#I think when the traveler gets new wings they just get the cloth and they just switch the cloths when they want to change it

[daily-amber]

182: wind gliders or something idk

Idk why flipaclip made the gif transparent

[kamaluhkhan]

HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK

pairing: werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader word count: 11.1 k summary: she's a monster, and you're essentially a monster hunter. it shouldn't work, but it does. (or — you and vi decide to escape the narrative together) warnings: ooh various mentions of fighting + blood + injuries ranging from mild to life-threatening; reader and vi both smoke + consume alcohol; rough sex (fingering [vi receiving], oral [reader receiving], tribbing, biting, spitting ++ aftercare); 18+ ! vibes are basically buffy the vampire slayer with chaotic lesbians loving each other so much it consumes them both a/n: i think i've been watching too much buffy and fantasizing about werewolf!vi for like,, too long,, and this unholy mess is the result. this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a WHILE but tonight is the wolf moon so it felt right to post now, i really hope y'all enjoy 🖤 i'll include credit for each subtitle in the tags too <33

♪: "bullet with butterfly wings" by the smashing pumpkins; "dig me out" by sleater-kinney; "taste my despair" by lesbian bed death; "i wanna be your dog" by joan jett; "fantastic" by king princess

i. sorry about the blood in your mouth

vi wakes up with a terrible motherfucking headache, which isn’t anything new. 

she doesn’t know where she is — that isn’t particularly something new, either — but what is new is the tongue slobbering all over her face. when she opens her eyes, vi sees a 50-pound black dog standing over her.

“whoa!” vi sits up abruptly, but the dog only gets more excited and jumps up on the couch, caging her in.

“sorry. she usually isn’t so enthusiastic about company.”

the voice is coming from the other side of the room, where you’re sitting on the edge of the mattress closest to the window. there’s a cigarette in your hand, and each time you exhale, you point your chin accordingly so the smoke travels outside. a crisp breeze trickles in. 

“morning, killer.”

vi swallows the heart that has jumped into her throat, takes a deep breath to steady her breathing. fuck, she literally just moved here and might already need to leave. she tries to remember if something bad happened last night. 

it wasn’t the full moon, was it? no, that shouldn’t be for another few weeks. but then why are you calling her a —

“killer?” she asks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

she stares at you, eyes trailing your injured jawline as she waits for you to respond. you do look vaguely, achingly familiar. whatever happened last night, you were probably part of it. 

“well, you’ve got a killer right hook,” you quip. you snuff out your cigarette and twist around to fully face vi. “and i’m pretty sure you killed my reputation as a pit fighting champion. i was undefeated before you.” 

fresh blood emerges from your split lip as you speak, and you’re quick to swipe it away with your tongue. 

oh. right. 

your tank top is torn at the bottom, just cropped enough that vi can see the imprint of her fist on your lower ribs. she now remembers the feeling of yours on the side of her face, and has a bloody, crusted eyebrow, painfully tender cheekbone, and the outline of your ring seared onto her skin forever to prove it. 

what kind of pitfighter wears pure silver?

vi takes note of her surroundings to get a better sense of who she’s up against: the place is small, dingy, but has a good amount of light. you’ve got a broken mirror, old books stacked in the corner, and an open cupboard filled with clothing and various weapons, mostly daggers and some wooden stakes. an intricate glass cross dangles from the centre of the window, filtering through multicolored light. there are a bunch of dried plants next to a mortar and pestle on the sill below — nightshade, juniper, wolfsbane. on the tiny kitchen counter is a silver vase filled with more wilted flowers. 

even from far away, vi can hear your heartbeat — strong, steady — as you shuffle around and gather some things. she inhales your scent. she remembers that she was slightly taken aback, in the pit when she had you pinned to the mat, that under the musk of sweat and metallic tang of blood, vi sensed something else, something delicate and floral. 

your whole apartment smells overwhelmingly of dried roses and decaying fruit, too, sweet and earthy.

“did you bring me here for round two?”

“no.” you let out a short, breathy laugh. “i brought you here so that some creep wouldn’t take advantage of you. you were pretty out of it.”  

“so you’re — what an enforcer?”

“no fucking way,” you declare, and vi can practically feel rage coursing through you, your heart pumping with reignited vigor. “like an enforcer would care enough to actually help the undercity,” you grumble. 

you shake your head and sit down at the edge of the couch, shooing your dog away so you can drop first aid supplies in her place. she settles on the floor at your feet. 

you offer vi a somewhat bruised apple. when she hesitates, you push it into her hand.

“this isn’t a fairytale,” you say, hands busy soaking a cloth in some alcohol. “i’m not trying to poison you,” you add as if reading her mind.  

“there…there are some good enforcers, though,” vi tries, trained to have such platitudes at the ready.  

you roll your eyes. “if there are, i haven’t met them.” 

vi’s not sure she believes what she had said, either. she feels her side ache, a phantom bruise from when caitlyn slammed her rifle into the very injury she had once helped heal. 

what started as you’re not like the rest of those animals. you’re one of the good ones. became you’re all the same. it’s their blood in your veins. as soon as things went downhill. 

vi bites her lip to prevent herself from wincing, and it isn’t because you’ve pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth to the cut on her nose. her sharp nails break through the skin of the apple, digging into its soft flesh until juice is running down her wrist.

“eat,” you insist, but you’re focused on removing as much dirt and dried blood from her face as you can, brows furrowed in concentration. “you ruined my reputation, so you better keep up your strength if you wanna keep yours.”

“so, you’re helping the enemy,” vi, still wary of you, wonders.

your frown softens. you place a bandage on the bridge of her nose before saying: 

“you’re not my enemy.” 

maybe it was the sincerity of your words, or the unconditional care you’re showing her, or the fact that it’s been so long since someone has touched vi so tenderly, but she decides in that moment to trust you, whoever you are. 

she takes a bite of the apple, the sweetness invading her mouth, as you lean over to search for something else in the first aid kit, mumbling to yourself about how the wound is deeper than you thought. 

“you should really be more careful,” you chide. “are you a topsider?”

vi scoffs through a mouthful of fruit. “i’m from the lanes.” 

“yeah, well this neighborhood is a different level of bad,” you tell her.

“i can hold my own — ouch.”

you start stitching up the cut on her eyebrow, one hand keeping her head steady. her cheek pulses against you as she chews, your skin calming and cool. 

“when you’re sober, maybe.”

“you didn’t have to help me,” vi grunts. “most people would’ve gone about their business.”

“i was going about my business. i was out on patrol; vampires never sleep, you know.” 

you say it so casually, almost too casually, that vi wonders if she misheard you.

“vampires?”

you raise an eyebrow at vi. “there’s a high concentration of them around here, near the hellmouth. a lot of monsters, actually —”

vi hopes you don’t notice how she shudders at the word monsters.

“ — some of whom can and will eat you alive if they get the chance,” you deadpan. “that’s kinda what i’m here for.”

“so….what are you, exactly?”

you don’t say anything for a few seconds, your expression unreadable while you finish vi’s stitches, but your heart thumps so forcefully against your ribcage, vi almost thinks she’s seconds away from hearing the bones there crack. you start gnawing at your bottom lip, let the blood gather until it starts to trickle down towards your chin. vi swipes it away with her thumb, which she then wipes against her bandaged palm. 

you inhale slowly, then exhale. your heart rate eases; still a bit higher than most people’s, but to what seems to be normal for you. 

“the correct term is slayer,” you finally say, watching vi carefully for her reaction. 

vi isn’t quite sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good for someone like her. she’s wondering if she should make a run for it when you drop your voice an octave or two and add: 

“the chosen one standing against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” you clear your throat. “if you were wondering.” you break out into a cheeky grin, teeth sparkling in the late morning sun.

“you’re joking?”

“most days, i wish i was. that’s the official tagline, actually.” your smile shrinks into a sigh. “i’m the slayer. i won’t bore you with all the details, but me saving you last night? that’s kinda just what i do. my destiny, so to speak.”

“do you normally take the people you save home?”

you blink away, wipe your hands half-heartedly on the white tank top you’re wearing, smearing vi’s mess of crimson and grime.

“no,” you admit. 

vi narrows her eyes at you, shifts her body so there’s at least more space between you before she figures out what the hell to do. it’s possible that you’re lying but —

vi puffs out her chest. “why are you being so nice to me?” 

you already have her blood on your body, and vice versa, and not just because you’d been fighting each other. it’s not quite trust, but it feels like something close. something you’re willing to share without even knowing much about the other. 

an unspoken question: do you know what i really am? 

because if you did, vi’s sure you wouldn’t be so….friendly towards her. so gentle.

“honestly?” you gesture towards the dog who’s busy nuzzling into vi’s leg. “fangs kinda hates everyone but she seems to like you.”

her jaw drops. “you decided to be my guardian angel because your dog likes me?”

“i already had a good feeling about you before.” you shrug. “i took it as a good omen, i guess.” 

“i’m not sure you should,” vi advises. 

you’re looking out for her, so she should look out for you. it’s better, for everyone, that vi be left alone. 

she’s been good, had to learn how to be, in order to survive; that doesn’t mean she’s innocent. 

on the bad days, she can’t control her anger. on the worst days, she can’t contain her hunger.

“okay, well, maybe i’ve got a thing for strays,” you reach your hand down, run it through fangs’ thick black fur. your lips curl upwards as you look at vi, all bright-eyed and beautiful, sunlight itself emanating from your smile. 

something sparks in her chest that she thought would never light again. something that, like her, could be dangerous if it’s not controlled. 

vi decides it’s probably about time that she left, though it's difficult to tear herself from your warmth.

“so, will i see you in the pit again?” she still can’t help but ask as you accompany her to the door.

“probably, yeah.” you lean against the doorframe, and vi is about to turn the knob when you add: “but, that pub you passed outside of? the bronze? maybe we can, uh, get a drink there, afterwards sometime.”

your heart skips a beat or two as you anxiously wait for vi to say something. her entire body heats up when she realizes what’s going on.

you were….asking her out. 

the good thing is that then there’s no way you actually know what vi is because, well, would this even be allowed in your line of work?

“you promise you’re not just playing the long game? gaining my trust and then stabbing me in the back?”

you give her a playful but sincere smile and make a small ‘x’ on the left side of your upper chest. “cross my heart.”

“guess i’ll will call you my guardian angel,” she muses, her chest glowing. “i’m vi, by the way.” 

you grin, then formally introduce yourself. you reach out your hand. vi holds it, delicately, even though your grip is firm.

“one more thing, though — keep the whole me being the slayer thing under wraps? it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“why’d you tell me, then?” vi wonders, raising an eyebrow. 

you tilt your head, examining her. “like i said — i had a good feeling about you. slayers are meant to have good instincts, so i decided to trust mine.” 

vi takes a deep breath, removes her hand from yours, and glances at you once more with a small smile. she promises not to tell a soul. 

(she, of all people, knows that there are far worse secrets to keep.)  

“thank you,” vi adds. “for saving me.”

she hears fangs scratching at the door from inside the apartment after she’s gone, along with the deep rumble of your voice telling fangs not to worry, our new friend will visit again soon, like you’re so sure vi will be back. 

with the way you already have her sharp edges softening, her heart fluttering in her chest, vi probably will be. 

except —

vi’s not quite human, hasn’t been since she started bleeding between her legs at 13, since her mother told her that this was a blessing passed down to eldest daughters in their family, no matter how many people will try to convince her it’s a curse. 

it would be a few months later that her mother would be killed because of said blessing. 

really, it’s more nightmare. 

because vi knows what it’s like to pick ripped flesh from between her teeth, to have the metallic sweetness of blood linger on her tongue and throat-tearing screams ringing in her ears. 

meanwhile, you — with your good instincts, strong fists and stronger heart  —

it’s your destiny to end those nightmares. 

you’re the thing that monsters like her are supposed to have nightmares about.

ii. you’re an angel / i’m a dog

there’s an intimacy to knowing how someone fights. 

vi fights with bared teeth and burning rage, knuckles cracking against bone, elbows bruising skin without any remorse. her own wounds are half-hazardly hidden behind layers of gauze, her chest wrapped tightly to keep her heart from bleeding out. she doesn’t bother to clean the dirt underneath her nails, to wipe the blood from her upper lip after an opponent breaks her nose, to wash her face clean before smearing on more dark paint until all she sees in the mirror is a shadow of her former self. 

you, on the other hand: you’re precise and quick in how you defeat your opponents, maybe even a bit bored. vi figures that when you fight monsters for a living, it must be fairly dull, knocking out some guy with a single, well placed uppercut, even if he is twice your size. your bandages are always fresh, and you always make vi a little dizzy when she catches a whiff of rose. you walk past her with a playful grin, easily replaced by the glint of your razor-sharp canines as you defeat another opponent in the arena. she listens as your heartbeat barely increases a beat, despite the inevitable adrenaline of battle. 

you might not be as feral as her, but vi thinks you’re just as dangerous. she likes it, admires that your violence is always calculated rather than all-consuming. 

she does wonder if you’d ever let anything consume you, curious to know what’s hiding under your armor.

so, a few days after she first woke up in your apartment, vi builds up the courage to suggest: 

"whoever wins the most fights tonight picks up the tab for the bar." 

your face brightens the dim, dirty sidelines of the pit as you’re both waiting for your turn, when you answer:

"you're on, killer." 

later that night, both of your bodies are aching as vi tries to examine your injuries once you’re both done for the day, away from the roar of the crowd. 

"guess i'll be picking up the tab," you smile, your lip splitting open even more, just like the morning after her knuckles first kissed your skin. 

(she wants to kiss this wound closed, too, press her lips to your bloody ones, if you’d be willing to give her a taste.)

"i'll still take care of it, angel,” vi soothes. she rummages around the tiny locker room, a single light bulb flickering above you. finally, she finds a small first aid kit — poorly stocked, but good enough for now. “lemme take care of you first."

you must understand what vi’s implying, because your heart starts racing faster. 

it’s a routine that becomes vi’s guiding light — the two of you patching each other up after a rough day (and, regardless of the fact that you’re both strong, it’s always a rough day). you share a drink at the bronze, and then you’re off slaying vampires or whatever other nightmares will keep you awake and fighting every night. 

then, it’s another full moon, and the routine changes. 

she’s able to prevent herself from turning even in the worst of circumstances, but she doesn’t want to risk any accidents, knowing that you’re out there on the prowl. vi is confident that you’d never hurt, let alone kill her, but that’s counting on you being able to recognize her. 

vi locks herself in the basement of the bronze. spike, the bartender, let her crash in a storage closet, temporarily, no questions asked and a promise to keep it a secret.

she emerges from her isolation after three days, eyes stinging from the harsh morning sun. her first instinct is to head underground, search for you. she makes one stop beforehand, drops something off in the locker room before she’s ushered into the arena without any more preamble. 

the show must go on, and you’re already center stage. 

the lanky woman you must’ve just knocked unconscious is being dragged away. you spit out what looks like a combination of blood and saliva, and crack your neck before resuming a fighting stance, feet squared, bruised knuckles at the ready. 

you falter when you see that it’s vi who’s your next opponent. vi picks up the increased pace of your heart, the muscle worrying against your chest.  

you’ve had this conversation, though — about what would happen if you were ever up against each other again in the ring — and you both agreed: once the bell rings, the fight starts, because you both need the money to survive. 

nothing personal. winner buys two rounds of drinks at the bronze. three, if there were some nasty hits involved.

you hadn’t needed to worry about any of that until now.

the bell rings, and vi waits for you to make the first move, like you tend to do.

but, you don’t.

the first time you were up against each other, vi dodged your attack and delivered a jab hard enough to make you bleed. you had looked at her with wide eyes, fingers touching your bottom lip and becoming stained with red as the crowd roared. you adjusted your posture with a newfound interest, and a glimmer of what vi can only describe as hunger.

this time, you drop your stance like you’ve already lost the fight. you ignore the shouts and groans from the crowd as you walk away.

….

vi finds you in the locker room — and you’re not alone. 

“there a problem here?” vi asks, glaring at the guy you seem to be arguing with. 

“it’s fine,” you answer coolly. still, vi sits on the bench nearest to the door, waits for you like a patient dog. 

“fine?” the guy barks a laugh. he’s wearing topside clothes. an enforcer, no less. “you made me look like a fool.”

you scoff. “i doubt that’s hard to do.”

the guy suddenly reaches forward and snatches your arm. vi feels rage surge through her when his nails indent your skin. you must sense it, because your eyes lock with hers in a silent command not to do anything, not just yet.

“i don’t think you understand, bitch,” he seethes, face a pissed off shade of red. “i’m out more money than you’ll ever see in your entire pathetic life.” 

“i’m sure you’ll manage.”

vi follows your gaze as it drops to his belt. he’s got his badge, a standard issue pistol, and a pouch full of gold coins. 

“clearly i bet on the wrong fucking dog.” 

you force a smile. “better luck next time, officer.” 

you finally rip your arm out of his grip, push him away abruptly, effectively manoeuvring him to stumble between where you’re standing, and vi’s waiting. you gesture towards vi with a smirk, a taunting dare for this enforcer to challenge two of the undercity’s best fighters. 

vi gets up just as he’s walking out, grumbling an incoherent string of swears. she not-so-subtly knocks into his shoulder and hip, her nimble fingers still quick.

“guess we can get dinner with our drinks, now,” she quips with a toothy grin. vi tosses you the pouch, but you don’t seem too thrilled, even as you catch it effortlessly. 

