Vander

Owner & pourer at The Last Drop | Retired ring-fighter

[houndunderground]

Thanks for stopping into The Last Drop. I’ve got cold drinks, good music, and a listening ear. Don’t be shy, let me know what I can get you.

(This is a roleplaying blog for Vander from Arcane. He is alive and well, and hasn’t been transformed into Warwick. The timeline is fluid, and may at times veer into AU territory when referring to events after S1 timeskip.

This is an 18+ only blog, as the mun is in their thirties and will not interact with minors. This blog may contain mature content. Provided you are of age, I’m happy to interact with any characters/OCs/etc.

I also write @jayceofprogress, and follow back from @zinzinina.)

[houndunderground]

Hey hey big man. Guess who's birthday it is today~ thats right. Your favorite customer ~!

Can I get a free drink? Or finally a proper kiss? Ill accept a hug -Vm

Ah, sweetheart. You know my rule about not kissing paying customers.

But…seeing as how it’s your birthday, I can’t really let you pay. So…

Vander leans down, gently using his thumb and index finger to cup Vm’s chin, and touches a soft, light kiss to their lips.

[houndunderground]

Happy bi visibility day! Do bi people get a free drink? :3

Depends how visibly bi you plan on being, doesn’t it? Go on. You want a drink, you’ll have to earn it.

[houndunderground]

I- wow.. really? You’d do that? I’d love to be taught by “the hound” himself. Fuck me.. wow.

*she takes a mouthful of the stew* HOLY FUCKING SHIT THATS GOOD! *she quickly downs the rest, scraping the bowl with some bread not to waste any*

anyway.. who do I need to talk to about fixing my wrist?

-🥊

Vander fights a smile as he ladles out a refill of stew into her bowl.

"Don't get too excited just yet—those gloves up there aren't the only thing rusty around here. Might be you teaching me a thing or two."

He tips his chin in the direction of the street. "Clinic at the top of the next lane'll fix you up, if you've got the cogs to pay. If you don't...guess you could try your luck elsewhere. Been hearing about another doctor, working out somewhere near the Pilt, but can't vouch for them."

[houndunderground]

(Tumblr has glitched and eaten the next three messages in my inbox 😞 if you’ve sent me something and I haven’t replied, please try resending it!)

[houndunderground]

"You brought me a gift? Ah. You didn't have to do that. Even in that state, you're a damn sight easier than most of my other patrons. What is it?"

"Awe Vanny have you finally admitted im your favorite? Im flattered" Vm teases and sits on a stool. Spinning around

As he opens the box. Its a few gifts. One being a small chain with Dogtags. Vanders name engraved along with 'Zauns Hero' under his name

There was also a few rings. But what seemed to be the main gift was a small figurine made of scrap metal. Hand crafted and melded together. It was of Vander sitting with a mug of beer.

-Vm

Vander carefully takes each piece from the box, the figurine dwarfed between his rough fingers as he peers at it.

Did you...make this? Janna...it's got my beard and everything. Never gotten a gift like this before.

Suspiciously misty-eyed, he turns to place it carefully in pride of place beside the jewel-toned liquor bottles on the top shelf.

Not sure about me being Zaun's Hero; figure you'd have more than a few folks disagreeing with you there. But I appreciate it all the same, sweetheart. How's the job situation? Find yourself a way out?

[houndunderground]

How do you deal with having to be an imperfect parent? Isn’t it daunting and depressing, to know that you’ll never be as good as one actually needs to be to raise a young one? I find it all so disappointing although I don’t have chil of my own. I do have cats though. Even with them — I know I’m actually not good enough, a person responsible for someone should be better but they have to deal with what they got

Nothing about kids comes easy, but they're resilient. Especially mine. Don't have much of a choice, growing up in the Lanes. When it comes to being an imperfect parent, I deal with it the same way I deal with being an imperfect man: trying to make my peace with what's out of my control. Friend of my mum's used to have a saying there was no use trying to change the past or the Pilt, and I think there's a lot more in that category than not. Lot of people think it's weak to talk like that, like you're giving up on a worthy fight. Maybe they're right. But sooner or later we all hit our limit, and it's better to admit it than drive yourself mad wondering. Way I see it, the best I can do for my kids is help them as far as I can, and if they get to a point they outgrow me, then it means I've done a decent enough job.

