this time, his dual-toned eyes never leaving you. The scarred side of his lip tugs upward into that signature smirk of his before his voice rumbles through your ears to tingle down your spine.
“Good girl.”
Stay tuned for Chapter 29! The final chapter, for real this time!
A/N: ALL THE PREP IS DONE. NOW IT'S TIME TO FIGHT FOR ZAUN!
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i dont know why or how but this scenario popped into my head
daughter: im drawing this for art class
father: but you dont have art class
daughter: i know im a failure as an artist
you're an older sibling ?? and what for ??? your younger sibling becoming taller than you ????
for @summerwave ♡
+ 🥰
okayokay, you have raised such an important point and i thank you for that 😌
I came up with new things for this fic and i might have figured out Riza a little?? But here is what i have
My idea had Ed and Al finding Roy alone by themselves without the team’s help, my very original idea ( that i came up with last June) had the boys traveling when the colonel got kidnapped, and when they got back they were like, “ where is our commander father??” the team was like, “ meh boss we don't know,” so Ed and Al were like that is fishy, so they look around and after few month or weeks they find Roy And keep him in their apartment ( notice, apartment and not dorm, so finding Roy Was kept a secret so no on would know that they have him)
When i stumbled across this note couple of nights ago, i had more time thinking it over and i posted my idea yesterday and gotten more ideas for it.
So here is what i have so far
Roy has Riza as his bodyguard ( everyone on his team is his guard in a way if you think about it) + Roy is a very strong fighter if he needed to be, ( he is his team’s guard btw. He protects them.) so it got me thinking, who was strong enough to kidnap the strong feared Roy Mustang?
Someone who knew how he thinks and acts. someone who knew his weaknesses, someone who saw him daily and knew him well. Who other than his men themselves??
BEAR WITH ME THESE ARE ALL JUST HALF COOKED IDEAS.
Riza would never betray him like that, and i know she would have ran herself to the ground trying to find him, so i just kept brainstorming how to keep the original idea of Ed and Al rescuing Roy while not having Riza with them. And it got me down to these points.
Hawkeye could be undercover and under radar and didn't know Roy was even kidnapped until she went back to central and knew and got mad with the team and somehow the boys let her knew about Roy’s whereabouts
Riza never joined the military and married Roy but died so Roy has that dead wife trauma. Which can add more whump to the story but idk
My least favorite one, but what if Riza is the one who took him down and delivered him to his captures? Not that she wanted but maybe they held some sort of blackmail over her? Maybe get grandpa, the Elrics or maybe she is in a relationship with Roy so that could have ended badly?
i am still not sure what i should do with Riza, since i just know she loves Roy sm, and it just doesn't make sense for her to hurt him at all.
The newer idea for this plot also has the Elrics taking Roy back to Resembool to thier granny since she is a doctor/ has a medical knowledge, and she might be able to help them care for Roy the first few weeks. Maybe they just stay there as long as Roy needs until he is ready to go back to public and face the military and expose them? .
I am just thinking some sort of family drama between Roy And the team since they are his found family, and how they betrayed him and stuff, and have Ed and Al being protective of Roy And attacking the men. ( this is not based on actual life experience of course not! Haha.. Hah… ha)
There is of course lots of truma i want to give Roy 😈 his childhood, teenhood, the war and kidnapping and Woah so many so many. Maybe involve his mother? Aka chris mustang and i know she is his aunt butttttt i love making her his mother or adopted mother, maybe she could be there too??
Also if we went with Riza being under cover and not knowing her beloved man was hurt she could probably go to resembool later on and just help Ed and Al taking care of Roy?
This is kinda what i have so far! Later on ( aka right before i sleep ) i am sure i will get more ideas hehe. Roy Mustang is one of my favorite characters to whump Oh my god
Gonna be real, but i cannot stop thinking about recovery fics and how beautiful they are. They are amazing, the way we see the character gets better always just makes me feel so inspired, the way that they learn to get over- or get around- the thing that hurt them. The way that they learn to be alive and living. How to love themselves and embrace what happened to them.
