#Love Live Monster AU

[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. 

[gatoburr0]

They should make monster sized couches (although Frye looks really comfortable anyway)

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

okay hear me out- SAGAU but with sea monster Foul Legacy

sea monster Foul Legacy who smells the golden blood in the water during one of his hunts, hastily swimming to catch the body floating in the sea. he's never seen you in person before, but oh- you're so familiar.

he brings you to shore, away from any cities- oh no, you're bleeding- and carefully pats your wounds with seagrass, fretting as he waits for you to wake up. what should he do- you're obviously the Creator, there's no doubt about it- why in the world are you so hurt?! why were you sinking into the sea, why hasn't Teyvat been celebrating your return, why-

Legacy chitters in surprise when you shift, letting out a few coughs and cracking open your eyes. with a strangled scream you shoot upright and try to scoot away from him, only for Legacy to lower his head and whine sadly. of course you wouldn't want to be around him, he's a monster. but your movements eventually slow, breathing heavily as the cuts sting and sear, and after a moment he tentatively dabs more seagrass against the injuries, trying to show that he means no harm. when he's sure that you won't struggle and accidentally hurt yourself, Legacy gently nudges you into a sitting position with a gentle trill.

he has to hold himself back from just staring in awe. his god, the Creator, is right here in front of him! but he can see the way you shiver, the gleaming blood staining your skin- you need care, not worship. so Foul Legacy shifts closer, gently settling his scaled tail over your legs and pressing his cheek against yours, feeling how you shudder in his arms like you've been running and screaming for years. you stiffen at first but quickly melt into his tender embrace, sniffing as relieved, exhausted tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

on that night, a god finally found an ocean of safety to call their own.

[starry-bi-sky]

finally giving fem danyal her own au and fulfilling my 'danny is an animal whisperer' agenda at the same time: mother of monsters danyal 2.0

i say "2.0" because TECHNICALLY 'mother of monsters danyal' is an au I made back in June for Dark fem!Danyal (who I promptly named Layal). However, I haven't posted much for her yet, and I like the "mother of monsters" premise too much to leave it only to Layal. Plus Danyal in that au was going to become the mother of monsters anyway, just with significantly less world domination and mass extinction.

'Animal whisperer' Danny has been something I've been thinking about since my latest DP 'wolfpack au' post and it's! So fun to think about, and who no better to assign the idea to than Danyal Al Ghul? Who comes from a family infamously known for their love of animals and nature?

Fem Danyal is just purely self-indulgent. *gestures wildly at her* i just lomvb,,, her,,,, I've only really mentioned her in context of the 'Things in Threes' au/my first Danyal al Ghul au with the facial scar, but she's!!! I love her. She deserves her own au <33

So kill three birds with one stone! Make a post about it.

Anyways, Danny has a large lair. Similar to cult leader danyal, her lair is a giant mountain region resembling nanda parbat with a big temple/palace-like area built into the mountain. It's large, it's overflowing with natural flora, with its own mini-floating islands hovering over some areas, and it's also completely empty.

Danny takes one look at her lair upon first meeting, -- noting that it looked relatively smaller from the outside -- and promptly, with the elegance of an Al Ghul, goes "What the hell??" Because yes, while she does enjoy her own solitude and privacy, this is a bit ridiculous.

For heaven's sake, there's even a massive lake in there! What's she going to do with all this space? Can she make it any smaller? Why is it so big in the first place? This looks borderline like one of the mega-islands!

She finds out later that apparently, the amount of ectoplasm a ghost has can have an effect on the size of their lair. And since she has such a large core, her lair reflects that. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, it's bigger on the inside so it doesn't take up "too much space" on the outside. Don't worry about it too much.

Danyal isn't totally opposed to having such a large lair, she's just... a bit baffled by it. It feels like so much wasted space is all. All this flora and no fauna to enjoy it with. It's practically eerie.

She decorates her temple-palace area, transforming rooms to match her needs as she sees fit. In the center of the inner gardens is a massive tree that she likes to climb, with twisting, winding branches. Sam and Tucker have honorary rooms, even if they can't safely leave the specter speeder for long periods of time, even with proper safety equipment. So does Jazz. Ali (Dani) has one too, but he can actually use that one, and Danny brought him to her lair so he could decorate it himself.

She has a personal garden, but for the most part she lets the flora exist as it is. Too much space to cultivate it en masse anyways.

Skip to a few weeks later, on her next visit to Clockwork. She developed a habit of going to see him semi-regularly just because. She enjoys his wisdom, and he has a lot of stories to tell, and when he's not being the cryptic and esoteric timekeeper, he's a bit goofy.

(pushing my dadwork agenda here,,, i think Danny deserves to go 'hey, Lord Clockwork, do you want me to buy you something' while she's at walmart, only to receive a singular glowing sticky note that says 'cucumber gatorade'.)

(She insists on referring to him with his proper titles even for the most mundane of things because it's proper, but Clockwork sees a future where she eventually calls him "Cee" and by all things in existence is he determined to get there. Anyways,,,)

On her next visit to Clockwork, just as she is about to leave, Clockwork stops her and goes; "Ah, I have something for you. Hold out your hands."

Danny does as such, and Clockwork doesn't give out things often, so her curiosity has spiked to the highest levels. He turns away from her for a moment, using his staff to summon whatever it is he needs, and when he turns around.

He drops a fish into her hands. Granted, a fish in a small glass tank. But a fish nonetheless. A small one, roughly about the size of her finger, with a blue-black, eel-shaped body and four sets of glowing eyes. She can see thin, almost translucent, but spiny fins down its back and the start of bioluminescent markings. It's swimming around in circles in its small container.

"Lord Clockwork." Danyal says all too calmly.

"Yes, Danyal?"

"What is this?"

"That is an adolescent leviathan, Danyal." She’s transfixed onto the tank, but she doesn’t need to see Clockwork’s face to hear the smile he’s stifling.

The myriad of emotions that runs through her all at once threatens to overwhelm her, and she can’t tell if the feelings are negative or positive. So she carefully closes her eyes to breathe in through her nose.

“Clockwork.”

“Ah, I see you’ve dropped formalities.”

She ignores that.

“Why have you given me an adolescent leviathan?”

She's expecting the trickster to look amused when she opens her eyes. Instead, he just looks endeared. "I know you're fond of animals," he says, "and you always look amazed when you come across an animal of the realms. So I thought you might enjoy taking care of the young beast, it's mother is dead so it has no one to care for it."

Oh.

"But, if you don't like it," Clockwork's hands reach out for the tank, "I can simply take it back--"

Danyal shifts the tank out from his reach and hugs it possessively. "I never said that. How do I care for it?"

And so clockwork gives her a list, and when Danyal returns to her lair, she sets up a large tank in her room for the leviathan to swim in -- it's much too small for the lake right now, she thinks. She'll feel better if it's somewhere she can find it. She names him Suhā.

Suhā grows quickly, and by the end of the mortal month she transforms one of the rooms into a large pond for him to swim around in. He's a very loyal beast, recognizing her as it's mother of some kind. Danyal takes great care ensuring that her beastie gets quality care, and Suhā swims to the surface to see her when he senses her in the room.

It spirals from there. Somehow, Pandora catches wind that Clockwork gave her a leviathan, and so the next time Danyal visits the Greater Athens, she gives her a baby chimera. It's eyes are still sealed shut, Danyal can't bring herself to say no. She names the little beastie Firas.

Frostbite hears about it too, and not to be outdone, gives her an animal she's never even heard of. Infinite-realms born, apparently. A fox-like creature with two small horns like an impala, four eyes, and tall legs. The name isn't something she's quite sure how to write down, and she's positive that her friends won't be able to comprehend it. She names her Eira.

Getting the three of them used to each other was... interesting. Suhā tried to eat Firas when Danyal first introduced the two, and they've hated each other ever since. Firas and Eira are seemingly getting along. Her island already feels full enough with the three of them on it.

Of course, that's not the end of it. With her luck, she begins stumbling across other monsters. Realms-borne or otherwise. An injured hydra in the Grecian islands that, through lots of trial and error, Danyal is able to rehabilitate and heal. It routinely comes to visit her afterwards.

A griffin with a broken wing that she moves permanently to the island that likes to keep to itself, but tends to come down when she's near. It gets along best with Firas.

A panther-like monster from the Shades Woods that had six legs and three tails, with ends that reminded her of a venus flytrap. It stuck around the heavy foliage and she can only make out where it was when she saw its golden eyes reflect.

She befriends a young indrik with its leg injured, and much like the hydra it follows her back to her island, and stays there in the mountains. It comes out when she's alone, much like her other beasts.

She receives two more leviathan -- one from clockwork, and one she finds herself while exploring the deeper and darker recesses of the Ghost Zone. It was huddled against the carcass of its mother, and she managed to befriend and get close enough to it to bring it back to her island. Suhā is fully grown by then, with a head bigger than Danyal herself and he still likes to stick her head out of the water for nuzzles when she's near.

He's not very happy with his new siblings, but he's not trying to eat them when she's not looking. So she calls it a win in her book.

And it's not just large beasts either; smaller animals begin popping up when she's not looking. Bird-like creatures and small mammals, and she swears she saw a doe (or something resembling a doe) grazing in the forest while she was walking by.

She takes back with her a lone snake egg once, and it grows so big it wraps around her island and sleeps with its massive head on the mountain beside the temple, like some smaller breed of Jörmungandr.

And on and on it goes. Some of the beasts she comes across never step foot onto her island, some of them follow her back, while others she has to carry back. Not all of the ones that follow her stay, and Danny rehabilitates the injured and releases them when they're fully healed.

It's hectic, and busy, and frankly she loves it. Some of her rehabilitated beasts return to visit her, or to have their children somewhere on the island, or whatever it is they need to do.

She becomes a bit infamous for it. She goes to visit Dorathea once, and as she's walking through the streets she can hear some of the denizens whispering while she walks past.

"Is that her?"

"Her highness' friend? Yes--"

"--that's the one--"

"--Mother of monsters--"

Danny's not sure how to feel about that.

Although, she can't say she's opposed.