[houndunderground]

Late at night, Silco slipped in the backdoor of the bar. Stalking around chairs upside down on tables, she wound through a dark forest of chair legs, towards the back of the room and up the stairs. They didn't bother putting their stuff away, kicking off boots and leaving them where they land, tossing their jacket on the floor. Barefoot, she padded over to the bedroom and quietly slinked inside.

His head was buzzing, and he was sure they'll have bruises on their arms come morning. He went out for the night with Sevika and Fel, a regular occurance, and they got in a fight with some asshole who didn't know how to mind their business - also a regular occurance. Silco just never knew when to shut his mouth; usually, they didn't give a shit (especially with someone bigger by their side, like Sevika), but... Being in a fight with one's partner will do funny things to one's head.

Maybe they deserve it. Maybe are just a dirty rat.

Silco pulled off their shirt, but didn't care to take off anything else. Everything sucked. Every fucking thing. He just wanted to be in bed, and wake up in a world where everything's fine.

Vander's skin, like every time he slept, was hot to the touch. Silco snaked his arms around his soft waist, pressing their meager chest into his back, and she hid her face between the curtain of their hair and the back of Vander's neck.

For once, she hoped her breath on Vander's back won't bother him, when she inevitably fails to sleep tonight.

- @revolution-cheri

Vander's usually a heavy sleeper. Has always been, since he was a kid and the house was filled with talk and noise and rattling, and he had the choice between sleeping heavily or not at all.

But on nights like tonight, with Silco missing from the bed beside him, Vander's plagued with restlessness. He's been tossing and turning for hours, startling awake at every noise, waiting for Silco to come home in whatever state they were in tonight. He's only just managed to doze off when freezing cold fingers are pressing into his stomach, skinny arms wrapping around him from behind.

"Sil?" Vander mumbles, voice thick. He turns onto his back. Silco's bare chest is clammy, the way her skin always gets when she's been drinking and yelling herself hoarse at somebody. "C'mere," Vander grunts. He grabs blindly in the dark and finds Silco's waist, drags him close so he can pull his head in against his chest. Silco's entire body is tense and hard, all grit and blade-edge. "Didn't kill anybody out there tonight, did you?"

[revolution-cheri]

"Only the ones who earned it."

Silco lets herself be manhandled, skin sliding against skin. Vander’s so barrel-chested, it's almost comical to cuddle him, having to bend her knees for her legs to slot around his thick thigh. His hand on their waist secured them in place on top of him. Usually, Silco didn't get to - or generally like - feeling small, at 178 cms, but fuck if being under Vander’s arm didn't feel like heaven. Like her personal little cubby to hide in. She melted slightly, rubbing their nose in his chest hair.

He missed it. Ugh.

Silco found Vander’s other hand and brought it up to xer face, melting further under his palm and pecking the soft skin of his wrist. He put his own hand over the back of it, lacing their fingers.

"I don't fucking deserve you. You know that, right? You're too good for me."

[houndunderground]

Vander blinks his eyes open. There's not enough light in the bedroom to see Silco's face, but the sound of his voice is enough to give Vander pause.

"Must've misheard you earlier, then," Vander says, dry. Silco's lips are soft at his wrist, and Vander gives their intertwined fingers a gentle squeeze. The ends of Silco's hair whisper over Vander's skin, the black strands invisible in the dark. "Could've sworn you said something about feeling like you're wasting your time with a giant, empty-headed animal."

Silco's taut thighs are wedged up awkwardly against Vander's, and Vander pushes one of his own knees between Silco's, forcing her legs wide around him in the process. Like this, they're slotted together neatly, hip to hip. His hand slides up from xer waist to her neck, a thumb softly dragging over the peak of a nipple on the way. They haven't been like this for a while. Warm, soft, moving together in the bed. Lately all he's been getting out of Silco is sharp teeth, sharper tongue.