“you can’t just disappear like that, vi.” your voice sharp, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i didn’t mean to,” vi lies, walking over to open your shared locker. she pulls out a bouquet of roses, the same deep red as dried blood. 

vi pouts, gives you her best puppy dog eyes. “i’m sorry, angel.” 

the only reaction she gages from you is a quickening heartbeat at the nickname, your face still hard to crack marble. 

“this is serious, vi.” 

“i know! but —”

“do you know what’s out there? i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful,” you rush, walking over to her and talking with your hands. “i looked everywhere for you, and….and you just left without saying anything. i thought…i thought you’d been killed —”

your blood roars in vi’s ears, your pulse close to out of control, and vi doesn’t know what else to do except bring you into her arms in an attempt to calm you down.

“i’m okay, angel. i’m here. i’m right here,” vi mumbles against your shoulder, inhaling sweat and roses.

your heart starts beating steady against her own as you exhale.

“i was safe, i promise. i was in the supply close at the bronze.”

“are you kidding?” you guffaw, unravelling yourself from vi’s body. “that basement is a hellhole.”

vi shrugs. “it does the trick.”

you chuckle dryly, shaking your head.

“well, i guess now that i lost one of my best sponsors, fangs and i might have to move in there with you,” you deadpan.

you reach around vi to pull a jacket from the locker, slipping on worn leather that vi realizes is hers. you take the flowers from her with a small thank you, and vi adjusts the collar of her jacket on you, her warm fingers subtly grazing your pulsepoint. vi can’t help the possessiveness that sparks in her abdomen: you, wearing her clothes; you, heart beating rapidly for her. 

“well…what if….i moved in with you?” deep down, she knows it’s not an ideal situation, but vi reasons: “we can pool our money together for rent. besides, what’s another stray in your home?” 

you bite your bottom lip as you mull over the offer.

“well, you did buy me flowers, ask me out to dinner….seems like the logical next step.”

“so….” 

vi wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you finally crack a smile. 

it was only been three days apart and vi already felt deprived of the sunlight of your smile. 

“okay, killer. as long as you don’t make a habit of disappearing on me.”

….

on paper, there might be reasons why you and vi, together, shouldn’t work, but the simple truth is that you do.

you still spend your afternoons engulfed in the darkness of the underground arena, patch each other up at the end of the day, share drinks at the bronze before parting ways.

now, in the mornings, you spend a few hours training together, moving furniture around so there’s enough space to spar. you try not to get distracted by how hot her skin is every time it brushes against yours, how solid her thigh is between your legs when she’s adjusting your stance, how a shattered moan emerges from her lips as you pin her to the floor after showing her a new technique to catch an opponent off-guard.

the nights are your favourite, though. like fangs, vi is able to fall asleep anywhere in the apartment, and is usually passed out by the time you’re off the clock from slayer duty. after the first few nights, you insist that vi sleep on the bed, and she begrudgingly agrees. now, you get home just before dawn, bone-tired, to find her belly up, drooling and snoring on top of the dilapidated mattress. the moonlight illuminates all the curves and shadows of her sculpted body, her skin shimmering with sweat because her body runs warm, even on the coldest nights. you can see the trail of pink hair disappear beneath her black underwear, while her dyed-black hair is a tangled mess you’re tempted to tug at, curious to see if she’d moan again for you. vi sleeps shirtless, nipples winking at you like two fallen stars with those titanium rods pierced through. 

gods, you try not to drool when you slip under the covers and fall asleep dreaming of her, all the places you would sink your teeth into, all the places you wish she would do the same. 

(meanwhile, vi tries to ignore the sound of your whimpers, the quick tempo of your heartbeat, and the overwhelming musk of desire between your legs as you sleep next to her, because she’s so sure that you would never dream of her.)

these fantasies of vi, all her warmth, all her chaos, gnaw at you from the inside out. it’s an overwhelming sense of hunger, but with vi, you also feel something else, something gentler and more fragile building between you.

it’s really the little things. 

like, vi brings you fresh roses every week, and even though you keep telling her to save her winnings for better things, she tells you that pretty girls like you are worth it, angel. they should teach you that in slayer school. 

she winks, makes you flustered, then has the audacity to blush when you leave her the ripest apples because you know that she likes them a bit sweeter. 

sometimes you open the window as you share a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the starlit twilight as you exchange stories about your pasts, about the people you’ve loved and lost. she’s the first person you confide in about how weighed down you feel by the responsibility of being the slayer, a burden that’s cost you many loved ones, and the uncertainty of whether what you’re destined to do is truly what is good for the world. she tells you about her time in prison, the lonely nights lamenting the death of her father and brothers, but keeping her strength because she hoped to one day make it back to a sister she just ended up losing, anyways. 

other times, the two of you play a game. you imagine that you’re elsewhere, that there are no such things as monsters, no reason to have to battle and bruise yourselves just to survive. instead, you have a life and a family and a home together, filled with luxurious parties, decadent dinner tables, and endless sunny days. 

you comfort her and she comforts you through the dark, morbid world you both have been fighting against, alone, for so long.

it works. it works really well. 

except — you’ve been the slayer long enough to know that nothing this good will last. it's nauseating — dangerous, even — this desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut, twisting and taunting you with what can never be.

you’re just waiting for the next nightmare to reveal itself.

….

vi’s hair has started to fade back to pink, so she asks you to re-dye it.

it’s easy to forget that she sits in a rickety chair in your decrepit but well-loved apartment because all she can think about is your body behind hers, solid and steady. your cool fingers work the dye through her hair, your nails scrape against her scalp, and you’re humming as fangs snores peacefully at her feet. she’s died and gone to heaven, pure bliss glowing in her chest and releasing through her throat as a deep rumble. 

she closes her eyes and indulges in a little daydreaming:

just you and your sunburst smile and your soft, rose-petal skin.

there’s a firm knock that rustles vi out of her reverie, and you tell her to go rinse out her hair while you answer it.

she can hear you talking with someone through the rush of hot water. she tries not to eavesdrop, but…it’s difficult, especially once she hears:

“it’ll be fine. silver bullets usually do the trick,” you say, without much enthusiasm. vi bites back her hurt, keeps rinsing her hair, waiting for the water to run clear instead of sludge gray. 

you’re not talking about her. 

“i’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation,” a voice with a thick british accent replies. “i’ve been on the council for fifty years — five times longer than you’ve been the slayer — and i’ve never seen something quite this vicious.”

“my guess is you don’t get out in the field much,” you quip. 

whoever you’re talking to clearly is not amused, ignoring your backhanded comment and instead offering the details of what has been witnessed in the past few days. it’s so gruesome and gory that vi herself is shivering as she turns off the shower, towels off, and gets dressed. 

when vi opens the door, she almost trips over fangs, who’d fallen asleep just outside. she gets up immediately as vi steps out, her tail wagging. the owner of the stern voice — a man wearing a very pristine looking tweed suit — is handing you a crossbow, a bunch of silver-tipped arrows already splayed on the table. you notice vi first as your grip on the weapon tightens, and the man’s gaze follows.

“you know there’s a rule about slayers keeping….pets,” the man says, turning his nose up at vi and fangs from where they’re still standing at the doorway of the bathroom. 

you glance back at the pair, jaw clenched, and then focus back on your unwanted guest. 

“mr. travers, thank you for the heads up, but i believe it’s time for you to leave,” you clip, dropping the crossbow on the table. 

“actually, i believe that we have much more to discuss, namely how you’ve allowed this mutt into your home —”

“get the fuck out of our apartment,” you practically growl. you walk towards him menacingly until his back is millimeters away from the door. “you of all people know what i can do.”

“you will be punished for this…this transgression,” travers warns, but there’s an unmistakable tremble in his voice. 

you laugh in a way vi can barely recognize, sharp and bitter. 

“fine. i’m no stranger to dealing with the council’s bullshit.” you open the door, flash an exaggerated, sickly sweet smile. “have a nice day.”

“i hope this animal is worth it,” travers huffs. 

“she’s worth it,” you reply without hesitation before you slam the door on his ass, so hard that the walls shake, the vase in the kitchen toppling over and cracking on the counter. 

vi’s seen you fight in the pit — hell, she’s been on the receiving end of some of your wicked moves — but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen you this angry. 

your chest is heaving as you pace back and forth. 

“so that sounds….bad,” vi remarks, heading over to the kitchen counter to gather the broken shards of pottery.

you freeze. “how much did you hear?” 

vi just shrugs. “just that there’s something bad out there —”

“don’t worry about it,” you say with a forced smile. you walk over and push some damp hair away from vi’s eyes. “let’s take fangs for a walk before we leave, yeah? while it’s still light out.” 

there are whispers throughout the next few days leading up to the full moon. the crowd at the arena starts to thin, most topsiders too scared to journey underground with rumors of a bloodthirsty monster on the loose. 

you’re not sleeping anymore, still fighting during the day to a half-empty arena, out on patrol at night, your rosy scent fading from the bedsheets with each passing night. even if you get home before dawn, you spend your time scouring through books and scribbling into your notebook, mumbling to yourself theories about where and how you can stop this thing. vi tries to get you to take a break, or at least eat instead of burning through shimmer-laced cigarettes to keep yourself awake.

the best vi can do is convince you to sit down on the couch with her and share a snack. you settle for doing some research, flip through yellowed pages as you take a bite of an apple, juice dripping down your chin. 

vi reaches her finger out, puts it in her mouth to suck off the juice, moaning around the salty-sweet taste of your skin. you let out a pleased hum, turning your attention back to your research, but angling your body to invite her closer. vi nuzzles into your side, puts her head on your lap, twitches in pleasure as you reach down to scratch behind her ear. 

she looks up at you, and you finally give her a real smile — the first ray of sun after a pitch dark night.

a slice of paradise vi was certain she’d never find.

….

the night of the full moon is when all hell breaks loose. 

vi tries — she begs you not to go out there, sensing that tonight, of all nights, it will be at its strongest. but you, too headstrong and too righteous for your own good, just won’t listen. 

“this thing has killed eleven people in less than a week. i don’t care what phase of the moon it is — i’m ending this, tonight.” 

“why does it have to be you? that thing is stronger than anything you’ve ever fought!” 

“which is why i’ve been preparing,” you snap.

“can’t you – can’t you just call the fucking council, or something, tell them to deal with it?” 

fangs is right there with vi, scrambling and whining as you’re meticulously arming yourself with as many weapons you can carry.

you scoff, notching a few silver blades to your belt. “it’s not their responsibility, it’s mine. where the fuck — i can’t go out only in this tank top, it’s fucking freezing — ”

vi swallows the lump in her throat.

“you’re gonna die if you go out there alone.”

“yeah, well, i’ve accepted my fate a long time ago,” you say stoically. 

you’re fairly well supplied at this point; if vi was the monster you were hunting, she’d be running scared from a glance alone. you’re only half paying attention to vi’s pleas, and sigh in relief when you find what you’d been looking for. 

“please, angel, don’t —”

“i was literally born for this, violet. if i don’t go out and stop this thing from killing more people, then my life is worth nothing.” 

“you make me happy!” she shouts desperately, forcing you to pause as you slip on her jacket. “that’s worth something, isn’t it?”

a tense silence follows. 

you freeze for a few moments, avoiding vi’s gaze. then, you walk over to the cabinet, grabbing something so quickly vi can’t pinpoint what it is and stuffing it in your back pocket. you clench and unclench your left fist, a tick of yours that vi recognizes from the arena. 

you’re planning your next move. 

in a daze, you pick up the crossbow, but you hesitate once more —

“fuck,” you exhale before letting the weapon clatter to the ground and rushing over to crash your lips against vi’s. 

you’re kissing and kissing, teeth and tongue and a pleasure so guilty, vi’s sure she’ll be damned for all eternity. vi’s lungs are burning when she pulls away first.

“wait. you should know that i’m —”

“i still have to go,” you interrupt, voice determined and sharp, cutting right through to vi’s heart.

there’s a fear curling up her throat as you watch her, your eyes the darkest she’s ever seen them. 

“then let me – i mean, i can help —”

you kiss her again. you taste so heavenly, better than she ever dreamed of, that vi doesn’t even care that it’s probably just to shut her up. 

she almost doesn’t notice that you’ve cornered her between the kitchen counter and the front door, until she hears a distinct click, feels something heavy and burning against her wrists. 

you pull away first this time, eyes glazed over as you back away to make space between you and what you’ve done:

vi, handcuffed to the exposed heating pipe. the cuffs are stronger than any vi has ever been bound by. must be made of real silver. the metal sears into her skin, down to the bone, as she struggles against them, screaming to the point of howling, watching as you pick up the crossbow and a handful of silver tipped arrows as a final hail mary.

“no!” she cries. the pipe you’d cuffed her to rattles, but it doesn’t give. “please, please don’t —”

“i’m…i’m really sorry,” you mumble, quickly wiping away a tear. vi flinches when you try to touch her cheek; she bares her teeth at you like a rabid beast, but you don’t give her the courtesy of a reaction.  

“why are you doing this?” she growls.

“because….you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

you take a deep breath. you look at fangs, affectionately pat her head as she bows her head and whines, tail between her legs. “bring her the key once it’s morning,” you instruct. your eyes slide over to vi’s, for what she fears might be the last time. “take care of each other.”

with that, you’re out the door.

vi isn’t sure how much time passes. her wrists sting, her muscles ache, but still, she keeps going. she doesn’t care how, but she’s not letting you die tonight. 

a sliver of moonlight shines through the window. something claws at her ribcage. 

you’re not dying tonight. 

and vi’s been hungry for too long.

iii. all my devotion turns violent

the streets are empty, deserted due to fear and damp from the cold evening rain.

you search through the shadows, around every corner, play with one of your daggers just to pass the time, the blade weaving between your expert fingers.

all you can really think about, though, is vi, and how scared she was to lose you, and how terribly you must have hurt her — 

fuck. 

you accidentally sliced through your palm, your blood emerging as thick, black tar in the darkness. you sigh and kneel down in the alleyway, dropping your heaviest weapon so you can use your uninjured hand to wrap the other. 

something pounces on you before you can stop the bleeding. the crossbow — the weapon that was supposed to deliver a fatal blow — is now out of reach. 

you jab one of your silver blades into the creature’s side; he howls, but you manage to kick him away long enough to get to your feet, get a better sense of what you’re fighting. you’ve never seen anything like it before: a hulking mass roughly five times your size, wolf-like features, and chemical machinery woven throughout his body, a neon green liquid pumping through glass tubes. 

the beast growls at you, lunges forward once again; you jump out of his path, roll away so run, fast, and grab the crossbow. you quickly notch a silver tipped arrow, aim at his heart; you hold your breath and fire without hesitation. then another, and another, just to be safe.  

your stomach turns as you watch the creature remove the arrows as if they were nothing but splinters. he lets out a roar that shakes the earth. you’ve made him angrier.

you drop the crossbow, deciding instead to propel yourself off the wall, leap onto the beast’s shoulders and stab the glass tubes with all the force you can muster. green liquid gushes out, and the beast howls in pain, but doesn’t give up. with sharp claws, he throws you to the ground, and you shriek as he tears through the skin of your ribs. 

you’re very suddenly dizzy, bleeding out on the cobblestones, yet continue to struggle with whatever strength still courses through your veins. the beast looms over you, foaming at the mouth, and your vision is getting fuzzier by the second.

that’s when you see a flash of dark fur, almost fuschia in the moonlight, jump in front of you, knock the beast out of the way, tumble to the side. you glance at the creature that saved you — a wolf with a fierce set of teeth and beautiful powder blue eyes — before you fall unconscious. 

iv. stitch me up (touch me inside and out)

vi barely registers that the temperature in the apartment is dropping.

she doesn’t regret how she had to rip the heating pipe from the wall — there are nasty burns, still untreated, stinging her wrists where the silver cuffs had restrained her. 

she doesn’t regret transforming from human to something wild, unrestrained, in order to save you from something much worse. 

she’s still burning off adrenaline, her nervous system on high alert. it’s been a while, and she’d forgotten how exhilarating it can be.

it all happened so fast. there was something oddly familiar about the beast; he seemed to recognize vi, too. that’s the only explanation — for all the ruthless, bloody stories she’d heard, why else would he have let vi take you away and just disappear into the night without so much as a growl? 

vi doesn’t have the energy to answer such questions. all she cares about is you. she can’t get over the overwhelming scent of your blood, already spilling out onto the street when she showed up. she almost lost control, blinded by rage and a desire to kill the beast — but you were there, on the brink of death, and she just wanted you to be safe, wanted to bring you home.

she just hopes she wasn’t too late. 

vi hyper-focuses on your labored, disjointed breaths from where she tucked you in. she tried her best to stop the bleeding and dress your wounds with combinations of herbs and flowers she frantically read about in one of your books, desperate to keep you alive. 

you’ve lost blood. a lot of blood. 

vi wants nothing more than to curl up on the bed next to you, but after you saw her last night, once you realize that she’s no different than the savage beast you were so determined to kill, she’s not sure you’d want her near you. 

she’ll just stay long enough to know that you’ll wake up, and then she’ll be out of your life forever. 

dawn breaks. the sun shines through cracked, frost covered windows, and your eyes remain shut.

your heart’s still pumping blood, which is a good sign, but otherwise….

day bleeds into night, and you’re still out cold. vi manages to drip some water between your parted lips, and watches with relief as your throat reacts accordingly. you let out a gentle sigh, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. 