Danyal Al Ghul, Mother of monsters, raiser of beasts. It has a nice ring to it.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

eclipse makes u a hot cocoa,, and is SMOOCHED!!!! (what happens next will shock you) ...THANKING ur ROBOT BOYFRIEND for giving u a hot cocoa GOES WRONG???? (how many kisses does it take to smother a human being???? we found out...)

aka a small late christmas gift for anyone here who likes my lil Clipsy boi,, drawing this spiraled wildly out of control bc it was only going to be the first three doodles but i was streaming it and my friends went absolutely nuts over Shy Clips Trying To Flirt U so uh. here we are i hope u like it kjsdfhsjdfhdkj

[littlecrow4]

Two versions cause I couldn’t decide a skin tone

This took 5 fucking hours

And it’s bills fault lmao that suit took forever

Captions

Bill: Ha-Ha Don’t get to excited Sixer!!

Ford wraps his tail around his leg for comfort

[bugwolfsstuff]

I want to give Mr D daddy issues but in the 'I was his favorite, what happened?' way

[ie. the daddy's girl to the least favorite child the moment she hits puberty way (projecting here)]

[tinukis]

i hate that im scared to write and i hate that im so picky with fics bc i have very specific needs to be fulfilled and it is hard to meet those needs...

i soooo bad desire zolusan, post wano specifically bc in my head thats when all three get together. wci is when sanji realizes his feelings for luffy– or rather accepts that he is in love with him (two years of pining im so sorry sanji) that and also finding difficulty in accepting his feelings for zoro too so basically: sanji being a mess

but idk zolusan mutual pining but they're all idiots. sanji has his own struggles, but imagine zoro's feelings or luffy's feelings. zoro keeping them internalized because it's not that important and wouldn't change a thing, yet he yearns. luffy... the guy is unpredictable imo. and i think that focusing on his perspective would be a lot of fun. he's already happy with what he has but he wants to be selfish and ask for more. idkidk words are hard but these three live rent free in my brain and they do not want to leave send help

(ALSO. imagine discussing the death pact and luffy finding out about it... unrelated to what i said but im talking about zolusan can u blame me... like. God!!!!!!!!!!! theres this one fanart where zoro does go through with it and luffy finds out and. Sighs.)

[nevertheless-moving]

The Demon of Yunmeng: Chapter Six

Part One — Part Five

“You’re sure, Wei Gongzi?” Wen Ning held the reigns with care, looking at the horse uncertainly. It snorted, eyeing the glint of metal around Wen Ning’s arms and legs with reciprocal doubt. 

“Of course!” Wei Wuxian said. He leaned in, voice growing conspiratorial. “You know Jiang Cheng can’t openly support the Dafan Wen, not without risking Jiang Sect’s position. But the two of us will never be able to repay the debt we owe you.”

“I appreciate that, it- it’s just….” Wen Ning hesitated a moment. “My sister and I really do consider all debts paid between us, you know that right? I don’t w-want—” he exhaled, grimacing slightly and dropping his voice. “I know you’re in some sort of trouble. Jie-Jie’s been on edge about it all week. If it has something to d-do with us —”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, putting a hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder. “It has nothing to do with you whatsoever,” he said sincerely. “It’s about me. Well, me and my dumb inventions.”

“The tally?” Wen Ning whispered.

“Guessed it in one. I might have pissed them off a little with your family, but it was always going to be something. Trust me — the Jin are more than willing to make up excuses to take it from me. ”

“Is there — Is there anything I can do to help? An-anything at all?” 

Wei Wuxian snorted. “You know it’s funny you ask, I originally — what? What is it?”

Wen Ning’s eyes had grown wide and fearful, staring at something over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He quickly turned around, only to see the back of Lan Zhan’s head. 

“D-Did I do something to offend Lan Gongzi?” Wen Ning asked, still looking alarmed. “He w-was glaring at m-me like I killed someone!”

“Eh.” Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, that’s just his face.”

Wen Ning looked doubtful. 

“In any case, Lan Zhan and I have it covered,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. “I might not be able to visit for a while, but when I do, everything should be fine.”

“Alright. But if there is some way I can help —”

“I’ll let you know.” He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Lan Zhan’s back. “Ask your sister about the details,” Wei Wuxian said under his breath. “But I might end up annoying Lan Zhan really badly and be back in a couple days, and might ask for your help with something, but you are absolutely free to say no, got it! You already said all debts are settled between us, so no taking that back! It’s a pretty stupid idea to be honest.”

“Um,” Wen Ning frowned. “Okay?”

“You’re a good man Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian said, pulling him in for a hug. Talismans hummed at his chest, and he smiled. “I’m really glad I didn’t snap your neck when I had the chance.”

“Me too, Wei-Gongzi,” Wen Ning said, returning the embrace. “Thank you again for the horse — everyone always appreciates them. You’re sure you can’t stay any longer to say good bye A-Yuan? He was so happy playing with you last night.”

“Ah, don’t tempt me,” Wei Wuxian said, stepping back. “Thank you again for hosting me!”

“Thank you, Wei-Gongzi. I wouldn’t even have this home if it wasn’t for you, not to mention I wouldn’t be alive to —”

“Okay! Maybe we should stop saying thank yous between us. And seriously, you are the only person who calls me that."

“...Safe Travels, Wei-Gongzi.”

He sighed. “Until next time, Wen Ning.”

Wei Wuxian squared his shoulders, marching over to where the Second Jade himself stood.

“Ready?” he said, slinging an arm over Lan Zhan’s shoulder and feeling him stiffen.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji strode forward, leaving Wei Wuxian’s arm behind.

Wei Wuxian let his mouth ramble aimlessly for the first hour or so of their journey, eyeing Lan Zhan occasionally to see if he would crack under the persistent mild annoyance. The man bore it with enviable patience, humming with acknowledgement at all the right places to confirm he was listening, occasionally even saying whole words back.

Once Wei Wuxian felt enough time had passed to lure him into a false sense of security, he started to shift the conversation. Lan Zhan had disappeared before dinner last night, lingering only long enough to confirm that they would leave together in the morning, not leaving time for discussion.

Possibly he had been reporting to his Sect that he would be travelling by foot for the near future and might not be easy to find. Possibly he had been chopping down a forest, raging over the confused impulse to prove his dedication to justice that had led him into this situation. It was impossible to say by looking at him.

Time to get to the heart of things — nice as it was to walk beside Lan Zhan without arguing, he really didn’t want to wait until he was at Carp Tower to come up with a new plan.

 "So," Wei Wuxian said, hands behind his head. "We're heading to Lanling together."

"Mn."

“You're still committed to pretending to be my cultivation partner."

"...Mn."

Sunlit shone lazily through gaps in the trees as they walked; it was a pretty good day to be on foot, all things considered.

"No reservations," Wei Wuxian said skeptically.

"..."

"Lan Zhan," he said, rolling his eyes and coming to a stop.

Lan Wangji kept moving at an even pace.

"Lan Zhan!"

Lan Wangji continued forward.

Wei Wuxian hurried to catch up with him. "Look, it's best to get these things out sooner rather than later," he said reasonably. "I'm not going to stop pestering you, and if you don't tell me, I'm going to start guessing things that are worse than whatever you might say. Let’s just get it over with!”

"...Are there none among Wei Ying’s past lovers that you will acknowledge?" The man didn't even have the courtesy to turn and make eye contact when he said it.

Indignation rose in his chest. "I thought you said you didn't believe — ohhh you mean actual lovers."

"Mn." Lan Wangji's hand fell to his sword, but he made no move to draw it. It was good to have some indication of when the man was experiencing a real emotion — even if it was only ever anger. Lan Zhan had always gotten annoyed by his flirtatious behavior, hadn’t he?

Well, Lan Zhan was doing him a rather large favor, even if it was part of a bizarrely un-Lan-like plan to achieve justice. He could meet him part way and swallow his pride on this, if nothing else.

"Yeahh..." Wei Wuxian said, a bit sheepishly. "I might have slightly exaggerated about some of that in the past."

Lan Wangji glanced over, eyes narrowing.

"I mean it's not like I actually had a lot of free time during the sunshot campaign," he said defensively. "I'm going to have to pretend I literally wasn't sleeping ever to have been having sex with you during the war — and as you pointed out, we at least already knew each other and were conveniently near one another often enough. When the fuck would I have seduced random women?"

"Mn." That grunt was a bit tighter, as it tended to be when referencing intimate matters.

"Plus you must have noticed I'm a little less popular since taking up demonic cultivation — not an invitation to discuss changing my ways, just to be clear."

“...”

“What? You really think you’re the only person to be put off by my cultivation path? You’re not the only person with standards, Lan Zhan.”

"...Seen Wei Ying with women. Recently. At Phoenix Mountain Hunt."

"Pft." Wei Wuxian shrugged. "Just because a woman's willing to ride next to an attractive war hero in public doesn't mean she actually wants to spend quality time with him in private."

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian squinted suspiciously. "Was that ‘Mn’ skeptical?" 

"..."

"Come on, we have to be honest with each other, if we're going to be lifelong cultivation partners."

A tighter grip on the sword, then Lan Wangji turned his head away to look at the trees to his right. "Wei Ying claimed he had 'lots of experience,'" he said, voice free of inflection.

"What?" He struggled to think back. "When did we talk about experience? You mean in cloud recesses, because like I said I seriously exaggerated — oh! Haahahahaha!"

Lan Wangji whipped his head around to look at him, back rigid, but Wei Wuxaian struggled to do anything but bend over with laughter.

"Oh man," he said, still laughing. "You mean that nonsense I said during the hunt! Come on, you — wait. Wait!"

Several thoughts bumped against each other. He had run into Lan Zhan immediately after that mysterious kiss. Lan Zhan had been unusually offended by his presence. Lan Zhan said —

"Wait," he gasped. "When you said you saw me with women — do you mean you saw me kissing a woman?! At the hunt? Lan Zhan, did you see me kissing someone at the hunt?"

"Shameless!" Lan Zhan snarled, picking up the pace.

"Come on!" Wei Wuxian wheedled, hurrying to match his step. "You did, didn't you! Who was it? Lan Zhan, was that why you were so angry back then? Was I kissing someone you likmmnn Mnnn! mdphhnn!"

The silencing spell, seriously? he thought, first dumbfounded, then furious. 

He turned around, stalking back the way he came.

What are we, junior disciples? Fuck this, I don't need to voluntarily agree to extra time being disapproved of by Hunguang-Jun. This is stupid, so fucking stupid.

“Wei Ying.”

Maybe I’ll take Wen Qing up on her idea. Probably Not. Okay, definitely not, but we can discuss other things — we’re geniuses, surely we can come up with a smarter plan than this, right? We figured a way out of the Qiongqi pass and it wasn’t all luck.

"Wei Ying!"

Wei Wuxian made a rude gesture over his shoulder, continuing on.

"Wei Ying — this is foolish."