As much as i love these types of fics, i only wrote like, two maybe? With this idea (I love and have written torture more than recovery) . And it got me thinking… why not write a whole recovery fic?
It is no secret that i love parental Roy and Riza to the Elrics, and how they take him after he was being hurt and help him recover and be better and feel better.
BUT
But.
I am proposing another idea. Same child parent dynamic. Roy And the Elrics. Here is what i am thinking:
Evil Millirty hating how good and you Mustang is and they know he is a threat + them setting up to kidnap him by evil gang or something + team Mustang for some reason not being that loyal in finding him + Elrics stop their red stone research and to find their missing dad CO+ THEM SAVING THIER ADULT + FAMILY DRAMA AND PROTECTIVE SONS™️= my new fic idea
Which has traumatized Roy who is trying his best not being so traumatized but in the middle of it all, the Elrics discover How badly hurt thier adult is!
WHO IS WITH ME!!?
Inclusive language is for everyone!!
Ever since reigan won those polls all I can think of is this:
Setting up a dating profile when you hate every picture of yourself is… Well, let’s just say it’s not fun.
reblog and put in the tags the real reason you joined tumblr no matter how horrible or embarrassing it is
just discoverd i can block people i find annoying
villain therapist hotline, everyone needs some me time every now and then
You are a villain famous for “killing” heroes. In reality, heroes come to you to fake their deaths.
A dream land - DP X DC Prompt
Okay, so I was thinking about that episode "Perchance to dream" where Bruce is trapped in a dream world and this, even thought really different, came to my mind.
Danny is king or prince of the infinite realms. He's been working on personalizing/decorating his castle in the infinite realms. When he feels someone walking just outside the castles walls. The thing is, that someone isn't a denizen, they aren't in a corporeal body, but he can feel that they are very much alive and feel distinctly human. He approaches the person to ask why and how they are in the infinite realms, but they fade away before he gets the opportunity.
Clockwork, who was with him at the moment, tells him that the visitor from the living, was just the soul projection of someone that was sleeping, and then refuses to elaborate further. Since it's something that was to do with sleeping, Danny decides to go and ask Nocturn, it seemed like a reasonable assumption that he was the one at fault for the soul projection.
Contrary to what he thought, Nocturn informed Danny that Sleeping soul projection was a natural phenomenon that he didn't control. The land of dreams, ("My domain" - Nocturn reminds him), was in the infinite realm after all, and those who have been close to death sometimes slipped they're whole soul instead of just their mind, and ended up all over the infinite realms.
It isn't too different from a lucid dream for them, the body gets all the benefit of the sleep, the mind feels rested if they had a good time in the realms. Except, if they hurt their soul too bad during their little trip, it would have real consequences. Loosing memories, abilities regression, migraine, pain that reflects the soul damage, all either temporary until the soul healed, or permanent and deteriorating, and in some occasions finishing in the persons death. In the latter, the soul is usually too damaged and cease it's existence, or have enough ectoplasm and emotion to form into ghosts with crack cores whose existence is instantly in danger.
Danny clearly didn't like the image that was painted to him, so he asked Nocturn if there was really nothing that he could do. It took a lot of talking and convincing, but eventually Nocturn admitted he could be able to direct the soul projecting to appear on a certain place, but he refused to babysit anyone. Which was enough for Danny, all he needed to do was make another expansion in his castle.
He decided to make a garden to receive their soul projecting guests. The garden was enormous, with all kinds of spaced within it. Playgrounds, picnic spaces, soft benches, tables with ghost and space teamed board games, fountains, and of course, the beautiful flowers that surrounded and decorated the place. Once he got ghosts with gardening, protection and caring obsessions on the place to look out for the souls, he was ready to receive them. It took him by surprise the amount of people that came, the garden was never crowded, but was never empty either, and souls of all ages and places were visiting at all times.