“please wake up,” vi whispers. 

fangs jumps onto the bed and whimpers, nudging her nose against your arm so that she’s snuggled underneath. vi drapes a blanket over the pair of you.

another sleepless night passes.

at first light, vi changes your bandages. she struggles a bit, given her injured wrists, but she’s pleased to find you healing from what might have been a fatal injury to most humans. she tries to feed fangs, but the dog refuses. 

fair enough — vi can’t bring herself to eat, either. 

instead, to pass the time, vi glues together shards from the broken vase and places it back on the kitchen counter. there are no more fresh roses; vi decides she’ll bring you some as a parting gift once you’ve woken up. 

you’re shivering by the time darkness starts to creep in. vi piles as many blankets as she can on you and fangs, but it’s not enough. vi accepts what she had been reluctant to do: she slips into bed next to you, uses her body to keep you warm, arms wrapped around you protectively.

vi doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up late the next afternoon, to cold rumpled sheets and an even colder empty apartment. 

you must have a knack for perfect timing, because just as vi’s about to start spiralling, the front door swings open and it’s you — cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, holding a brown paper bag with one arm while your other hand grasps the key. fangs rushes through the door, too, tail wagging as she zooms around the apartment, bounces on the furniture and lets out excited little yaps.

“morning, killer.” you smile like you hadn’t been knocking on death’s door since a few nights before. “i would have waited, but you were pretty knocked out and fangs had a ton of energy to burn. clearly she still does,” you chuckle, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through vi’s body. “i got us some food, too, and i’ll contact the landlord to fix our — whoa!”

the bag drops to your feet as vi pounces on you, engulfing your body in her arms and squeezing tightly. your heartbeat is as strong as ever, steadies her own frantic pulse. 

“s-sorry.” she pulls away and takes a step back. “i shouldn’t have —”

you just shake your head and press a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“i’m sorry,” you say. “i shouldn’t have — i shouldn’t have treated you like that; shouldn’t have used who you are as a weapon against you. you saved me, vi.” you take a shuddery breath. you place a gentle hand on her cheek. “thank you.”

it takes vi a minute to process what you’ve said. 

you thanked her for saving you. 

you apologized for using who she is as a weapon. 

what did you mean by that? 

unless —

i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful.

she’s worth it. 

you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 

“you….knew,” vi realizes, and even as she says it, she can’t quite believe it. “how….how long?”

“from the first time i landed a punch on your handsome face.” smiling softly, you run your thumb over the faded burn on her cheek, the one mirroring her tattoo, the one left by your silver ring. 

“are you serious?”

“well, fine, i didn’t know what you were, not exactly, until later. i just had a pretty good feeling that you weren’t human; you had a pulse, so you couldn’t be a vampire, which meant —” 

“you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you?”

you shrug. “you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you.” while vi continues to stare at you in disbelief, you bend down to pick up the fallen items. vi crouches down with you.

“that’s different,” she reasons, handing you a soft red apple, your cold fingers brushing over her warm skin momentarily. 

“i don’t think so. not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. i saved you from a human that night, remember?” 

“b-but you’re you and i-i’m me.” vi scrambles to find the right words. she’s still shocked at how calm you are. is it really as simple as you make it seem? “you weren’t….scared that i’d hurt you, because that’s who i am?”

you get up and place the bag of groceries in the kitchen, lean against the counter as you stare back at vi. instead of answering, you challenge her once again:

“were you scared that i’d hurt you?”

vi blinks at you. “never.”

“there’s your answer,” you declare, giving her that razor-sharp grin you flash whenever you win a fight.

fangs has calmed down, and she’s asleep on the living room couch, her snores the only sound between you as vi processes everything that’s been said. 

she feels like her entire world has flipped upside down.

this whole time…..

it went terribly when she last told someone the truth, at least anyone outside her family, and even they would sometimes walk on eggshells around her, like they were worried she might snap. 

but you….you’ve sparred and you’ve bickered and you never even flinched once. 

you welcomed her into your home, into your life. 

you kissed her. 

this whole time.

“i was scared you wouldn’t love me, if you knew,” vi admits, a whisper so soft that she’s almost sure that you didn’t hear. 

except you falter then, your confident posture melting at her confession. your lips part in a soft exhale. 

“well, it’s like you said; i knew this whole time, and i still….” you swallow the rest of your sentence, but you’re looking at vi with so much adoration that it’s overwhelming. “i still want you.”

her brain short circuits, and all vi can think to do is kiss you.

it starts sweet, your lips rose-petal soft. her lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure. you run your fingers through vi’s hair, swallow her moans. she’s dizzy with anticipation, imagining how you might do the same when she’s between your legs later. you kiss the scar on her upper lip, gently like you’re hoping to heal the permanent wound. then, your tongue laves over the cut on vi’s bottom lip, soothes her, pushes into her mouth again so you’re both tasting copper. 

but then, you bite down, and a desire buried deep within vi is unleashed: the desire to cut herself open for you so you can love each and every part of her. even deeper down, vi hopes that you’d want the same.

vi brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into her mouth even more. she lodges her thigh between your legs and shoves her tongue into your mouth when you gasp. one of your hands slips underneath her shirt to trace the contours of her abdomen, meticulously outlining each one.

“it’s been days since you’ve eaten, hasn’t it?” you mumble against her lips, pulling away slightly. your brows pinch together in worry, because you already know her body too well, can tell that each muscle is more defined, each edge a bit sharper. “you must be starving, baby. let’s eat something before —”

vi whines when you start to pull away even more.

“we can do that after.” she offers you her best puppy dog eyes as she pleads: “i’m hungry for something else now. i want you.”

to prove her point, vi guides your hand to her belt. your fingers dance along the metal and she eagerly awaits your response.

“fine,” you decide. “but whoever has the most orgasms makes dinner.” 

“you’re on, angel.”

her breath hitches when your hand moves down the waistband of her pants; you play with her tangle of curls, tease the tip of your fingers into her wetness. she purrs against you. 

“wait —” you pause your actions. vi whimpers when you remove your glistening fingers; you take off the silver ring on your pointer finger, grinning guiltily as you toss it on the counter behind you. “that would have been bad,” is all you say before inserting two fingers into her already slick pussy.

“ugh, ah — fuck, just like that, angel,” she moans, twitching as you ram your fingers into her. 

you hum, stuff another finger into her heat, stretching her so deliciously that her legs start to tremble. 

“such a good girl for me. aren’t you, violet?” you coo and start sucking the skin behind her ear. “you gonna make a mess, right here in our kitchen?” 

and that does it — vi’s walls tighten around you, her wetness soaks through her clothes; she’s almost sure that it drips down onto the floor. vi whines as you remove your fingers, feeling empty. you shove your syrupy fingers into her mouth instead, her tongue greedily lapping up her own cum. a string of spit follows as you rip away your fingers and press your mouth against vi’s kiss-swollen, cum-covered lips. you feel something smouldering in the pit of your stomach at her whimpers; you’re nowhere near satisfied, but her eyes, all wide and dark and desperate, are pleading at you to let her indulge in her hunger, as well.  

“what else do you want?”

vi paws at your breasts from above your shirt.

“i want to fuck you,” she declares, and you nod eagerly, your body bursting into flames. 

she gestures at you to wrap your legs around her hips, and she carries you to the bed as you kiss more fiercely, teeth clacking and tongues fighting to explore every crevice of her mouth. you tear each other’s clothes off; but the cold air doesn’t faze you in the slightess, because you have vi, hot and passionate, above you, keeping you going.

your teeth gnaw on her bottom lip as vi messily thrusts against you, your cunts sliding against each other; sticky, languid bliss. 

vi takes her time. she wants to savor every part of this, of you — the sting of your nails scratching down her tattooed back, no doubt leaving red marks in their wake; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet roses, combined with the thick musk of your desire, dripping against hers so deliciously; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging her to go faster, harder. 

she nudges her nose against the crook of your neck, salivates at how your vein pulses for her like a tantalizing butterfly. her teeth graze your pulsepoint, but she’s trembling with the amount of self control it takes not to add any more pressure.

“v-vi,” you breathe her name like a prayer. “baby.”

a guttural moan bubbles from the back of her throat in response.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, coax her to look you in the eye, the gesture a sharp contrast to the harsh squelching of your cunts against each other, melding together with each determined thrust. 

“you – ah,” you gasp as vi rolls her hips into yours with even more vigor. “you can bite me, if you want.” 

vi licks her lips, swallows the hunger burning in her throat because you must be too fucked out if you’re willing to let vi fully indulge in this craving. 

“but then you would —”

“lycanthropy is only transmitted when you’re in wolf form,” you explain through labored breaths. “so if you bite me now….and gods, i’m begging you to…..nothing’s gonna change.” 

“i have never been more thankful for your slayer training,” she growls. “you really want that, huh? for me to mark you up really good, show everyone that you’re mine?”

“o-only if i can do the same,” you manage a smirk. “or are you all bark and no bite?” you tease, buck your hips upwards. vi is willing to die for your knife-like smile alone, so of course. she’d let you eat her whole, if that’s what you really wanted. 

vi finally sinks her teeth into you, rolling her eyes back at how absolutely luscious you taste. like a good girl — your good girl — she follows your orders and bites. she bites down your neck, across your shoulders and collarbones, relishing in the imprints left in her wake.

vi knows now that she calls you angel for a reason. it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the pillow as your orgasm crashes through you. vi follows a few seconds later until you’re covered in her — she drenched the curls of your bush, her cum dripping down on your own wet pussy as she watches from above. vi can’t help it; she bends down, and you jolt slightly when her cold nipple piercing brushes against your clit. she does it again a few more times just to appreciate how you whine, rut your pussy against her perky breast, begging for more. 

but, vi’s on the hunt for something else — she splits your folds with her sharp tongue, sucks any and all of your shared essence. she lets it slosh around in her mouth before hovering over you once more, silently ordering you to part your wet lips; when you comply, so obedient, vi spits into your wanton mouth, thick and velvety. 

“swallow,” she orders, voice rough with lust. you do so quite eagerly.

and just like that, you’re back to grinding on each other, leaving a delectable mess along the skin of each other’s thighs. the tension in vi’s abdomen snaps when you wrap your lips around her nipple, suckling at your own wetness until drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth. 

after feeling her gush against you, a feral impulse rips through you. you release her nipple with a distinct pop, the cold metal still burning on your tongue as you yank vi’s hair, exposing her tender skin, glittering with sweat in the dark golden light as the sun starts to set. you pull her close, bite around the tattoo on the side of her neck, hard. vi howls in pleasure as you taste salt and iron and her, reaching your peak. 

vi waits patiently as you come down from your high, chest heaving, your neck still engraved with the outline of her teeth while yours are stained red. you crash your lips onto hers, chaotic and insatiable, kissing her like she’s your last meal. in turn, she licks into your mouth, tongue tracing your canines to savor what you’ve consumed of hers. 

“you sure you’re not a vampire? that would be quite the scandal,” vi jokes later when you’re sitting in her lap, taking time to clean each other up. vi’s only wearing a shirt, but you’ve doubled up on clothes, the apartment growing colder as night approaches. 

you already tended to the burns on her wrists (and apologized profusely for causing them; you also scolded her a bit for not tending to herself sooner). now you use disinfectant to wipe down her neck, where you broke skin; you quickly place a bandage that soothes the sting and vi presses a grateful kiss to your sternum.

you hum around the unlit cigarette in your mouth, which you had rolled beforehand with dried rose petals. with your hands unoccupied, you reach for your lighter. vi tilts her chin to gaze up at you; you’re backlit by the evening twilight, a silver halo around you as flowery smoke billows from your mouth.

“i’m sure they won’t be thrilled to know that a slayer’s fallen in love with a werewolf, either,” you muse, beaming at her. 

vi clicks her tongue. “sounds like we’re breaking some bylaws.”

“oh, she’s worth it; i’d do anything for my charming, sexy, handsome werewolf.”

you lean forward and exhale smoke into vi’s parted mouth, lips brushing against each other as you share the same breath. you sit back once your lungs are burning and admire the view. 

vi — normally all rough edges and dark shadows — blushing a delicate pink as you praise her.

“she’s got a killer right hook, too,” you continue. you offer vi the cigarette and she nods; you hold it, place it between her lips as she takes a drag. “a body so hot that it’s honestly unfair. she’s a fighter, which i love, and some people might think she’s just a scary dog, but i think she’s beautiful and brave and a total softie —”

“okay, okay,” vi coughs, the tips of her ears red. she takes the cigarette from you and stubs it out on the makeshift ashtray by the windowsill. vi rolls over so she’s on top of you, cupping your face in her hands. she pecks across your cheeks until you’re giggling; you try to turn the tables, and the two of you just end up wrestling in a tangle of sheets and laughter and tender kisses.

eventually, you both calm down. 

“you hungry?”

“not really. you?”

vi shakes her head. “we’ll make breakfast together in the morning?” 

“sounds heavenly.”

it’s dark outside, but the stars are out and the waning moon shines bright. vi positions herself behind you, her body curving into yours, chin notched over your shoulder and arm secure on your waist.

fangs must feel left out, because she shuffles under the covers for warmth before immediately falling back asleep, her fur tickling at your feet.

your thumb rubs against the gauze on vi’s wrist. you can’t help but feel regret, heavy like lead in your stomach.

“baby, i’m fine,” vi assures, already knowing what you’re thinking.

“i….i just hate that i did this to you,” you mumble, bringing her wrist up so you can kiss it. 

“you were trying to protect me. it’s what we do, yeah? protect each other?”

when you hum in agreement, vi guides you to turn around so you’re facing each other. on instinct, she parts your legs with her thigh. your sweatshirt has ridden up, so vi starts to rub circles onto your exposed hip bone, her touch soft as velvet.

“next time you go out there, i’m coming with you.”

your breath hitches as you trace the tattoos licking up her arm. “vi….”

“this isn’t up for debate,” vi declares. she reaches her hand up to caress your cheek, thumb delicately rubbing the shadows under your eye. “you almost died. whatever almost killed you is still out there. you’re strong — gods, you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met — but you don’t have to face any of this alone. not anymore.”

you let out a surprised laugh. 

“what?” she murmurs shyly, her eyes the soft, pale blue of moonlight, star-like freckles dazzling her sculpted cheeks. 

“no, it’s just….anyone who’s known that i’m the slayer either calls me delusional, runs scared, or expects me to do it all by myself. hell — that’s how it was written, how it was destined to be."

vi nudges her nose against yours. her breath tickles your lips, heats up your entire being with a warmth so divine, you wonder if you actually have died and gone to heaven. 

you’re both alive, though, a bit bruised and wounded. the world is dark and cold, but here’s this beautiful, strong girl with a beautiful, strong heart who holds you close, parts her full lips — like two rose petals, kiss-bitten and crimson — and vows:

“fuck destiny. it’s you and me now, angel.”

v. my heart is black and beats for you

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

it’s a quiet night. you spent most of it lamenting how you got your ass kicked earlier and fantasizing about the woman who did it, when you see a shadow of a person passed out at the corner of the street, and another trying to steal from them. 

someone has to stand against the forces of darkness and evil, and the universe somehow determined that would be you — a fate you’ve had to accept through bruised ribs and broken hearts and bloody prophecies, but one you’ve had to accept nonetheless. 

if that goes beyond vampires and demons, so be it. 

after you’ve managed to send the creep on the run, you recognize the person you saved:

it’s her. 

she looked more intimidating in the pit, honestly — all harsh and dark, furrowed brows and vicious snarls. 

it takes you kneeling in front of her to be able to really see it through the black face paint. you take a little pride in the bruise that blossoms on her cheek and the cut through her eyebrow, thinking that at least you got a few shots in before she took you out with a killer right hook. 

your jaw still aches and you still taste copper thanks to her, but without the roars from the crowd or the pressure of hefty prize money that you need to survive, you can see her more clearly. she’s bleeding through her bandages; she’s shivering because, gods, it’s freezing this time of year and all she’s wearing underneath a flimsy leather jacket is scrap fabric that would not be counted as a shirt; and she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days despite reeking of alcohol. 

that’s when you see a burn on her cheekbone, too, just about where your silver ring would have collided with her skin. you hold your breath, lean in closer to her chest and listen closely to check — the thumping of a strong, steady heartbeat; the gentle rush of blood flowing through her veins. 

so, not a vampire. maybe a human with a silver allergy, but what’s more likely is that she’s….something else. 

“hey.” you whisper. when she doesn’t respond, you cup her face in one hand and tap her bruised cheek with your thumb. her skin is warm; if she were a human, you’d think she had a fever. “wake up.”

you resist the urge to jerk away when she softly takes your hand in hers, the gesture a sharp contrast to her knuckles bloodied from earlier.

“five more minutes, cupcake,” she whines, her voice echoing down the empty alley.

“look, it’s late and freezing. we should really go before —”

“please. just stay with me. i promise i’ll be good.”

your chest aches at her sincere tone. did you sound the same, when you made a similar promise before to the people you’ve loved after they found out who — what — you are? did you also look so broken, so bruised when they left? 

you know the council wouldn’t approve of what you’re about to do. 

but you also know well enough from years of studying and training and fighting as the slayer that their judgement should not be taken as scripture.

in other words: fuck the council. 