This time he made rude gestures over both shoulders, narrowly resisting the urge to fling a talisman back.

"...Wei Ying, I apologize. I should not have."

He paused, shocked, then opened his mouth, feeling the spell lift.

…Did he really just apologize? To me? For discipline?

"Hunguang-Jun," he said, rubbing his mouth, not looking back. "I know you don't approve of this sort of talk, and I know you're doing me a huge, life changing favor, but if you're going to silence me every time I talk about something immodest, there's no way this will work."

"You are right." 

Wei Wuxian wheeled around in surprise. "I'm right?"

Lan Wangji bowed low from the waist. "I will not silence you again. It was poor behavior. Forgive me."

"Well," Wei Wuxian said, smile starting to creep up involuntarily. "I suppose considering what you’re sacrificing, and the fact that you're too dignified to shout at me anymore, I can forgive the occasional spell. But not unless I really deserve it, alright? I mean, it's not like I don't know I can be annoying. But it can't be every little question."

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian laughed. "Alright, fine," he turned back south towards Lanling Jin, feeling oddly buoyed by the argument.

Maybe he really has changed since our school days. If he can admit to being overly harsh towards me…

"Anyway," Wei Wuxian said, scratching the side of his nose as they fell back into step with one another. "There's experience and there's experience, and I promise, I don't have as much of either as people think I have."

"..."

"It's not like I've actually been lying, not really. People assume things! I don't correct them. At most I exaggerate. I'm not one of those men who points at a maiden and claims to have taken her virtue just to make myself seem more masculine."

"I see." 

 Wei Wuxian waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, I know, ‘do not exaggerate your accomplishments,’ 'don't speak unchastely of others.' I get it, I think I'm suffering the consequences of my actions well enough without having to copy the rules again."

"Mn."

"Right," Wei Wuxian said, clapping his hands. "The point is, there's nothing to worry about with that at the trial, I promise — no past true loves who I will have to deny to their faces, definitely no bastards."

"Then I have no further concerns."

"None?" Wei Wuxian asked skeptically.

"...I am willing to accept certain discomforts. No reason to discuss it further."

"Really Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said, more sincerely. "I know that you're capable of sacrifice. It's just not necessary to accept those discomforts for the sake of justice, not in this case. Sure, I won't be able to claim my nights were full during the war, but that would be a stretch to explain anyway, and we're still not that far from the Wen; we can go back and I can —"

"Why him?"

Wei Wuxian glanced over at the unusually clipped words, but the Second Jade was once again facing away. "Why Wen Ning, do you mean?"

Lan Wangji turned his head just enough to glare at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"You mean why was I originally planning on asking him to pretend to be my cutsleeve lover?" Wei Wuxian asked, bewildered. "Or why am I saying I could still ask him now?"

Lan Wangji clenched his sword, eyebrow twitching slightly.

Wei Wuxian blew out a breath. "Who else would I have ever thought to ask? It's not like being a demonic cultivator makes your acquaintances more likely to spend time developing bonds of friendship with you, and then the accusations on top of that..."

He threw his hands in the air, letting out a bark of laughter. "How was I supposed to have ever guessed in a million years that you of all people would have said yes to this crazy idea? I thought you still hated me." He cocked his head, eyeing the man beside him thoughtfully. "When did you stop hating me, anyway?"

"Never hated Wei Ying."

"Bullshit!" Wei Wuxian stopped to wave a finger disapprovingly. "I believe you might not anymore, and I know your rules prohibit 'excessive opinions of vitriol' but rules don't change how a person actually feels."

"Never hated Wei Ying," Lan Wangji repeated, setting his jaw and planting his feet.

"Then why the hell did you hound me throughout the war — years, Lan Zhan, actual years of both of our lives, just to criticize my cultivation!" he rolled his eyes, trying to keep his tone light despite the roiling in his chest.

Lan Wangji didn't answer, and Wei Wuxian pushed further. If they were doing this, they might as well get it all out while they were still close enough for Wen Qing to patch him together if it came to blows.

"At a time when we were both fighting the same enemy, you acted like I was the worst person on the battlefield!” Wei Wuxian accused. “Like my crimes outweighed that of the Qishan Wen one hundred fold!”

“Did not.”

Wei Wuzian scoffed. “Just admit you at least used to hate me, even if you’ve meditated past it now. I'm the one who invented the ghost path, Lan Zhan! Hating my cultivation is the same thing as hating me!"

"Not hate," Lan Wangji insisted.

Wei Wuxian snorted, growing sarcastic. "What, so all those times you said 'demonic cultivation is bad for the mind' that was out of sincere concern for my own sake, not the people I would kill in my wicked madness?"

"Yes!"

He paused, staring at Hunguang-Jun, a man who was famously honest, and was also famously succinct. Succinct to the point of possibly being bad with words.

Hunguang-Jun stared back.

"...Seriously?"

"Yes." There was relief on Lan Zhan's face — only a hint, but coming from him...

Wei Wuxian's throat felt tight. "You were worried about me? Not... what I would do to others?"

"Yes. Still worried," Lan Wangji said quietly.

"What about wanting to lock me away in Gusu Lan?" Wei Wuxian dragged a hand across his face, eyes itching, throat still too tight. "You honestly expect me to believe you wanted to imprison me out of concern too?"

"No!"

Wei Wuxian took a step back, surprised by the volume of Lan Zhan's answer.

Lan Wangji took a step forward. "Not imprison. Heal Wei Ying. Protect."

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying said, frustration and a tangle of other painful emotions rising up. "Setting aside the fact that I'm not giving up the cultivation path I invented, what the fuck do you think would happen if I actually did come back to you to Gusu? You think your clan would treat me kindly? Let me run free?"

There was no agreement or disagreement; Lan Wangji just looked at him with anger — or possibly concern?

"They beat people for sneaking out at night!" he continued. "For drinking! Lan Zhan — even if — even if you only wish to help and "heal" me..." He dragged a hand over his face again.

Lan Wangji stared at him, hands fisted at his sides.

Wei Wuxian took a deep breath to settle himself. "Setting aside the fact that I don't need to be healed — your sect never had love for me and my ways, even when they came from a place of childlike innocence. I was thrown out of your uncle's presence for speaking of the idea of using resentful energy to counteract other dark forces. You honestly expect me to believe they would treat me fairly now, after everything I've done? That they would hesitate for one moment to punish me as severely as they possibly could?"

This time he waited for an answer. Lan Zhan opened his mouth. "I want Wei Ying safe," he said finally, voice unexpectedly hoarse, maybe even desperate.

It was impossible not to be moved by such a sincere confession. But in the end it just made him feel the way he did when earnest concern crept into Jiang Cheng's shouting about his laziness. The way he felt when A-Li's gentle questions about his sword hinted at a fearful depth of care.

Fucking tired.

And, besides, what did safety really mean, to someone as narrow-minded as Lan Zhan?

Painful clarity suddenly struck Wei Wuxian. "Wait... Lan Zhan... Is that it then? Is that the reason you agreed to this plan? So you could bring me back to your sect as your cultivation partner, and tuck me away somewhere 'safe'?"

"NO!"

Wei Wuxian's jaw dropped at the vehement denial, loaded with raw emotion that came from fucking nowhere. To his continued shock, tears appeared to be welling at the corners of Lan Zhan's eyes.

"Ah—" Wei Wuxian looked around wildly. "Um..." The overgrown path was still clear of any other travelers, and they were both skilled enough to sense the approach of others, but it seemed like a good moment to double check.

"Would not," Lan Zhan grit out, each word sounding like it was ripped painfully from his throat.

"Lan Zhan!" he said. "It's alright, I believe you!"

What the actual fuck?? What did I say?? The only other time I saw him cry his father was dying?!

"I would not," Lan Wangji repeated, turning away to hide his face.

Wei Wuxian couldn't help but reach a hand out and place it carefully on the man's shoulder, even knowing the contact was unlikely to help. "I believe you, Lan Zhan." He exhaled heavily. "Ah, Lan Zhan...and I thought Jiang Cheng was bad at expressing his feelings!"

Lan Wangji whirled around to face him, offended.

It was impossible not to laugh a little. "Oh, Lan Zhan! Come on, now that I know you actually don't hate me, of course we can be friends!" He paused. "You...do want to be friends, right?"

Insects chirped in the silence for an excruciatingly extended moment.

“Or I suppose there’s a lot of room between hatred and friendship,” Wei Wuxian said, pulling his hand back from where it had been lingering uselessly outstretched, using it to scratch the back of his neck. “I mean — ha, you don’t have to be friends with someone to want to help them, right? Or maybe you did at one point, but then the demonic—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, ears red, hands clenched.

“...Lan Zhan?”

“...I want.” Lan Wangji grit out, and Wei Wuxian’s heart swelled. 

"Great!" he said, slapping Lan Zhan on the back and darting away before he could draw his sword. "Took you long enough!"

He started walking forward, whistling cheerfully and allowing Lan Zhan to regain his composure in relative privacy. After a few minutes he dared to glance over, and was relieved to see Hunguang-Jun’s face had returned to its normal smoothness.

"Sooo..." he said, the casualness of his voice sounding fake even to his own ears. "When exactly did you decide you wanted to be friends?"

"..."

"Come on! When I was studying at cloud recesses? After? When we fought the Xunawu of Slaughter?"

"..."

"Yeah, this is pretty much how I always imagined our conversations going when we became friends."

It was barely late afternoon when Wei Wuxian insisted on stopping, setting up camp when they found a ready looking patch of trampled ground – not too far from a small creek, firepit already dug by past travelers.

Lan Zhan didn't protest the short day — probably because he was also aware that there was little to be gained by arriving at Carp Tower early. It was unlikely anybody would be thrilled at the thought of hosting the Demon of Yunmeng for unnecessary nights.

Possibly he was also disproportionately fatigued by the amount of genuine conversation they had had in one day. Wei Wuxian was fairly sure this was the most he had ever talked to Lan Zhan. Well, talked to and been spoken to in return.

The two worked companionably setting up camp, Wei Wuxian giving up on prying Lan Zhan for answers to sensitive questions, instead rambling about several (non demonic) talismans he had been working on.

"Alright," he said, dumping another armload of dry wood by the firepit. "I'm going to go see if I can find some fish or something for dinner. Don't worry, I'll make sure to find you something, too. I'm sure they don't teach hunting in the Cloud Recesses."

Lan Zhan gave him a look, setting down what looked like most of a tree.

"Fine," Wei Wuxian said, rolling his eyes. "Just enough for me."

"No rabbits."