He kept expanding the garden as he heard of new things their guests wished for. He enjoyed spending time in the middle of the garden where souls passed by but rarely appeared, it was calm, but not completly quite with the background noice of the soul enjoying their dreams, and he could do the more mundane king/prince work. Until, he starts getting a regular visitor on his little space of the garden.
Choose the DC character you prefer, my idea is for people who hasn't died in the past but has been in the doors of death (so died and came back would be disqualified but you do as you prefer), but I'm going with Tim.
The soul of a boy around his age appears just in front of him, as usual when he greets new arriving soul, he welcomes him with a gentle smile and tells him he is free to explore the garden. A ghost taker is assign to him. The soul, as usual, seems confused and like he wished to asks questions, but seems content to ask them to his tour guide, and Danny continues with his own duties.
But then, the same soul continues to appear in the same place every two or three days, they exchange greetings and every time talk for a bit longer before the boy leaves to explore once more. It's rear to have multiple visits from one soul, even more so for said soul to appear in the same place every time. By the four time, Danny decides to take a break on his royal duties and accompany his new friend.
~ They get close, and have cute scenes, Tim asks a lot of questions and Danny answers and not-answers a lot of questions ~
One day, Tim shows up as usual, but he is in full Red Robin costume, and well, Danny wasn't expecting an identity reveal.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
On the Bats side:
There's an attack of some villain that's able to put Red Robin (or character of your choice) on a sleeping beauty type of sleep while carrying a serious injury, were he stays sleep until teammates or backup gets him out of it. The event affects his soul, making him disconnect partially from the land of dreams and making his soul sleep project almost every time he sleeps.
Tim starts sleeping more often. It's worrying at first, Bruce being paranoid does every test in the book, despite Tim saying he's just finding sleep easier now. But, he was just affected by sleeping magic and suddenly his sleeping easier? Seems like a side effect, and that makes it worrying.
Tim's health in general improve, just like he's concentration and productivity. Who would have thought that working rested actually was more productive than working on less than three hours of sleep and missing obvious details and clues due to how tired you are.
With everything not only being okay, but better than before, paranoia about Tim's new sleeping schedule soon dies, and instead is replaced with teasing about how he used to refuse to rest kicking and screaming, and now he may sleep more than any of them.
On Tim's side, he's loving being able to soul project so often. He knew from the start he was in a different dimension, and he just wanted to know the hows, whys, and everything else. So far, he seems to do it at least once every three days, and he's even gone two times in a row a couple of times.
The garden had a lot of things to do, but Tim doesn't care about that, he's more interested in all the information he's getting. The first 3 times he was given different ghost nanny's, who were more focus on entertaining him and didn't really answer direct question. But then king/prince Phantom decided to accompany him personally, and everything went smoother. He was going back to get to know more about this new world, and maybe to know more about the cute prince/king too. He might also have gotten some better looking pajamas.
Now, he has a mission that takes more than a couple days with some people in his team that hasn't yet sen his face. He didn't realize how difficult it would be to do all nighters after getting used to a sleep schedule. He would usually try to go as long as possible without sleeping, but he decides that he should take advantage of the safety of where they're staying and sleep a bit too. He ended up soul projecting in full Red Robin costume. He tried to play it cool, maybe Phantom wouldn't know it was him.
"Red Robin, even if you didn't appear on the same spot as always, I can feel your soul. I know who you are."
A dream land - DP X DC Prompt
Okay, so I was thinking about that episode "Perchance to dream" where Bruce is trapped in a dream world and this, even thought really different, came to my mind.
Danny is king or prince of the infinite realms. He's been working on personalizing/decorating his castle in the infinite realms. When he feels someone walking just outside the castles walls. The thing is, that someone isn't a denizen, they aren't in a corporeal body, but he can feel that they are very much alive and feel distinctly human. He approaches the person to ask why and how they are in the infinite realms, but they fade away before he gets the opportunity.