(plus — you need a friend, or just….someone. it’s lonely, being the chosen one. and this girl, in front of you — when you fought, her body reacting to yours so fluidly, you had somehow never felt more understood.)

you manage to get her to her feet. 

she mumbles something incomprehensible into your neck, her breath hot against your skin. you let her lean into your body after a weak attempt at holding herself up. it’s not much trouble for you, though. it’s a cold night, anyways; her body, solid and warm, is almost comforting against yours.

you trust your instincts and carry her home. 

[moonybelgug]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

warnings: !MDNI! heavy nsfw, gn!reader, AE!reader, subby sunday, he's comfy so he feels safe enough to act like a brat lmao soft bathtub jerking off

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Thinking about when Sunday comes to visit once you've got your room all setup <3 And he's quietly enjoying the tour you give him of all your trinkets and the hard work you put into making the room such a comforting place. He's very proud and admires your work immensely. In fact, he feels at peace, being surrounded by so much... you.

When you get to the bathroom, he's in awe of the luxurious bathtub and the marble toiletry. You jokingly ask if he'd like to take a bath, but rather than him catching on right away, you see a moment of hesitation. So you give him privacy, and after a moment of silence, you peek inside and see him sitting in the tub, slouched so the water is up to his chin, his wings moving slowly in soothed motions.

Sunday opens his eyes and peers at you, a soft yet devious smile on his lips as you approach, kneeling beside the tub and caressing his cheek until he sits up, leaning out of the water and into your palm. He grips the edge for support as the two of you kiss, your lips trailing hungrily down the expanse of his neck, licking the water from his skin and making him shiver even in such hot temperatures. He tugs on your shirt to encourage you into the tub with him, pouting when you only continue to tease him. "I wish for company," he says with an impatient look.

You laugh softly. "Do you always get what you wish for?"

"It's your fault for spoiling me," he rebuts.

You make quick work of your clothes, sinking into the hot water beside him. He makes himself at home, tucking his face into your neck as his arms snake around your waist. The water laps at your skin rhythmically, lulling Sunday to sleep. He feels safe here, in your space, holding your body, skin to skin, in such a domestic setting.

He'd instead not fall asleep, however, not when he's got you in such an opportunistic position. He shakes his head, pulling his knees up so they poke out of the water. He gazes up at you until you look at him, smiling with faux innocence.

"Wash my back?"

At your agreement, he seats himself between your legs, his eyes falling shut as you wash his back, letting out soft hums and other suggestive sounds. He arches his back as your hands descend the shape of his spine, and you know he's tempting you. Your hands grip his sides when they meet his hips, and you tug him into your lap with the water aiding your strength, making him gasp at the sudden movement.

"What's this?" He asks.

"Just giving you what you want," you coo, spreading his bent legs, giving his thighs a gentle squeeze before dipping your hand lower to stroke at his cock with the tips of your fingers. He practically melts in your hold, his head tilting back to rest on your shoulder as he inhales deeply, feeling your free hand travel to his abdomen to rub at his stomach, tracing a circle around his belly button. He whimpers at the attention, his hips moving on their own to meet your lazy pace, moaning beautifully as the water sloshes gently around you.

"This what you wanted, dove? You don't have to beat around the bush with me. I'll give you everything," you purr into his ear, making his wings flap excitedly as you circle your thumb around his rosy tip.

"I'll take care of you," you nip at his earlobe, earning another whine. He's so responsive tonight, you think. It may be the warm water or the new room, but you can't say you hate whatever's gotten into him.

He pushes back into your body as your strokes quicken, doing little to hide his voice as his thighs begin to shake. His hips eagerly meet your fist, your free hand plucking at one of the rose buds on his chest. He finishes with a stifled moan, his cum splattering onto his tummy but quickly washed away by the sloshing water.

You curl your arms around him as he basks in the cool down, his head lolling on your shoulder, purring at the many kisses he’s receiving.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[carpbread0]

NPC Life is the best

(Genshin Impact x gn reader - sagau)

(second person pov)

part5 —> part6

——————————————————

The light from the morning sun trickles between the cracks of the drawn curtains, waking you from your deep slumber. That was probably the best sleep you’ve gotten in ages! Must’ve been from all the walking you did the day prior. Glancing over at the well made bed stand, you remember that you were currently in the hospitality of Mr. Diluc himself. Slipping out of bed, you go into the restroom to start your day.

After cleaning yourself and dressing into your now clean clothing that Adeline had magically made shiny, you stretch with a satisfied smile as your appearance was put together one more.

you grab your magical bag and slip on your shoes before heading out the door. When you finally reach the first floor, you can tell that there is a presence lacking inside the manor. Turning around you see Adeline and another maid talking amongst themselves. Curious, you approach them.

“is somthing wrong?” You ask Adeline curiously.

“no no, everything is fine. Master Diluc is out on a short trip to Springvale so if you’d like to talk to him in person you’ll have to wait for a bit” Adeline kindly informs you. “Do you need to speak with him?”

shaking your head you sheepishly reply “not really, I just wanted to thank him again for allowing me to stay at dawn winery. But seeing as though he’s busy right now, I’ll just leave him a thank you note.”

Adeline smiles in agreement before going over to the small desk placed on the left wing of the manor. Returning, she hands you a piece of paper, a quill, and a small bottle of ink.

thanking Adeline quietly, you bring your supplies to the dinner table at the center of the living room. After a bit of thinking you finally finish drafting up your short thank you note.

dear Diluc,

thank you for your hospitality and kindness. I know it won’t be everyday that I get treated so nicely, so I’m happy to say that yesterday was great! Please remember to take care of yourself, and don’t forget to get lots of sleep.

from Y/n.

smiling with pride , you leave your amazingly written note with Adeline who promises to get it to Diluc as soon as he is home. after thanking Adeline for her hospitality, you step out of the manor to the crisp air of grapes and nature. Hmm where to next?

if you want to follow the story it would be, Mondstadt to Liyue, Liyue to Inazuma, Inazuma to Sumeru, and Sumeru to Fontaine. Tapping your bag lightly, you decide to just follow the traveler’s path since you’ll at least know your way through that.

the sun has risen but it is still early in the morning which means you might get to wangshu inn before nightfall. Might. Though you are an adult, your fear of the dark has never really gone away. Before hand, you were in the lit city of Mondstadt and after that you were in the protection of the Darknight Hero. So in all honesty, you’ve never truly walked alone at night in this world before.

shivering slightly at the thought, you push those thoughts at the back of your mind as you begin walking down the path to Stone Gate.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After a calm walk you spot the towering mountains and find yourself finally at stone gate! Smiling with new found energy, you make your way down to the wooden platform housing a small tea stall and other such things. Your eyes graze over the tea menu as you make your way down the wooden steps and back onto the gravely path. Although you know that the small tea stall was made for travelers to rest at, it was quite hard to forget your tight time schedule.

the sun had slightly shifted its position to one that seems to resemble a little over mid day and that was enough of a reason for you to quicken your steps. There could be slimes blocking the path or treasure hunters lurking the area to steal anyone’s goods.. that uncertainty made it your quickening steps all the more reasonable.

You find yourself drawn to the scenery of things but quickly remind yourself of the important task at hand. Your speedy feet manage to get you to dihua marsh quite quickly and you decide to give it a quick stop to admire the statue of the seven. Wiping away a little sweat that had accumulated on your forehead, you step up the aged stone steps to come face to face with the statue of Liyue’s beloved deity. Well, former deity but you get the point. It’s a wonder to you how people don’t see the striking resemblance between Zhongli and the human statue of Rex Lapis.

The stone of the statue looked so smooth and the features of Rex Lapis and um his rock hard abs were very captivating. What would happen if you touched a statue of the seven? Would you get powers like the traveler or would you alert the archon about you presence.. those 50/50 odds were not one you wanted to test so you decided to keep your hands from grazing the smooth stone.

Stepping back onto path you can’t help but feel a pair of watching eyes staring at you. Looking around you find nothing but the sound of chirping birds and playful slimes that for some reason aren’t bothered by your presence. maybe it was just your paranoia.

warily turning back to the path you find your steps to be more careful than they were before. The little voice in your head tells you that there is someone there, someone watching. But you tell yourself to be unbothered by the invisible gaze as you continue down the path.

another hour has passed and it seems that your fretting was for naught as the sun still looms in the sky when you approach the magnificent Wangshu Inn! You didn’t think it be such a game changer to see the tree building in person but seeing it as it is now is surly something to put on a bucket list. You finally let loose as the bustling sounds of people wandering about brings you the relaxing thought that you are no longer alone.

Stepping onto the wooden deck at the foot of Wangshu inn, you look around to see many tables, crates, and small stalls dotting the area. The smell of Liyue cuisine brought a smile to your face and a low groan from your belly. Right.. you hadn’t eaten since yesterday and now with the delicious smells wafting in the air you would understand your stomach’s impatience.

plopping down at a bamboo table set up for guests and diners, you look at the menu with wonder. Shrimp sounds good.. ooo but so does bamboo shoot soup.. mmm and crab sounds delicious.. too many to choose!

you continue looking at the menu before deciding to order the stir fry shrimp and almond tofu. After your waiter jots down your order you find yourself able to look around at the scenery. Calming waters, pretty trees, yellow plains, and green mountains drew the scenery. You never thought you’d be able to see a thing like this, but here you are.

as you stay lost in thought looking at the peaceful scenery, a graceful figure quietly approaches you.

“May I sit here?”

_____________________________ taglist thingy

@eliciana @kbar1013 @vianitry @iruiji @theunderneath @avalordream @juuuuuj101010

—————————————

school 😔

[murfeelee]

TW3 GoW File Dump!

This set includes 22 items converted from God of War 2018, for your sims of the Spartan and/or Norse persuasion!

Alfheim Light Crystal as Light (Floor | Wall)

Alfheim Tree (10k Polys)

Bifrost as Table Light

Coin Piles 3 | 4 (§10000, ANI Moneybag Script REQUIRED) (found in Hobbies/Skills)

Dragon Arc as Decor

Dragon Firepit (8k Polys)

Elf Statue (10k Polys)

Floor Panel as Rug

Leaves (Giant | Not So Giant)

Jotnar Shrines as Wardrobe (10k Polys) (SN EP REQUIRED)

Kratos Vase

Lemnos Juice as Drinkable Beverage (ARSIL MOD REQUIRED)

Lemnos Wine as Drinkable Beverage (ARSIL MOD REQUIRED)

Library Sconce (Wall Light)

Lyre as Guitar

Nornir Chest as Land Chest (IP EP REQUIRED) (found in Debug)

Rock Face as Wall Climbing (found in Hobbies/Skills)

Scroll Case as 2-Storey Bookcase (20k Polys)

Wall Ivy (10k polys)

And here are 9 far lazier items only inspired by GoW, not directly converted from it:

EA's Double Doors RETEXTURED

EA's Ranch Stones Column RETEXTURED (PETS EP REQUIRED)

Elven Family Lock as Decor (Animated)

Decor Glass Crow (Wings Down | Wings Up)

Idunn Apple as WA EP Edible Morsel (GLOWS)

Light Bridge as Floor Light (use with glass floor rugs)

Tapestry as Wall Art

The Light (Outdoor Light)

Happy New Year, and enjoy!

Download zips (package files): Mediafire | SimFileShare

Descriptions & pics under the cut:

Most of this stuff's pretty clear-cut, but I wanted to just explain a few quick things.

The Alfheim Light Crystals, Bifrost, Idunn Apple, and The Light all have Fullbright, so they always glow, even if you turn the lights off. (The Idunn Apple mesh is a wee too big for my liking, but oh well.)

Coin Piles 3 | 4 (§10,000, ANI Moneybag Script REQUIRED) (found in Hobbies/Skills)

Shoutout to @thecardinalsims at MTS for helping me with these! 👍

Fully recolorable, these 2 coin piles cost 1 simoleon, but when your sims scoop them up, they get 10k! You're welcome! 🤑💰

Elven "Family" Lock as Decor (Animated)

Fully recolorable. This was cloned from a clock, so the pieces turn as the big/little hands turn on EA's clocks. I've never actually caught it at the right time when all the pieces properly align, esp. since I use the Time Mod like crazy and never really know what time it is in-game.

Giant/Not So Giant Leaves

Fully recolorable, found under Plants. These leaves are HUGE, which is why I added a smaller version, cuz jfc. 😅

Jotnar Shrines as Wardrobe (10k Polys) (SN EP REQUIRED)

I apologize in advance for these. I don't really intend for them to be used as EA dressers--I just wanted something with open/closed door animations (so alas, I also had to squeeze the mesh down to fit EA's dimensions). But by god these are dumb AF if your sim actually tries to rifle around inside for clothes (which I ofc removed)--

--or Aesir forbid, they actually enter it to hide/portal travel to Narnia/woohoo. 😬 There is NOTHING on the other side, so your sim WILL be seen floating like a doofus behind the mesh (through the walls).

Anyways, if you pause your game during the .5 seconds that the doors are ever open, you'll be graced with all the effing hard work I went through to add as many Jotnar panel variations as possible:

In order: Bergelmir, Hrungnir, Jormungandr, Skadi, Skoll & Hati, Starkadr, Surtr, Thrym, Tyr1, Tyr2, Ymir (sorry, no Groa U_U).

Lemnos Juice/Wine as Drinkable Beverage (ARSIL MOD REQUIRED)

The juice is regular kid-friendly juice, but the wine is strong alcohol only for adults (*cough* Kratos wtf were you thinking giving your kid 1000yr old alcohol to drink, someone call CPS on this fool! *cough*). So now your Spartan sims of all ages can safely & responsibly enjoy sippin on gin & juice~! 🥂 As always, the mesh clipping into their faces is out of control, but oh well.

Lyre as Guitar

Fully recolorable variation included. NOT a fan of where the fingers sit (esp. for kids), but OH WELL.

Nornir Chest as Land Chest (IP EP REQUIRED) (found in Debug)

Fully recolorable variation included. For some strange reason, I couldn't clone the WA EP chests (which I prefer), but thank goodness IP has a land chest I could use instead. (IIRC you can set it with all kinds of treasures with testingcheatsenabled true and/or Nraas' DebugEnabler or something, IDER.)

Rock Face as Wall Climbing (found in Hobbies/Skills)

This is based on the rock climbing station at the EA Store, but you DON'T need it for this one to work!

Comes in different fully recolorable variations, with/without Faye's "Yellow Paint" guiding the way.

Scroll Case as 2-Storey Bookcase (20k Polys)

Fully recolorable variation included. Yes. I know. The polys are insane. I decimated as many as I could, but AAA games are just so effing high poly. U_U

And that's that!

Happy New Year, and enjoy!

Download zips (package files): Mediafire | SimFileShare

[luvvyouforever]

starcrossed - azriel shadowsinger x reader

-> in a world in which the cauldron grew tired of mates never finding each other, faeries are born with a constellation of stars on their skin that match only one other faerie. after years of never finding your match, everything snapped into place.

-> acotar soulmate au! some sweet fluff mostly with a little action in it :) i just have something for writing about azriel meeting his mate i can't help it. i also don't know how i feel about this writing so don't judge it too harshly please <3

rhysand's town home was packed with the night court and the utter largeness of their presence. azriel and cassian did not bother to tuck their wings in and instead let them drape over the back of the couch where they sat with legs spread. mor and amren took up arm chairs on either side of the couch, feyre was seated calmly next to rhysand, and you were perched on the edge of the couch closest to azriel.

an emergency meeting was called and within seconds of the communication going out, the living room was filled and heartbeats were racing. emergency meetings were reserved for dire cases only as each member of the court was impossibly busy with their own duties.

"there's a lot of movement happening in hybern right now and we don't like the sound of it," rhysand said with a serious, grave voice. "things are going to happen sooner than we would like, but we need to be prepared. knowledgeable."

azriel shifted in his seat which made you straighten out your back and prepare for your duties. you had an odd position in the night court as both healer and spy when need be. you worked and trained with azriel to assist him in the field and when he shifted in his seat, you knew that you were about to be gone for several days once more.

"azriel and y/n will go to hybern to listen in and try to figure out what they are working towards. mor will stay here in velaris in case what they are preparing holds danger over our people's heads. cassian, feyre, and i will go to illyria and alert them of new information. amren will continue to read these books because it may just be our last line of defense," rhysand called out orders with the grace of a high lord who was made for this job.

you noticed how feyre's hands trembled with nervousness and her fingers ran over the small pattern of stars on her wrist. rhysand's hand intertwined with hers and as an act of reassurance, he flipped his hand over, revealing his own pattern of stars to feyre again.

watching the interaction, your own hand traveled up to your collarbone where there rested your own little constellation of stars. the stars that would signal to you that you had found your mate, the one for you, forever. and yet, the years pass and you had yet to find that person with the matching constellation along their collarbone.

suddenly, azriel's hand touching you shoulder brought you out of your reverie. "come on, let's go get ready," he said. you stood up and followed him up the stairs of the town home to the roof where he held his arms open for you to climb into so you didn't have to walk to the house of wind.

"do you think this'll be a bad mission?" you asked azriel over the whipping of wind around your heads. his wing subtlety closed in on you so that you wouldn't have to strain to hear his words.

"i don't know. hybern could be planning anything. we need to be on our guard at all times," he answered back. even his shadows seemed to be nervous about what was coming. they whirled around your figure, one coming to rest on your collarbone, just above the stars.