Wei Wuxian turned back to him in surprise, but Lan Zhan wasn't looking at him.

"You eat meat?" 

“Not in cloud recesses.”

“Alright,” he said, only a little wrong-footed. "No rabbits."

By the time he returned with five pheasants, courteously plucked away from camp, the fire had produced coals hot enough to cook over, a pot of water was almost boiling, and Lan Zhan had chopped enough extra wood to last a small family through the winter.

"Leaving enough firewood for the next set of wanderers?" Wei Wuxian asked affectionately. "Ah, you really are too good." He sat down by the fire, setting down a bundle of thick stemmed freshwater mints he had stumbled across.

"Rule 847," Lan Wangji said, setting down his own wild mushrooms and onions. "Do not balk from giving unthanked aid to strangers."

"Hey, that one's not so bad," he said cheerfully. "I remember my mother saying — anyway, if I was by myself I'd just chuck this all into soup, does that sound alright? We've got time and I've got some spices with me."

"Mn."

"Great!" he said cheerfully, "I'm not as good a cook as shiji, but still, this is going to be so much better than that medicinal stuff you have back in Cloud Recesses — you like spicy food, right? Wen Ning said how nice it was that you brought spices on one of your visits, so I figure you must have gotten a taste for them at some point, in order to actually appreciate how important they are."

"...Mn."

Cooking, meditating, and eating went... surprisingly well. Lan Zhan wasn't exactly the most companionable person he had ever camped with on a night hunt, but he was also far from the most annoying. He didn't even say anything about the whispers of resentful energy he surely sensed during Wei Wuxian's own evening rituals.

It wasn't until they had laid out their bedrolls by the banked embers, Wei Wuxian having judged the weather to look good enough to make setting up a tent to not be worth the effort, and Lan Zhan probably having a rule against frivolous tent use, that he decided to broach the subject again. Hopefully his cooking had put Lan Zhan in a more cheerful mood.

"Really," Wei Wuxian said, voice lower and more sincere than earlier. "When did you decide you wanted to be friends? Because obviously I've been trying to get you to warm up to me since we were fifteen."

"Mph."

"What!" Wei Wuxian said, sitting up. "What do you mean 'Mph?' You don't think I can tell the difference between 'Mn' and 'Mph' at this point? You don't think I was being genuine back then?!"

"..."

He leaned over to poke Lan Zhan's shoulder with Chenqing. "Come on," he said, whining. "It's not even Hai, you can't pretend to fall asleep on me yet. You think I didn't outstretch my hand to you in good faith at cloud recesses! I invited you to drink with me! I brought you rabbits! I shared my springbooks! What is boyhood friendship, if not that?"

"You did those things to mock me," Lan Wangji said, expressionless and toneless.

Wei Wuxian hesitated, and Lan Wangji closed his eyes.

"Ok, maybe a little," Wei Wuxian admitted. "But that's part of friendship! Teasing!"

"..."

"Really!" Wei Wuxian said, annoyed. "I tease all my friends! It's not like I was bullying you, you were the one in charge of my discipline, and you could silence me whenever you wanted! If I went a bit further with you it's only because things were skewed in your favor!"

He laid down, sulking for a few moments, slightly embarrassed by his own defensiveness. He shook it off soon enough, and had just gotten up onto one elbow to tell Lan Zhan that it was all in the past anyway, when the man spoke up.

"I know," he said quietly. "Wei Ying did not intend to be cruel."

That stabbed far too deep into chest, considering the things he had been called over the last few years. "You thought I was cruel?" he asked, tone neutral.

"Did not know cruel words," Lan Wangji's eyes were open again, but he stared resolutely up at the sky, not shifting the slightest bit to meet Wei Wuxian's gaze.

“...Not back then, huh? I'm guessing the Wen taking you for Indoctrination might have changed that.”

“Mn.”

“Yeah, I can see that providing some counter examples.”

Even talking about petty teenage hurts, Lan Zhan still looked like a perfect jade carving of a cultivator in the moonlight, long exhale barely moving his chest. "Wei Ying says things he does not mean. Actions are different."

"Oh," Wei Wuxian said, laying back down. "Huh."

They laid in silence for a few minutes.

"Your actions always spoke true, too," Wei Wuxian blurted out. "I mean, remember when you actually turned us both in when I knocked you out off the wall during curfew? I thought that was crazy, but also pretty cool."

"...I remember, Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian grinned. "And then in the cave during indoctrination...I mean if it had been anyone besides you or Jiang Cheng there with me, I'm pretty sure I would have died fighting that thing. We made a pretty good team, huh?"

"Mn."

The last daylight had almost completely drained from the western horizon; We Wuxian watched the stars slowly start to fill in the sky. "I really had no idea you thought of me with friendship back then," he sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter now."

"...I will do better," Lan Wangji said after a long pause.

Wei Wuxian once again propped himself up on his elbow to stare at him. He squinted, but Lan Wangji was turned away so he couldn't see his face, for what good that was worth anyway.

"I mean throwing your whole future and a bunch of your principles aside to pretend to my cultivation partner is a pretty dramatic and unselfish gesture of friendship," Wei Wuxian said dryly. "I'd say it more than makes up for a bit of teenage scolding and badly expressed concern during wartime. Some might even call it unnecessarily excessive."

"..."

"Alright, alright I'll let you sleep," Wei Wuxian said, falling back down. He really wasn't tired, but whatever. It wasn't the first time he had spent hours coming with talisman designs behind his eyelids, and he didn't want to push his luck doing anything more interesting.

To his surprise, Lan Wangji continued the conversation. "Does it make a difference?"

"Does what make a difference?"

"Knowing why I disapprove of your cultivation path."

Wei Wuxian bit back a groan. "Lan Zhan, you really are a good person, and I truly am happy to be your friend," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "But if I wasn't willing to give it up for Jiang Cheng or A-Li, why would I give up my power for you?"

"...Mn."

"If you want to keep talking, we can discuss more about how we're going to fake —"

"It is time to sleep."

"Right. Good night Lan Zhan."

"...Good night, Wei Ying."

Wei exhaled a sigh of relief, quickly followed by irritation, then guilt.

Prev Chapter (Five) Next Chapter (Seven) MDZS AU Masterlist

[imtrashraccoon]

here’s a drabble idea!

Nightmare sans x dog monster! reader

so the premise is that the dear reader is a dog like doggo, greater dog, lesser dog, etc

and if we want to get REAL specific the dog breed reader is a konoki dog!

Hi! Thank you for submitting this idea!

I was shocked how quickly I managed to think of something for this prompt. I hope you don't mind that I made it a fantasy and soulmate au. I actually haven't written this sort of thing before and I am still buzzing with ideas.

I never heard of a Konoki dog before this and they look super cute! I haven't written this type of character before so I hope you like them. I certainly have fallen in love with them! (I affectionately call them Koko in my notes!)

By the way, I renamed Nightmare (and a few others!) for this to make him a more unique character. There's a note at the bottom for the meanings of their names too.

The Dark Fortress

Nightmare x Kokoni!Dog Monster Reader

Fantasy & Soulmate AU

Word Count: 6, 219

You woke up to the sound of rain softly pattering on your tent. The light was rather dim so you estimated the sun wasn't up just yet. Still, it couldn't hurt to get up and do some quick exercises before your day properly started.

The rain made the air smell good - slightly earthy with a hint of the harsher scent of ozone. The only bad thing was that you didn't like having wet fur, especially when on a mission, since it stuck to your armour and meant your weapon was harder to hang onto.

The scent in the air reminded you of a reoccurring dream that you'd been having your whole life. While the circumstances were different each time, there was always a distinctive smell present. It was earthy and sweet with aromatic undertones similar to liquorice or fennel. It was also slightly spicy or maybe salty was a better description? This smell seemed to belong to someone but you'd never been able to see what they looked like.

Not everyone believed in the concept of soulmates but you couldn't find any other explanation for why you kept dreaming about this one smell. There were instances where a few dogs had been plagued by a particular smell and then ended up finding their soulmate, but this was always in real life and never only in a dream.

With a sigh, you meticulously fastened the straps and buckles that held your armour together. While many of your fellow soldiers preferred full plate, you liked the mobility that light armour provided. This combined with your smaller size and slight frame made you the perfect scout or assassin for the Royal Guard.

You didn't have time this morning to contemplate the possibility of meeting your soulmate. You had a duty to perform and any distractions could put the lives of both you and your comrades in danger.

Your mission was to investigate the dark fortress that had appeared overnight a few months ago in the neighboring Kingdom of Shiftingtails. The kingdom's forces had apparently been completely overrun and destroyed in a matter of days. Word on the conditions inside the country had been scarce but the handful of refugees that had made it out all told harrowing tales of their escape.

Whatever magic that had created the fortress was dangerous. It corrupted the land, killing both plants and animals alike, so that nothing could survive. It was said that it could kill people as well but no one knew exactly how. There were also accounts of the dark horde and their master but no one could decide on what they looked like.

Some claimed that an army of the dead suddenly came to life and raided their homes. Others claimed there were only three skeletons responsible for the destruction. Yet there were other accounts of a single skeleton covered in the dark fortress' corruption with black tendrils. No one wanted to talk about this one any more than they had to though.

You hadn't known what to make of the accounts at first, but the deeper you and your comrades pressed into enemy territory, the more truth they seemed to hold. Thankfully, the Royal Scientist had found a way to counteract the majority of the corruption's effects, so as long as the protective coating on your armour remained intact, you would be safe.

It didn't ease your anxiety though and you knew that your comrades were also suffering from restlessness. It had been days since you had even been in combat, even longer since killing anything, and you just wanted to get this over with.

You weren't particularly bloodthirsty but even you had to admit that you secretly enjoyed the rush that came whenever a person died by your hand. It wasn't something that you went out of your way to do, even though being a soldier often put you in those situations. Everyone knew that while sometimes unavoidable, gaining EXP and especially LV, was a slippery slope to insanity. And so during basic training, it was stressed that it was preferable to incapacitate your foes and only kill as a last resort.

You emerged from your tent and stretched your limbs. It seemed like a few of your fellow soldiers were already up and about, which meant another day of marching was upon you. At least you were within sight of the dark fortress now. It wouldn't be long before you would be able to hear the satisfying sound of your meteor hammer crushing bones and inhale the scent of fresh blood again.

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

Breaching the gate had been difficult but not impossible.

