#Stillwater: The Escape

[katyahina]

Romina, Scarlet Rot and God of Rot interpretation? What is the Abyss and what 'stagnation' has to do with Scarlet Rot?

(This is a reply for an ask I've got on my other blog) Anon I am sorry I am THIS late, I swear it was just me deliberately avoiding progressing in the DLC because I didn't want it to end + bad timing :pensive: But thank you for leaving this ask because I did want to discuss her as soon as I've met her!

What Happened:

She WAS a victim on Messmer's tyranny, and shown in the second trailer ( x )! Moreover, she originally appears to be from Belurat; not only this trailer shows Messmer specifically burning it, but also this is the exact previous scene before Romina appears:

So I am getting an impression that originally, these buds appeared in Belurat, and somehow Romina knew to relocate them somewhere else:

+ Also, if anyone here can read Japanese please let me know because I've heard that a more accurate translation would be 'she found a divinity and clung to it' or something alike! Here is the Japanese text:

全てを焼かれた教会で ロミナは異形の神性を見出し 禍々しい、朱い腐敗に縋った

焼け跡に、また蕾が芽吹くように

Abyss and Stagnation in this:

My initial interpretation was that originally, this type of buds was growing IN Belurat, and then what she saved got relocated in Rauh Ruins, but "within the scorched remains" part makes it sound as though their fate was being decided right in the moment of the tragedy! So, somehow, what later became Scarlet Rot appeared within the ruin! After all, Formless Mother is another precedent of a god originating from the tragedy:

But why would a plant-insectoid life sprout within the fire? So, basically, I'll dive into headcanons territory for this post, but hear me out! We are not sure what the 'Abyss' is, however.. what IF, when Messmer gets a bit TOO into using his powers, the power of Abyssal Serpent is capable of opening sort of a 'gateway' into somewhere else, and some kind of horror might escape that 'Abyss'?

+ I need to add that Abyss of the serpent plaguing Messmer and Abyss of the woods tormented by Frenzy are different things though; whereas serpent's Abyss is 深淵 meaning literally an abyss, Woods' Abyss is 奈落 that means Naraka (Hindu Hell)! His serpent is AKTUALY named Base Serpent, but he refers the 'Abyss' in his Stage 2 transition: '光無き、深淵の蛇が'. ( x ) In fact, his dialogue in both English and Japanese original suggests the 'Abyss' is a PLACE, where Base Serpent comes from! The mysterious space without light!

Look I can't help using this meme just deal with it fdsgfdgs So, let's say that Messmer got so unhinged that the gravity of his powers still opened up the Abyss a little, even despite the seal Marika gave to him!

The next interesting thing is that there are no traces of Scarlet Rot in Belurat, despite Romina presumably releasing/creaing it right on that spot! There ARE poisoned swamp, the illness that turns people into fly-men, and even giant Spider Scorpions that are a variant specifically developed because of Romina:

+ they likewise deal regular poison, not Scarlet Rot! Some of them developed the wings as well:

So it is more likely that what Romina allowed to live (to the worse or to the better you decide) was not yet the Scarlet Rot itself, however it developed INTO it later, together with her. But what was freed that day and what left its traces in Belurat, as well as spreading across more of the Shadow Realm with at least two villages full of man-fly sickness, was 'stagnation'!

It is a concept commonly addressed across other Fromsoft's games, specifically the stagnation of water 穢れ (kegare)! Poison and Scarlet Rot are connected through themes of poison AND stagnation of water! It is what becomes a poisonous swamp, one of the most Rot places is literally named Stillwater Cave and all that. Scarlet Rot is a 'stronger' version of the venom that becomes of stagnation!

^ (looking through this ( x ) model view video) Additionally, Romina features not only part of the scorpion but also part of the centipede, and centipedes were used as a symbol of human dregs in Sekiro and Bloodborne!

I've also noticed that Blood of Formless Mother, Scarlet Rot and Deathblight are all connected by shared themes of plantlife and spontaneoutsly sprouting winged insects! With the cursed blood, flowers quite literally grow from it and flies spawn from impurities within festering blood swamps. Deathblight are literally roots with multiple flies spawning along them + often getting to fly free too. Scarlet Rot IS associated with flowers and butterflies, and whereas Malenia herself never got insectoid wings (since wings of Goddes of Rot ARE the butterflies, like stated by Romina's incantation), her knights did:

(Close look by Zullie the Witch ( x ) as I've never took a picture)

These three scourges feel like three ugly siblings to me fsdhhfds Needless to mention that Blood Oath, Scarlet Rot and general poison incantations are crammed into the same category, and Death ones aren't here only because they're sorceries!

More interestingly, in Rauh Ruins we find not only Scarlet Rot, but also the Bloodfiends (so, the Formless Mother guys) AND Deathblight:

^ I forgot to take the picture as a proof that the Dancing Lion in Rauh uses Deathblight, so here is screenshot from this ( x ) video of battling it! There are NO Deathroots anywhere near its arena, however it summons Basylisks in the second stage and deals Deathblight damage itself! Divine beasts, additionally, are Belurat thing too!

So, we have all three of these 'affiliations' in Rauh Ruins, giving a strong impression that it is full of Belurat survivors! Whereas the man-flies sickness is found here too, Romina, Bloodfiends and death-dealing Dancing Lion all feel like they've went separate Pokemon Eevelution from the same initial 'stagnation' concept that is the sourse of fly sickness fhhsdgfds I think that either 1) it is exactly what I just joked about, and stagnation is able to naturally develop into one of these stronger "branches" over time or 2) it develops into something specific under influence of an outer god; Deathblight doesn't need 'Prince of Death' since Outer God of Death IS a thing!

Survivors of Belurat here found their affiliations, initially getting afflicted by the "clean" form of it, fly sickness Romina allowed to escape and live!

^ So yeah @ second anon, I do also think that Romina in Rauh guards what is left of her civilisation! Such as one of like, two Dancing Lions and other Hornsent that unfortunately got manfly sickness too! Except, she is not antagonistic to the Scarlet Rot or sees it as her tragedy, but on the contrary: she sympathised with it!

I know it sounds more like a fairytale than an solid theory, but my impression is that a lot of 'waste' goes into the Abyss space and supposedly should have been burnt by the Base Serpent forever! Not as something inherently evil, but just a natural part of the course of life! Eiglay is the God-Devouring serpent, too! Both of them serve as the forces that ensure everything and everybody meets their end eventually, they might even be related! Again, Dark Souls for one had ten Primordial Serpents! We know three here (Base Serpent, Winged Serpent and God-Devouring Serpent) but it could be still a throwback like Fromsoft loves doing!

I think maybe someone, at some point, believed that living forever was a better idea and might have "killed" Base Serpent and Eiglay both! As we know from Rykard's last words though, 'serpent never dies' and he probably was right!

^ Whereas Eiglay had to grow back from a tiny snake again, Base Serpent settled in Messmer's body being so tiny that it could curl behind his eye! Both needed to recover their former power, so whatever eventually slipped in the Abyss was free to persist, rot further and escape back into the living world given the chance!

+ bonus:

Trina ends up having a lot of petals and flowers as part of her body, not unlike Romina, whereas Miquella had insectoid wings at the moment of being kidnapped! The same trademarks of the 'stagnation' again!

I questioned whether it was just Crucible at first, since it also features flowers and wings! In the DLC we've learned that the Fell God himself was connected with the Crucible (Furnace Visage) and Radagon has his red hair due to the curse of his Fire Giants (Giant's Red Braid) 🤔 But.. crucibles are MANY things. It is also horns, spikes, feathered wings, scales, you name that! A LOT of aspects of organic life and not just these two! So I think the Crucible Curse is safe to stay within Morgott and Mohg, and this more likely refers to Miquella himself getting infected at some point! Whether it was having sucked Scarlet Rot out of Freya's wound, or napping in the Haligtree that was getting slowly scarlet-rotten, or both! Sure there are no traces of it left when he becomes a God, but Trina was discarded before that of course! Alternatively, he was a victim of stagnation himself due to not being able to age physically. He, himself, was a lot like Scarlet Buds that are "never to bloom". Endless child state of a body and buds that can't bloom are like eggs that can't hatch but will go terribly bad over time.. what is MORE stagnant?

Who is the God of Rot and why the pink color?

Another side of Romina is a tail of a scorpion, and the giant variant of Spider Scorpions is said to be the result of her actions! At the same time, God of Rot itself was scorpion-like!

I think this makes it... oddly coincidential, that God of Rot is a scorpion at least partially, whereas scorpions are native for the Shadow Realm AND were important animals for Belurat! Like I said before, Belurat strangely has no signs of Scarlet Rot for a place where Romina presumably created/unleashed it!

So, maybe rather than God of Rot already existing as is, it received a particular form in the 'outside' world! I'd say the same for Formless Mother, but her form is ABSENSE of form kind of fdhshdfs Maybe 'receiving the character' is a better way to describe it! Formless Blood, Scarlet Rot and most likely Deathblight didn't exist "outside" but developed from the shared source, and their gods (at least two of them) were born thanks to people! God of Rot might have manifested from a giant scorpion Romina took special care of, or a scorpion who got the 'divine' energy for another reason since giant variants are still not JUST in Rauh! Again, like how Formless Mother manifested in the shadow of a corpse of someone else! The Scarlet Rot became a thing thanks to Romina, developing within her over time!