-

azriel's feet landed with a soft thud on the shores of hybern. with gentle movements, he released you from his arms where you adjusted your clothing after so long spent flying. you were dressed in illyrian fighting gear, blades strapped all along your chest. down along your waist, however, were not more weapons but rather healing supplies that would prove important in a dire situation.

azriel was a vision of coldness. his gaze was fixed upon the land before him and despite the wind from the sea messing your hair, he was perfectly fine. on his body was matching illyrian fighting gear with his blue syphons gleaming brightly. truth-teller was sitting on his torso, gems glinting in the sun.

there was a second where you felt something deep down flutter, an unexplained notion that azriel was attractive but it was squashed upon entry. you had a job to do and that job was not staring at the high lord's spymaster despite the odd urges in your chest calling you to do so.

azriel sent his shadows ahead of the two of you as scouts, whispering in his ear of the things they saw ahead. you followed behind him silently, feet carefully stepping on the ground and eyes scanning every inch of what lay before you.

suddenly, a shadow perked up and pointed azriel to the left of both of you. there, a soft hum sounded from something and you weren't sure what it was which was all the more terrifying. azriel didn't dare to move an inch closer and your feet held the same pause.

"what is that?" you whispered as quietly as possible.

"i don't know," he whispered back. "stay alert. i don't want anything to happen to you."

later, when you were safe, you would wonder what prompted him to say that. was it the fact that you held the healing supplies which he knew nothing about? was it because you were his best partner in these missions? or was there something else? the pull that you had felt earlier?

none of that mattered right now though. right now, there was a mysterious hum coming from the left of you on territory that it is growing more dangerous to be on by the minute. azriel thought for a second, his careful eyes trained to his side. slowly, he went to grab a small blade from the holster around his hip when his large wing brushed against the ground. within a matter of milliseconds, hundreds of ash daggers shot from the origin of the humming.

you rolled, dodged, ducked, and winnowed all to avoid the attack. in the midst of the chaos, you lost sight of azriel which petrified you.

"azriel!" you shouted with little care about who on hybern heard you.

in just a few short moments, the ash dagger swarm stopped and in the silence, you heard a faint male groaning coming from behind you. with a turn quick enough to make your head spin, you found azriel on the ground, clutching at his sides which were rapidly spilling blood. with a whisper of a swear, you dropped to your knees to examine the damage.

your hands found the buttons on his gear, but with great effort, his hands stopped yours. "you gotta get out of here," he choked out.

"no, i'm not leaving you here. i won't," you whispered back, shrugging his grip on your hands off. it would be difficult to do, but you could winnow the two of you out of here, at least off of hybern's land. your palm found azriel's shoulder and for a second you felt like you were falling, but then you appeared on the shores away from hybern. the mortal lands, you realized. it was a risky manuever, but the beach seemed clear of humans. despite azriel's groans, you dragged him back from the ocean and to the forest line.

the fighting gear you had on was impossibly heavy and only inhibiting your ability to efficiently help azriel. with a quick flourish, you tugged off the leather, revealing the thin tank top you wore underneath. there at the top of your collarbone peaked the tattoo of stars which you had completely forgotten about. azriel made no noise, but his eyes immediately fell to the patch.

"i have to take these off of you so i can see where you're hurt," you told azriel. if he protested, you would still have to do it. the wound was too deep and too messy to heal from the outside.

gently, you pulled the leather away from azriel's body which caused him to groan more. with one final wince, he laid on the rough ground shirtless. there, at the top of his collarbone, was a littering of stars. in the same pattern as your own. there was no notice on your part as the wound your hands were currently working on healing took up your attention.

but then, just as you reached for an ointment tucked in the pocket of your pants, there was a touch to your hand. you looked up finally with a wild look in your eyes that told azriel how panicked you were about losing him.

that moment of eye contact, while azriel is slowly healing himself, while you were breathing deeply to calm your worry, is when it snapped. your eyes shot down to his collarbone where the tattoo of stars seemed to shine. azriel reached out a weak arm to trace your own version of the stars on your collarbone.

"i really didn't expect that, you know?" you whispered.

there was that pull again, the one from earlier. and then azriel's shadows reached out to you again, dancing around your form, circling the spot on your collarbone as they had before. they knew long before you did.

"there's no better time like the present," azriel shrugged but immediately followed it up with a groan.

you were shook back into reality and continued your healing. your eyes kept flitting back and forth from the wound closing on azriel's side to the stars on his collarbone that matched yours.

the man that you had spent so long side by side with. the man that you learnt everything from. the man that was your closest companion for years. when he felt strong enough, you would winnow him closer and closer to the night court before he could fly into velaris. there, you'd take him to your kitchen, make him dinner, and accept the bond.

for now, you appreciated this feeling of quiet understanding in both of you that you had found the one you were meant to be with, no matter if the bond snapped into place on a beach in the mortal lands with your healing hands tirelessly working on your mate.

[modelbus]

Could I request a Singer!Reader x Tommyinnit fic with the song ‘So American’ by Olivia Rodrigo? I think it would be cute if tommy bragged about reader on stream and she wrote songs about him <3

I assume you wanted a song fic, and if not… too late… whoops…

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Fem!Reader

So American

Drivin’ on the right-side road He says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes

Tommy’s eyes are on the window, looking vaguely surprised every time that the Uber takes a turn and reaffirms that, yes, he is meant to be driving on the right side of the road. It was something he jokingly called “barbaric” when he first visited your parents with you, but now he simply gives you a disgusted look to confirm that his beliefs on it hasn't changed. 

His arm is over your shoulders, playing with a loose thread on your sweater. Technically, it’s his sweater, but you claimed it as your own this morning. You claim most of his clothes as your own, actually. You liked wearing his baggy sweaters, he liked seeing you in them. Your fans go wild for it.

A fair trade, in your opinion.

His clothes were softer than yours for some reason, and they smelled like him. Plus, he had about a gazillion sweaters. He could definitely afford to spare some for you.

“The fuck is that?” Tommy asks, squinting at someone in a chicken costume dancing on the roadside with a sign. “Are they a fucking chicken?”

“It’s advertising.” You explain, laughing at the look on his face.

“Take a photo, take a photo.” He directs you, barely waiting for you to get your phone out before he snatches it to take a photo while the Uber drives by. Then he flips the camera to take a selfie of you two, making a horrified look for the photo. You mimic his expression. “There, send it later, I’ll post it.” 

“Got it.” You take your phone back, zooming in on the photo of you two to see how you look in it. Your hair’s a little messy, but that's to be expected. It’s a long Uber ride, after all.

“You look pretty as always, stop inspecting the photo.” Tommy grins at you, yawning after.

“Yeah yeah.” Clicking your phone off, you drop your head onto his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Tom.”

“Damn right, whatever I say.”

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much

“This mod adds alligators to Minecraft.” Tommy says, showing you it.

He’s trying to find a collection of mods for a new modded Minecraft video, but he’s run through most of the good working ones. And he wasn’t receptive to downloading a virus for a video on the bad mods.

“What do you call an alligator in a vest?” You ask, looking back down at your phone. “An investigator.”

He stares at you. After a moment of silence, he snorts. “That was so shit. Never make a joke like that ever again.”

“You still laughed.”

“But it wasn’t funny.” He stresses. “It was a pity laugh. Your joke was pitiful.”

“So you say, but you laugh every fucking time.” You smile brightly at him: he can’t help but smile back.

“There aren’t even any fuckin’ alligators in England, man. You’re so American!” Tommy nudges you with his elbow, going back to scrolling through mods.

So American. A common insult, but he has a way of making it seem endearing. 

“And you’re so British.”

I'd go anywhere he goes And he says I'm so American

Tour life is exhausting. 

Traveling from place to place, staying in hotels that range from absolute shit to five stars, you start to wonder why on Earth you’re doing this. But, for all your complaints, you know Tommy is even more exhausted. After all, he’s the one performing damn near every day. And although he loves it, you know it’s draining.

So there you are. Waiting in the wings after every show, giving him a hug when he runs off stage. Enduring the same creaky hotel beds as he is, although he uses your body as a pillow while you use the hotel pillows. 

Despite it all, it’s incredible watching him shine. He’s in his element, sharing comedy and humor with the world. And every single show, he always seems awed at how many people show up.

You’re glad you get to be there to see him flourish and to support him through it. Even if you get stuck with the odd-job of trying to fit Freddy into a dog costume a few too many times for your liking. Even if Tommy drags you out onto the stage for bows despite your lack of being in the actual show and your protests.

Simply put, you’re happy to be wherever Tommy is. He inspires your songs, pages of your notebook filled with the mere idea of his stage presence.

Your fans are probably tired of it by now. You’re not.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

“Turn the light off.” Tommy groans, face in a pillow and arm thrown over your stomach.

You glance at the light above the bed, the switch within arms reach. The hotel room is otherwise dark, matching the time of how late it is. And yet you can’t go to bed. With Tom next to you, your mind is racing, inspiration racing through your thoughts like lightning in your veins.

“I’m almost done.” You promise him, knowing you’re not. The notebook full of song lyrics and ideas is crammed full, the page you’re working on is half empty. It’ll be filled by morning.

“Bullshit.” He complains, blindly grabbing for the notebook and pen. He whacks you in the arm, making you shove him, and he finally gets his hands on your prized notebook. “Fucking thing.”

Yelping when he drops it off his side of the bed, you try to lean over him to grab it back. Instead, he acts like an octopus, throwing all his limbs around you like you’re a damn stuffed animal.

“Tom—“

“Light. Off.” He demands.

“I need my notebook—“

“Light.” He repeats slowly. “You have a recording tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t mean I need sleep.” You grumble, but reach out and flip the light off. The hotel room plunges into darkness, and Tommy makes an agreeable noise.

Within what seems like mere seconds, he’s out as easily as you had turned off the light. Exhausted from his stream earlier, no doubt. By all means, you should be exhausted too. Yet the warm body next to yours keeps you wide awake.

If you blink, or close your eyes, he might not be there in the morning. The best damn thing to ever happen to you, a British guy. You won’t lose him, or everything good he’s brought to you.

Laying your head on his arm, you stare blankly at the ceiling. Half-formed lyrics with no background music swirl around in your brain, pushing insistently at your cerebral cortex in a desperate bid to escape from being thoughts and becoming reality.

Tommy snores loudly, knocking you directly out of your thoughts. Laughing, you nudge him with your foot. He rolls, suffocating you with the way he ends up half atop you.

You’re more than happy to let him.

But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

Two steps forward, five back. Turn, flip your hair gracefully.

The metronome ticks in time with your moves, keeping count for you so you stay on time. Although you preferred the singing part of your job, you tough it out with your choreographer for dances. Besides, seeing it all come together is immensely satisfying.

“Run it through one more time girls!” Your choreographer, Elain, shouts with a clap of her hands. You scramble back to your spot, flyaway hairs already sticking to the back of your neck. Who needs a workout when you have dance?

By the time you’re finished with the last run through and take a break to chug some water, you’re dripping sweat. Attractive? No. But you worked damn hard, and it’s proof of that. All of your other dancers are sweating too, chatting between swigs of water.

You grab your phone, swiping it open to check your messages. Your manager was meant to email you about a certain venue sometime today, and you didn’t want to miss it.

But the second you open your phone, it vibrates with a call. A photo of you and Tom pops up, his name broadcasting across the screen. You smile automatically, knowing damn well he has your schedule memorized to call you during breaks.

“I thought you were streaming?” You ask, accepting it and raising it to your ear. One of your dancer wiggles her eyebrows at you, knowing exactly who it is.

“If only my man was that good to me.” Another girl jokes, laughing.

“I thought you were dancing.” Tommy snarks back on the phone. “Slacking, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off. I’d like to see you dance. Last time you broke a vase.” You lean against the wall.

“It was in a stupid place and it was fucking ugly.”

It was on a table, and it was flower-patterned.

“It was fine, Tom. You just can’t dance. Wait— I take that back. You ‘club girl’ dance.”

He gasps commercially, then starts shouting into the phone. “You bitch! I do not! I am a sexy sexy man while dancing!”

Your jerk your phone away from your ear, laughing despite the fact he probably just burst your eardrums.

“Break’s over!” Elain shouts, eyeballing you in particular. You nod at her, bringing your phone back to your ear. Luckily, Tommy’s stopped shouting.

“—Jack goddamn manifold is coming over for the stream, so I have to hide all your shit because I don’t trust him with it—“ Tommy is saying, rambling about a topic. You wish you could skip choreo to listen to him for ages, FaceTime him and watch while he talks. God, you miss him. You really should plan a visit to England again soon.

“Tom.” You cut him off. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get back to dancing.”

“Is it already—? Oh, yeah.” He sighs. “Fine, I guess I can let you leave my amazing presence. Call me after, or else.”

“Promise.” You assure him. “Love you.”

“Love you!” He echoes back enthusiastically.

You end the call, frowning down at your phone for a second. Definitely need to plan a new trip.

"Girl, stop frowning!" A dancer calls out to you, and you laugh, dropping your phone.

"Yeah yeah, I know."

You're lucky to be in love.

[octonerd]

your AU Isabeau is love at first sight holy shit. Can you infodump about him???

YAYYYY GLAD YOU DID!! the charm of traveler Isabeau claims another victim teehee. Okay okay hmmmm I would say if you want info I recommend checking out this ask and this ask. Basic details though include: This Isabeau has a criminal past! -He worked as extra muscle/guard on docks during the day (for smuggler ships) and at night he was kicking ass in underground fighting pits. -after a very brutal match though he quit the gig and is on the run for the crime boss who was his manager I will try and yap about any extra details that I haven't said yet! So consider this just my fun details post -After failing his defender exams, Isabeau started working odd jobs around Vauguarde before getting recruited the docks of Bambouche when he accidentally started working for smugglers. After 2 months on the job, guarding cargo, Isabeau was scouted by the crime boss responsible for the smuggling. He had came to Bambouche to check on operations there himself since the wing in Vauguarde was new. That's when a rather violent confrontation between Isabeau and some stowaways took place and impressed the crime boss. (the crime boss himself probably needs his own post, I gotta give him a name soon..) -Isa's Knuckles were gifted to him by his manager! It's one of the only thing he's kept from the job. -Traveler Isabeau when he first transitioned shaved his head in a buzzcut, very manly, but whoof was he glad when he started to grow it out again while on the road. His siblings also would constantly smack his "bald" head when he got the haircut. -Isabeau's design for this Au was greatly inspired by Vi from Arcane's season one look (jacketless) as well as pulling inspiration from her pit fighter arc in season two for Isa's plotline. -this Isabeau in personality is pretty much the same as canon but a little more rough around the edges, as he's a big joker but dislikes discussing his history out of shame/guilt. You could say he's similar to canon Siffrin in the way he uses comedy to avoid talking about personal details. -Isabeau learned how to sew when he was younger to help repair clothes for younger siblings but grew to really rely on patching up clothes after he started pit fighting. Every night after a gig he would sew up his clothes and read in whatever hotel he was posted up in. He didn't try and make his clothes too fancy until he left the business since they would've gotten shredded but it helped his interest in fashion design.

I think that's a good amount for now, eat up my three AU fans!

[norwegika]

Stardew valley rant:

I’ve recently been really getting into the life of spouses after you marry them, because for the majority of them, they kinda just stick at home, occasionally visiting family or friends. And those who do still do stuff, it never changes. Maru always works with Harvey at the clinic, Emily always works for Gus at the saloon, nothing really changes in their lives besides a new, much more sedentary lifestyle. I really would like for the spouses to get new hobbies and stuff when they marry you, so here’s my little ideas/headcannons, bachelorettes first!

Abigail: She begins to work on her adventuring skills in the mines and you’ll find her on every fifth floor, going further and further. She’ll give you gems from her travels, and eventually, when she reaches the bottom of the mines, she’ll start going to the skull caverns where she’ll give you iridium and the occasional prismatic shard. Something cool that could happen would be the addiction of an elevator to the skull caverns as she travels further down, every 25 floors. She would also become a member of the adventurer’s guild and serve as Marlon’s apprentice, taking over the guild on some days or opening a branch in the Calico desert that she mans sometimes.

Maru: Maru never really branches out beyond her personal inventions, so I think there could be a quest where she asks you for a new wing of the house that she could use as a workshop. This wing would be constructed by Robin, would be unlocked at 20 hearts, and would cost 750,000 gold, 250 hardwood, 10 iridium bars and 10 battery packs. Then, you could accept quests from Maru every once in a while and unlock new inventions that she made that would increase qol. Maybe she could give you a crafting recipe for auto-petters, she could make a device that automatically plants grass in meadows for your animals, a machine that can increase the quality of items by using a resource or something, the possibilities are endless!

Penny; Penny is always caring for the children of the valley, and I think it would be great if when you marry her, like Maru, you eventually get a quest that allows you to build a school for the kids, possibly utilizing the space to the left of the community center. Maybe then we could have another mini-festival where you can see the children of stardew valley show off their work, maybe unlock a “Talent Show” cutscene where Jas, Vincent, and Leo show off their skills fr. This idea is more underwhelming than my first two and could definitely be improved.

Emily: I think as you progress your post marital relationship with Emily you could help her convince Sandy to move to the valley and have someone else take over the Oasis, learning Sandy’s real name, unlocking special cutscenes with her, etc. I also feel like Emily would have a little workshop where she makes clothes and you could unlock a system where she takes your gems and a clothing item and combines them, giving your clothes a buff, like combining Topaz with a shirt gave the shirt a +1 defense buff, etc. Emily could even start a clothing line and you could gift these clothes to townspeople and get new sprites and portraits for them :D

Haley: After marriage, Haley does literally nothing but see Emily once a week. This needdsss to change, so I think she could discover her passion for photography again and start a blog about the valley, which would unlock a building to the right side of the Bus Stop: the Tourist Center. You could open a tourist center with Haley and occasionally get tourists that come to the valley, similar to the tourists at the Stardew Valley Fair. These tourists could roam around the town for a bit, and you could unlock new dialogue with the townspeople about the tourists, like “These tourists are really boosting the community economy!”

