1 - 20 of 35 Works by cilceon
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He flicked the lighter again, cupping his palm tight around the flame. Somewhere above them, the sky had taken on that specific sickly yellow-brown hue that meant the storm was coming in faster than forecasted.
A few feet away, Rudo stood with his boots planted uncertainly, posture stiff in the way people got when adrenaline finally began to drain out of them. His hands were tucked close to his chest, cradling something fragile with reverent care.
A tiny succulent, stubbornly alive, nestled in a previously cracked tea cup. It had been carefully glued back together, the seam still visible despite the effort taken to mend it. Twine had been wrapped around a few times for good measure.
He watched Enjin struggle with the lighter for another moment before finally speaking.
“So,” Rudo squinted across the street, “If she works for the Cleaners… why’s the shop in town and not part of HQ?”
Enjin finally got the cigarette lit and took a drag. The smoke barely made it past his lips before the wind stole it away.
“She doesn’t work for us,” he said, tone easy, almost lazy, even as his eyes never quite left the door.
“Bro Santa said–”
“Yeah,” Enjin tapped the cigarette, “He says a lot.” -
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Shaun nodded, serious. “She always smiles when she talks about you. Even when she’s sad. She tried not to be, but I could tell.”
Deacon’s chest tightened. He kept his expression neutral, “Your mom smiles at a lot of people.”
“Not like that,” He aid quietly, shaking his head. He glanced toward the window again, then back, “She smiles like… like she’s remembering something good. Even if it hurts a little.”
Deacon let out a ghost of a laugh. “You’re observant. That ever get you in trouble?”
Shaun shrugged. “Sometimes.”
He crouched slightly so they were closer to eye level, keeping his tone light, almost conspiratorial. “Alright. Here’s the thing. Love’s complicated. Especially in the Commonwealth. Especially for people like your mom.” And people like me, he didn’t say. “Caring about someone doesn’t always mean… you know. Big dramatic stuff. Sometimes it just means you want them safe. Happy. Fed. Preferably not yelling at a wet dog on the porch.”
Despite himself, Shaun snorted.
Deacon smiled, relieved to have landed that. He kept going, carefully skirting the truth without touching it. “Your mom’s important. To a lot of people. She’s… kind of hard not to care about.”Series
- Part 1 of The Noble Lie
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Dancing With A Viper (2026 revision) by cilceon
Fandoms: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)
31 Jan 2026
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Hancock popped a handful of the tablets into his mouth, chewing with a grin that was permanently stuck somewhere between mischief and menace. He snapped the tin shut and tossed it to the table between them. “Yeah, it’s been a few years since we had a gala.” He tipped his head toward Deacon, voice lazy with amusement. “Thought Norah Jean would enjoy it. How’s she doing anyways? Haven’t seen my favorite popsicle in about a month now.”
A muscle flicked at Deacon’s jaw. He didn’t let it show. “She’s peachy,” he said, keeping his voice clipped, neutral. The last thing he needed was for Hancock to think Wanderer was soft or vulnerable.
His smile shifted, that thin, unpleasant curl that suggested he was already thinking three moves ahead. “Mhm, sure. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy using Nors’, but I need O’Malley out of the picture and she’s the best way to do that–”
“Wouldn’t say ‘using,’” Deacon interrupted, the correction smooth, “more like renting, or hm… maybe it’s a timeshare situation.”(its another undercover story with Deacon & Wanderer Featuring the most lovable raisin mayor you've ever met. if you've seen this before I rewritten the entire thing six years later and finally added the last chapter)
Series
- Part 5 of The Noble Lie
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The Curious Case of Vault 81 (2026 revision) by cilceon
Fandoms: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)
30 Jan 2026
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Up close, she could see the subtle tension lock into him. The set of his jaw sharpened, teeth pressing together beneath the faint shadow of brassy stubble. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he adjusted his grip on Churchbell, veins standing out beneath scarred, freckled skin as he steadied the barrel against the crate’s edge. He didn’t brace the rifle so much as rest it there, trusting his own balance more than the cover.
“Another laser turret,” he said softer, peering through the scope. “Cute.”
The protectron’s footsteps clanked closer, metal joints whining with each step, but Deacon didn’t rush. He took his time, breathing slow and even, shoulders barely rising. This was a keen difference between the two of them, a skill she hadn’t mastered yet – not accuracy, but patience. In knowing how long you could afford to wait before the threat clocked you.
The gap between the lenses of his sunglasses caught the vault’s flickering light, and for just a second she could see his eyes.
Focused. Sharp. Pale blue and utterly unflinching. Cold.(It's the Hole in the Wall quest now with more Deacon)
Series
- Part 11 of The Noble Lie
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The Second Conversation: Sand and Pastries by cilceon
Fandoms: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 (Video Game)
22 Nov 2025
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He didn’t speak, just settled into the warmth radiating from the sun and the sea.