Again, this is just my idea that Outer Gods are "born" in "our" world rather than simply exist as is, especially since 'outer' is just a type of gods meant to be discerned from Marika's family and who are like Lovecraftian mythos! I just think so because the scorpions connection is a bit too coincidential! It is not necessary!

Eiglay is a God-Devouring Serpent, not Demigod-Devouring Serpent, however, so I think in either case her purpose had more to do with not letting guys like this to ruin the world! Things just must die eventually, not endlessly exist via endless rot/rebirth cycle not allowing for any truly new life to sprout. It makes it double awesome that Base Serpent, and maybe even Eiglay herself, are connected with the fire element as fire itself is ALSO not just an evil force of destruction! It is meant to help the nature to "clean" so it doesn't rot; this power simply must be kept in check to not burn SO much that there is nothing left to be born from the ash and ruin *looks at Frenzied Flame*

Lesbian flag colors joke aside, it seems that color pink is a mark of lacking the master and/or the capacity to bloom! I do think that blooming is a thing only a Demigod is able to do! +remember that Millicent is a unique sprout of Malenia, carrying more of her signs as a Demigod than other girls!

Orange/red is the color of 'true' Scarlet Rot, and you could see even God of Rot itself was orange from Scorpion's Stinger look! It craves the buds that will bloom to grow stronger and increase, similarly to how Formless Mother craves wounds!

+ I also think that Bloodflame is the mark of more "perfect" form of the same concept similarly, as it becomes self-cleaning this way! It similarly could only be accomplished by getting a Demigod (Mohg) involved, whereas regular Bloodfiends are using just the blood itself! Then, Deathblight was not receiving the big roots as we could witness by Dancing Lion in Rauh, without getting a Demigod (Godwyn) involved! The cringe triplets........

________________________

So in the conclusion, Romina reached out for the 'twisted divinity' she witnessed somewhere in the middle of the ruin of everything she knew before, similarly to how Bloodfiends chose to revere the 'twisted deity' found in a corpse of their ancestor as they've lost everything! These two affinities have connotation with strong misery, and it is additionally confirmed by how Millicent can only bloom if she experiences the pain of betrayal! Some sinister power only appears within a lot of pain and death, but on itself it is just "flowers and wings", and a concrete God is born in the place it appears at, depending on the circumstances. It needs the miserable person as much as the miserable person needs it; a call is nothing without the receiver. Together, they define more specific purpose and affinity for it to continue existing and poisoning everything!

...not 100% sure that Deathblight is just as similar, because how do you birth death? Maybe it similarly came to be through the first person to die (Nito, you?????)

P.S.: I'll be damned if the water Dancer Fairy didn't originate from Rauh and simply freaked out upon seeing Romina telling the God of Rot "may you find your worth in the waking world" fsdhfhds

[callmelola111]

color me purple ♡ part one

 ✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2 , part 3   - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics. 

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k

      | ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff + some angst (for now), marijuana use, pet names (doll, princess, hun), light sexual themes, swearing, mentions of blood (reader gets bloody nose), mentions of age (reader and ellie are both said to be 20 but feel free to change it in ur head lol)

a/n: feeling so summer lately i just had to write this. living vicariously through reader cause like why tf am i not having a summer camp gay awakening. this series is just 3 parts but it is sweet as pie so pls enjoy!!! i love you all dearly ♡~ lola

The blinding sun beamed down on your bare skin. Normally the sweltering heat would bother you more, but the excitement of your first day back at camp was more than enough to distract you from the outlandish temperatures. You barreled down the grassy hill, duffle bag in hand, revealing the large wooden arch that spelled out the words CAMP STILLWATER.

The grounds were bustling with counselors and caretakers preparing for the arrival of campers later that evening. Everyone was dressed in color coded garments that signaled what cabin group they belonged to. You were dressed in red, head of cabin 12. Your sheer, white ringer tee read “Staff” and was hemmed with strips of crimson. To match, a pair of red booty shorts with white stretching down the sides. They were just long enough to cover your plush cheeks until naturally riding up as you walked to reveal the crease where ass meets thigh. To top it off, knee high socks striped with the same exact red. You were fucking adorable.

Nature crunched under your sneakers as you practically skipped down the trail headlining it to your cabin. As you reached the steps a very familiar voice called out your name.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Cabin neighbors, once again. Did ya miss me doll?”

“Ellie fucking Williams, don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been praying all week that I wouldn’t get stuck with your dumbass again. But, here we are.” You rolled your eyes in a dramatic fashion putting an emphasis on your obvious sarcasm. This would be your 3rd summer bunking next door to your biggest rival Ellie Williams.

Although you and Ellie weren’t truly enemies, she did get on your nerves, and you got on hers. This fed into a mutual sarcastic bit that you guys have continued to carry out for years. You’d think by 20 years old the two of you would’ve grown out of these childish antics, but it was secretly one of your favorite parts of the summer. 

Ellie gave a half-assed chuckle, “you can never escape me.”

“Oh yes I can!” You whipped your head around, excusing yourself from the conversation and climbed up the weathered steps of your cabin. Ellie gawked as she watched you depart, your thighs giggling with each step. Her piercing green eyes always found their way to your body, but only when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

You entered the barren room and didn't even take the time to unpack before you started adorning the walls with themed decor and tying red ribbons in your hair. Cabin 12 always thrived with spirit when you were there. You took your role as camp counselor seriously and took the competitiveness even more seriously.

Camp Stillwater ran on a point system, and at the end of the summer the cabin with the most wins a trophy. The girls from your cabin were always finishing first in the tournament games, but when they didn’t, it was Ellie’s stupid blue campers who were swooping in to steal the victory. It drove you crazy. Last summer you came second to her and you were determined to never let it happen again. You began speaking to the empty room as if trying to somehow manifest these dreams into reality.

“This year cabin 12 will finish the summer with the most points.”

“Talking to yourself again?” You jumped at the sound of Ellie, not noticing that she had been lurking in the doorway. She was only there for a moment, but didn’t feel like announcing herself, too busy enjoying you running around like an excited puppy, spouting off about victory. Ellie had always admired your high spirits and go-getter attitude. A ray of light emitted from you constantly and she loved to bask in its glory. But, of course, she’d never let it be known.

“God Ellie you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry princess but the warden wants everyone at the mess hall like now. Come on slacker!” You noticed the change of clothes on Ellie, she was now adorned in a T-shirt just like yours but with blue details rather than red. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy half-up, half-down, she always wore it like that when it started getting hot.

“Shut up, I'm not a slacker!! I’m just busy going above and beyond for my campers.” you argued, a pout forming on your lips. Ellie always knew how to press your buttons.

“You really wanna win this year huh?” She moved into your space, tilting her head with a cocky smirk. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“And you really think I’m gonna let that happen?” she teased.

“You’re so annoying Ellie. You can do whatever you want, but I will be winning” You jutted your head forward dramatically in an attempt at intimidation. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Right… let’s just get going before we’re late and they don’t let you counsel at all” Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled, urging you to follow. Feeling her warm, calloused hand in yours, you almost didn’t want to let go. But, you did.

The mess hall was lined with strings of wooden picnic tables, all connecting to create a sense of community when it was filled with campers. Flags cascaded the walls, each a different color with a number, representing the teams. A large case expanded across the back wall, filled with trophies from years before. The corners of your mouth upturned with anticipation of the summer to come. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by an amplified voice booming from a megaphone. Holding said megaphone was the warden, Mrs. Campbell.

“Alright ladies! Tonight is the night! You all know what to do so go ahead and file out to find your campers!!” You and Ellie exited out the back of the building, heading to the camp entrance. A swarm of girls’ chatting and screams grew louder as staff united with them. One of your favorite parts about Camp Stillwater was the lack of boys. You felt safe, and you loved the idea of getting to empower all these young impressionable women.

You held up a sign signaling your cabin number and a single file line began forming in front of you. You handed each of your girls red ribbons (matching the ones in your own hair) as a personal touch, trying to foster a bond right from the start. Meanwhile, Ellie stood around for her campers dapping them up, giving off the perfect “chill counselor” vibe. You found the lack of discipline a little obnoxious but to each their own. 

That night Stillwater kicked off camp with a bonfire complete with goodies for smores. You sat, knees together on the rough log, feeling as it left imprints of the bark on your bare thighs. Ellie sat just one log over goofing off with some other staff members, shooting an occasional glance at you.

The plastic bag of graham crackers crinkled as you ripped it open to begin assembling your late night snack. The hot air had turned cool with the lack of sun, but the preceding heat lingered in the melted chocolate you attempted to pass out. You stared as the sticky mallow and sweet liquid coco coated your fingers, inviting golden crumbs to join in. Ellie observed you deciding how to handle the mess, and with just a few seconds of thought, watched you stick your sugary soaked fingers straight in your mouth. A surge of guilt hit Ellie, noticing how much your licking troubled her. She clenched her thighs together and decided sweets just weren't for her.

With your hunger satisfied, the bonfire burned bright and you droned off getting lost in the flicker of the flames. Just then, you see a familiar Ellie in your peripherals wandering to the woods. Curious, you peeled your sticky legs from where you sat and got up to follow. You trailed behind her struggling to conceal your presence due to the snapping twigs under your feet. Ellie snaked her body back to acknowledge you and your obviousness. She loved to tease.