"Wanna tell me what's going on in that head?" Vander says. His hand encompasses Silco's entire jaw. He tilts their chin up in his fingers, lifting xer face so he can touch his own forehead down against Silco's.

[revolution-cheri]

"Hrm. Yes, well." Silco knew Vander was going to bring that up. They're lucky he can't see them roll their eyes. "You know I say shit. Would you drop it? I'm not interested in arguing anymore."

Goosebumps run up her side following Vander's warm palm, and a gasp escapes xer lips when his thumb brushes her nipple. They melt into his hand around her jaw, their breaths mixing with their foreheads together.

Something warm stirs in him. He was... He was worried, frankly. The fact that Vander embraced him again, immediately, it means a lot. He does it every time, of course; every time Silco argues, or tests his limits again, or says the most hurtful thing xe can think of, Vander always forgives him. He won't say sorry first, but he's waiting for him, waiting for him to come back, and he'll forgive him for anything.

Silco is, of course, scared every time. Scared she finally pushed too far, scared that she's right, that Vander finally got sick of them. Vander's proven them wrong each time so far. No matter what. What the hell did Silco do to deserve that?

"Nothing. I suppose I missed you."

Their legs fit together like puzzle pieces, Silco's hips rolling down against the softness of Vander's, rubbing trouser fabric against skin.

[houndunderground]

“Mmm,” Vander hums. It swells something in his chest to hear Silco admitting to missing him, but he doesn’t trust himself to say as much. He defaults to flippancy instead. “Been with Felicia? You’re always sentimental after you two’ve had a few.” Silco’s hair smells like smoke. Vander presses his knee up harder against Silco’s groin, the rolling motion of her hips grinding the button of her trousers against Vander’s skin.

Vander hisses, then paws at her trousers, managing to unbutton them before kicking them down into a tangle somewhere near their feet, lost in the sheets. “Bloody button’s sharp,” he grouses. “You sew it on with razor wire?”

Unimpeded by fabric, he reaches down and plants both big palms around the small swell of Silco’s ass, dragging him in tighter. His lips are close enough to brush Vander’s, so it takes barely any reaching at all to catch Silco’s lower lip between his teeth and then tongue into his mouth.

Vander’s always preferred a slow, deep, dirty kiss. Somewhere to start, and somewhere else to finish; an unhurried unfurling of heat. As he groans an exhale into Silco’s mouth, he can feel his body rousing from sleep in more ways than one, and knows Silco will be able to feel it too.

[revolution-cheri]

"Maybe I did," Silco purred, kicking their trousers off their ankles. "To teach you a lesson. I've been back for three minutes and you're already stripping me naked. Thought you were raised better than that."

Vander's palms cupping his ass sent a shiver up his spine, and while xe was mostly sober by now, xe felt drunk all over again. Xe was pulled into a kiss by xer face, and she already felt like putty. Un-fucking-fair – perhaps she's not as sober as she thought, that must be it. Fisting one hand in Vander's hair, he twisted, trying to get Vander to flinch. His other hand trailed down Vander's torso, fingertips dragging through the lovely forest of curls covering the softness.

"But I suppose you can't help it; a dirty mutt like you can't resist..."

His long, spindly fingers curled around Vander's hardening cock, like a spider on its prey.

"... a sausage."

She was sure Vander could feel her smirk against his lips.

[houndunderground]

Vander huffs a weak sound closer to a groan than a laugh into Silco’s sharp-edged little mouth. “Always so fucking mean. And here I thought you’d missed me.” Xer fingers are cool and just a touch too firm, but Vander finds himself pushing into the hurt of xer touch all the same.

Broad hands still cupping Silco’s ass, he spreads Silco open and lets one thumb drift lightly over the tight, dry furl of muscle.

They aren’t exclusive. Vander’s allowed to—and does—fuck whoever he pleases. And there have been plenty of nights at the bar he’s watched Silco reeling in his own sweet-faced quarry, his long, pointed face tilted toward theirs over some glass of sugary swill the idiot had sent Sil’s way, knowing nothing about his preferences but pretty enough it made no difference.