Lune exhaled through her nose when it became obvious he wasn’t going to get up and leave, “Are you planning on joining the others, or just making it harder for me to work?”
“Neither.” Verso relaxed his posture with a sigh, “I’m observing.”
She raised a brow without looking up. “Observing what, exactly?”
“You.” He said it simply, unapologetically.
Lune’s pen-hand paused in midair. The wind tugged at the corner of the page below it.
Verso let himself recline slightly as he situated himself, “You look like you’re pretending this is something other than what it is.”
“And what is it?” She sighed, though her voice lacked bite.
(This is a longer version of Lune‘s second camp conversation)Series
- Part 4 of Painters Writers and Musicians
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He buried his face just behind her ear, arms winding around her with playful certainty, the kind that had no edge of panic to it. Just affection. Just the wordless insistence that being close to her was better than anything waiting outside the door.
“Surely,” he murmured into her skin, “We can have a few more moments.”
She scoffed, quiet and fond, as he pulled her even closer, his leg sliding along the outside of hers to keep her tucked firmly against him. Lune’s hand came up, fingers brushing blindly along his forearm as if testing whether he truly meant to keep her pinned. The warmth of his chest pressed along her spine, and his breath settled in a slow, warm rhythm against her shoulder.
“You say that every morning.” she said, though the reprimand was softened by the way she relaxed against him, body yielding to the cradle he made of his arms.
“And I’m right every morning,” Verso countered, nudging his nose against the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
“Almost every morning,” she corrected, quiet, her breath warming the space between them.(What if Maelle created a Black Mirror Tamagotchi situation to give the people she loves the perfect life and what if it's not the life they want)
Series
- Part 1 of Painters Writers and Musicians
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The First Conversation: A Series of Questions by cilceon
Fandoms: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 (Video Game)
18 Nov 2025
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The night smelled of damp bark, singed lumina, and the smoke that trailed up into the distant stars. Behind them, Maelle let out a soft, dreaming sigh, her breath pressing against Sciel’s shoulder where they slept tangled together on the pillow that Esquie’s midsection had turned into.
Verso watched them briefly, expression softening, then returned his gaze to her. He looked tired – not just worn from travel or fighting, but hollowed in a way that settled into the bones. He exhaled, slow, resigned. A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“All right,” he said, leaning back, palms open toward the flames. “Go for it. But I get three back.”
Lune traced the tip of her blade over the tendon on the soft part of her wrist, the faint burn beneath her skin sharpening her focus as she chose her first question.
“When you were on the cliff with Maelle…” She hesitated, shifting course, voice careful, threading around the embers and the sleeping forms, “How long had you been following us before then?”(I thought it would be fun to take the companion dialogues for Lune and make them a little longer than just a paragraph of back and forth talking while standing still, this is the first of them)
Series
- Part 3 of Painters Writers and Musicians
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But before she understood what was happening, the world tilted sideways and the cavern lights blurred into streaks. For one impossible moment she was weightless – suspended above the ground.
Lune hit the liquid stomach brine with a force that drove the air from her lungs in a single violent burst. The substance closed around her instantly; warm, viscous, thick enough that it clung to her limbs as she sank. The texture was like cooking oil mixed with mucus, like something half-alive trying to pull her deeper.
The brine forced itself against her mouth, seeped into the corners of her eyes, clawed into the grooves where pictos had overextended and bled.
She twisted, arms flailing for anything solid. Her legs scraped against slick muscle and found no traction. The water dragged at her clothing, at her hair, at her limbs, pulling her down and a hand collided with her back.
Then an arm wrapped around her ribs.
A chest pressed against her shoulder.
“Got you,” Verso’s voice, low and steady, came out of the darkness, distorted by the wet echo of their surroundings. His grip was firm, anchoring her as the two of them were jostled by the slow, rhythmic contractions of the bourgeon’s stomach.Series
- Part 2 of Painters Writers and Musicians
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He leaned back, looking at the braid a moment, “Alrighty Boss, twirl around and let me fix up the front.”
Keeping her eyes on the cracks in the warped floorboards, Norah did what was asked of her. Shuffling around in her spot to face him.
He leaned forwards then, teasing a few strands of her hair free so they framed her face. Almost as a second thought, Deacon twirled a lock of it around his finger – training it into a soft curl.
“There.” He said quietly, the crickets outside almost drowning him out, right as she moved her eyes up to meet his own for the first time that she could remember.
“Hey Wands?” Deacon spoke after a beat passed.
“Mhm?”
“I got something important to say.”