Clockwork, who was with him at the moment, tells him that the visitor from the living, was just the soul projection of someone that was sleeping, and then refuses to elaborate further. Since it's something that was to do with sleeping, Danny decides to go and ask Nocturn, it seemed like a reasonable assumption that he was the one at fault for the soul projection.
Contrary to what he thought, Nocturn informed Danny that Sleeping soul projection was a natural phenomenon that he didn't control. The land of dreams, ("My domain" - Nocturn reminds him), was in the infinite realm after all, and those who have been close to death sometimes slipped they're whole soul instead of just their mind, and ended up all over the infinite realms.
It isn't too different from a lucid dream for them, the body gets all the benefit of the sleep, the mind feels rested if they had a good time in the realms. Except, if they hurt their soul too bad during their little trip, it would have real consequences. Loosing memories, abilities regression, migraine, pain that reflects the soul damage, all either temporary until the soul healed, or permanent and deteriorating, and in some occasions finishing in the persons death. In the latter, the soul is usually too damaged and cease it's existence, or have enough ectoplasm and emotion to form into ghosts with crack cores whose existence is instantly in danger.
Danny clearly didn't like the image that was painted to him, so he asked Nocturn if there was really nothing that he could do. It took a lot of talking and convincing, but eventually Nocturn admitted he could be able to direct the soul projecting to appear on a certain place, but he refused to babysit anyone. Which was enough for Danny, all he needed to do was make another expansion in his castle.
He decided to make a garden to receive their soul projecting guests. The garden was enormous, with all kinds of spaced within it. Playgrounds, picnic spaces, soft benches, tables with ghost and space teamed board games, fountains, and of course, the beautiful flowers that surrounded and decorated the place. Once he got ghosts with gardening, protection and caring obsessions on the place to look out for the souls, he was ready to receive them. It took him by surprise the amount of people that came, the garden was never crowded, but was never empty either, and souls of all ages and places were visiting at all times.
He kept expanding the garden as he heard of new things their guests wished for. He enjoyed spending time in the middle of the garden where souls passed by but rarely appeared, it was calm, but not completly quite with the background noice of the soul enjoying their dreams, and he could do the more mundane king/prince work. Until, he starts getting a regular visitor on his little space of the garden.
Choose the DC character you prefer, my idea is for people who hasn't died in the past but has been in the doors of death (so died and came back would be disqualified but you do as you prefer), but I'm going with Tim.
The soul of a boy around his age appears just in front of him, as usual when he greets new arriving soul, he welcomes him with a gentle smile and tells him he is free to explore the garden. A ghost taker is assign to him. The soul, as usual, seems confused and like he wished to asks questions, but seems content to ask them to his tour guide, and Danny continues with his own duties.
But then, the same soul continues to appear in the same place every two or three days, they exchange greetings and every time talk for a bit longer before the boy leaves to explore once more. It's rear to have multiple visits from one soul, even more so for said soul to appear in the same place every time. By the four time, Danny decides to take a break on his royal duties and accompany his new friend.
~ They get close, and have cute scenes, Tim asks a lot of questions and Danny answers and not-answers a lot of questions ~
One day, Tim shows up as usual, but he is in full Red Robin costume, and well, Danny wasn't expecting an identity reveal.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
On the Bats side:
There's an attack of some villain that's able to put Red Robin (or character of your choice) on a sleeping beauty type of sleep while carrying a serious injury, were he stays sleep until teammates or backup gets him out of it. The event affects his soul, making him disconnect partially from the land of dreams and making his soul sleep project almost every time he sleeps.
Tim starts sleeping more often. It's worrying at first, Bruce being paranoid does every test in the book, despite Tim saying he's just finding sleep easier now. But, he was just affected by sleeping magic and suddenly his sleeping easier? Seems like a side effect, and that makes it worrying.