Vander didn’t know whether Sil watched Vander during these exercises because she needed the reassurance of her own personal attack dog should things turn south, or whether she just liked it when Vander watched her flirting with someone else. He likes to think he manages that streak of jealousy well, for the most part. But a shudder of dark satisfaction wracks Vander as he sweeps his fingers over Sil’s hole and finds tonight, at least, nobody else has been permitted to touch her. Maybe they’ve sucked him off, sure, but his cunt is Vander’s alone.

“Consider your lesson learned, sweetheart,” Vander grits into her hair, his teeth catching her earlobe. He’s completely hard now in that indifferent grasp. “You want me sorry? You want me asking for it? Don’t stop. Fuck, Sil.”

[houndunderground]

She refrains from downing the whole thing before pushing her glasses up. She really doesn't need a stronger prescription. And if she goes blind, she's certain her publisher will strangle her to death.

"Thank y--oh, wow." She lifts the glass and is immediately hit with a smell so astringent, her eyes water. "You weren't joking." She nurses the drink between sips of the tonic.

"I'm researching the latest trends in Piltovian fashion. Not exactly an exciting thing. Apparently, my publisher's employer needs to recycle designs that never quite made the cut. Says it'll make good money for us both."

She rolls her eyes, then leans over carefully.

"Truth be told, I've been cooking up a wild fantasy novel in my spare time. Just don't tell him that."

- grouchy author

"Think this is about the last place you'll find any of that fancy Piltovian fashion shit. This shirt I'm wearing's nearly as old as the bar itself. Unless you're looking to come in with a twist. Put out a story on unregulated bio-enhancements and the tattoo trade-lines."

Vander leans in on his elbows, strikes a match to his pipe, then exhales in a slow, satisfied cloud of sweet haze.

"And at any rate, I reckon a fantasy novel's a much better use of your time. Building something new instead of blowing smoke up some rich Topsider's ass. Used to read all sorts of stories to the kids when they were little and they wouldn't go to sleep. My youngest girl loved pirate stories the most; anything with airships and cannons and explosions. What's yours about?"

[houndunderground]

Can we all get in line to give you a hug and a pat on the shoulder now

Anybody lining up at the bar better be ordering something. Not about to start charging for hugs.

[houndunderground]

Hey Vander, how are the kids?

Last I heard of Violet she was all mixed up with some Topsider girl from a fancy family. Always been bloody reckless, that kid—all sounds like nothing but a good way to get your heart broken. Just hope she’s gotten better at defending her middle from those chest-shots since she was a little thing.

As for Powder, word is she’s still keeping close with Silco. Hasn’t wanted a hell of a lot to do with me since what happened to her brothers, not that I blame her. If I had the chance to talk to her again, I’d tell her none of it was her fault. That I’ve never blamed her, and I’ve never been angry with her, no matter how far down she thinks she’s gotten. Never too late to come home.

[houndunderground]

Everyone wants you to step on them or squish them or give them good bear hugs and I'm sure those are great- but when's the last time anyone asked if you needed a hug, Van?

Heh. Yeah, it’s been…not sure, exactly. A long time. Don’t worry about me, though. Been too busy to think much about it.

But I wouldn’t mind one, if you’re offering.

[revolution-cheri]

Okay let's say you get like, total independence for Zaun. Not just the Union stuff. Get the water clean and stuff - things are great.

What's the wedding with Vander looking like at that point?

Silco's cheeks grow red, repressing a smile from his face.

I... Well. I can't say we have been planning anything yet.

They poke at the toothpick in an empty glass in front of them, candied cherry long gone.

I don't know how keen on marriage Vander is. But, if we both make it through, nothing will break us apart, so he won't have an argument.

I don't reckon we'll have many resources at that point, so a traditional wedding is probably not in the cards for us. I also don't think either of us would want to dye feathers or weave wreaths, as neither of us care much for religion; although, perhaps it would be good to include some traditions. I don't often think about my heritage but my father, may his sleep be sound, taught me about old Shurima customs, most of which he learned from his own parents. When he found out about my... gender situation, his gift to me was teaching me the woman's part of a traditional Shurima dance. I think it's only right if that's included, considering he won't be there to attend. Vander has a mother, but she fucking hates my guts, so she probably won't attend either, out of spite.