“Stalker much?” 

“God, you wish I was stalking you, Williams.” 

“So why are you following me then? Trying to catch me breakin’ the rules?” she questioned, half joking, half not. Continuing your follow, the two of you reached a more secluded part of the forest and Ellie halted.

“If you don’t want me to catch you, then maybe you should stop breaking rules. Ever think of that?” you taunted.

“Whatever Nancy Drew.” And with that, Ellie reached into her pocket pulling out a freshly rolled joint.

“You gonna bust me?” she teased before you quickly slapped the drugs out of her hands and into the moist dirt below.

“ELLIE!!!” you scolded her like she was a camper.

“Hey what the hell dude?!” she reached down to retrieve the now dirty joint and began to light it. A panicked look washed over your face and your eyes darted around, surveying for any possible company. God forbid you let this girl get you in trouble.

“I should be saying what the hell to you! Smoking on the job? So much for setting a good example… God, Ellie!” You palmed your face not sure how to proceed. In spite of your make believe beef, Ellie was your friend and you didn’t want to tattle. On the other hand though, the goodie two shoes and competitive freak inside wanted so badly to expose Ellie's naughty behavior. With her out of the picture, you could finish this summer out with a win. But, if you were being honest with yourself, camp wouldn’t be the same without her.

“Sorry, sorry. I know” Ellie shook her head at the ground pretending to be ashamed but she couldn’t have cared less. She knew you’d never tell, so on she went with her scheming.

“You wanna hit though?” 

“Ellie!!” This time you gave a blow to her exposed bicep, really trying to lay the guilt on thick.

“Come onnnn. This is your 3rd year here, you’ve gotta loosen up at some point. Just one hit? Please, for me?” Ellie flashed you the most annoying puppy dog eyes and a devilish smirk already anticipating your answer. Growing up you found it easy to resist peer pressure, you’ve always thought of yourself as a rule follower, but when it came to Ellie she always knew what to say to push you to the edge. She was such an instigator and you fell for her act every damn time.

“Fine… one hit.” She practically shoved the weed in your hands in excitement as you reluctantly gave in. Ellie always had so much fun chipping away at that good girl exterior you worked so hard to uphold. You then took a slow drag and passed it back to her. You fixated on her wet lips as they placed themselves around the joint. She took a quick inhale before an amused look spread across her face.

“Cherry?” Already feeling the high, you gave Ellie a puzzled look, not understanding what she meant. 

“Your lipgloss hun” She gestured to the pink stain rimming the tip of the joint.

Your face flushed red, “shit sorry.” You dug your foot into the ground and gave your lips a lick, recalling the fruity flavor.

“S’all good, I liked the taste” She replied, making your face turn a shade redder, almost matching the shorts that hugged your curves. Ellie would remember this moment, the taste of your lipgloss felt like a brush with destiny. Already assimilating the flavor to memory, she imagined her lips on yours and that cherry taste lingering in an exchange of saliva. God Ellie!! Stop being a perv and shut the fuck up!!

As one of the few masculine girls at camp, she was practically drowning in women, but her fixation with you prevented anything past a casual hook up. And casual hook up she did- with at least a fourth of the staff. Understandably, things got desperate being stuck at camp for 2 months straight. It’s not like you had the privacy to rub one out while sleeping in a room full of occupied bunk beds. But, with Ellie being a known player, you personally hadn’t thought twice about getting involved, despite the occasional butterflies. Bullying each other was more fun anyways.

Finally, Ellie finally finished off the joint, letting you take a couple more hits in between hers. She stomped the roach out into the moist ground making sure to put out any remaining embers. Her long stride pointed in the direction of the light filled cabins before you stopped her. With weed now rampant in your system, you weren’t ready for the night to end. 

“Waitttt, stopppp, we can’t go nowww!” You grabbed Ellie’s wrist leading her back into the darkness, straight towards the lake.

“What? You wanna hangout with me all of the sudden?”

“I- I wanna swim…” you mumbled, almost afraid to hear it come out of your mouth. One of the most important rules at Camp Stillwater was no swimming after dark. Ellie almost gasped hearing you propose such a mischievous idea. 

“Rulebreaker! Rulebreaker!” she chanted, almost falling over with laughter. Inside though, Ellie was kicking her feet at the thought of having a late night swim with her favorite girl. 

“Come on Els, you’re the one who told me to live a little. Pleaseeee!!” You bat your long lashes like a cartoon character but there was no need to beg as Ellie was already on board. She loved corrupting you.

“I’ll race you!!” She shouted before dashing through the trees, kicking up dirt with each long stride. Of course she turned it into a competition, and you bolted right after her trying to catch up.

Neither of you even stopped to breathe as you reached the edge of the lake. Instead shirts, shorts, and shoes all flying off your bodies landing amongst the greenery, desperate to get your sweaty bodies into the cool, evening waters. As you dived in, a sense of euphoria washed over your body along with the deep blue ripples of H2O. Ellie’s head rose out of the water 2nd. She slicked her wet hair back and gave you a toothy smile that was to die for. You giggled at the sight, everything seeming a bit more silly while under the influence. 

“Having fun princess?” she questioned, cheeks full.

“Yeah I am,” you smiled back, “I don’t think the fact that I’m breaking like 5 different rules has hit me yet.”

“Enough with the rules, let's have fun!” Ellie dove back into the water circling around your smooth legs. She took ur skin between her pointer and thumb, giving you little pinches like some sort of sea creature. You kicked and squirmed in reaction causing Ellie to shoot back up from her underwater adventure.

“Fuck off!” you shoved her bare shoulder with a teasing force. She put her hands up surrendering to your irritation. Her veiny arms glistened with lake water and your eyes wandered before getting stuck on the large tattoo adorning her forearm.

“Hey, that wasn’t there last summer.” you gestured to her.

“Yeah, uh, I got it a few months ago”

“It looks good,” you paused, “can I touch?” Ellie offered out her inked limb to you. It rested in your left hand and you used your right to trace the linework. Water droplets collected with each gentle brush of your fingertips. Goosebumps followed your delicate touch and Ellie's face turned red with enjoyment. 

“S’pretty” you said, noticing a blush growing across your own face. You glanced off into the distance at the silence. The thick forest trees and bright stars urged you to take in a deep, pollution free inhale. Ellie broke the moment of zen to speak.

“Turn around.” she demanded. You obliged immediately despite her unknown intentions. You felt her hot breath on your neck and sudden skin-to-skin contact. She hooked her long fingers around your wet locks of hair, moving them across your back to one side. A chill radiated down your spine

“What are you doing Ellie?” you whispered. The closeness you shared and the now still lake, cloaked with haze, sent a hush over the both of you. 

“Guess what I’m drawing” she whispered back. You scrunched up your shoulders in response to her vibrations hitting at your pulse. The feeling of her rough fingers met your back and began tracing symbols. You attempted to focus on her movements but it proved hard to decipher the message when she felt so close. Despite knowing Ellie for a long time, the two of you had never had this much prolonged touch. It ignited a feeling that you weren’t sure how to get control of. The silence hinted at your cluelessness.

“Here I’ll do it again,” she said, drawing out "I ♡ U” once more across your back.

“Fuck, I dont know. A dick?” You turned back to face Ellie questioning her with a giggle. Her face was littered with disappointment before quickly concealing it from you with a big splash of water. The tender moment was lost. She went along with your answer, lying through her teeth. 

“Fine, you got me freak! It was a dick.” You splashed Ellie back harder, amused by her childish humor. The water slinging continued until you both became absolutely winded and ready to climb in bed. Oh fuck, bed...

“ELLIE, OH MY GOD, CURFEW!” you practically squealed before switching to breaststroke and heading towards land. Ellie snapped out of this little dream and followed after you.

You frantically threw on your clothes over your now soaked bra and panties. Wet spots began seeping through your shorts as you fiddled with your sneakers. Your wet feet swirled in the dirt below, caking them with the mud of your making. You vetoed the shoes and bolted towards the cabins completely barefoot. You were so focused on getting back that you hardly even noticed the branches and rocks assaulting your skin.

“FUCK WAIT UP!!” Ellie yelled, just feet behind you. As you looked back to acknowledge her request your ankle caught on a huge log that littered the forest's path. Your balance was thrown and your face went plummeting straight into the ground, hitting a dull rock on its way down. Ellie’s pace doubled as she jumped to your rescue. She fell to her knees by your side giving you support as you lifted yourself up. Looking down, your hands were dirty, stuck wood chips pressed into the skin. You dusted them off against each other, seemingly fine.

“Bro, oh my god, are you okay??” Ellie pestered, worried out of her mind. 

“I think, yeah. It was honestly more embarrassing than painful.” you gave a light chuckle before looking up from the ground when suddenly a gush of liquid escaped your nose. Your finger dipped into the steady flow and you took note of the deep red now covering them.

“Just great.” you rolled your eyes. Ellie had the most concerned look on her face despite your injury being a simple bloody nose.

“We’ve gotta get you to the nurse like now!”

“Ellie chill, I’d rather not have an encounter with authority while I'm high as fuck and out past curfew.” You never thought you'd be saying that sentence.