Tim's health in general improve, just like he's concentration and productivity. Who would have thought that working rested actually was more productive than working on less than three hours of sleep and missing obvious details and clues due to how tired you are.
With everything not only being okay, but better than before, paranoia about Tim's new sleeping schedule soon dies, and instead is replaced with teasing about how he used to refuse to rest kicking and screaming, and now he may sleep more than any of them.
On Tim's side, he's loving being able to soul project so often. He knew from the start he was in a different dimension, and he just wanted to know the hows, whys, and everything else. So far, he seems to do it at least once every three days, and he's even gone two times in a row a couple of times.
The garden had a lot of things to do, but Tim doesn't care about that, he's more interested in all the information he's getting. The first 3 times he was given different ghost nanny's, who were more focus on entertaining him and didn't really answer direct question. But then king/prince Phantom decided to accompany him personally, and everything went smoother. He was going back to get to know more about this new world, and maybe to know more about the cute prince/king too. He might also have gotten some better looking pajamas.
Now, he has a mission that takes more than a couple days with some people in his team that hasn't yet sen his face. He didn't realize how difficult it would be to do all nighters after getting used to a sleep schedule. He would usually try to go as long as possible without sleeping, but he decides that he should take advantage of the safety of where they're staying and sleep a bit too. He ended up soul projecting in full Red Robin costume. He tried to play it cool, maybe Phantom wouldn't know it was him.
"Red Robin, even if you didn't appear on the same spot as always, I can feel your soul. I know who you are."
A dream land - DP X DC Prompt
Okay, so I was thinking about that episode "Perchance to dream" where Bruce is trapped in a dream world and this, even thought really different, came to my mind.
Danny is king or prince of the infinite realms. He's been working on personalizing/decorating his castle in the infinite realms. When he feels someone walking just outside the castles walls. The thing is, that someone isn't a denizen, they aren't in a corporeal body, but he can feel that they are very much alive and feel distinctly human. He approaches the person to ask why and how they are in the infinite realms, but they fade away before he gets the opportunity.
Clockwork, who was with him at the moment, tells him that the visitor from the living, was just the soul projection of someone that was sleeping, and then refuses to elaborate further. Since it's something that was to do with sleeping, Danny decides to go and ask Nocturn, it seemed like a reasonable assumption that he was the one at fault for the soul projection.
Contrary to what he thought, Nocturn informed Danny that Sleeping soul projection was a natural phenomenon that he didn't control. The land of dreams, ("My domain" - Nocturn reminds him), was in the infinite realm after all, and those who have been close to death sometimes slipped they're whole soul instead of just their mind, and ended up all over the infinite realms.
It isn't too different from a lucid dream for them, the body gets all the benefit of the sleep, the mind feels rested if they had a good time in the realms. Except, if they hurt their soul too bad during their little trip, it would have real consequences. Loosing memories, abilities regression, migraine, pain that reflects the soul damage, all either temporary until the soul healed, or permanent and deteriorating, and in some occasions finishing in the persons death. In the latter, the soul is usually too damaged and cease it's existence, or have enough ectoplasm and emotion to form into ghosts with crack cores whose existence is instantly in danger.
Danny clearly didn't like the image that was painted to him, so he asked Nocturn if there was really nothing that he could do. It took a lot of talking and convincing, but eventually Nocturn admitted he could be able to direct the soul projecting to appear on a certain place, but he refused to babysit anyone. Which was enough for Danny, all he needed to do was make another expansion in his castle.
He decided to make a garden to receive their soul projecting guests. The garden was enormous, with all kinds of spaced within it. Playgrounds, picnic spaces, soft benches, tables with ghost and space teamed board games, fountains, and of course, the beautiful flowers that surrounded and decorated the place. Once he got ghosts with gardening, protection and caring obsessions on the place to look out for the souls, he was ready to receive them. It took him by surprise the amount of people that came, the garden was never crowded, but was never empty either, and souls of all ages and places were visiting at all times.