There had been a small horde of tall black skeletons but against the heavily armoured likes of your fellow guardsmen, they were soon cut down. While the skeletons had also been heavily armoured and wielded greataxes, a well placed blow was pretty much all it took to fell them. Even you managed to take one down, although its body didn't turn to dust and simply faded away, and you didn't even get any EXP from it.

That was strange but not unusual if they were merely summons and not actual monsters. Still, whoever summoned them must have an immense mana pool, especially if they were also the one who'd created the dark fortress in the first place.

The moment you and your fellow soldiers entered the courtyard, you were suddenly set upon by three assailants. They were fast, and with how easily they could dodge attacks or appear behind you, must have some form of instant teleportation ability.

You were forced to fight back to back with Sir Draco, which meant your ranged attacks were less effective since you had to be mindful of your meteor hammer's arc. Your own mana was limited so you were forced to fend off blows with your trusty dagger, which you normally only used for finishing off your enemies.

The three skeletons looked similar, like they could be cousins, but at the same time they were quite different from each other. They were on a whole other level from the dark hordes earlier and you were starting to worry that this could soon turn hairy.

Greater and Lesser Dog were currently taking on a giant of skeleton who had half his skull caved in, a blood red eyelight in his left socket, and wielded a massive, wicked-looking greataxe. He wore a suit of mismatched armour of various materials and styles that had been pieced together seemingly at random. It looked to be mostly plate and hide armour though.

Captain Undyne and Sir Bunbun were holding off a wiry skeleton, who had what looked like corruption pouring out of his eye sockets, a crimson glowing target floating above his chest, and wielded nothing but a cruel dagger as well as his own magic against them. He wore a form-fitting suit of black leather armour that was reminiscent of what the former Shiftingtails Kingdom's scouts used to wear.

You and Sir Draco were focusing on a shorter skeleton who was constantly switching between bone attacks and trying to stab both of you with a well-polished shortsword. He had red eyelights but the left one also had a ring of blue and he wore a red cuirass with a hood and dusty chainmail over top.

"Fall back!" You heard Captain Undyne shout. "We can't let them separate us!"

You and your comrades began shifting towards the gate in an attempt to keep them from attacking your flanks. Although, you'd only taken a few steps when your nose caught a particularly familiar scent. It was sharp, earthy and yet sweet at the same time - the exact scent from your dreams. But where was it coming from?

You noticed a flicker of red out of the corner of your eye and just managed to dodge yet another strike from the hooded skeleton. He scowled and you bared your teeth in response before he darted out of your reach again. He smelled like smoke and death so it certainly wasn't him.

"Come on, pup. If we don't move now, they'll cut us off from the others," Sir Draco rumbled as he blocked another volley of bone bullets with his shield.

You sniffed the air intently, barely hearing what he'd said. That scent...they were here somewhere... Your soulmate was here!

Without really thinking, you darted off in the direction that you were certain the scent was coming from, disregarding the fact that you were also running away from your comrades. You just managed to dodge a bone bullet the hooded skeleton summoned, although it did graze your side. You could hear Undyne shouting at you to return but you didn't listen and kept running. It seemed like no one was actually chasing after you but you could still hear the clash of weapons at the gate, so maybe your comrades had kept them occupied?

The scent was coming from further inside the fortress and only grew stronger the further you ventured, until you managed to slip into a dark building and close the door behind you.

Your paws were great at muffling your footsteps and thanks to your nose, you knew that you were close to the source of the scent. You stepped cautiously around furniture and through passageways until you entered the largest library you'd ever seen.

There was light here, from various lanterns and candles peppered throughout the room, which you were grateful for since you couldn't really see in the dark, although you couldn't help but feel uneasy. You slipped between bookshelves and your ears twitched as you strained to hear the slightest sound. Other than the clinking of the length of chain in your paws and that of your own armour, everything seemed quiet.

Too quiet.

The scent was everywhere and you were starting to have a hard time pinpointing which direction to keep moving in. The fur on the back of your neck suddenly stood on end and you quickly turned, only to come face to face with another skeleton.

He was covered in corruption and four tendrils undulated restlessly behind his back. He wore no armour but underneath the black ooze he seemed to be wearing fancy clothing. He had a gold circlet on his skull and a single cyan eyelight in his left eye socket, as his right was covered by the ooze.

You had barely registered his appearance when he lashed out with his tentacles, slamming you against a nearby bookshelf. You let out a yelp from the impact and heard your meteor hammer clatter to the ground as you lost your grip on the chain.

"Who let a mutt into my home?" the skeleton hissed.

You squirmed but your attempts to escape only caused his tendrils to coil tighter around your body, until it was difficult to breathe.

He drew closer until you were only a few inches apart and narrowed his good eye socket at you. "Are you even a soldier?"

Your eyes widened as it occurred to you that the smell that had haunted you for years was from him. He was your soulmate. Him...the one who'd overthrown an entire country singlehandedly was your one and only.

You pawed at the tendrils around your body. "You're... You're the one..." you managed to gasp.

His smile widened and he let out an amused chuckle. "I'm what? I assure you that whatever you're about to say, I've heard it all before." He let out a sigh and loosened the grasp his tentacles had on you ever so slightly. "But I suppose I can humour you a little bit..."

You couldn't help but cough the moment you could breath properly again. After taking in several lungfuls of air, you looked up at him before trying to explain.

"You're the one I've been dreaming about all my life. My soulmate..."

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only a minute. He raised his bonebrows slightly but otherwise showed no further reaction to this revelation.

"Well... That's actually a new one." He chuckled and stepped back a bit but noticeably didn't let go of you. "My apologies, it seems I underestimated you slightly. You're amusing at the very least..."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "I'm serious! I've been looking for so long and now I've actually found you."

He rolled his eyelight before giving you an odd look. "I don't believe you. I don't have a soulmate," he muttered.

"Of course you do! I wouldn't have sought you out if we weren't meant to be together!"

"It's not possible, alright?"

"But-"

His tendrils suddenly constricted once more, although your ability to breath wasn't as impeded this time. You couldn't possibly break out of his hold now and you were all but forced to stay still.

"I mean it," he growled. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to tell me the truth, understand?"

"Yeah, okay. Just, not so tight please?"

He pointedly ignored your request as if you hadn't said anything at all. "Why are you actually here?"

"My comrades and I were ordered to investigate this place and if possible, take down the source of the corruption. Although, it seems that's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am. My name is Lord Donovan, the new ruler of this land." There was a twinge of pride in his voice and he puffed out his ribcage slightly. "Where are your comrades?"

You didn't like how ominous his tone sounded but there was no reason to lie to him. "They're probably still fighting your men at the gate, at least they were before I caught your scent and sought you out."

He gave you an incredulous look. "You broke rank on the off chance that I was your so called soulmate? What a foolish thing to do, almost as foolish as coming here in the first place."

You wrinkled your nose and let out a frustrated huff. "You are my soulmate!" you growled. "How many times do I have to tell you that before it gets through your thick skull?!"

He abruptly yanked you closer until your foreheads were nearly touching, but so that he was leering down at you. "Listen well, mutt. I am not your soulmate. I am an entity of pure hatred and spite. I am incapable of love or any remotely positive feeling for that matter."

"S-surely there's a way to find out?" you whimpered.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Yes, there is a divination ritual that can be performed, but such a thing takes time, something you don't have right now."

You squirmed in his grip. "I don't need some fancy ritual to prove that you're wrong. If you just, let me go for a moment, I'll show you."

He eyed you warily before taking a glance around the library. "Fine, but don't try anything. I would prefer if you didn't ruin any of these tomes with your useless dust."

You gave him a curt nod, although the casual threat wasn't lost on you. "Same goes for you."

He released his tendrils, dropping you unceremoniously to the ground but you managed to land your feet. After straightening your armour and retrieving the weapon you'd dropped earlier, you turned back to him again.

Lord Donovan stood with arms crossed and a critical expression on his face. "I'm surprised that you would risk turning your back on an enemy," he commented.

You chuckled, "Well, you just said that you didn't want to ruin these books."

He narrowed his eye socket. "I could've lied..."

You snorted but chose not to needle him further. Instead, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes before pressing a paw against your chestplate.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm baring my soul to you. What does it look like?" you retorted.

You could feel him judging you but he made no move to interrupt. "You're a fool," he finally stated.

You ignored him and drew your soul out, letting the upside down white heart float lazily in your palm. It wasn't perfect like it had once been but the faint cracks spoke of the many battles you'd survived to get to this point. You could even see your stats, which was only further proof of your strength and the deeds you'd committed for it.

When you met his gaze again, you noticed that he looked a bit uncomfortable. His permanent grin had fallen and he was doing his best not to look at your soul directly. He actually reminded you a little of a bashful child at the moment.

"How does this," he vaguely gestured at you, "actually prove anything?"

You had to grit your teeth to keep from laughing at him. Had he never been taught how these things worked? Even an eight year old could understand the significance of baring your soul to your fated.

"The frequency of our souls are the same and that means we are soulmates," you responded.

He scoffed at that. "I'm not showing you my soul."

"Come on... If you'll just do this one thing, you'll know that I'm right!"

He frowned and shook his skull.

"Please, I'm not trying to trick you..." When he made no move to respond, you sighed and held out your paws. "I understand that you don't trust me; I probably wouldn't either if I was in your position. You can hold my hands if you want, I promise I won't hurt you."

He eyed them for a moment. "Fine...but on one condition..."

You nodded vigorously, "Of course!"

"If you really want to see my soul, then I can't have you leave, at least not alive... Are you actually willing to give up everything, including your friends and family, on something as improbable as being soulmates?"

"With all due respect, I am a soldier. I live each day as if it were my last, as does my family. When I was ordered to come here, I did so knowing that I likely wouldn't return and if this is the price I must pay to find my soulmate, then I am willing."

He seemed to consider your words for a moment before meeting your eyes again. His cyan eyelight flickered for a moment before a new look crossed his face. It almost seemed like one of respect but you couldn't entirely be sure.

"Very well then, if you're certain you won't live to regret it."

He hesitated for a moment but when you didn't pull away, he stepped closer and coiled two of his tendrils around your wrists. His grip was firm but surprisingly gentle and he lifted your paws over your head, so there was no way for you to attack him. In this position, your height discrepancy was much more obvious and you felt rather small next to him.

You felt completely exposed like this, even though you were still wearing your armour. Having your soul floating freely with no way to shield it from anyone else's eyes was honestly a little terrifying. He could strike you down in an instant and there wouldn't be anything you could do about it.