“Fine, at least take this.” Ellie handed you a crumpled up tissue she had retrieved from her athletic shorts and you shoved it up your nose halting the flow.

Returning to the main area of the campgrounds felt like a walk of shame. You were drenched, muddy, and decorated in your own blood, and Ellie looked just as bad. Eventually the two of you reached your neighboring cabins and there waiting in between the steps of 11 and 12 was Warden Campbell. Fuck.

 ✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2 , part 3   - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

[making-the-crypt-rock]

Lena, the Werewolf

Monster x human reader (pt 1)

Mostly safe for work(nudity, depictions of a strap on), but trigger warning for domestic abuse.

Escaping a bad situation leads you to the small town of Denizen, where the people are hiding more secrets than just a beautiful state park. It's here that you meet Lena, the best bartender you've ever met.

(I'd also like to shout out @momolady , as this piece was inspired by characters in her Hearthway Hollow section)

"Finally away. Finally, I've gotten away." That's all I can think, as I speed down the road. As I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes, I try to control my breathing. Fortunately, I haven't passed any hidden police cars. The way I was driving, I would have been pulled over, for sure. Then again, maybe cops who didn't know my ex would take me seriously.

With clearer eyes, I catch sight of a speed limit sign. I slow down to match the thirty mile per hour limit. I figure that I must be getting close to a town. I'm not even sure where I am, right now. I just ran out of my apartment, got in my truck, and sped off. I didn't even have time to grab clothes, this time. He was so mad... I couldn't stay there. I can only imagine the state that my apartment's in, now. Caleb probably tossed the place and broke all my stuff. It's probably for the best that the majority of my most prized possessions are at my parents' house. But I definitely won't have my computer or a lot of the pictures I had hanging on my walls, when I go back. I shiver at the thought of him still punching holes in my kitchen.

I'm shaken from my thoughts, when I pass a sign. It says, "Welcome to Denizen. Home of Nethermoore State Park." The green of the basic road sign stands out against the fall colors painting the woods around me, making it hard to miss. I don't think I've ever heard of this town, let alone the park. Coming around the corner and over a small bridge, I'm met with a quaint town. Right away, I can identify a coffee shop, hardware store, gas station, grocery store, and a bar, most importantly. The lights on the street have hanging baskets decorated in autumn fashion, with fake, orange leaves and little pumpkins. There's not a stop light, even on the main road. This place is so much smaller than Stillwater.

I pull my truck into a space next to The Raven bar and grill. It stands out pretty well and has a very charming look to it, as it seems it's designed to look like a log cabin. When I park, I notice an older man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He looks at my truck, before looking in at me. Then, he just looks away, taking a drag. Now parked, I take the chance to look at my phone. Fifteen missed calls, fifteen voicemails, and fifty-seven unread messages, all from Caleb. However, there are also a couple texts from my mom, wondering where I am and if I'm alright. Caleb must have called her to see if I was hiding with her and Dad, again. Hiding there didn't go well, the last time, though. He almost fought my dad to get to me. I'm pretty sure he'd do far worse, this time.

I send her back, "I'm alright, Mom. He's upset, because I finally told him that we're over and that I'm going to be moving out of my apartment and away from him, as soon as I can. It's finally going to be over. I'm going to be staying the night, out of town, but I'll stop by after I go collect my things, tomorrow." I watch the text bubble for "someone is typing" dance for a moment, before her reply pops up. She tells me that she loves me and that she's proud of me for finally leaving him. She tells me to stay safe and that she'll see me, tomorrow.

I store my phone back in my pocket and hop out of the truck. I hadn't gotten the chance to eat the dinner I'd made, and now I'm getting hungry. The smoker looks me up and down and nods at me, but gets a bit of a concerned look on his face.

"You alright, Miss?" he asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just getting through a bit of a rough patch. I'll be fine," I reply.

"Well, this would be the place to help with rough patches," he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at The Raven. "But this is also pretty good and you look like you could use it." He fishes a tissue out of the pocket of his jean jacket and hands it to me. I take it and wipe the last of the moisture from my eyes and wipe my nose up, thanking him.

"No problem, miss. I'm Elijah, by the way. I own the grocery, next door, if you need anything, while you're here." Elijah smiles, kindly. He reminds me of my dad, in a way; sturdy build with dark hair and kind eyes. He's the kind of friendly that makes you feel calm.

"Also, miss, and not to pry on your business, but what brings you to town? Camping out the rough patch in the park or you just come for the pour?" he jokes, taking another drag from his cig.

"Oh, I'm YN. YN Green, and I'm just passing though. Needed to get away, for the night, and kinda ended up here by accident," I reply.

He chuckles to himself and replies, "Well, Ms. Green, if you believe the old folktales, no one ends up in Denizen by accident. Always something to find. Anyways, I'll let you get to finding what you need." I nod and thank him for the help. He nods back with a smile.

When I walk into the bar, a few people glance over at me. The place is warmly lit with hunting and sports decor all over the walls, ranging from old Wild jerseys and a gigantic, framed picture of the old Metrodome to mounted deer and fish. There are a couple TVs, too. All are silent, except for the one displaying a channel for the music playing over the speakers. Many of the tables are full, but I find a small one tucked in the back. The black chair I sit in has a little duct taped patch on it. The sound of bar chatter and 90s country is almost foreign.

Then, an older woman in a black t-shirt with the bar's logo walks over with a laminated menu. "Welcome to The Raven. Can I get you started with anything to drink?"

"Just a water, please," I say with a smile. She studies my face for a moment as she hands me the menu.

"Alright, I'll bring that right over," she says in a cheery tone. I look down at the menu. Burgers and sandwiches line both sides of the menu, with sections for appetizers and daily specials. Today, it's fish fry, like many Midwestern places do on Fridays.

Looking up from the menu, I take another look around. This place is different from my usual hang outs, but not in an uncomfortable way. Certainly, just... different. My eyes stop at the bar, where I notice one of the bartenders is looking at me. She glances down as she hands a customer a beer, but her eyes come back to me. Her short, brown hair is pulled back into a paintbrush of a ponytail, showing off her undercut. Her face is soft, but with a strong jawline. She looks athletic and like she enjoys her time at the gym. I'd bet she could open any jar of pickles she set her mind to.

The waitress comes back over and sets my water down. "Know what you're having, tonight?" I look from her to the menu and order the fish - three pieces with waffle fries, and I ask her to hold the side of coleslaw. She scribbles it all down and nods, taking my menu. "Thank you much. That'll be out in a bit." I nod and try looking back at the bar, but the woman is gone, pry helping someone at a different corner of the bar or checking in with the kitchen. Elijah walks in and takes a seat at the bar, giving me a wave when he sees me.

I pull my buzzing phone back out. Caleb's latest text says, "Where the fuck are you? You need to come back here and take back what you said. We're not over and you better be prepared to apologize, you fucking bitch." My eyes start to water, so I just swipe the notifications away. I open my phone and message my landlord about the situation. A friend of my dad, Mark has been working with me to document everything that's happened and get me out. He wishes he could just move me to his other property, but it's all occupied. With Caleb and I both on the lease, though, he's making sure that all charges for damages and fees for breaking the lease are going to him. He thanks me for the info and says he's going to go over and give him his thirty day notice. I thank him and set my phone down, again.

The waitress comes back over, but not with food. She hands me a glass with what looks like a kiddie cocktail in it.

"I didn't order a drink," I tell her. She lets out a little chuckle.

"No, but someone sent it over. Lena makes a mean Malibu Shirley." I glance over at the bar where the bartender, Lena, is looking at me, again, while she stands by Elijah, who's giving me a toothy grin and doing a goofy, finger twiddle wave. I smile at him, mouth a 'thank you', and thank the waitress. She smiles and walks off, again, towards a table of older folks having a rather jovial night. I take a sip of my drink. Sweet and fruity, not too strong. It would be great blended, on a hot summer day.

As the night winds on, I eat my dinner and stare at my phone, trying to find a local hotel. There's a motel at the edge of the state park, but it says that it doesn't have vacancy. The next closest one is forty-five minutes back the way I came. Far too close. I sigh, wishing I hadn't taken my camping gear out of my truck bed. I send messages to Mark and my parents, getting and giving updates about what's all been happening. Apparently, Mark took the police chief with him, to deliver the papers, and Caleb was detained, after they discovered all the damage. I still don't feel safe enough to go home.

Elijah came and went, telling me to have a good night. I order a few more Shirleys, as the night goes on. The waitress, LouAnne, gives me a polite smile, every time she stops at the table. I think I only heard her raise her voice, once, and it was to tell this old drunk he had to go home. Lena kept looking over at me, but I haven't seen her for a bit. I get lost in my search for a place to stay the night and the warm comfort of coconut rum.

Suddenly, the chair on the opposite side of the table slides out and the bartender takes a seat. "I'd ask if this seat was taken, but I don't think I've seen anyone use it, since you came in. Plus, it's getting close to closing time and I doubt anyones gonna come in just to snatch it," she jokes. "I'm Lena." She's even prettier, up close. I notice the little freckles on her cheeks and the crescent moons on her ear piercings.

