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“I’m his best friend. He’d have said something,” Jayce insists, helplessly. Desperately.
Caitlyn snorts. “Like what?” she asks. Then, in a horrible, unfairly accurate parody of Viktor’s accent: “Hey, Jayce, I like to fuck men. Hope you don’t mind, old sport. Pass me the chalk, will you.”
Jayce is too stunned—and, frankly, traumatised—to bring himself to answer.
[Or: a report on the impact of a rumour and its observable effects on the behaviours of one J. Talis.]
Bookmarked by WashuPuppet
11 Mar 2026
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You have to have some strong ground rules if you're going to save the world together...
Bookmarked by WashuPuppet
25 Feb 2025