Lord Donovan brought his hand to his ribcage, mimicking the gesture you had made earlier. He focused for a second before pulling his own soul from his body. It wasn't shaped anything like you'd expected, instead it was more oblong than heart-shaped, much like the cross section of an apple. It was jet black with a cyan flare around the edges and seemed like it too was coated in corruption like the rest of his body.

You couldn't help but find his soul oddly beautiful but you kept your comments to yourself for a moment. Instead, you watched him calmly for what he'd do next.

He seemed to be contemplating something before gingerly bringing his soul closer to your own. You were thankful that he didn't let them touch, instead holding it a few inches away.

You waited with baited breath.

At first, your souls simply floated there, slowly thrumming with latent mana.

Suddenly you felt an intense pulse pass through your soul.

It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, although slightly similar to the high that you'd experienced a few times when your LV increased, except way better. There was a rush of power but also a strong euphoric feeling that made all your uneasiness ebb away.

Donovan seemed utterly stunned. His cyan eyelight had shrunk down at least two sizes and he stood stock still like a statue.

"You felt that?" you whispered, although you couldn't keep yourself from grinning like a maniac.

He seemed completely at a loss for words and it took him a moment to even register that you'd asked a question at all. "I... Yes...I felt that..."

"Do you believe me now?"

"You were right about the frequency being the same..." He finally tore his gaze away from your souls and gave you an intense look. "You can't leave me."

You chuckled and tried to move your arms, only to remember that he still had you restrained. "A deal's a deal. I saw your soul and we're soulmates now; seems fair to me."

"Indeed..." he murmured, before guiding his soul back into his ribcage. You noticed that he hesitated to do the same for you.

You chuckled softly at his apparent awkwardness. "I can do it myself if you'd rather not, you'll just have to let me go first."

"No, it's fine..." He took great care not to graze your soul with his claws as he returned it to it's proper place in your chest. His movements were rather stiff though, almost like he was handling fine china and was afraid of smashing it.

His hand lingered for a moment, as if he was debating if he should actually touch you or not, before pulling away. "Forgive me...but this is a lot to take in at the moment. I never thought-" He cut himself off and changed the subject. "I never even asked for your name..."

You smiled and told him your name as his tendrils around your arms loosened, allowing you to lower them back to your sides, but not actually letting go just yet. The tips wound softly through your fingers like they were curious or maybe they just wanted to hold you like a lover might.

"I suppose there is still the matter of your former comrades." He looked off in the direction you thought the gate was in before asking a question. "How would you prefer I deal with them?"

You felt your heartbeat quicken. "I'd prefer they leave with their lives, but knowing Captain Undyne, she wouldn't give up until every one of her men got out safely."

"That poses a problem," he hummed and tapped his mandible thoughtfully. "As my own won't quit until they eliminate all resistance."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Maybe I could talk to my comrades and convince them to leave?"

"No." His expression darkened and he turned back to you. "They won't leave if they see that you're alive."

"So what do we do?"

He thought for a moment before turning to leave the library, tugging you along with his tentacles. "I have an idea, come with me."

You let out a small yip as you nearly stumbled over your own hind feet while trying to follow him. He spared you a glance over his shoulder but kept quickly moving through the dark passageways. He did mercifully let go of one of your arms so you would have a bit more balance though.

He led you into a room that, from the shelves of tonics and the racks of drying herbs, reminded you of an apothecary. The various herbs and ingredients all melded together into a slightly musty smell that you weren't fond of.

Donovan pulled a specific vial down from the shelf and brought it over to the work bench. You walked over and leaned against it to see what he was doing. After adding a few ingredients and swirling it together, he turned back to you.

"I need you to trust me..." He trailed off and glanced away before muttering, "Not that I've done anything to deserve your trust so far..."

You gave him a gentle smile and stepped closer to put your paw on his arm. He inadvertently jumped at the contact but didn't pull away.

"Of course I trust you. Whatever your plan is, I'll go along with it."

His bonebrows furrowed and he lightly stroked the fur on the side of your face with his claws. "Can I have your dagger?"

"I'm surprised you even noticed I had one," you chuckled as you drew the blade from its sheath and held it out to him.

He hummed and took it from your grasp. "I think you'll find that there isn't much that escapes my attention." He eyed the sharp edge for a moment before glancing back at you. "How attached are you to this?"

You frowned slightly. Your dagger wasn't too special to the naked eye but it had served you well ever since you'd been gifted it after your first successful mission. Even though it wasn't your primary weapon, any of your comrades would recognize it as yours if they saw it.

"It's just a dagger," you answered. "It's a small sacrifice to be with you forever."

He watched you for a moment before nodding. "Very well. This will hurt, but I'm only going to do what's necessary for you to be free of them."

You felt his tendrils coil around your body, cradling and holding you in place. He caressed your face and seemed to study your eyes for a second longer. You took a steadying breath and nodded.

And then he ran you through with the dagger.

You should've found something to bite down on before agreeing to this but your scream of pain was cut off when he abruptly yanked you into a kiss. It was a rough kiss and, if he wasn't holding you in place, you might've fallen over from the forcefulness.

He pulled away quickly and pressed the vial to your lips. It had a harsh taste but you managed to get it down without choking. Almost immediately, you felt an odd warmth flood your body and your eyelids began to grow heavy.

Lord Donovan laid you down on a bed that hadn't been in the room and you wondered if he'd brought you somewhere else. You knew he'd just inflicted what would normally be a mortal wound but somehow your body wasn't falling to pieces. If it weren't for the pain and sudden exhaustion, you probably could've run a mile. Whatever was in that tonic was obviously far stronger than any healing potion you'd ever been able to afford.

Your gaze met his own and when you held eye contact, he seemed relieved. He still held your dagger but it was thoroughly coated in what you instinctively knew was your own dust so that not even the handle was spared. He then took it in two of his tendrils and snapped the blade in half, as if it were nothing but a twig and not hardened steel.

Your shocked expression must've been concerning as he frowned and moved closer to you again. He combed his claws through the fur between your ears in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry, but this needs to be as convincing as possible if they are to leave and not return in some foolhardy attempt to rescue you."

You swallowed thickly and managed to nod.

"Rest now, I will deal with them myself. You have my word that they won't be unnecessarily harmed."

You were out before he even left the room.

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

You awoke to the sound of several unknown voices. There was a loud voice that spoke the most and the fastest, a softer and more raspy voice that occasionally answered the first's questions, and then there was a third much deeper voice who only spoke in clipped one word answers. They immediately fell quiet as soon as they realized that you were awake.

When you risked cracking open your eyes, you came face to face with one of the skeletons from earlier, specifically the one that had corruption leaking from his eye sockets. His skull took up most of your field of view but you could just barely make out the other two skeletons near the doorway.

"well well, look who's finally awake~" he teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I suppose so. Now can you back up a bit?"

He smirked but mercifully stepped away from the bed so you could sit up. Your armour had been removed at some point although you were still wearing your tunic. You would likely need new gear after Donovan stabbed you anyways, but you didn't like being in the same room as three very dangerous people while unprotected.

There was still some pain but you seemed perfectly fine otherwise. Maybe later you'd have to check where the wound had been to see how it had healed. You could feel that a bandage had been wrapped around your abdomen but that was all that seemed to have happened.

"so, word is you and the boss are thick as thieves all of the sudden..."

You glanced up at him sharply. There was no point in denying it but should you really tell them why he'd spared your life?

He chuckled and glanced over at the other two, who seemed like they could care less. "we've just been dying to meet you, haven't we?"

The large skeleton huffed and the hooded one merely rolled his eyelights.

He didn't seem phased by their lackluster enthusiasm and soon turned back to you again. "you got a name then, cutie?" he asked way too sweetly.

You raised your head and squared your shoulders before introducing yourself.

"aw, it suits you!" He grinned, although it was a tad too wide. "i suppose introductions are in order then..."

"the big guy goes by maul," he said and pointed him out to you. He bent down to whisper in your ear, "he doesn't talk much, but between you and me, it's rumoured that he used to be the headsman during the coup in the horrur kingdom."

You believed it. The way you'd seen him swing that greataxe was proof enough of his strength. You were curious how he got the head wound if he was just the executor, but you weren't about to ask.

Maul's single red eyelight observed you coolly before he nodded slightly. At least he didn't seem like he wanted to tear you apart right away.

"mr. broody goes by reven." He directed your attention to the skeleton in question before repeating what he'd done earlier. "pretty sure he still wears his old paladin armour, despite breaking his oath after his brother got dusted. he's the one responsible for the crimson stabbings, didn't you know?"

You pulled the sheets slightly closer and swallowed nervously. You remembered how afraid everyone had been during that time and how at a loss your superiors had been. The murders had gone on for years before just stopping without any conclusion being reached.

Reven narrowed his eye sockets suspiciously but he seemed to like the effect that his supposed reputation had on you.

"it's actually kinda impressive you held him off for as long as you did back there~"

Reven scowled at his loud mouthed compatriot's words and crossed his arms. You certainly didn't feel proud of yourself and if it wasn't for Sir Draco, you knew he would've overwhelmed you quickly.

Trying to distract yourself, you turned to the last unnamed skeleton in the room, who was still a bit to close for your comfort. "And who are you?" you asked.

"You can call me Dirk, or anything else you feel partial to~" He practically beamed at the revelation that you were even remotely interested in his backstory. "I used to run with some brigands and we made a decent killing for a while. Although, I was always meant for something more than that boring life so I killed them instead."

You didn't know what you had been expecting but how flippant he was about committing murder was more than a little unsettling. You really shouldn't have been so surprised though.

"Your armour doesn't belong to you, does it?" you asked carefully.

"oh yeah." He grinned before adding, "i stabbed a guy for it!"

You ran a hand down your face and sighed. "Of course, why did I think you would've done anything otherwise?"

In an effort to change the subject, you glanced at the others and asked a different question. "What happened to...my companions?"

Neither Maul nor Reven seemed interested in answering although the latter suppressed a small chuckle.

Dirk pulled a face and shook his skull. "they ran like cowards," he muttered.

You frowned. "That doesn't sound quite right. Are you sure?"

"well... the fish lady got pretty mad when the boss revealed that you were 'dead'..." He made finger quotes and chuckled. "she actually tried to fight him but he taught her a lesson real quick."

Reven chuckled as well. "she had to be hauled away by the rest of them..." he muttered under his breath.

You felt your heart drop. Donovan had promised that he wouldn't kill them, but you still couldn't help feeling concerned. What if she succumbed to her injuries before getting to safety?

"hey."

You glanced over at Dirk and immediately noticed that his permanent grin had fallen slightly.