A sour little smirk flashes over their face, before evening out again.

We will get some new threads tailored, however, depending on the monetary situation. Rest assured, I'm not taking him in that rag.

[houndunderground]

Vander doesn’t lift his head from where he’s counting out the till, but his hands slow and eventually stop as he listens to Silco’s insouciant drawl. He blinks several times, then ducks his face to his shoulder in a gesture intended to appear as that of one wiping sweat from his brow. When he looks up, there’s a distinct shine to his eyes.

He clears his throat, slaps his polishing cloth over his shoulder, then leans over the bar to press a gruff, peremptory kiss to the place where Silco’s ear meets his jaw.

Speaking of rags. Lift your elbows up, love. Want to wipe that down if you’re going to lean on it, or you’ll bloody well end up with beer stains on your sleeves again.

[houndunderground]

Seeing Vander start on the drink, the stranger fumbles with their coin bag before placing down a large handful of gold on the counter in early payment. Oh no! N-Nothing like that! Apologies for wording it like that, I'm actually from far away, Shurima to be exact. Here on a job with my group, but I got lost, again. All these layers to the city, it's so confusing, I feel like I keep running in circles... - 🐛

Easy, sweetheart. Just a joke. Even if you had come all the way down here to see me, I'd take it as a compliment. But a job; yeah, that sounds right. What line of work are you in?

Vander adds a generous dash of sweet syrup to the glass, and places it down in front of the stranger.

If you need a hand finding your way, I've got a couple of errands to run in the Lanes. Wouldn't mind pointing you in the right direction once you're finished your drink. Not a good place to be lost without friends. Especially not with a flashy bag of coin like that.

[houndunderground]

"Im backkk~"

Vm walks through the door. A small gift box in theyre hand as they lean agaisnt a counter and hand it over to Vander

"A gift. For having to deal with my sorry ass the other night"

-Vm

Vander glances up from where he's replacing a leaking tap from the beer cooler under the bar. The little box sits neatly on the countertop, and he picks it up, shaking it gently to listen for a rattle.

"You brought me a gift? Ah. You didn't have to do that. Even in that state, you're a damn sight easier than most of my other patrons. What is it?"

[houndunderground]

Have you ever posed for photography? Your face would make a pretty picture.

They fidget with the strap hanging around their neck, with a homemade photo-apparat made of spare parts. You've seen them take pictures of others, too. Photo-portraits for a coin.

- 🎞

This face? You sure it won't break your camera? Ha. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I'm the best subject to waste your film on. Plenty of pretty faces around the bar of an evening who haven't had their noses broken as many times as mine; I'm sure you could take your pick.

[houndunderground]

She walks into the rowdy tavern, clothes disheveled and eyes dark around the edges from the past few sleepless nights. Some grabby patrons try their hand, but she yanks her coat away before grumbling. When she gets to the bar, she pulls out a thick, heavy manuscript she’d been dragging along with her and drops it onto the counter with a heavy thud. She looks up to you behind foggy, smudged glasses, taped together at the side, before saying

“What’s the strongest drink you have? Maybe a good spirit will knock some sense into me and I can finally finish this gods-forbidden book on time.”

She rubs a hand down her face slowly before slapping her face to stay awake. She looks at you under tired, slightly manic, lids.

“My publisher threatened to burn my research if I didn’t make the date.”

- grouchy author

Vander hums sympathetically. "Sounds like your publisher never heard you can't rush a good thing. What's the book about?"

He pours out a small measure of something clear, cold, and nostril-assaultingly strong, and slides it over alongside a glass of tonic water. "Best not to knock the whole thing back at once, yeah? Wet your lips with it, chase with the tonic, repeat. Mate of mine by the name of Benzo cooked this one up. Story goes he only started needing to wear glasses after he drank a glass of this stuff and nearly went blind. Calls it Piltshine, 'cause it's damn near as toxic as the Pilt itself."