(Cc specific) Leah: Leah would start hosting art classes in the community center every Wednesday! Every month, the group of people who decided to attend could make a new painting that could be hung up in the community center, orrrr you could unlock a new building between the Blacksmith and the Movie Theater/JojaMart, where you could see the different art pieces and could have a new festival, the stardew valley fine arts conference, where the Famous Painter Lupini could host a talk with the artsy people from the valley and Zuzu City, and you could get new clothing items, a cutscene, dialogue, new paintings and sculptures, etc.

I hope you liked my insane Stardew valley yapping session, I’ll do bachelors tomorrow probably :3

[manyplushtoys]

Firffels: the Wuzzles Competitor That Disappeared

Recently, I found this toy at my local thrift store. I thought it was an oddly cute nativity toy, but upon closer inspection the tush tag read "FIRFFELS. I'm glad to be a SHAMEL." I did a quick search online and the first result was this page on Ghost of the Doll, a toy collector's site that archives information about 80s/90s toys and includes a forum where anyone can seek help with identifying toys. This lead me down a rabbit hole of figuring out just what Firffels were: a failed line of toys promised to be the next hot phenomenon, with minimal documentation online and a handful of toys floating around in thrift stores.

Other than Ghost of the Doll, I found info about Firffels in this 2010 blog post by Trish Babbles (written in an edgy, mean-to-be-funny style that I think is too uncharitable, but it was a different time to be online lol) and this blog post by AF Blog. My other info comes from Othello Bach's website dedicated to the book itself (her personal site is no longer functional) and from a handful of youtube videos I found of a Firffels commercial. Many thanks to these sources, without them there'd be like, nothing online about these creatures.

Firffels are based on the children's book Who ever Heard of a Fird? by Othello Bach, first edition published in 1984 by Caedmon Childrens Books (upon Googling, it appears that Caedmon is owned by HarperCollins now and focuses on audiobooks). The story follows Fird, a fish-bird hybrid, as he travels the world to find other firds. Along the way he encounters a goofy, lovable cast of other hybrid animals who have all never heard of a fird. The story ends with fird learning to love his uniqueness and find peace with being who he is. As is apparent in the Amazon link above (not sponsored, just showing my work), a used copy is $86 dollars right now. An audiobook narrated by Joel Grey (an actor that I'm unfamiliar with who is apparently known for his role in Cabaret) was also released on cassette, listed on Ebay for $75+. Luckily, there is a youtube video of someone doing a complete read through of the book, but the camera angle is poor. This is the only visual record I could find online of the interior illustrations by Michelle Dorman, other than a brief look at a few in a low quality VHS promo rip I'll get to in a minute, and the image below from an Ebay listing. There may be a few more photos in some Etsy listings that I missed.

In Trish's blog post they complain that Shamel is an ugly monstrosity and there were a few comments on Ghost of the Doll's forum of the same nature about Shamel, but I think Shamel is the cutest one! It just looks like a new breed of camel, meanwhile Fird in the background here is...he's so cartoonishly goofy. Idk how else to describe him. He's so fuckin' goofy. He'd make squeaky Spongebob-esque sound effects when he walks, I imagine.

The book was allegedly a hit and Remco bought the merchandising rights. They went all in, as is detailed in the 5 minute promotional video below. Based on a cast of 6 characters, plush toys and posable action figures hit the market with a promise that Hanna Barbera would develop an animated tv show starring Firffels, housewares would be made, there'd be a clothing line, and Design-a-Firffel contests would be held. A few housewares seem to have been made and plush toy sewing patterns were released, but I was unable to find evidence that anything else moved forward.

Absolutely fucking insane fact: according to this video, Caedmon Publishing was owned by Raytheon at the time. Thanks Raytheon for these cuddly children's toys and also, uh, horrific weapons of war?

After I bought Shamel, I went back to the store to see if there were more. There were! I found Bertle and Elephonkey, who still had the original tags. I swear the day earlier I had seen a frog toy with butterfly wings but it wasn't there anymore. I remember passing over it and thinking "eh, butterfly wings on a frog aren't cute," and did not bothering even looking at the tags. My mistake. Turns out that toy was worth a decent amount of money and was part of this whole story.

Bertle's pink belly super bright in real life, like neon. There is a sunbleached spot on it's front.

Elephonkey is the only one with original tags. I also included an image of the tush tag. For each toy the tush tag is the same but displays the character's name.

Hybrid animals are not a unique concept. Wuzzles, a line of plush toys that were animal hybrids with wings and likely made to compete with Care Bears, are brought up in most posts and forums where Firffels are mentioned--usually to disparage Firffels as being knock off, less successful Wuzzles. Wuzzles weren't exactly successful either, though they definitely lasted longer and had more reach, likely due to the backing of a Disney/Hasbro budget. AF Blog in 2015 makes a good point that I agree with: it's unlikely that Wuzzles and Firffels were ripping each other off due to production timelines. Toy lines can be in development for years before any information is made public. It takes a long time to design toys, then get them to a manufacturer, then go through the revisions process. Not to mention the time it takes to ship things out, negotiate contracts at every step of the way, etc. And, as AF Blog notes, Whoever Heard of a Fird? was released in 1984, a year before the first Wuzzles tv episode aired, and Firffels hit the market a year later.

People draw hybrid animals all the time. For example, furry adoptable artists draw hybrids all the time (take a shot every time you find a closed species that is a feline with a fish tail or deer feet or some other animal's defining trait), the Lego movie had Unikitty, and I literally went to Walmart today and in the toy section there was a miniature rabbit-like rainbow animal with wings and a unicorn horn there. The thing that makes these toys potentially appealing, in my opinion, is that they choose safe and popular traits: sparkly horns and feathery wings, for the most part. Things that are easily marketable.

The thing with Firffels is that they combined animals with traits that are less immediately appealing. Image below from Ghost of the Doll.

Some of them are cute but the others miss the mark. Personally I like Shamel and Bertle (the plush version only tbh).

Worth pointing out is that the character illustrations do not match the toy designs. If you go back and watch the commercials included in the 5 minute promo video, you can see that the Bertle plush and action figure are brown and green rather than pink and blue, and that Shamel's hair is brown instead of purple. I saw varied photos of the Butterfrog plush: some were lighter green while others were darker. Could be an issue with differing cameras, but I don't know for certain. And then there's Elephonkey, who is the most inconsistent of the bunch:

The first image is the prototype toy as it appears in the commercial. It is grey and flesh colored, with odd looking plastic hair. The second image is from Ghost of the Doll, of how the Elephonkey action figure actually appeared in stores. Third is a photo of my Elephonkey plush. Compare it with the official character art...well, he's not my favorite design in any incarnation.

I think the toys in the commercials were prototypes that were changed to brighter colors so as to appeal more towards girls. In the 30 second plush commercial there are 4 girl actors and 1 boy actor, with the camera shots getting closer to and focusing more on the girls' faces, so it would make sense. In contrast, the action figure commercial features 1 girl and 2 boys, and most of the camera shots are of the kids' hands playing with the toys, giving off a more boyish, gender-neutral vibe. Classics of gendered marketing, am I right? lol. But I think the change was a good one. I wouldn't have picked up Shamel if I hadn't seen the purple hair, and I definitely would not like Bertle if he wasn't pink. It gives the toys more of a cohesive style, a unique identity, and they fit in more alongside the Wuzzles/Care Bears visuals with the vibrant, happy colors. There's more of a toy-like quality to them, which increases the cuddle-ability and inspires more of an urge to play.

Discovering and logging all this inconsistency has been pretty fun. But it makes me think that these toys were probably doomed by a chaotic, unorganized development process behind the scenes. And given that the book was published in '84 and toys hit the market in '85...the signs seem to point to production being rushed.

To be fair to Firffels, it was probably a little harder in the 80s to hit it big with kids. You had to be lucky, you had to have connections with the right distributors, you had to anticipate what is universally appealing to children--one of the most unpredictable audiences out there--and you had to pay to air your commercials during prime child viewing hours. These are all things that are still true, but we have the internet now and the advertising power of the internet is scary. Going viral on TikTok has the potential to skibidi someone's toilet career. iPad babies are growing up into grade school kids who throw birthday parties every year and get toys as gifts. We are living in an era where mass-producing cheap little polyester plushies and plastic figures is easier than ever and corporations have massive budgets to pump into kids' eyeballs through every advertising avenue they possibly can. They don't even need to come up with the designs anymore, they can just partner with whatever Roblox game is popular right now and capitalize on that. Maybe Othello Bach should get on Roblox.

Actually, it appears that Bach was given the short end of the stick by the time Firffels were pulled. Though her personal website is no longer up, her other website dedicated entirely to Whoever Heard of a Fird? has some info:

At the height of Fird's success, with over 100 licensees cramming the store shelves with children’s merchandise and an animation contract with Hanna-Barbera, the book and all the merchandise suddenly vanished from the shelves.  Although she lost the rights to several other published children’s books at the same time, Othello has never received a reasonable explanation for what happened.

So this passage actually clears something up for me. This whole time something that hasn't really lined up is that I had assumed that Othello Bach published the book first and then was approached for merchandising rights after the book sold well. I actually think now it's possible that from the get-go the book was written with the intention for it to become a worldwide sensation. Not so much Bach's intent, though. I have some professional familiarity with licensing and other such creative publishing contracts, particularly with books. Based on what I know, I believe it's more likely that Bach pitched her manuscript to Caedmon Publishing and Caedmon, seeking to create popular IP, was like, "this has potential and we are going to sign you on not only for the book, but for more." That might be why the character designs are so strange: they were trying too hard to get famous quick and had instructed the illustrator (it is regular practice for publishers to pair authors with an illustrator and given how much was on the line for this IP, Bach might not've had much input here) to design characters that could also become toys. It's unlikely that Michelle Dorman, a kids book illustrator, had product design skills needed to make standout, awesome toy designs. Not a knock on her, illustrators just have niches within their field that they're best at it. It's why you see so many illustrators complain about how often they get approached to design logos--that's not what we do, thank you.

What's sad is that clearly Bach had signed a bad contract that gave away most of her rights as the writer to the publisher. She openly says so above. My guess is that Caedmon told her they needed more rights than usual to be able to conduct so much merchandising (like signing contracts with Remco, much easier to do when you don't have a third party also involved), and because they were pouring so much effort into it on their end. Bach is just the writer, so while the original idea is hers, Caedmon would have matched her with an illustrator and taken charge of all the licensing and merchandising. For a publisher this is a huge commitment financially and personnel-wise, so it makes sense why they would have put forth a contract that gave them so many rights. If Firffels had become as popular as they'd hoped, they don't want to not own the IP. They would have poured all those resources into it and not be able to reap all the rewards because that pesky author would own it. It's almost like contracts like these are predatory and only serve the interests of the publisher. Almost like publishers are companies existing in a capitalistic system and therefore only serve profit, not people. Almost like companies will never truly have artist's best interests at heart, and if you are ever to sign a contract with a big publisher you need to have a good lawyer by your side.

It makes me so sad to read that they didn't even give her a reasonable explanation as to why everything was cancelled. She does not even appear to have any of the merchandise on hand, as all the photos on her website are from Ghost of the Doll. In hindsight we can guess, obviously, why the cancellation happened but I'm in the moment it was probably upsetting. It's still upsetting, given that she has included this in her website for the...revamped book!

However, like Fird, Othello refused to give up. For the next 20 years, she tried to regain the rights to her work. Entertainment attorneys assured her it would never happen.  They said, "It can't be done!" But... it could be done and Othello did it, regaining the rights back to all her work.

Yeah, so, I actually think this is the saddest part about the whole thing. She managed to get some of the rights back and republished the book with...new art...that looks so fucking BAD. Image from her website:

Sorry to this illustrator, but got damn. There is no sauce to this art whatsoever. It is unseasoned, not even salt and pepper. This looks like ass and would never fucking fly with any editor worth their chops. It took me ages to figure out that the long yellow curved line is Fird's tail. Like, this is so unbelievably sad to me. I don't even really like the original art a whole lot, but compared to this...

My informed guess as to what happened is that Bach lawyered up and fought. As we know, Caedmon is now owned by HarperCollins. I can't say for certain but there was probably some case to be made that Caedmon being sold breached the contract, or nullified parts of it, or perhaps the contract expired. It could even just be that HarperCollins didn't care about an old, unprofitable IP and granted Bach her rights back. There is also Remco to consider: they also hold some of the rights, but probably just for the merchandise? Given how prominently their logo is displayed on the toy tags, they might actually own a significant share. Perhaps they were happy not to have anything to do with the book so long as the merch rights weren't touched. I don't know! There's no info about it on the site and this stuff is usually under NDA.

So Bach got her rights back, but she's just the writer. She doesn't own any of the art, so in order to republish the book she had to hire a new illustrator. She likely did not have a huge budget for it, maybe even paying for it out of her pocket because the Choice Books logo she has in several spots on the Fird website appears to be for a distribute on demand service, in place of a traditional publisher.

As the writer, she also would not have gotten the rights to use the original audiobook, so she had one re-recorded. It also appears like she does not have the rights to the name "Firffels" either, as the only places it appears on the site are in photographs of merchandise and in titles specifically referring to the work that is still owned by Caedmon. She carefully refers to her own work as "Fird" for short or the book's full title, probably because she cannot legally imply that she owns or made anything else.

I dug into this thinking it would be a quick look at some strange, forgotten toys from a bygone era. Instead I found a story about how an artist can so easily be shafted by publishers. Everything always loops back around to workers' rights, it seems. Stories like this about shitty publishing contracts (see: Webtoon if you want to get into something current) still appear so often, man. It's depressing, and indicative that the publishing industry needs some reforming ASAP. Like, Illustrators, when are we getting a proper union?

But I'm glad Bach got her rights back and got her book republished within her lifetime. I'm sad she didn't have the budgets for a better illustrator. Sorry to bring that up again, I work as an illustrator irl and I have opinions about craft, lol. Also I just think that given how hard Bach had to fight, she deserved to have better art made. That being said, here's another link to her current website. There's not much there but what is there is a monument to a battle she fought and won, and is proud of.

The lack of detailed, clear, centralized documentation of these toys frustrates me. One of the most frustrating things about the internet for me is that there are few easily accessible, publicly available archives of toys--even for modern toys. I've had to use Amazon reviews and Ebay listings and broken online stores to decipher publication years. With this in mind I decided to do a write up and provide clearer pictures of the toys that I have (I'll take hi res pics in natural lighting too someday). Archives are important to me and the internet kinda sucks for it, I say as someone who started this blog for that purpose. If Tumblr goes down, so does everything I've posted here. As an artist who works primarily digitally, one of the scariest things is knowing that I'm laboring over an ephemeral body of work. It's just not going to exist for very long unless I print it out on archival materials. Data is not the same as a physical object. My Firffels have survived for 39 years but the digital art I draw every day is unlikely to last past 10 years because websites die and files get deleted.

I bought the Firffels from my thrift store thinking I'd resell them. I'm low income so I sell many of the things I thrift. I prefer to buy the older toys or the ones that need cleaning because it makes me feel better about being a reseller (I don't want to take away options from low income kids in my area, ya know?). But I'm putting in the labor to freshen them up and I'm putting in the effort to make unavailable toys available again, at least for one person. And I don't have a whole lot of shelf space to display the toys in my collection...but for now I think I'll keep them.

[frostythievery]

I've been hanging onto these for a long while and I've been so very excited to share them! I've been slowly writing my own infection au, while trying to figure out writing for personalities and conflicts, to better understand them myself, but I'll try to keep key points intact for each character!

I'm also going to be practicing poses, expressions, and body-types in a cartoonish style! I will be doing new things occasionally, in colors, always, as an artist. I don't know how well it will transverse from screen to screen on devices!

I'm still very in love with all these AUs, and wish people would share with me! Reblog, go wild in your tags, I will read! Please, interact!

To also provoke questions: Facts about my characters! ; A read more.

All of the CMC have some form of muscle built for/from various needs and reasons! Their body types pull into this just as much!

Scootaloo is the tallest and slimmest. Sweetie is chubby and shortest of them. Bloom just works very hard to keep her beef, more on that later! They're always running around, doing strong things as fillies!

Ack! There's reasoning for Sweetie to be lacking the CMC! As she travels to Canterlot more often with Rarity for Trips, though of course that means she's working for the CMC there too. She's just busy running supplies runs and running the shop, while promoting newer teen clothing.

Sweetie has a single scar from their misadventures as young fillies, which makes Rarity fret to no end. First time she saw it, she screamed, but she understands the trouble thanks to her own journey. Belle also understands her sisters worry, but she feels stronger with it. She's also glad to be matching Applebloom.

Which is great, because Scoots and Bloom have matching eyebrow scars too. They all chat about the stories behind them too.

AB gets hers from all the work she does from working and disciplining herself between The Orchard with Jack and Bic Mac or Pinkie Pie and the Sugarcube Corner. Her spirit boils to hard work, and her will is rock solid in that motif/lifestyle. She gets 6, sometimes 7 if she's lucky, hours of sleep with a strict bedtime.