"Yeah, the waitress told me your name. You're the bartender that likes to stare," I joke back. Her cheeks turn pink, but she laughs along, shoulders shanking. Her eyes are soft. They're green, like walking through a spring forest. "I'm YN." We shake hands and I can feel just how strong they really are.

"Yeah, ol' Eli told me about you. Said you blew in out of nowhere. He also said you might need a place for the night, and considering you've had a few more of my Shirleys than just the one I sent over, I'm gonna guess a ride somewhere, too." I feel my mouth fall open, ever so slightly. She sent it? Probably just trying to be nice, I suppose.

"You sent it? I thought Elijah did, cuz he saw me when I got here, so I thought he was just trying to help me feel better," I tell her. Her face gets a bit more serious.

"Yeah, I did. Elijah mentioned that you looked a little worse for wear, when you pulled up. Everything ok?" she asks, leaning in and resting her forearms on the table. I feel tears fighting to come out, but I hold myself together. Between the stress and liquor, it's a real battle. The crack in my voice, however is a different story.

Telling her, "I'm fine, just some stuff with my b... My ex." I have to correct myself. He's not my boyfriend, anymore. There's a slight shift in Lena's expression, but it passes quickly. "He's just being a jerk cuz I told him to get lost. But then I got lost and ended up here. Funny how that works." I know I'm rambling, but the words are hard to stop. Her face softens as her eyes scan me. She looks so amused.

"You're a little drunk, aren't you?" Not a question.

"Yes, ma'am. And youuuu started it." I point a finger gun at her and giggle. "You make a good drink." Lena smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

"I'm flattered," she says, mockingly, placing her finger tips against her chest. Then her tone turns to the edge of flirtatiousness. "It's not every day I get such praise from such a pretty girl." I'm praying that the flush from the alcohol hides my blush.

"I, um... Thanks," I squeak out, causing her to throw her head back with laughter.

"God, that was adorable," she wheezes, trying to compose herself. Pretty, now adorable? I'm not even sure what to truly say, in response. "Ok, ok. Real talk. Eli said you were pry in need of a place to stay the night. Not to be presuming anything, but I've got a spot at my place. I have my basement listed as an Air BnB, and it's open, at the moment. Since it's just the night and short notice, you can just crash down there, if you need. If you found a spot, that's cool, too, but I just want to make sure you get where you're headed, safely." She sounds genuine about the offer. I didn't find a place and I didn't even think to check that site, with it being such late notice.

"Uh... Yeah, that would work for me, if it's not too much trouble. I promise I'll pay you back." Lena puts up a hand and shakes her head

"No need. I'm offering. Now, I get done in thirty, so just hang here, while I finish cleaning up and clocking out," she says. And that's what I do. I sit with my, now, almost dead phone and watch her work. She wipes down the bar and washes her mats, before mopping and taking out the trash. She lifts the large bag like it's nothing and I have to push a thought out of my mind, when I realize that I rocked my hips on the chair. She looks back at me, for a moment, before leaving the room, a strange look in her eyes.

When she and the cook lock up, I head to my truck for my charger and travel toothbrush. I expect her to head for a car, but she just starts walking. I try asking her about it, but she says she lives only a bit down the road and that she just walks.

"Do you want to just drive my truck?" I ask. I'd feel better not leaving it here, if I don't have to." She agrees and we hop in. Lena adjusts the seat back and tilts the mirrors. She rolls the windows down, too, letting the chilly, fresh smelling air in. Then, in no time at all, we pull into the long driveway of a gorgeous two story house. She parks my truck and we hop out.

"Hey there, Toasty," Lena babbles after pushing the door open. She looks back at me with an uncomfortable face. "You don't mind dogs, right?" Then, before I register it, we're both surprised by a very happy Staffordshire terrier bouncing out of the door and jumping up to sniff and lick at my face and hands, letting out a few barks. I laugh at the excitable dog and scratch his ears.

"I love dogs!" I laugh, as the dog sits for pets. "Is this good boy yours?"

"Yeah, he's my buddy." Lena leans down and pats his side. Then, he runs into the yard to do his business, before coming back to us. "Alright, in." He follows her command, trotting back through the door and we both follow.

Lena's home is beautiful. She has many different potted plants in her windows, a spacious living room, and a kitchen that would make my mom jealous. She gives me a small tour, only pointing upstairs to tell me she sleeps up there, before taking me to the basement. It's finished and she's set up a second entertainment area with a TV and an Xbox 360. I even spot some old guitar controllers, in the corner. There's a full bathroom and a bedroom, in the far corner with a nice bed already made up.

"I know you said it's alright, but I'm definitely paying you back for this. This is really too kind." Lena just shakes her head.

"Not happening," she replies, crossing her arms.

"You can't stop me from trying," I say, crossing my own arms and smirking. Her brow creases as she lets out a light snort. Lena takes a couple steps towards me and I feel the wall on my back. I stare into her eyes and am surprised that I don't feel the same way Caleb made me feel, when he would corner me. This time, I can feel my heart racing in places besides my chest. I see Lena's eyes dilate, as if she can tell that that's what she was doing to me, too.

She places her right hand above me and says in a low tone, "I can't stop you, YN, but I can certainly do my best to make you too flustered to keep trying." I can smell her sweet and musky perfume. Her eyes have the same amused look that they had, at the bar. She's playing with me, like I'm a toy. I've never flirted with another girl, like this. Sure, I kissed a few friends, in college, but I never really took the chance to pursue anything further. It was all just in good fun, but this? This is different. And so much more exciting.

"And just how would you do that?" I look at her chest as I trail a finger along her collar, before looking back up at her. I see her breath hitch as she takes in my response. Then, she gets more serious, an almost worried look in her eyes.

"You really want to do this? I need you to know that I didn't bring you here for anything funny and that, if you're just playing, I understand. I'm not the kind of person to just bring anyone home, especially not drunk girls. I'm... not the type for one night stands," she says, searching my eyes. Wouldn't this just be one night, though? I mean, I don't think I want it to be, but isn't that how it has to go? I just left Caleb. I can't just start in with a new partner, the same night. Then again, I haven't so much as kissed him, in over three months, and with everything he's done, I think I'm ready for someone who wants me.

I look Lena in the eyes, then down to her lips. They're thin and I can tell that she bites them, but they draw my attention in a supernatural way. I want to see more of her. I want her. Looking back up and meeting her eyes, I can almost see sweat forming on her brow, in anticipation of my answer.

I place my hands on either side of her face and let out a steady breath. "My brain has been so fried, this evening, Lena, but if there's anything that I know for certain, it's that I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if I didn't take this chance. I want this and I want you." Her eyes light up and I don't think she really knows what else to do, besides stare at me and bring a hand to my cheek. Her mouth is trying to form words, but nothing comes out. I let out a small chuckle, before leaning in just a little, glancing down at her lips, again. This time, she takes the initiative and kisses me, hungrily. My hands find each other, interlocking my fingers behind her neck. Her right hand, remains on the wall, while her left takes hold of my waist, pulling my body to hers.

"Fuck, your lips taste good," Lena growls. She tastes like peppermint and vanilla chapstick. I can feel my body turning on for the first time in ages, as she kisses me. She rolls her hips against mine and I begin to notice a firm object being ground against me. In my head, I let out a long "fuck." Lena hard packs. She's a butch who hard packs. I moan against her lips, grinding my hips to match hers.

"You're sure about this, YN?" Lena pants in my ear, huskily.

"All bark and no bite, huh?" I goad, trying to control my breathing as I plant a soft kiss on this woman's neck. She lets out a noise somewhere between a low growl and a chuckle, before latching into the side of my neck. Her teeth press against my skin and I can't hold back from moaning, which only seems to encourage her. She hungrily licks and sucks at my neck and I have to push her away, before she leaves a mark.

"Not there, just yet," I whine. "I want it there, but no visible ones, yet." She nods, a hungry look in her eye, as she realizes that this means she will have access to the rest of my body to leave marks on. She licks her lips as she looks me over.

"Fair enough." With a quick movement of her hands, I'm lifted off of my feet. I wrap my legs around her middle as her strong hands caress my thighs. "Then let's take this to my room, huh?" She gives a toothy smirk as she begins to effortlessly carry me up the two flights of stairs.

"God, you're strong," I tell her, making her smile.

"I have a very active lifestyle. When I'm not at the bar, I'm either in the gym or on the trails. And I work at the trail head, for the nature center. They have me split firewood, for the campers at the state park." I get a mental image of Lena all sweaty, wearing a wife pleaser and jeans, with an ax over her shoulder. She hums out a teasing tone, when she feels my muscles clench at the thought. One hand slides further up my ass and gives me a little squeeze, as we get to the second set of stairs. "I felt that, cutie."

I mutter into her neck, "Well, I could feel your strap, when you were grinding on me, so I guess we're even."

"You can do a lot more than feel it through my pants, if you want," she growls in my ear. When we get to the top of the stairs, I feel a wet nose touch my ankle. Toasty is looking at us, happy for company. Lena sets me down and gives his head a pat. "Sorry, buddy. You're going to have to sleep in the living room, tonight." He cocks his head, but trots down the stairs, when Lena tells him to go on.