(Its a retelling of the 'big talk' that is Deacon's finale affinity convo, he also braids her hair at the start and talks about his mama, its cute i promise)Series
- Part 6 of The Noble Lie
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Series
- Part 13 of The Noble Lie
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She rounded the final corner into the courtyard, and there he was: a blue jacket folded over the edge of the statue, a familiar newsboy cap atop it, its seam busted at the bill. Below, propped against the marble pedestal, lay Drummer Boy. One hand pressed to Dogmeat’s back, the other clamped against his shoulder where the collarbone met the joint. Red seeped, vivid against pale skin, between his fingers.
“Shit,” Norah breathed, closing the distance. Her knees hit the flagstones with a crack as she knelt, pressing her hands over his own as if she could force the blood back inside him. “Drummer… it’s alright.”
“Ha-ah that’s… not the term I’d use,” he rasped, attempting a quivering smile, eyes darting toward the rooftops and broken windows behind her. His skin was three shades paler than normal, the shadows under his eyes deepened into hollows.
“I handled it,” she said, brushing the fringe from his forehead. “He’s gone, Drummer. I handled it.” She repeated it when his gaze finally met hers, a tether to reality.
Confusion clouded the gray of his eyes for a heartbeat before he nodded shakily. “I thought I heard two shots.”Series
- Part 4 of The Noble Lie
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Sharp Hands, Soft Glass (2025 revision) by cilceon
Fandoms: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)
28 Sep 2025
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Deacon crouched again, brushing hair back from her face, tucking strands carefully behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek, grounding her as she looked bleary eyed past his shoulder. “Okay, listen.” He sighed, “I’m gonna pull it out. You’re gonna curse at me. Then I’ll clean it, maybe stitch it. Easy.”
“Nope.” Her protest was weak but stubborn. “No needles. No thread.”
“Wanderer-”
“Nuh-uh,” she interrupted, attempting to sit. He gently held her down, hand on her shoulder. The familiar motion, done countless times, began to irritate her. “S’not that bad. You’re not puttin’ a needle or thread anywhere near me.”
“You need them.” His tone shifted, firmer. His hand slid down to steady her leg, his thumb circling the glass. “Promise it won’t be so bad.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered, eyes squeezing shut. “If I dragged you up a building, made you cross a cutty bridge, you’d be stressed out to the point youd be–”Series
- Part 3 of The Noble Lie
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Facets of Determination by cilceon
Fandoms: Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game), Dragon Age (Video Games)
27 Sep 2025
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Lucanis’s eyes slid over the corpses with an outward coolness, but the way his fists clenched and how his jaw ground betrayed the fury curdled inside him. “Very few survive Calivan’s ‘rehabilitation.’”
“You did,” Rook answered gently, though her gaze had already snagged on the central table. A sound – a rasping, fragile moan – came from the figure chained there.
The elf before her barely resembled one. His face was a swollen ruin, blood and grime matting what remained of his hair. Both ears had been crudely clipped down to rounded nubs, skin around them raw and jagged. His vallaslin tattoos had been flayed away, carved from his flesh with such deliberate cruelty that only scar tissue remained. His ribs jutted sharp through torn skin, chest heaving with the shallow panic of breath. Shackles bent his arms backward at an angle meant to break joints. His legs ended in blackened stumps at the knees, cauterized in ugly burns.This is a rewrite (kinda) of Veilguard with added scenes and more NPC interactions as well as a deeper look into Lucanis, Rook, and Spite's relationship (I've updated the first few chapters)
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- Part 2 of Birds of a Feather
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Time and Other Necessities by cilceon
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Wayne Family Adventures (Webcomic), Batman (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Red Hood: Outlaws
17 Aug 2025
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There is a short list of things Jason Todd does not want to happen involving his neighbor: Her to find out he's Bruce Wayne's kid, her to catch him slipping onto the shared balcony as Red Hood, his blood getting on her hands, Damian to knock on the door of said balcony and asking to pet her cat when he's not home, Tim to ask why he smiles at his phone when the two of them get lunch, and most importantly - not for her to realize he's fallen so deeply in love with her that Jane Austin herself would throw his ass out a window... all of these things do, in fact, happen.
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He decides as his hand slides up her body, fingers wrapping around the column of her throat, feeling the stuttering beat of her pulse against his fingers as it spikes for a moment. His gaze is locked onto her face, searching her eyes for permission to do this as he takes in every little detail of her expression like it’ll help quell the growing hunger in his chest. She doesn’t recoil; she doesn’t look afraid.
“You’re mine.” He says in a voice that’s low and rough and utterly full of desire.
A whimper leaves her, he can feel it reverberating against the palm of her hand.
Oh, that noise… He tightens his hand around her neck a little bit more, not enough to hurt but just enough to make sure that he has her complete and undivided attention. His words are soft, a tender caress as he murmurs them into her skin. “Say you’re mine.”
“Make me.”