Scootaloo is still a little sleazy in working, and is slowly working the courage to ask Applebloom about that life style motivation junk. She's been trying to since before her flight exam. In this RF AU, she passes her test. A genetic defect in her wings made them too small to functionally fly, but she can glide in average lengths for functional Pegasi wings. With this information, RD had taken it into account that some Disabled Pegasi can get smaller jobs inside the facility as messengers, with hopes to give Scootaloo a position (Unbeknownst to her little sister.) This implemented a course for Disabled Pegasi.

EDITING ONE TIME, because I forgot to talk more on the Ochard and Baking thing!

Applebloom is absolutely capable of rocking someone's shit cause Pinkie has her doing rough and hard labor! She's always moving ovens, reorganizing, sharpening, and cleaning items! A constant move over there!

And when she's home on her Sister's Farm, she's bucking every tree in sight until her fur is tufts of drying sweat at the end of the day.

She's also going back and forth on CMC involved Missions with Scootaloo, since she views her Cutie Mark as her work and all, a lives goal, Girl's got plans and schedule!

I believe that's all I'll share for now! I will be thinking and mulling over on everything in my head, but the process is admittedly a slow one that I want to put care into. My mental health often times affects my motivation which results in horrid burn out, only recently I've been giving myself art breaks I'm hoping talking with the fandom and engaging will help me feel better about doing all this work myself! (It is a rough, rewarding endeavor!)

[lxstfathier]

Fortune Teller

Mark Hamill x Time Traveler! Reader

Summary: after spending most of your life traveling in time and teletransportating everywhere you ever wanted, you decide to stay in a certain year, not knowing that it would result in getting romantically involved with one of your favorite actors during his rise to fame.

Warnings: some death and human experimenting mentions, but nothing too bad, mostly it’s just fluff :)

A/N: omg it took me more than a whole month to write this but it’s finally ready! and probably it’s not 100% accurate to what happened in Mark’s life but hey, it’s fiction, so i hope that you all enjoy it anyways!! love you guys!! 💗✨

People often think that time traveling and teletransportation is fun, and it is, but after some time it gets… boring.

You discovered your unique abilities when you were just a teenager, basically still a kid, quickly learning how to control those weird moments in which you could just appear in any year or place that you wanted by simply snapping your fingers.

Since then, you visited every city that you ever dreamed of, every year that seemed interesting, and witnessed some historic events with your own eyes, better than any history book.

But now? You decided to calm down for a while, staying in 1976 to live in San Diego for a few months until you can decide what city is the next one in your map.

You have a lot of money for the moment, going back to 1898 to steal diamonds and gold was an easy task, so you don’t have much to worry about, just focusing on burning off your small fortune and have fun around. Maybe you should go to the comic con this evening? you have seen the flyers on every street, and it looks like a good plan for a saturday.

Yeah, you love comics, you have a big collection, but the real reason to go would be to see Mark Hamill in his youth. You remember watching a lot of his movies when you were still a normal kid, so it would be nice to catch a glimpse of him before all that fame hits him like a lightning strike.

After thinking about it all morning, you decide to go.

And half an hour later you’re already walking down the street, wearing some cute clothes and a little bit of makeup, not expecting much more than being just another nerd from the bunch.

The streets are calm, not as busy as they usually are, and everyone seems to enjoy a good time under the bright afternoon sun. But when you get to the comic con then it is a different story. There’s more people than you expected and a tedious long line to get tickets.

However, you don’t have anything better to do, so you wait, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, simply watching everything around you.

Finally, after some long minutes, you buy your ticket and get in, excited to see how it goes and what new things you can add to your collection.

It’s not a big place, but it’s not small either. There’s a lot of stands with comics for sale, booths with merch for the newest movies, autograph signings from famous illustrators, and of course, the main stage for the press conferences.

Sadly, that stage is still empty, so you still have a lot of time to look around. And that’s exactly what you do, calmly checking out the comics and merch, even more when you get to the star wars table, delighted to be able to see that vintage logo, the small x-wing figures, the printed shirts and the posters and photos.

So, without thinking it twice, you buy a few of those things, hoping that maybe, with a little bit of luck, you’ll get them autographed and then go back to 2030 to sell them for a fortune.

Suddenly, the people cheering and loud voices through the speakers snap you out of your thoughts. The press conference for star wars has started and you’re still away, too lost inside your own mind to realize that you’ve missed the first few minutes.

Taking you newest purchases in your hands, you quickly make your way to the main stage and sit on the last row of chairs. It’s not super near like the front row, but you can perfectly see everything, to the microphones, to the pretty blonde boy who can’t keep still as the two other men answer questions about the movie.

And you never expected Mark Hamill to look that good. You’ve seen famous singers, models, or even roman emperors with your own eyes, but none of them compares to him. He is literally hypnotic, almost like a cosmic being, and now it makes sense of why they chose him to play a hero from another galaxy.

His face, his smile, his everything is just perfect, and with such a beautiful sight the time goes by incredibly fast.

If you could take your phone out to at least have picture of this moment, you would, but you don’t want to attract curious looks from everyone, so you just stare, letting out some dreamy sighs and saving every detail in your own mind.

Once the conference ends, you get up from your seat and walk back to the stands. Perhaps, if you get more lucky, you will find another vintage piece to resell in the future.

And you do, you manage to find some more things that will surely catch a collector’s eye. But when you’re heading to the exit, ready to go back home and call it a day, a familiar blonde hair makes you stop dead in your tracks.

Mark Hamill is there, just a few feets away from you, talking to another man while the other persons walk past the Star Wars stand, oblivious to the fact that they’re ignoring the guy who is about to become an international superstar and the biggest heartthrob of the decade.

And then he looks in your direction, with those piercing blue eyes, smiling slightly, probably finding it cute that you are nervous and not daring to come closer. But how does he expect you to be confident? has he never seen himself in a mirror? he’s the closest thing to an angel and that makes your heart race uncontrollably fast.

“Come say hi, i don’t bite” Mark says, letting out a soft chuckle, his voice kind but teasing.

For a moment you stay still, too impressed with him that you don’t even know what to do. And the fact that he directed a few words to you just makes it worse. In moments like this, you wish that you could be at least a little bit more extroverted and less awkward.

However, you don’t wanna lose the opportunity, so you do your best to approach him and talk normally despite your horrible anxiety.

“Mark, uh- hi, i… i’m one of you biggest fans, been following your career since texas wheelers. Can’t wait to see you in Star Wars.”

Actually, you started following him since you watched the fall of the house of usher as a teenager, but you can’t tell him that for obvious reasons.

And by the way he smiles and tilts his head to the side, it’s not difficult to guess that you’re probably the first fangirl who has come across his path.

“Well, if you liked me in that shitty sitcom, you’re gonna love me in this new movie.” he says, trying his best to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that’s for sure. I’m gonna go the the cinema a couple of times” you answer, as if you didn’t already saw all of his movies on your laptop more than once.

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a total success thanks to you” mark jokes and you smile.

“Star wars is gonna be a success, whether i watch it or not, believe me.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, suspicious as to why would you have so much faith in a new sci-fi movie that not even him believes in.

“How do you know? are you a fortune teller?” he asks.

“Something like that” you say, not wanting to give many details about your weird life. And before he can ask anything else, you hand him the two star wars posters that you just bought an hour ago. “Would you sign this for me? please?”.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your vague answer and then he is kind enough to autograph both of your posters with a black marker, taking his time to write more than just his signature, all while wondering if you are telling the truth or if you just want to mess with him.

Unfortunately, when Mark is almost done signing the second one, another person interrupts him, telling him that someone named Gary is looking for him to discuss some things.

“I need to go” he says, handing you back the two posters. “It was nice meeting you, maybe next time you can tell me the numbers to win the lotto.”

And with that, he just smiles one last time before turning around and getting lost in the crowd. So you stay there a few seconds, incredibly shocked with that first encounter.

His smile and those last words repeat inside your mind over and over again, only for you to realize that yes, he really believes you were messing around with him, but it doesn’t matter to you. The moment was perfect despite his lack of belief.

After that, you just hold the posters against your chest, making your way out of the convention and blushing all the way home.

⋆✮♡✮⋆

The next time you meet him is even more unexpected.

You’re sitting on the warm sand of the Malibu beach, feeling the ocean water on your toes, just having some time to yourself while admiring the beautiful sunset, totally captivated by the bright orange in the horizon.

It’s calm, and soothing. The sound of the waves and the slight breeze allow you to shut down your thoughts and relax for a while.

“I knew that your face was familiar” a male voice interrupts your sacred moment as he sits on the sand next to you. “You’re the fortune teller from the san diego comic con a few weeks ago.”

Of course, that’s a voice that you know quite well. And when you look to your right, Mark is there, talking to you again, looking more handsome than ever with an unbuttoned shirt and golden hair getting messy because of the breeze.

“Yeah it’s me” you answer, slightly confused. “How did you recognize me?”

“Well, someone like you is not easy to forget, you have something… different that makes you stand out from the rest.”

Your heart starts to beat fast again. Hearing him say that you’re unforgettable is more than a dreamy compliment. But, deep down, you know that he probably says that because you are from a different time, you look futuristic, and strange, and that’s what always catches everyone’s attention.

“It’s fine, you can say that i’m weird” you laugh, nervously playing with the sand beneath you.

“No, actually i think you’re quite pretty.”

Your cheeks go red immediately and a dumb smile appears in your lips. What are you supposed to say? you’re too shy to flirt back, so you decide to change the subject.

“What brings you to malibu?”

“I love this place, so i wanna move here” he says, in a more serious tone while looking at the ocean. “What about you?”

“Funny” you say, almost thinking that the coincidences are starting to be too much. “I live here, ten minutes away from the beach.”

“Looks like we’ll be neighbors then” he raises an eyebrow. “I got my eye on a nice property in the shore.”

“Great! come by whenever you need a cup of sugar or whatever”

“I’d probably ask for something more than that.”

With that you just let out a good laugh. If another man said that to you, you’d probably roll your eyes, get up and walk away. But it’s different when it comes to him. And you’ve heard guys say so much worse things in your native years of 2020’s that he almost sounds cute.

“Sure, i can give you some salt too if you need it” you joke around, just to see him smile, with those pearly white teeth and pretty wrinkles on his cheeks. Something that could easily overshadow the incredible sunset.

And you’re too lost in his smile to notice the way he is staring at you, with the same infatuation and curiosity.

“You’re not from here, do you?” Mark asks once the laughter is over. “From the states, i mean.”

There’s that question that everyone always makes. And the one that you always have to lie about. What are you supposed to say? that you are actually from the states but you look different because you were born in 2010 as product between two people who were used for experiments by the government and somehow managed to scape from it? he would call you crazy instead of fortune teller this time.

So you use the same made up story that you created for everyone who asks.

“I was born in spain, but my parents migrated here when i was five. Sadly, they passed away a while ago after i turned sixteen, so now i’m alone in this country.”

“Oh i’m sorry” he says, the smile fading from his face, regretting to touch such a sensitive topic. “I shouldn’t have-“

“It’s fine” you cut him off. Your parents are safe and sound in 2031, living their best life, so you don’t want to bug him with that. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

And that’s all you needed for him to talk for long minutes, with no intention to stop soon. But you can’t complain, his voice is really soothing, and his stories are entertaining, enough for you to listen attentively for some time, just saying one comment occasionally or laughing at his jokes.

Once more you end up being hypnotized by him, exactly like the first time, or is it that you’re just easy to impress with a pretty face? you’re not sure, but when you realize, the sun is completely gone and it has gotten super late.

You need to go home. And Mark, being a total gentleman, offers to walk you there, because there’s no way that he would ever let you go alone, even less at night.

The playful conversation keeps going all the way there, while walking close to each other, almost bumping shoulders. And when you get to your front door, he holds your hand, carefully, as a way to ask you to don’t go inside yet and stay with him just a few seconds more.

“Will i see you tomorrow?” he blurts out, patiently waiting for your answer, with a nervous smile on his lips.

How could you say no to him?

“Probably” you say, feeling your cheeks get burning red. “If not, you know where to find me.”

You really plan on leaving it there, clearly not expecting much else, just a dramatic goodbye to end the night. But before you know it, he pulls you closer, placing a hand on the nape of your neck to lean in for a kiss.

It’s soft and gentle, a quick peck on the lips, and it’s over before you can even realize what happened. But it makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world, with thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach and a heart that threatens to get out of your chest.

“Good, cause you still owe me the numbers of the lotto.” He says, returning to his funny side as he lets go of your hand.

But you’re way too shocked by the kiss that you can’t even think of a good comeback. So you just smile and say goodbye to him with a wave of your hand, getting into the safety of your home and immediately closing the door.

Maybe Mark wonders if he overstepped your boundaries. Or maybe he thinks that it’s really cute how you got so flustered. You will never know.

It doesn’t matter, though. You’re so happy that you could burst into tears or giggle to yourself the whole night. Maybe you should even go to 2031 to tell your mom exactly what happened, and she would be happy to know that you finally found a decent man instead of a total jerk.

But first, you need to calm down, and probably listen to some romantic songs while praying that you’re not just another notch in his belt.

⋆✮♡✮⋆

Almost six months later you are nervous as hell. Probably more than that. You are terrified.

It’s only a matter of minutes until you and Mark arrive to the ziegfeld theatre for the star wars premiere in new york, but you’re still stuck in traffic, in the leather backseats of a very luxurious car. And when you look out the window, you can already see loads of people around, which makes you feel extremely overwhelmed.

Obviously, you think that you’re managing that anxiety and nervousness quite well, but you don’t, and Mark can easily tell how you’re not having a good time just by the way your hands play with the seams of your expensive silk dress or the fluff of your synthetic fur stole.

“Take a deep breath, please” he tells you, taking one of your hands between his. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Sure, it’s easy for him to say that when his job is to literally have cameras on his face all the time. He’s used to it, but you’re not. And what scares you the most is that this would be the first time in which you appear together in public as a couple.

What if his fans don’t like you? what if you can’t stand all that sudden attention? what if-

“Please” he repeats himself, squeezing your hand. “Just a few pics and we’ll go inside. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try” you nod, a shy smile lingering on your lips as you turn your gaze away from the window to look at him.

He looks so calm, and so so handsome. It doesn’t matter if you already watched him getting ready all day, seeing him with that black tuxedo, bow tie and hair combed back, makes your breath falter and your head feel dizzy.

That’s how you realize that you’re screwed. You already fell hard and face first.

Has he fell hard for you too? yes. All this time he has done nothing but prove that he loves you, in ways that you never expected, yet you still can’t comprehend how you managed to pull such a man. It feels unreal.

Minutes later, when you finally arrive to the place, Mark gets out of the car first and then goes to your side to open the door for you, even offering you his hand as an extra help, because he knows that it’s hard to walk with high heels, and also because your legs are trembling due to your nerves.

“I know you can do this, sweetheart” he whispers to you, inviting you to hold on to his arms instead of his hand. “Smile at everyone and that’s it… and please don’t faint.”

You take a deep breath, gather the courage necessary, and then start walking beside him, gripping his arm so hard that you fear to wrinkle his tux.

There’s a lot noise, bright lights everywhere, a multitude of photographers, journalists, press and a much more that doesn’t help with your nerves. It makes you nauseous and sweaty, but you try your best to deal with it, concentrating on Mark and not on anything else.

As soon as you both step on the red carpet, you can practically feel all eyes on you, with the camera flashes immediately going off over and over again. Most of the photographers are focused on Mark, he is the star after all, but some others pay attention to you, the mysterious girl by his side.

And it’s only when you’re being blinded by the intense flashes that you get a slight sense of guilt.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You already messed up his whole timeline. He was supposed to appear on all this pictures with somebody else, with some other girl from his time.

But do you care? not one bit. This is like a dream come true.

And while you’re too deep in your thoughts, posing for the cameras and controlling your nerves, it’s almost impossible for you to notice that soon a few of the photographers find something better to focus on.

This time they don’t point their lenses at Mark, or you, or the expensive clothes that you decided to wear for the occasion…

They’re drawn to the beautiful diamond ring on your left hand.

[lucasbarelysleeps]

Ok so a BIG headcanon rant about some of the phighting skins that I kinda believe are in the same universe (not actually but headcanoncally) so I’ll go by character and headcanons of what I think they are as that character what they do and just head canons :3

Stargazer rocket- I personally perceive him as more of a intergalactic deity ig? Pretty much he travels and hangs around the galaxy most of his time and exploring places not as an astronaut, I think he would have powers and stuff and I also think he can kinda control the cosmos? He doesn’t usually tinker with it though because he wants to see it have its course naturally. When he spawned the inphinity went from nothing to everything. And along came with Seraphlaser who took care of stargazer growing up. She was even considered a father/ caretaker to stargazer but many centuries or well when stargazer was around 16, ( he ages slowly ) Seraphlaser had gone missing and this had caused star to kinda rip between the galaxies and cosmos to look for him before putting them back together, the last place he checks is the inpherno, when going down there, he fell like a shooting star and had caused a big ripple in the galaxies upon his landing, causing it to all go wrong

Ok so I couldn’t decide out of these two because they would fit in this ig? I’ll go over them seperately

Follower sword- he is apart of a cult based off a legend that this cult thinks exists, that being the Illumina cult (in this the SFOTH deities don’t exactly ‘exist’ but they are more like legends/ myths that had been told through generations of demons.) the cult doesn’t know that stargazer is an actual deity and thinks that he’s just another legend. Although if he were actually spotted by this cult he’d either be killed or held hostage.