He kept expanding the garden as he heard of new things their guests wished for. He enjoyed spending time in the middle of the garden where souls passed by but rarely appeared, it was calm, but not completly quite with the background noice of the soul enjoying their dreams, and he could do the more mundane king/prince work. Until, he starts getting a regular visitor on his little space of the garden.
Choose the DC character you prefer, my idea is for people who hasn't died in the past but has been in the doors of death (so died and came back would be disqualified but you do as you prefer), but I'm going with Tim.
The soul of a boy around his age appears just in front of him, as usual when he greets new arriving soul, he welcomes him with a gentle smile and tells him he is free to explore the garden. A ghost taker is assign to him. The soul, as usual, seems confused and like he wished to asks questions, but seems content to ask them to his tour guide, and Danny continues with his own duties.
But then, the same soul continues to appear in the same place every two or three days, they exchange greetings and every time talk for a bit longer before the boy leaves to explore once more. It's rear to have multiple visits from one soul, even more so for said soul to appear in the same place every time. By the four time, Danny decides to take a break on his royal duties and accompany his new friend.
~ They get close, and have cute scenes, Tim asks a lot of questions and Danny answers and not-answers a lot of questions ~
One day, Tim shows up as usual, but he is in full Red Robin costume, and well, Danny wasn't expecting an identity reveal.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
On the Bats side:
There's an attack of some villain that's able to put Red Robin (or character of your choice) on a sleeping beauty type of sleep while carrying a serious injury, were he stays sleep until teammates or backup gets him out of it. The event affects his soul, making him disconnect partially from the land of dreams and making his soul sleep project almost every time he sleeps.
Tim starts sleeping more often. It's worrying at first, Bruce being paranoid does every test in the book, despite Tim saying he's just finding sleep easier now. But, he was just affected by sleeping magic and suddenly his sleeping easier? Seems like a side effect, and that makes it worrying.
Tim's health in general improve, just like he's concentration and productivity. Who would have thought that working rested actually was more productive than working on less than three hours of sleep and missing obvious details and clues due to how tired you are.
With everything not only being okay, but better than before, paranoia about Tim's new sleeping schedule soon dies, and instead is replaced with teasing about how he used to refuse to rest kicking and screaming, and now he may sleep more than any of them.
On Tim's side, he's loving being able to soul project so often. He knew from the start he was in a different dimension, and he just wanted to know the hows, whys, and everything else. So far, he seems to do it at least once every three days, and he's even gone two times in a row a couple of times.
The garden had a lot of things to do, but Tim doesn't care about that, he's more interested in all the information he's getting. The first 3 times he was given different ghost nanny's, who were more focus on entertaining him and didn't really answer direct question. But then king/prince Phantom decided to accompany him personally, and everything went smoother. He was going back to get to know more about this new world, and maybe to know more about the cute prince/king too. He might also have gotten some better looking pajamas.
Now, he has a mission that takes more than a couple days with some people in his team that hasn't yet sen his face. He didn't realize how difficult it would be to do all nighters after getting used to a sleep schedule. He would usually try to go as long as possible without sleeping, but he decides that he should take advantage of the safety of where they're staying and sleep a bit too. He ended up soul projecting in full Red Robin costume. He tried to play it cool, maybe Phantom wouldn't know it was him.
"Red Robin, even if you didn't appear on the same spot as always, I can feel your soul. I know who you are."
Love the vision and concept for the Pale Garden, my only wants are:
Add fog/crank up the fog for an oppressive atmosphere that adds to the creepiness
Add ruins so it feels like a garden and not just. A forest.
Put that bitch underground
The general concept and execution of the creaking makes it feel unique as a “boss” encounter in the game that isn’t really seen with other mobs and it’s Fun