It’s a challenge and one that sets the possessive part of him atwitter. She’s playing with fire here and she knows it. But he’ll play along, he’s all too happy to have a reason to keep her close. Sylus leans in again, voice dropping even lower, edged with promise, “That’s a dangerous thing to say, sweetheart… might want to choose your next words carefully.”Series
- Part 3 of Anecdotes
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With a swallow, Martin shifted his eyes back up to her, “I could heal them for you.” Before she got the chance to say no, he quickly continued with a clarification, “There won’t be any cost, I… just don’t like seeing you hurt. And without any proper treatment, the scars will be visible for quite a few years.”
“Will it hurt?” Her jaw set as she asked the question. A lot of children in Kvatch would ask him that after they scraped their knees out playing. It crossed his mind then that perhaps Ziah had never been afforded the feeling of healing being cast on her.
Martin wavered, his fingers slowing but continuing on with their small circles on her wrist, “It could, I won’t lie to you about that either. I’ll endeavor to make it as painless as possible though.” He searched her face for a moment, trying to gauge her thoughts. He frowned again before adding, “But, I’d like to try, if you’d allow me?” -
A Collection of Contracts by cilceon
Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game)
18 Nov 2024
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Juliette sighed as she set the brush down on the thin marble which made up the vanity’s table. In the reflection of its mirror, a cloaked figure sat on the ledge of her open window.
The woman’s legs were crossed over one another, fingers interwoven and clasped over her knee while she watched Juliette with a gentle expression. She wore a long, thin, rich plum coat that draped behind her like the feathers of a bird’s wing. Sat beside her on the windowsill was a dark wooden box with intricately carved feathers on every portion of its surface.
“The Crows send their regards.” The woman nodded once in greeting.
“Ah, you’re early.” Juliette moved to stand but the Crow lifted a hand in one elegant motion before letting it fall, stopping her from leaving the stool.(Each chapter in this story is going to be one of Rook's contracts from the perspective of the one dying. My Rook specializes in assisted suicides and that should be noted before you read this. If you have persistent/unchecked thoughts of suicide or causing yourself harm, I don't suggest reading this as some chapters will be heavier than others)
Series
- Part 1 of Birds of a Feather
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“That's the point. See, you gotta remember that a disguise is more than a wig and some lice-ridden clothes.” With a role of his shoulder, he continued. “You'd be surprised how far I've gotten with the right attitude and a clipboard. And,” He paused for dramatic effect, “A face change thrown in once in a while doesn’t hurt either.”
“A face change?” She echoed, clicking the implication he gave her into place. It felt so silly that it took until now for events of the last month or so to click into place. That caravan hand outside Bunker Hill when her and Preston first arrived… How Dogmeat had looked at him with a curious tilt of the head. The scaver in the stained red flannel outside Goodneighbor that was smoking a cigarette as he leaned outside the door frame leading into the Daisy’s shop while she reminisced about the world before. The same scaver who cheered on Hancock’s ‘fuck the Institute’ speech a few hours after. The guard outside Diamond City when she and Piper got inside who Dogmeat also stopped walking in front of and began wagging his tail.(Its a retelling of the quest Tradecraft with a little more heartache and connection to the dead agents in the Switchboard)
Series
- Part 10 of The Noble Lie
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“A pleasure.” She took his hand, shaking it politely before taking another swig from the glass. Greyson mouthed ‘I’ll get you another’ before he disappeared from her peripheral.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I’ve read countless thesis, debates, and various other papers about you. After all these years, it’s so wonderful to put a face to the name.” Isaiah kept his eyes on the scar as he spoke, a familiar churning dug deeper into her stomach with each second that passed.
Claira had seen the look he was giving her a hundred times before by a hundred doctors and other medical personnel. She was a puzzle that needed to be solved. An item for a curio cabinet to be gawked at. It was the main reason why she hated doctors so much, and her strong disdain for dealing with anyone that wasn’t Zayne when it came to her heart.
She started scanning the room for him, hoping to catch his eye amongst the crowd. He was nowhere to be found.(It's the banquet from the Kindled Reveries event leading into a retelling of the Drunken Memories card story with some angst and a protective hunter)
Series
- Part 2 of Anecdotes
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“You rest,” His voice was hushed as he looked into her eyes, thumb dragging down her cheek to wipe away the tears that escaped her grasp. Carefully, Zayne flattened the mess her hair had become, “And then you take it one day at a time.”
“Is it that easy?”
“No,” He answered, settling himself back into the chair. “It’s going to feel like every piece of your soul has left to join them." Zayne focused on her and remained locked, despite the heaviness of his words, his expression stayed neutral, “But the heart lives on as long as it’s remembered.”(A little bit of comfort after the deaths of loved ones)
Series
- Part 1 of Anecdotes