Sunburst sword- he is a deity in this and he keeps watch on the planet and especially the suns, he names a fair bit of the suns his own thing rather then what the demons in the inpherno call the suns, he is very good friends with stargazer and they explore the galaxies together, after stargazer went ‘missing’ sunburst has felt very lonely and has been the only one holding the inphinity together but he’s starting to get exhausted keeping everything together that he could even feel his power dying out.

Eggsquerade - this guy pretty much is like the messenger boy for crossroads in a way, he does a fair bit of jobs not like overwhelming jobs but more like occasional fun jobs, he sometimes delivers eggs, and he is a paid DJ, in his free time he likes to dance and cook (I think he’d cook a lot of dishes containing eggs) and he’s pretty good friends with ego. At one point he found stargazer in an alleyway just in rags whilst it was pouring and he took him in for awhile, he got him actual clothes and took care of him until one day stargazer disappeared. He doesn’t tell ego about this and doesn’t intend to because it was a secret between him and stargazer not to tell anyone about his presence. He will take this secret to his grave.

Egobworder - ego is in a very competitive league for skateboarding and has been championship for it for years due to his crazy and outlandish stunts that no one seems to beat because they are new and even crazier each year. One time he spotted stargazer shining a slight moonlight glow in the night and before he could confront him he was gone, he doesn’t know that was stargazer nor does he know who stargazer is and ever since in his free time he looks for the mysterious figure (stargazer) to see who it was.

Seraphlaser - a fallen seraphim who lives away from demon sight so she isn’t hunted down and asked for questions about his ‘god’. Due to the fall Seraphs wings are severely damaged which makes her unable to fly. At this moment he stays with kramptana since they’ve been friends before her falling. She doesn’t know that stargazer is looking for him (obviously) but loves to tell stories to kramptana and cursed shot about their adventures across the inphinity.

Kramptana- kramptana is the protector of the cursed demons, fallen angels and other species, currently only two live with him due to either being heavily cursed or heavily damaged. He also watches over demons, if he sees something as he deems as ‘immoral’ he’ll go out of his way to make sure that the demon who was in the wrong gets what they deserve.

Cursedshot- cursedshot as you can guess, is a very cursed demon from the day he spawned. He physically isn’t able to speak and sometimes he’d be stunned due to his curse, that curse being that it’d feel like he had been mummified of some sorts and the bandages that are stuck to his body would tighten all the way up, making him unable to move or do anything, sometimes it could last from minutes to hours and maybe even a day or two, it is also at random times that his curse would act up and due to this he always needs kramptana or Seraphlaser to keep watch and even help him around the house.

So yea,,, These are just my thought about these guys and it’s just like a head canon and I did this cuz I was bored -.-

[cyguybetatest-v01]

Oh, would you really do that for lil ol' me?

[Vespa had arrived at her destination, a shady little area underneath a bridge that overlooked a small river that split the forest in half. It was a part of a greater path that was used for trade through the Reptile District, cutting through one of the bigger towns and leading out of the district to the next one over. It was quiet, the gentle rushing of the water the only sound that filled the air.]

Well, now I'm not even gonna wanna try… Just kidding! We'll make it a competition. Winner has to share their code ;)

[She gave her small device one last small smile before glancing around her surroundings. He was supposed to be here by n]

"Ghhfk-!!!"

[A large hand shot out from the overgrown foliage, rattling the giant cattails and fronds that sprouted from the moist soil at the water's edge, gripping the small insectoid animalia with suffocating force.]

"Damn! You actually came! How stupid are you?"

[Vespa gasped for air, straining against the cursing force of the fingers around her body. She slowly wriggled her fingers around the handle of Stinger while the brute sneered and berated her, prying her small satchel of belongings away from her.]

"Ohoho mann, this micro shit's gonna fetch me a fortune. The scene for this stuff is so hot right now… I could probably-OW!!"

[The inch-long dagger drove to the hilt in its target, agonizingly slow as it's weilder hadn't the strength for a proper stab. Vespa was released - or rather, thrown - by her captor, who nursed his wounded hand with rage.]

"Gah! You bitch!!"

[The larger figured blubbered while Vespa wiped at her mouth, removing the bit of spittle that had formed during the initial assault. Her eyes held venom as she staggered into the air, her damaged wings struggling to remain steady.]

"Not stupid. Figured there was a 50/50 chance this was a trap; just didn't think you'd be so cowardly to ambush someone ten times less your size."

[In a split second, she was gone, impossibly fast in her condition. The offending brute was stunned but for a second, before the sensation of a hundred razor blades exploded on his face and arms. Simultaneously, his own pack was opened and picked, and when the attack was over he stumbled to the ground, overwhelmed and covered in red.]

[Vespa stood at a distance, a large device strapped to her back. She was breathing heavily and nursing an arm, bruises already forming under her clothes.]

"You bitch."

[And she was gone, disappearing into the treetops, traveling as far as she could from the scene before collapsing on a secluded branch.]

-🐜

Hah, Deal! I'm sure I could get it done before ya, Beta's already got his primaries mostly ;)!!!

[Since the rest of the commotion didn't quite translate over to text, it just seemed like Ves had gone quiet on their end.]

[But it seems like a certain little critter was getting antsy, under stimulated.]

[And it looks like it found something]

"..........."

[>Forceload Mic_Input]

[It went quiet, as nothing seemed to happen for a bit- Except the soft audio of keys clacking and tip typing away.]

[A twitch of gills as it silently dug a bit deeper.]

"......................"

[>Forceload Mic_Input 203.42.83.210]

"-his micro shit's gonna fetch me a fortune. The scene for this stuff is so hot right now… I could probably-OW!!""

"Not stupid. Figured there was a 50/50 chance this was a trap; just didn't think you'd be so cowardly to ambush someone ten times less your size."

"You bitch"

[That's new.]

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

For the Actor AU, how did they feel abt the canon heroes' outfits? If they could, how would they have modified them?

Marinette: Basic as fuck! It looks like I’m wearing footie pajamas! If I were in charge of my costume, I’d give myself a full-on punk look because Ladybug’s are some badass motherfuckers. Oh, and boots that have soles equipped with a shock-absorbing cushion, and a heel that contains a reinforced spring to soften the shock whenever I land. And… Maybe a backpack shaped like ladybug wings to hold my Lucky Charms and anything I need to collect for my plan.

Adrien: Less leather! That stuff shrinks, and a full leather bodysuit is not comfortable. Also, because of the cat holders’ powers, it would be cool if heroes had some sort of medical supplies on them just in case, like stored in a utility belt. And I’m with Mari, those boots sound badass. What else?… Oh, definitely add some more color instead of just basic black.

Alya: Well, the Fox doesn’t seem like a combative hero due to the powers. I see Rena Rouge as a distraction, really, so her outfit wouldn’t be one of those “ready for battle” types. Here’s what I’m thinking, one of those noir-film type outfits. The hat covers my face a bit to give me an air of mystery, and the outfit would look almost casual that no villain would suspect me.

Nino: I mean… Carapace’s look is cool. It’s alright. I’m liking the goggles, but… I’d prefer if he had armor. He’s the fucking turtle hero! He should be ready to take any blow that a villain sends his way!

Rose: Where to begin? Look, you all know me; I love pink more than the next guy, but… Sometimes too much is too much. The Pig Miraculous strikes me as… More farmhand than ballerina. Yee, I know, the heroes come with a tambourine, but come on! While I do love the skirt, I’d trade it in for overalls, either shorts or a skirt. Oh, and add some black in there, too. Daizzi has a black circle around his eye, let him be represented!

Juleka: Studded jacket. That is all.

Luka: Oh, honey, either give me a hood so I can look like a cobra or get the fuck away from me with that outfit.

Myléne: The mouse strikes me as more of the elegant type, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the pastel pink mixed with the grey, but I see Polymouse wearing skirts over Pigella. But, that’s just my opinion.

Ivan: Honestly, I’m fine with the canon design for Minotaurox. Yeah, he’s got pockets and padding, I-I like it. And if you show me a better design, I’ll happily take a look at it.

Marc: … I think all of the effort went into making Rooster Bold’s costume. He’s got rooster hair, the little tallons on the back of his boots, and a fucking tailcoat! He and Mayura are the only ones to have tailcoats! I’m not complaining, though. I… I actually like it, but it is a nightmare putting on and taking off that wig.

Nathaniel: Well, I can say I sort of know how some of the girls feel, because that suit was tight as hell! You could see my hip dip! Also, I would’ve liked to have a different hairstyle and maybe some color, because I am the only male redhead around for miles. Oh, and climbing boots becuase, I’m a goat, duh.

Alix: … Do I need to say it? Okay, give me some active wear! I’m traveling through a shit ton of different timelines! I need someone sporty and active when I’m on the go. Also, I’ll need a backpack like Marinette.

Kim: Not hearing any complaints from me! I liked Roi Singe, but being Scarlet Beetle is way cooler!

Max: The glasses can easily come off. What I need is a high collar or a bandana that can cover the lower half of my face in case my glasses become askew or someone is able to place my identity because all I have on my face are some stupid glasses! God, I’m so glad I’m doing this new show now.

Chloé: Oh, I just want wings.

Zoé: Same.

Sabrina: Can mine just not look like my clothes, please?! I’ll take whatever, just not that!

Kagami: I would prefer if I had some form of armor and not a spandex bodysuit. It would need to be lightweight but also durable to allow me to travel faster, of course.

[silverynight]

The dragon

<---Previous

Part II

At some point Katsuki lets go of his hand and puts the other on Izuku's waist. He supposes it's something common among shifters so he doesn't pay too much attention to it.

Although the people around are certainly looking at them, even though Katsuki looks like a barbarian now; the wings, tail and horns have disappeared completely.

Izuku needs to buy a few things there, mostly food and maybe a little bit of new clothes. However, when he's ready to pay for them, Katsuki steps forward and does it for him; he's carrying a lot of gold.

"You don't have to do this..."

"I do," Katsuki says, determined. "I'm with you now."

Izuku blinks; he had no idea the dragon shifter was planning on traveling with him. Although, he can't say he's disappointed, on the contrary, Izuku is absolutely happy to have a new friend.

"Oh..." Izuku smiles kindly. "Then what would you like to buy for our journey?"

Katsuki shakes his head.

"I'm fine, nerd. Don't worry about me," he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand before taking a few steps closer and rubbing his nose against Izuku's, prompting the human to giggle.

"Alright, then I think we're–Wait! I recognize that tent!" Before Katsuki can stop him, Izuku excitedly rushes towards it. "Kacchan, come!"

"Uraraka!" He happily says, right after walking inside. The young witch recognizes him immediately and pulls him into a very warm hug.

He's glad to see his friend again.

"I didn't expect to see you here!" She grins, her arms firmly wrapped around him. "I've missed you, everyone has!"

"Oi, round cheeks!" Katsuki growls, grabbing Izuku by the arm and yanking him away from her. "Careful!"

"Don't worry, Kacchan, she's not going to hurt me," Izuku assures him. "We're friends!"

"I don't think he's worried about me hurting you," Uraraka points out, narrowing her eyes at the blond. Then she turns around to face Izuku again: "What are you doing with a dragon shifter?"

Izuku looks at her in awe and Katsuki immediately huffs in annoyance.

"How can you tell? That's amazing!"

"Well... I... It's not that impressive actually," she blushes, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. "I can feel his magic."

For some reason Katsuki is not happy about it, but he doesn't say anything this time, he just wraps his arms around Izuku's middle and pulls him against his chest.

Uraraka rolls her eyes.

"Iida is worried about you, you know?" She blurts out. "And the prince of course, but that's obvious..."

"They worry too much," Izuku sighs. He really appreciates his friends, but sometimes it's like they think he can't take care of himself.

"I know, I know..." She agrees, although she seems to change her mind a little when looks up over Izuku's shoulder. "But at least you should pay them a visit every now and then."

"You're right!" Izuku grins, already inspecting the shelves with the potions. "Maybe I'll head there this autumn so I can get there before winter."

"That sounds like a good idea, although I'd recommend that your "friend" doesn't mention he's a dragon shifter."

"Yeah, I think that's for the best," Izuku agrees, stopping Katsuki from hissing at Uraraka by stroking one of the hands that are grabbing his waist.

"If you're talking about the kingdom ruled by the Todoroki family then we shouldn't go there, Izuku," Katsuki grumbles before nuzzling against the green haired human's cheek. "The King hates dragons."

"I know... But... Prince Todoroki is different... I mean he doesn't trust your kind, but he's not like his father," Izuku assures him.

"We shouldn't go."

"Hey! He can do whatever he wants!" Uraraka narrows her eyes at the shifter, getting slightly irritated.

"It's okay," Izuku tries to calm them down. "We'll be on the road for a while before that happens, Kacchan. We can discuss it again, okay? We'll make a decision together."

Katsuki nods, relaxing a bit before turning Izuku around so he can rub their noses together; he does that a lot.

"Are you sure he's your friend?"

"Izuku is my mate."

Uraraka gasps like it's shocking news. Izuku is getting very confused; Katsuki is just confirming what she just asked...

Mate is certainly a funny word that is used for a lot of things, but he's sure it's just a dragon's way to say someone is their friend.

"Is that true, Midoriya?"

"Of course!" Izuku nods, surprised when Katsuki smirks, looking very pleased with himself before he kisses the human's cheek.

Uraraka looks from one to the other, hands Izuku a healing potion and then takes a deep breath.

"I refuse to help you this time. Figure it out on your own!" She huffs, rubbing her temples. And then she turns around, face looking almost terrifying as she talks to Katsuki: "You better take good care of him, alright?"

"You don't even have to say it, round cheeks! He's my mate, I'll treat him right and protect him with my life!"

"Kacchan, there's no nee–"

"Good," Uraraka nods in approval, ignoring Izuku. "Have a safe trip!"

***

Izuku wants to pay a visit to his mentor first, although according to the map, they're a little bit far away from the forest he's staying in.

Katsuki gets a little bit bored at some point and convinces Izuku to let him carry him (behind his back in dragon form) for a couple of hours.

Izuku enjoys it quite a bit. Katsuki's dragon form is beautiful and being up in the sky feels amazing.

They have to be careful though; Izuku doesn't want to attract the wrong type of people. There's always a wizard, knight or hunter interested in killing or at least getting a tooth, scale or something from a dragon.

He knows that Katsuki can take care of himself, but he doesn't want to risk it.

When the night comes, they have to find a cave to sleep in.

Izuku builds a small tent inside, that's just for one person, but Katsuki doesn't seem to care because he crawls inside and wraps himself around the human anyway.

It's not like it bothers Izuku, of course not, but it's somehow different to sleep so close to him now that he's in his human form.

Izuku feels himself blush to the tip of his ears and is certainly considering telling the dragon shifter there's something called "personal space" at least when it comes to humans...

"Listen, Kacchan–"

Lips crash into his and even though Izuku should ask what's going on, he can't help but melt right into the kiss.

Katsuki is a very hungry and desperate kisser, he pushes his tongue inside Izuku's mouth to explore it, prompting the human to let out an embarrassing moan in response.

"I saw two humans doing this when we were in the village and wanted to try it with you, nerd," he smirks, licking his own lips before leaning to kiss a very flustered Izuku again.

Despite enjoying the kiss, Izuku gently pushes Katsuki away, he tries not to chuckle when he notices the shifter pouting before trying to chase Izuku's lips again.

"Wait... Kacchan," he stops him. "Those humans you saw weren't just friends... A kiss on the lips means–"

"I know that, nerd. I mean... they smelled like each other, I knew they were mates."

Mates. That word again. Izuku stares into Katsuki's red eyes for a couple of seconds before realizing that there might be a misunderstanding between them.

"So when you told Uraraka I was your mate–"

"I know I haven't bitten you yet," Katsuki cuts him off, leaning closer to lick Izuku's neck. "Or that we haven't had one of those things your people call weddings, but to me you are already mine."

"O-Okay..." Well... Aside of finding Katsuki's words really endearing, Izuku thinks he needs to explain certain things to the shifter.

But then the blond nuzzles his cheek before biting Izuku's earlobe lightly and the human can't help but melt into his arms again.

"Can I mark you now, Izuku?"

The human shivers, realizing in shock that part of him really wants to, however, he decides to listen to his brain for once.

"I think we should get to k-know each other first," he stammers.

"Tch! Why?" Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he pulls Izuku closer.

"To see if we're compatible."

"We are compatible," the blond says before rubbing his nose against the curve of Izuku's neck. "I can tell by your scent."

"But we also have to wait to see if we fall in–"

"I'm already in love with you."

Izuku blushes to the tip of his ears, makes an embarrassing, yet surprised noise before covering his face with both hands. The worse thing is that it looks like Katsuki is just stating a fact and yet Izuku feels very much charmed already.

"But perhaps you want me to win your heart first?" Katsuki smirks, pulling Izuku's hands away to see his face. "I can do that too. I always win."

"I... uhh..."

"Brace yourself, nerd because by the end of this courtship, you'll beg me to give you a mating bite," Katsuki promises, making Izuku squeak.

Perhaps this is a bad idea.

It gets even worse when Katsuki smiles fondly at him and rubs their noses together, Izuku melts into the touch again and he thinks, at least for a brief moment, that maybe this explosive dragon shifter already won.

***

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