"how do we know that you didn't just trick the boss into thinking you two are... what's it called?" he paused for emphasis before continuing, "soulmates, or some other dumb crap?"

He took a step closer to the bed and you inadvertently tried to back away from him. Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the other two had seemed to take interest as well. Maul stayed by the door, although his grin widened in an unsettling way and he crossed his arms. Reven narrowed his eye sockets and took a few steps closer.

"Of course not! I wouldn't-"

Your protest was cut off when Donovan suddenly materialized on your other side. The boys paused and turned to look at him, although at first he said nothing and shot each of them a look of displeasure. Without saying a word, he wrapped your body up in a few of his tendrils and pulled you closer to him.

"If any of you so much as look at my soulmate wrong, I will not hesitate to strip your souls from your miserable bodies and torment you for eternity," he growled quietly.

You felt a shiver run down your spine but his threat seemed to have an effect on the boys. Maul glanced away and Reven seemed to visibly deflate. Dirk seemed to grow uncomfortable but outwardly didn't appear intimidated.

Donovan eyed each of them for several long seconds before he turned to you and seemed to visibly relax. He gave you what was supposed to be a comforting smile but it still looked a little scary on him.

"I didn't go for a killing blow but holding back is a little difficult for me. She'll probably just lose an eye if treated properly," he stated. His tone came across as pretty ominous but you did feel some relief that he'd at least attempted to keep his word.

"Thank you, I appreciate that you still tried."

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

Later, once you were properly healed, Dirk approached you in the common area while you were attempting to salvage what you could from your old armour. You inadvertently tensed up but he flashed you a smile that was probably supposed to look friendly.

"so, i've been thinking," he started to say.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's worrying," you responded with an awkward laugh.

Across the room, you heard Reven snicker but he didn't bother trying to join in.

Dirk's smile grew wider. "heh... anyways, each of us has a place on the team. maul is the muscle, reven is good with both melee and ranged fighting, and i'm the assassin but i dabble in ranged attacks too. so, what do you do?"

You took a moment to think it over. You wanted to get along with them and if proving yourself a competent teammate would help, you were determined to do your best.

"Well, I'm generally a forward scout but I'm more than capable of holding my own in melee combat."

Dirk nodded, "fun! i guess we'll have to eventually come up with a nickname for you." He held out his hand and tilted his skull all the while smirking at you. "welcome to the dark fortress."

You grasped his hand and smiled. Maybe you'd like being here a lot more than you originally thought.

Notes:

A meteor hammer is kind of like a flail. It is a weapon with one or two weights attached to a length of chain. It may be impractical, but I had a distinct mental picture of MC swinging it around that I loved.

Donovan is an Irish name and means dark warrior.

Maul is actually named after the weapon of the same name (although the verb is kinda fitting too!).

Reven is short for revenant and a nod to one of the coolest characters in Star Wars (Darth Revan).

Dirk is named for a type of dagger.

Did you catch what kingdom was taken over by Donovan and his gang? I had a hard time coming up with one that made sense so Storyshift it was. In this world, each AU is its own kingdom, meaning pretty much every major AU can and probably does exist somewhere or somehow.

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

BEHOLD!!!

𝕄𝕆𝕋ℍℝ𝔸 ℝ𝔼𝔹𝕆ℝℕ!!!

MY VERY OWN TAKE OF MV HUMAN!MOTHRA REBORN ON GODZILLA X KONG: THE NEW EMPIRE!!!

Yes, I redesigned her version into GxK and the results were indeed phenomenal unlike my KOTM style! Definitely one of my hardest challenges to do such an exquisite art!

And I added an extra design of her waist! Since she is worshipped also by the Iwis, I wanted to add a red linen cloth like Jia to further emphasize that she protected the Iwis.

From now on, this would be my official design for Mothra Reborn on GxK. I hope you absolutely love it!

( @sassyassblog @mossizi This is for both of you as a surprise! ) 🤩🥰

AND!!!

Here's the original design of my first MV Mothra Gijinka in KOTM.

I WORKED, 5 HOURS!!! ALL I WANT IS TO FINISH MY UNFINISHED ART BUT WHY FUCKING WHY?!?!?! I'M ALMOST STARVING AND GOT MY HAND HURT!!!!!

*ANYONE WHO POSTED MY ART WITHOUT PERMISSION SHALL RECEIVE WARNINGS, FLAMES AND VALID REASONS*

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & OC Picrews

Tagged by @atomsace @voidika @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @davrinsgriffons @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who want to join.

Got music for The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and my Wings And Horns WIP, WIP snippets for The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters, plus picrews for an A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore OC, picrews include Christmas stockings, regular OC looks and 1880's aesthetic/design. Without further ado, listen and read below the cut:

Silva is defined by both "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" and "still pretty traumatizing experience though". It's a balance that I'm trying my best in keeping steady, and I don't think I'm doing that bad of a job at. Even if we exclude the AUs (which Silva is just put into MORE situations), one thing is clear, Silva is tough. She survives. Her father, the Tumultite Massacre, the journey at sea till she and her small family make it to America, Paul and the Apostles of Zachariah, the hopelessness and grief she felt after Persephone's death, the Reaping and Eden's Gate, Adam's Guard, the Collapse and the five to seven years in that bunker with Faith and Azriel (in addition to Mercy), the 11-13 years spent on the surface of Montana post-Collapse, the Highwaymen and Paul's return. Silva living in itself is a massive blatant "Fuck You" to both her father and the Voice's efforts in trying to kill her (or at least make her suffer). Anyway, listen to Kelly Clarkson killing it below:

"You know the bed feels warmer Sleeping here alone You know I dream in color And do the things I want

You think you got the best of me Think you've had the last laugh Bet you think that everything good is gone Think you left me broken down Think that I'd come runnin' back Baby, you don't know me 'cause you're dead wrong

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone What doesn't kill you makes a fighter Footsteps even lighter Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger Just me, myself and I What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

You heard that I was starting over with someone new They told you I was moving on, over you

You didn't think that I'd come back I'd come back swinging You tried to break me, but you see

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone What doesn't kill you makes a fighter Footsteps even lighter Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger Just me, myself and I What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

Thanks to you, I got a new think started Thanks to you, I'm not the brokenhearted Thanks to you, I'm finally thinking 'bout me You know in the end, the day you left was just my beginning In the end

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone What doesn't kill you makes a fighter Footsteps even lighter Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger Just me, myself and I What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger Just me, myself and I What doesn't kill you makes you stronger Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

When I'm alone."

Funny how this FNAF song can fit Poppy Playtime and this unnamed WIP I've made for it. Throughout the game and this WIP, Poppy encourages the protagonist to continue further down into the factory. Honestly not surprising she leads the protag of this WIP into Frederick Rosemary's industry of pure horror:

"What's the story in all this clutter Give me more than exotic butters! Some cryptic lines will be fine Keep your innards, and I'll keep mine She's pulling strings, but I'm trying To figure out what kinda puppet I've been Never gonna let her get under my skin!" "Heard of Frederick Rosemary*? You're gonna like him!

Can't help but feel like you belong here." "But I wanna leave, I just gotta leave." "You know that something's going wrong here." "And she's watching me, now she's onto me." "Come find out what's been going on here." "Has my progeny caught up to me?" "You know you're nothing but a pawn here." "Am I part of them? Are they/you part of me?"

[* Purple Guy, or William Afton from FNAF, doesn't exist in the Poppy Playtime universe, and in this WIP, Frederick is the major antagonist]

And lastly, a funky upbeat remix that hints towards what kind of past Xiang Ba'al, a sloth demon from the Sloth Ring of Hell, had in his youth and now in his adult life. Learn how he became such a great quick-draw that even gives Archangel Metatron trouble when fighting him:

"All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bullet All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bullet

Daddy's* got a quick hand He'll look around the room He won't tell you his plan He's got a rolled cigarette Hanging out his mouth He's a cowboy kid Yeah he found a six-shooter gun In his pa's** closet, in a box full of fun things I don't even know what But he's coming for you, yeah he's coming for you

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bullet (Hit it!) All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up kicks You better run, better run, faster than my bullet

Faster than my bullet Faster than my bullet

Daddy works a long day He be coming home late, and he's coming home late And he's bringing me a surprise Cause dinner's in the kitchen and it's packed in ice I've waited for a long time Yeah the sleight of my hand is now a quick-pull trigger He reasons with his cigarette*** Then says "Your hair's on fire, you must've lost your wits, yeah?""

[*Name changed justified as it goes from Xiang's POV recalling his gangster father. **Xiang only ever recalls his father calling his own dad "pa". ***Xiang doesn't smoke but obviously his father does. Also a moment of "noticing your son has a natural hand for this weapon much like yourself, even if held back by hesitancy". Seeing himself in Xiang essentially and stoking the flames of curiosity with a tease to continue those damn familial/generational cycles, y'know?]

Here's some more Vengeful!Silva AU snippets where Jacob's gonna attempt to capture Silva after she makes a concerning number of head ways and nearly successful assassination attempts towards Joseph. He and Alexander's ambush gets intercepted by Silva's new guardian angel Margarett (whom she and Azriel have granted an additional... helpful augmentation):

Jacob lowered to his knees as he placed the barrel of his rifle onto the log they too cover behind.

Alexander and two of their Chosen caught up to him; his right-hand crawled up next to him, stationing his crossbow alongside Jacob's rifle. One Chosen took cover behind a tree stump to the right of the log, while the other stood hidden behind the foliage on Alexander's left.

Jacob lifted a hand up in an open palm to signal to his present men. They waited as he looked through his scope onto their target's location; the back of a small abandoned home, more like a cabin, that had belonged to one of his effective if stranger men. Dansky, he recalled Alexander mentioning.

They lost contact with him after overhearing what seemed to be a break-in.

Through his scope's lens, Jacob noted the window was blocked, leaving the only entrance way the door. A foolish decision, leaving them open for attack. He could hear no activity as well, leaving Jacob frowning.

Jacob glanced at Alexander beside him, catching the brunette's attention. He gestured to the other man's bag, which Alexander nodded in affirmation, unlatching the hood so Jacob could see the contents; some minor explosives, strong enough to remove the obstacle to the window.

Jacob shared a smirk with Alexander, giving an affirming nod. He began formulating the plan; two to the door, two to the window, destroy the window, move in through both at the same time. Hopefully they'd be able to take down the defector's bodyguard that Terry had described to them after they found the man.

Then they can take the "unruly child" back to her "Father", just as his brother requested.

Jacob huffed and shook his head, but this had been one of the few things Joseph remained adamant on.