Lena's room is spacious with a couple of dressers, thier tops covered in little knick knacks, a large book case with books ranging from older hardcovers to more contemporary, and a comfy looking king-sized bed with a maroon comforter on it and a large walnut chest at the foot of it. I excuse myself to her bathroom, for a second. I set my phone on the counter to charge and pull my toothbrush from my pocket. I give myself a quick cleaning and check my neck for a mark. Besides being a little red, I'm ok.

When I come out, Lena is sitting on the bed, looking deep in thought. She gives me a soft smile, when she notices I'm looking at her. I ask her what's wrong and she just gives a little shake of her head.

"I'm trying to figure out the right words, right now..." answers Lena. I give her a confused look and she sighs. "Well, there's... some stuff you need to know, if you're serious about this whole thing. And it's... It's going to be really hard to believe and make me sound insane." She looks almost terrified. I sit next to her and she keeps just looking at the carpet. "I hardly know you, YN... But I really feel a connection that I can't shake."

"I was feeling something similar..." I say. "Back at the bar? I just couldn't stop looking at you. Something in the back of my brain kind of just said 'that is the prettiest, most fascinating person you've ever seen, so you better not stop staring.'" She finally looks at me with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes..

"I'm... not quite a normal person." I raise an eyebrow at this as she searches for more words. "Well, you how I'm a dog person? Like, how I have Toasty?" I nod. "Well, I'm also a dog-person. With the hyphen, in the middle."

"So... You're a furry? Or is this like a pet-play thing?" I ask, thinking she's just worried about exposing a fetish.

Lena says, voice wavering in a way I would have predicted, "I'm... not entirely... human? I'm... I'm a werewolf." A goddamn werewolf? I turn and just stare at the floor, the same way she had been.

I sigh. "If you didn't really want to have sex with me, you could have just said." She looks shocked.

"I'm being serious!" exclaims Lena. "Want me to show you?" I look back at her and tell her very matter of factly that, yes, if she ever expects me to believe her that she's a werewolf, then I'm going to need proof. Holding eye contact with me, she offered her hands. I watch as they shift from the slightly muscular hands of the butch bartender to a set of furry claws. I jump back, almost falling off the bed. I don't even know what to say.

Lena stares at her hands and replies, "It's a genetic thing, so don't be worried about catching it. This town was made for our kind, a few decades ago. That's why people ask strangers if they're going to the park. It's a total safe zone for us to shift or be in our less-than-human forms. ...I'm sorry, I should have told you, sooner." She can't even look at me. She looks so ashamed. I'm trying to process it all, but nothing is computing, properly.

Slowly, I manage to ask, "Can... Can you always control it, like that, or... you know... Like, does the full moon make you wolf out?"

"I'm in total control, but the pack does get together, during the full moon, for a meeting and other activities. Mostly a midnight run or hunt," Lena explains. I look back down at her hands. They're still the paw-like, furry hands. "February can be a bit hectic, though." She laughs a little at this, but whatever it is goes over my head. Taking everything in, today, must have taken its toll, as this all starts to feel less and less insane. I place my hand on her shoulder and she stiffens.

"I've had... a very rough day, Lena. And I don't know if it's the drinks, the fact I've been so emotionally drained, or the fact that I thought you were a person I was genuinely 100% glad I met, a few minutes ago, but I don't think I care about... any of that," I say, tiredly, gesturing at her claws. She looks up at me, eyes wet with tears she's holding back, like water in a dam.

"You... you really don't mind that I'm..." Her lip quivers and I almost can't help but think it's cute. I give her a soft smile.

"Strangely enough, no." I sigh and replace my hand with my head, resting it on her muscular shoulder. "I just wish you'd saved it for a bit." I can feel her turn her head, a bit. "Not meaning that this was one, but telling a girl you're a werewolf is kind of a second date type thing." Lena bursts out with her hardy laugh, again, wheezing and letting her tears fall. I scoot closer to her and wrap an arm around her waist.

"So... I'll take it you want to keep seeing me?" Lena asks, sniffling and wiping away tears from her eyes and face with her paws.

"Yeah... I want to get to know Lena. But you need to do a couple things, first." She nods, smiling that beautiful smile. "1.) I could use some pajamas, 2.) I want to see your whole body do that, cuz that is so weird and I don't think I'll be able to sleep without seeing how that works, and 3.) you're big spoon." She laughs and leans into me.

She jokes, "Alright, but if you ask me to play fetch, you're sleeping downstairs." I pick my head up and look into her pretty, green eyes. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and tell her it's a deal. Then, she kisses my forehead and gets up to find me some night time clothes. She hands me a white tank top and a pair of thin, black, cotton pants. As I'm about to excuse myself back to the bathroom, she turns away and pulls her shirt off. She does the same for her sports bar. I can see just how cut she is, now. My eyes linger on her toned back as I set the clothes on her bed. I, similarly, turn away from her, disrobing and watch her out of the corner of my eye, the same way you suspect she is.

As I pull her tank top over my head, I hear the zipper of her jeans come down. I watch with anticipation as Lena slides them over her hips, exposing her red boxers and the straps of the mount she's wearing underneath it. She tosses the jeans onto a chair that seems to house a few articles of "I'll wear those again" clothes as I finish pulling on the pair of pants. She digs in her dresser and pulls out a gray t-shirt and blue, flannel shorts. She casually brings them over to her bed and sets them down, all the while she's smirking, I know she saw my ogling her chest.

"You can look, YN. Wolves are pretty open about their bodies. Can't quite shift well in your clothes and expect them to be in decent shape, after." My eyes are scanning her body and I can practically feel my brain kicking me for not just telling her to shut up and fuck me, after I got out of the bathroom. Her tits are great and the outline of her strap is just... Ugh... "Also... I can smell every time you've been turned on, tonight. Glad I waited for you to be looking, when I did the trash." She winks as my face flushes bright red.

Then, moment of truth, she slides her boxers off. Her mounted dildo springs up from her thigh - dark blue and purple, large, and in a very uncommon shape. Of course the werewolf lesbian has a Bad Dragon. I make a mental note to look for the model, in the morning. Unfortunately, I don't get to enjoy it, before she slides the toy from her hips and puts it in the chest with what looks like more of her gear. Now I can see her well groomed bush. And she's about to get more hairy.

Lena looks at me, nervously, as she steps back to the center of her room, stark naked and asks, "You're ready for this?" I nod, sitting sideways on her bed. I take a deep breath as I watch her. She groans as her body shifts and elongates, growing hairier and more monstrous. I feel my body start to shake with fear, but I don't look away. Her kind eyes change to add tones of rich amber to the forest green. Her chestnut hair covers her body, changing to gray in many places. She's so much taller than me, now. And she has a tail! She looks straight out of a movie. Twilight, eat your heart out.

As I try to speak, Lena rasps out, "There's more." Then, she begins to shrink onto all fours, hands becoming paws, broad chest slimming, and cut muscles becoming less and less defined as a wolf, unrecognizable from any other, now stands in Lena's bedroom. She pads over to me and looks up with the saddest puppy eyes I ever saw, laying her head in my lap. She can definitely feel me still shaking, because she lets out a sad whine. I don't suppose she can talk, like this.

Carefully, I set my hand on her head and her tail starts to wag, ever so slightly. I pet her coarse, yet still fluffy, fur. She's like the husky my friend had, when we were kids. She lets out another whine, looking at me expectantly, but I just stare back. I think to scratch behind her ears and she seems to enjoy it, but shakes her head and takes a step back. I watch as she shifts back, groaning and growing more and more nude, until she's just plain, naked Lena.

"I forget that you can't understand me, like that." Lena walks back around the bed and hikes her boxers back up. She comes back around, pulling her shirt on and squats in front of me. "Are you alright? I know that seeing that is a lot, the first time." I put my hand back on her head and just play with her hair. She sighs and stands up, crawling onto the bed and pacing herself at the center. Her arms are open and she motions for me to come closer. I do, sitting between her legs as she wraps me in a warm hug. She sways and hums one of the songs that had been playing at the bar. I hardly even register it, when I start to cry. It feels like my body is just all of a sudden racked with sobs as I cry against her.

"It's alright, YN. It's going to be alright. I've got you." Three little words to make you feel at home. Two strong arms to hold you together. Lena feels like the one person in the whole world with both, and she is, right now. "I don't know what all you're going through, right now, or how much I've just added to all of the things on your mind, but I'm right here, for you, YN. I'm right here." She continues swaying and rocking me until I can't cry anymore. She wipes my teary face either thumbs and holds my cheeks in her hands, until I look at her.

"That's it. It's going to be ok. Want me to grab you some tissues? There's a box right over there." She jerks her head over to her right. I nod and she leans back, stretching out. She comes back with a small box of Kleenex and I take one, blowing my nose, loudly. She rubs my back and just sits, patiently waiting. After a few more tissues and a few more lingering hiccups of sobs, I'm left puffy-eyed and all cried out, leaning into Lena's warm hug.

"I think it's time to get some rest. We'll figure this out, in the morning, alright?" Lena softly asks. I nod against her chest. She scoots back, leading me with her hand, as I crawl behind her. "Ok. Let's just scoot back, here, and get comfortable and we can fall asleep, when you're ready. Come here." She pulls back the comforter and tosses the decorative pillows off the end of the bed. Lena, then, pulls the covers over both of our laps, as I lean into her, finding comfort in her warmth.

"Lena?" I whimper, trying to find my voice.

"Yeah?"

"This is all real, right now?"

"I'm afraid it is." I nod. "Is there anything I can do for you, YN? Anything at all that would help you though this?" She sounds so sincere, almost pleading.

"Just... Don't... Don't let me go. Okay? Promise me that."

Lena's face softens and she kisses me on the top of my head. "YN, when I said that thing about not doing one night stands, I meant it. There's nothing set in stone, but I trust my instincts and they're completely drawn to you. Wolves mate for life."

"I know this sounds weird, but haven't you had partners, before? You seem so confident and practiced." She laughs through her nose.

"I've had a few standing partners, but those relationships were for mutual physical needs. I'm twenty-seven and it's a bitch to be as horny as wolves can get, without having an outlet. Mostly women, but one was nonbinary," Lena explains, gently, rubbing my arm with her thumb.

"Men, but mostly because I was unsure. Looking at you... I don't know, it was just different." She nods along.

"It can feel like that, sometimes. And it's ok to feel unsure." Lena rests her chin in my head. "Also, and I hate to do this, but I'm going to run downstairs and let Toasty out, for just a second. I'll be right back, ok?"

I nod and reply, "Yeah, go ahead." She kisses the top of my head, before slipping out of the bed, putting on her shorts, and telling me she'll be right back, before disappearing out the door. I head to the bathroom, myself, while she's gone. Checking my phone once more, finding nothing but random notifications, before grabbing it and plugging it in next to the bed, for the night. I swipe away all of the notifications for calls and texts from Caleb, the fear of that whole situation feeling like a distant memory. I take a chance to look at his messages, all the same as they've been during previous fights. I know I have to go back to my apartment, tomorrow, to assess the damage.

When I hear Lena coming back up the stairs I shut my phone off and set it back down. She flicks the light off and climbs back into her bed to snuggle up to me.

"Can I ask one more big favor?" I ask.

"Anything."

"Can I come back, tomorrow? Stay a while?"

"Nothing would make me happier. Stay as long as you'd like. Preferably forever, but..." she jokes. I laugh and that makes her smile. "Aww, there's that cute laugh. ...Alright, now. It's been a long day and it's getting really late. We'll get you all settled, tomorrow. I already told Vix, that I'm not going to be in, tomorrow, anyways." Lena holds me close as she prepares to fall asleep. With the weight of everything, both being away from Caleb and from everything since I entered Lena's house, I fall asleep almost immediately. I barely make out Lena's, "Goodnight, YN," as I fade into the darkness of sleep, dreamless and safe.

[kiraman]

516.

Snippets of Vi's life in prison as she grows from a girl into a woman. / word count: 4,182 / blood, death, violence cw

i.

She looks up when the cell door rattles. Despite the deep dark bruise she can feel blooming on her left cheek, the crack in her jaw that makes her whole face ache like it's being split in half every time she inhales, she musters every drop of bitterness in her blood to say, with an impeccable tone of cheery hostility, "back for more? can't get enough of me?"

She has been a Stillwater Bay prisoner for five years and eight months when the nameless soldier standing guard that is now leaning heavily against her cell door says, “I knew you... when you were a kid. I knew your father... Vander?”

Vi stares up at the ceiling, watching the lightbulb overhead ripple red, hating the lazily-amused tinge to his voice.

"congrats. so did I." she dead-pans, and does not look at him, her eyes are hard and on the ceiling, her hand curled into a fist at her side on the bed, and she can smell the salt tang of her unwashed sheets,  her knuckles (thin-skinned, still healing) cracked and bleeding all over them. She's got blood on her mouth, too, a tooth missing, and the old scar on her upper lip is throbbing. She does not mind it; she sinks her teeth in it and bites, listens to the slow rhythm of the guard's breath, the low chuckle that escapes his throat at her sneer.

"he was a good man. a decent man. You could count on him to make things right. He saw reason." the guard won't take a hint, won't go away, and Vi snorts, does not ask what reason means to people like him whose whole life has been a smooth trail, does not even wanna know. Her eyes are on the ceiling and her hand is bleeding on the bed and she digs her nails into her torn palm, blood gushing from the wound and sinks them deeper, her teeth snagging her lower lip.

She hears the fizz and flicker of the fluorescent lamp overhead, feels the sweat that is trickling down her back and soaking the waistband of her trousers; she can smell the hot blood spouting between her nails, the ripe heat of the air that's drenching her cell, the reek of her bed.

“What happened to you?” the enforcer asks, holds onto the bars of her cell door. “I mean—fuck, you were a cute kid, a good kid. Vander was proud of you.” and she can't stand the shape of her father's name in his mouth, she wants to tear it from his tongue, does not wanna hear it, not from someone like him, another asshole criminal in a fancy suit, biting off more than he can chew, thinking that he somehow knows anything about them, just because he didn't kill her people, didn't shoot them dead, didn't drag Vander away into a cell like they had done to her; he still came for them like the mouth of a gun held to their head, still pushed them deeper into the cold dark mouth of their death, stripped them off their freedom, their choice, him and his asshole friends, every last one of them.

How fucking pathetic, to think that she will give a fuck about what he has to say about her, or Vander or what he thinks be knows about them.

Vi opens her eyes, watches the ripple of the fluorescent light overhead, like the shimmer of heat, like water. Her hand curls into a fist, blood leaking through her fingers, hot and thick in her palm. Her sheets are crimson next to her thigh, they stick to her gloves. Under the top bunk, someone has scratched be well in tiny handwriting. She blinks at it.

She says, finally, “you've no idea what you're talking about.”

ii.

Perhaps she should have tattooed a chemical hazard label right across her mouth: this woman is highly reactive, warning; contents under pressure, will explode right into your face if pushed the wrong way.

She's got one ear scarred from where she launched herself at some asshole cutting in line in the chow hall, and got his teeth in her face. He had gotten her fist in his throat and her nails in his left eye, and she had been sent to solitary confinement for a month.

She's got a bruise twice the size of her hand on her left thigh, another sprawling black and purple across her lower back.

She doesn't remember the last time she's eaten more than soupy, green slop and dry bread.

She doesn’t remember what it is like to feel the sun;  all that she knows is the soreness of touch and the pain of every breath, blood on her hands and broken bones. Her fists fly when someone touches her food, shoves her out of their way, sneers at her; she picks fights with every last one of them, every last little bitch they haul off whatever little hole Silco's got them working in and stuff them in her block; she's got thunder in her blood and she is angry, she is furious, years of being shoved into cold, dark places have left her dark and cold herself, her body scarred and bruised; every bone, every surface of flesh, aches.

Her senses are simultaneously numbed as well as in overdrive; she's got a warning in her mouth and her eyes are sharp like the blunt edge of her knuckles, a fist through a drywall.

They throw her in solitary at the drop of a hat, for the slightest reason; it's like she's got eyes stuck on her back 24/7 and she can't throw them off, they are a hand around her throat, choking the air out of her: she breathes the wrong way, does not show up at work, stares at a guard a little too long, a little too hard, and it's over; they steal her meals, stall her in the maintenance room until she's missed dinner, or outdoors time, and the dark, deep anger inside of her flares up and explodes; she's always one step away from flying off the handle, but takes the taunting anyway, takes the beatings and the sneers and the laughter, because she's got to, won't bend for them, won't fold herself into something smaller. She gives as much and as violent as she gets; she's on her way to the chow hall, once, when a guard forcefully steps in her way and sneers, blows his cigarette smoke in her face, patting her down, a sudden inspection, but she's done nothing, she's worked all day at their maintenance room, and she's hungry, she's fucking starving, and he is in her way, his hands on her waist, on her thigh; her fist flies before her mind registers what it's doing, and it's her knuckles, hard and bloodied, smashing through his teeth, a feral, crippling blow to his throat, and he is howling in pain, reeling back in shocked agony, blood gushing down his chin; "fuck you!"  Her entire body heaves as long, shrill, dark screams pour out of her throat, "fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" and she now uses one hand to grab onto his shirt, her other hand curled into a hard fist that plunges into his face over and over again. She heaves forward once more and topples over him as they crash onto the floor with her on top of him, and her fist is a dark, black blur in his face. "fuck you!" her hand is numb and aching, scarlet with blood, "fuck you!" her eyes are blurry and heat consumes her. Her whole body is shaking, her other hand furiously clutching at his throat as she lands blow after blow into his face, and then, there are hands on her shoulders, grabbing at her, a foot in her side, kicking out viciously and she screams, like a wild, feral animal, she bucks against them, growling and shoving at them as they drag her down the halls and push her into some cold dark cell. Her cheek smacks the wet floor. She moans, feels the hard sharp edge of a boot in her side, and a dark rivulet, meaty and viscous, slips from her mouth. There are hands and boots all over her and her body is burning with the pain of them, her head is spinning and she cries out, a long, shrill, deafening wail of pure, hot rage, swimming on her elbows on the wet tiles, dragging herself to the corner. She hears the steel door be slammed shut with a clang.

She lays on the freezing floor curled up in a ball and screams, clutches at the tiles furtively, her throat raw and gutted, making clogged snorkeling noises.

She passes out.