As Alexander began to tweak the explosives so they'd be ready, Jacob looked towards the Chosen to his left and closed his hand into a fist, then pointing towards the direction of the door. He then turned to Chosen on his right for the same thing, but paused when the Chosen was inspecting something he found on the ground.

The Chosen looked toward Jacob, and handed him the small object.

On Jacob's scarred flesh, he could feel the bits of ash and dirt that covered the crushed paper roll. Jacob brought it up to his nose, inhaling the foul scent that mixed with the dry earth; a cigar. There was still a surviving warmth to it, meaning it was recently put out.

He glanced to the stump, and when looking at it, he took notice of the deep cuts ingrained into the wood. He looked down to the log, and realized it was the same color as the stump, and the serrated end of it had chunks split across it.

This is a set up.

Then he heard it. The stomping footsteps rushing up behind them.

Grabbing onto Alexander, he hoisted the surprised younger man over the log, barely hopping over it himself before a behemoth-sized woman in large ragged cloaks broke through the foliage and slashed across the log.

She managed to cut down the Chosen on the right, and before the Chosen had enough reaction time to aim his bow at her, she spun her staff, hitting him in the stomach with it before bringing her other weapon over his head.

Jacob and Alexander rolled down the short steepness, before they collected themselves. The bag of explosives had been left behind the log, same with Alexander's crossbow, but Jacob still had his rifle on hand.

The taller woman, older and more scarred than Jacob himself, glared down at them with her one amber eye, firmly thinly lined lips quirking up into a smirk once she recognized Jacob.

Jacob look down to the blade in her other hand, but realized it wasn't just a blade; where he expected to see flesh holding onto it, instead was a metal prosthetic that's wrist had an axe head attached to it.

With the window no longer an option, Jacob glanced to Alexander, cocking his head towards the cabin's doorway around the corner; the brunette would need to retrieve Silva himself.

Alexander glanced between Jacob and his leader's approaching opponent, flabbergasted but accepting the task.

With Alexander leaving just the two of them, Jacob's cold blue eyes narrowed into the hungry amber of his newest enemy.

Another WIP draft for the first of three Arcane: League of Legends fics I'll be working on, after gaining a better idea on what to do with this after the much needed second season to close things off. Below is a rough draft of the prologue where Silco visits pre-Singed's lab for anything useful to his cause against Piltover, especially with the proliferation of Shimmer. He finds a... peculiar and uncanny creation of the Doctor's just collecting dust and begging to be used:

The clicks of the mechanisms inside the door set off in one loud groan as the sounds echoed in the wet cave, the unlocked door to the Doctor's lab widening open.

Silco gestured his subordinates, Ran and Licker, to guard the front as he followed his companion inside, walking with a lazy sway as his good eye took in the state of the Doctor's laboratory.

It was vastly different from the one they were setting up at the aquarium; at least there, everything was clearer and more organized. Here, the Doctor's base of operations was a mess and far cruder; pages of paper spread out chaotically on tables, pinned to boards and across lines, vats of organs and other insides unrelated to another stocked on top or next to each other, as well as the preservation chamber that held a giant salamander like creature in stasis.

Silco couldn't remember what the Doctor named it, and frankly couldn't care; all it's use came from the component within it that allowed them to manufacture their newest weapon, Shimmer.

"You may browse if you wish," the Doctor told him, walking off towards one unorganized section of his lab, "Retrieving the last of my research shouldn't take long."

Silco grunted out a hum in acknowledgement as he looked around the laboratory.

Holding his hands behind his back, he surveyed all the illicit materials the Doctor had collected over the years. Besides the Shimmer research, there wasn't much inside the lab that could prove useful in their fight against Piltover and their independence for Zaun.

Most of the materials didn't even seem ready, making the Doctor's permission even more useless in hindsight.

Until something in the corner caught his glance.

It looked slouched over, non-organic. More mechanical than anything. It's figure was almost human like.

Another of the Doctor's pet projects? Silco wondered, curiosity sinking its teeth on his skin. He wandered closer towards the deactivated machination, cautious but hungry to know what it was.

Though it was slouched over and he was standing above it, the sheer height of the machine reached up to his chest. He noted that, were it standing, it would be taller than him. Its entire body was clearly designed to be feminine.

The metal features was dark and sleek, even if the welded material was jagged and sharp at the edges. The face was smooth, with various small streaming lines cascading down its features and body, unfilled like the Lanes when Enforcers made their presence known. Though the darkness of the metal made it hard to determine certain features unless closely inspected, like the closed mouth.

The inside of the eyes was nothing more than a dark abyss, though he took note of the frames that were barely visible inside the hollowness. Perhaps a mimicking irises.

The limbs were lean yet welded with a thick and muscular robustness near the thighs and biceps, although the half a chunk of the arms seemed to be missing. Silco wondered for a moment how fitting rapid-fire weapons would look on this creation.

The hair, if he could call it that, was like an anchor reel, with the "braids" being four chain-like appendages with curved blades at the end of them.

He looked long and hard at it, his mind trying to make heads and tails of what and why.

Although when it came to the Doctor, there also came the indifference of leaving those questions unanswered and the mercy of not knowing. Though the reason behind the creation of such a thing wasn't worth the headache, Silco did find himself still standing there, observing the deactivated and motionless being.

There was something about it that was... off to Silco. Naturally he'd expect that by now when working with the Doctor, but there was a personal intrigue too. The thing was uncanny. It looked familiar and unfamiliar. Like it's supposed to be alive and moving, not inactive and still. A disturbing distortion of something real, with morbid beauty attached to it's contradictory state; like sleeping, and yet dead.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Silco broke his focus away from the slouching hunk of junk, glancing to the Doctor, who'd quietly crept beside him. Silco glanced from his secret observer's face to the research documents held in a folder tucked closed to his chest.

"You can take her, if you wish..." the Doctor permitted, licking his lips while ignoring how Silco raised a brow towards him, "I have a variant of Shimmer that acts as fuel for certain technologies. It still needs to be worked on, but it should work for her."

Silco turned back to the humanoid machination before him, thinking.

"I know how much you fancy your monsters," the Doctor commented, as he made his way towards the laboratory door, leaving Silco to reach a decision.

A monster, huh? Silco pondered over the comment, his eye tracing up and down the unnaturally smoothness and roughness of the machine, how frightening it could be for an enforcer to face such a machination. With a few minor modifications... it doesn't sound half bad.

And lastly a few picrews for A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore OC. That being the magnificent glory of Ress Bishop:

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP

[naffeclipse]

If we’re mixing aus like this then what about naga CS Eclipse? Cryptid hunter Y/N traipsing through the jungle looking to hunt down a monster that’s been terrorizing a local town, except whoops! They found this big cuddly bastard along the way

Oh geeze though, what if BL Eclipse and SJ Naga Eclipse with Cryptid hunter Y/N,,, the shenanigans,,, the violence,,,,,

YOOO

Augh, CS Eclipse as a naga is terrifying and gorgeous! He keeps his four arms so he can be the most creature. His long tail is inky black like water under a moonless sky, and he shines iridescently with crimson and midnight blue in the light. His horns and frills are so strange and majestic. His jaws can split open and swallow any animal whole. He's quite the terrifying sight.

A monster in the jungle.

CS!Eclipse is less demonic and more monstrous, so that means no vessel to hide behind. Y/N meets him first in the darkness of night, mistaking him for a helpful person hidden behind the trees who guides them to the next town because what kind of monster would hesitate to strike them dead where they stood?

"You look lost, friend."

"I think you're right. Can you point me to the next town?"

"...Follow. Watch your step."

"Oh, thank you, sweetie. That's very kind of you."

Eclipse leads Y/N to where they need to go. Y/N tries to ask how they can express their gratitude to him for making a scary and difficult journey through the jungle at night just to help them, but Eclipse has already faded into the darkness. He still watches Y/N in their confusion at his disappearance. He knows what a monster hunter looks like. He could have killed them, but they were kind to him, unafraid when he first spoke.

Perhaps a few more midnight meetings in the thickest, densest parts of the jungle where Y/N won't catch a glimpse of his black tail or his four wicked pairs of claws would be lovely.

Perhaps Y/N might hunt too far into the jungle one night and get lost, unable to make it to town before morning. Eclipse could help them find shelter and a place to rest, never revealing himself, much to Y/N's growing intrigue. Maybe, once Y/N has finally fallen asleep, he can slip close enough to brush their hair across their forehead and feel their warmth and wonder how badly they would react once they realized what they were speaking to. But morning arises, as it always does, and Y/N wakes up to foggy dreams of their cheek being stroked as they were carried through the night. But it was just a dream. They don't find their friend in the jungle but they do find their way back to town—interestingly, they were a lot closer than they originally thought.

Now Cryptid Hunter Y/N with BL!Eclipse and SJ!Eclipse? That's not the best combo for a fighter who already has it out for any monsters.

BL!Eclipse understands what Y/N is; he loathes them. He wants to kill them the second they step where they shouldn't. Unfortunately, they have a very large shadow following their every move, so BL!Eclipse chooses to either stay away (the hunter can pick that naga off first for all BL!Eclipse cares) or wait until the hunter is alone, and then strike. He can easily stay out of sight and reach, but he is not fond of humans who think they can be rid of him easily.

SJ!Eclipse on the other hand is so much worse. Go figure. It's one thing to not immediately give in to him. It's another thing entirely to try and stop him. Imagine his umbrage at this little human trying to kill him. Cryptid Hunter Y/N is a fighter and isn't about to slow down to chat with what they know to be a lethal beast. Unfortunately for Y/N, that means a deathly encounter. SJ!Eclipse sees red and a living stress ball that he wants to squeeze to death after being shot at, and poor Y/N is going to endure far worse harm before their spilled blood gives SJ!Eclipse pauses and, perhaps, just one little reason to not squish this little bug quite yet.

[rubberduckyrye]

You guys ever think about the tragedy that is Junko Enoshima? That she wasn't a sadistic girl seeking out to hurt others for sadistic glee?

Because everything Junko did was her trying to emotionally abuse herself? That she wanting to feel something so badly that she hurt the people she loved most, and even brought about ruin to the world, simply to destroy herself with it?

[w1lmuttart]

You know when you find something in your files that feels like an ancient relic?

Anyway I found the only remnant left of an animatic I made two years ago and never finished lol

[widowshill]

— But it's almost midnight. — Oh, that's the point! At the stroke of twelve, he turns into Dracula. C'mon, Vicki – he won't bite.

pose ref.