It’s an image that she has replayed a thousand times in her mind — a glimpse into her safe haven, a recollection that invokes a cosmic sensation of solitude and mental quiet.  Though they seek to break her:  in mind, in body, and in spirit, when her mind is at its wit’s end, she thinks of her, of that moment just before dawn, Powder and herself sitting on that rooftop, watching the lights of the city blink like fireflies and laughing; her little sister's hand in hers; Vander, a warm, soft shadow at their backs, and she is well.

She can do anything.

Take care of Powder. Protect the family.

She gasps awake, her heartbeat shattered in her throat.

She sways on her feet and, groans, slapping her hand around in search of the bed. She can't find it, and she blinks furiously, eyes straining against the darkness that's swallowing her up. There's no bed in the cell, and she slumps against the wall, a pathetic, pained little whimper spilling from her lips.

She's no longer herself, she is anger trapped in tissue-paper skin, netted between bones like gunpowder— balanced on the precipice between death and the silent vastness of her guilt.

I can't. I can't... I couldn't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,

she answers him in her head, and passes out again.

This time, no one comes for her, the both of them dead and gone; even the ghosts that haunt her dreams abandon her, she's well and truly all alone.

iii.

She sits on the edge of her bed and peers at herself in the cracked mirror, her hands on her ear, needle piercing into the shell of it, splitting it open. Her cellmate stands at her back, looks down at her, says, "let me do it" and Vi shoves her hand away, says "I'll do it."

Blood trickles down her wrist and she can feel the sharp ache of the hole she is puncturing open. She can feel her cellmate's breath against the back of her neck, and when she feels her hands on her now, carefully sliding the earring through the fresh piercing, Vi does not flinch away. She pours alcohol over her ear and Vi hisses through her teeth and bangs her fist against the wall, and that earns her strange laughter from her, a flick in her cheek. "there. pretty." she says, and Vi snorts, meets her eyes in the mirror. "lets do your nose." she says and when she reaches for the needle, Vi lets her pry it from her hand.

iv.

Something about her feels wrong as she makes her way from her cell to the gym down at rec like she’s more storm than woman, a danger-zone high-risk disaster area, full of sharp bone slabs and a dark snarl on her lips, rough calloused hands swathed up in wraps soaked through with blood. Her lower lip is split but it’s healed over, congealed dark blood in the corner of it.

She takes her anger out to the walls and the punching bags; but she does not stop there; she takes it out to anyone bold enough to get on her bad side, give her a look she does not like, sound a little too condescending for her liking when answering a question she's asked or demanding that they return something they've taken or she believes they've taken from her; she takes it out on the assholes at chow hall that cut in line, to the prick that steals Zeri's smokes, and the guard that gets too handsy with Janna.

She doesn't mind the solitary anymore; if anything, she almost welcomes it. Whatever they throw at her, she takes and gives back twice as much.

The next time a guard gets all up in her face, she does not hesitate.

She swings at them with everything that she's got.

v.

The only time she finds herself actively pouring every last ounce of willpower she's got in her to behave and stay out of trouble is when she starts working on her tats. She doesn't wanna fuck this one up, doesn't wanna have to spend half a month in solitary, tattoos half finished, or worse, ruined in her hurry to get them done before they throw her equipment out.

She's been given a sketchbook and a pen at one of the art classes this Piltie (that Vi vehemently thinks fancies herself some sort of noble saviour) holds every week down at the rec, and although she does not actively participate, sometimes she'll sit and silently watch them work with a snarling smirk draped across her lips, chugging coffee (she's put too much milk in it and it's burnt but she chugs it all down anyway) and when Noble Lady who fancies herself a saviour of poor misguided souls looks her way, tries to catch her eye, Vi pretends she does not see it. She's been staying up at night in her bed, scribbling away in it until she passes out, pen in hand, sketchbook sprawled open next to her pillow. When she runs out of pages, she scowls and doesn't say anything, but she doesn't take her sketchbook down at the rec anymore. She shoves her hands into her pockets or chugs down black coffee, standing against the wall, pretending she's not there for the class.

Somehow, a brand new sketchbook shows up on her bed. She does not question it, won't look a horse in the mouth.

She's got so much art in her that she doodles on her hands until it spills up her wrists and on her kneecaps with their little goosebumps, ink splashing onto her neck and arms and even her back, the part of it that she can reach.

Something's snapping in her mind, synapses flashing, and for the first time in years, she feels alive, she's crackling with it, the fire, the want, the exhilaration.

She gets down to work: makes a tattoo machine from the motor of a portable record player she steals from rec. The barrel for the needle is made from a hollowed out pen. She scoops the plastic out and fills the tube with sooty, thick ink she's made out of burnt plastic, makes the outer case of the pen shorter by cutting it in half. A sharpened guitar string from Zeri's old guitar is what she uses as a needle, shoves it through the barrel and connects it to the motor.

She sets to work. For days, she sits in her little cell and plunges the needle through her skin, feels its sweet, sharp kiss as she moves it along her arms.

When Zeri silently comes to sit next to her on the floor and eyes her doodles in her sketchbook, Vi gives her a strange look. Zeri offers to do the parts of her back she cannot reach, and Vi tells her to fuck off.

Later, when their cell block's dark and quite and there's only an hour of light left before they're forced back into their cells to sleep, she slips into Zeri's cell and leans against the doorframe, watches her bury her nose deeper into her book, sprawled across her bed.

She says, "Sooo..." and strange, sly bashfulness pauses on her lips, frothing at the corners of her heart-shaped mouth, tugging gently at the seam of her lips. "You still wanna help, little one?"

She does.

vi.

She remembers this one time when she was 9. Powder had been sick, burning with a fever that had been refusing to abate for days, and she had helplessly sat on the floor by her bed and had sellotaped her entire hand for some unholy reason, probably because she had been going fucking stir crazy with worry and guilt that she could not make this right, she could not punch the hurt away and Pow had been whimpering in her sleep, calling for their mother and Vi, mother and Vi, and Vi could have never given her mother but she had sat there curled up close to her and whispered that she was there, she wasn't going anywhere, she was never going to leave her, it would be okay.

She had sat fuming in her helplessness, had sellotaped her hand from her elbow right down to her fingers, and then, she had just knelt there, at the side of Powder's bed, sobbing because she had been terrified that she would never get out of it, she couldn't move her hand, couldn't even lift her fingers enough to touch Powder, and she had sat there and sobbed into her little sister's sheets until Vander had come in to find her crying and had had to cut her out with scissors, and to this day she could still remember him patting her head, telling her that it was going to be okay. "Why'd you trap yourself?" he had laughed, ruffling her hair.

Vi hadn't given him an answer.

It comes back to her one morning as she stares at her ruined cell after a sudden inspection (she had been the only one in the whole cell block to be marked for it, then again, she had kind of been expecting it after beating those assholes up with the barbell and her fists down at the courtyard during mandatory exercise; she had come to know now it was common procedure after a malfeasance— huh, what a ridiculous fucking word to use to say that she's beaten some dick's face into a bloody pulp), her whole life scattered along the floor: her wraps, her pencils, the few clothes she's got, an empty can of beer that she has been using to spill the ink she makes out of burnt plastic cups she steals from the chow hall to draw.

She cries over her torn sketchbook with a laugh in her throat, alone in her cell.

vii.

Pink, they keep calling her.

Pink, they sneer it at her like it's her name.

Pink, and Kid, and 516, sometimes just "five one' six" or "five sixteen!" like she's some dusty file shelved away in their cabinet that they suddenly need to spread open and read through, nothing more than the color of her hair, a number, an age.

She's pretending to sweep the floor when it happens, a chore she's never willing to do. The constant flicker of the lightbulb overhead is pissing her off, and she lifts the broom and taps it hard, shaking it back and forth. The buzzing stops.

Someone howls into the silence, a bloodcurdling, dark shriek of terror.

The block is flooded with enforcers, and she stands in the hallway in numb confusion, and gasps when they drag a dead girl from a cell.

She can hear the wet, slick noises her body makes when they drag her out into the hallway, blood streaking the floor like a ribbon tied to her throat.

Someone tries to pump the life back into her heart, but she doesn't come back.

Vi watches the red ribbon of blood around her throat, blinking hard.

They ask for her name, and no one gives it to them, but they keep asking. The air ripples, filled with the metallic stench of death. A fly buzzes around her ear.

There's a rough, hard hand on her shoulder, and she's shoved back, spit splattering against her cheek, and she's shaken out of her daze. She growls out "I don't know." teeth snapping.

"two ninety." someone calls the girl on the floor. She's two ninety to them. "She's dead." She's two ninety to everyone. She doesn't know her name... She never asked.

"hey, grab her legs. Help me pick her up" one of the wardens says to the other.

"Hey! Hey! Five sixteen! clean up the mess!" They bark in her ear, and as she watches her broom swirl the last of the girl's blood on the floor, something inside of her snaps.

She's got a fucking name.

The next time she walks down that hallway, she stops to stare at the floor, the fading crimson stain that has soaked through the tiles, won't ever be completely scrubbed off as though some part of the world is refusing to forget her.

Her name had been Alys.

Vi's name's tattooed on her left cheek.

viii.

“you can be so nice when you want to.” her hands are on Vi's lap, they are sitting in her bed, in her cell, and Vi is painting her nails with delicate strokes of the brush. Her teeth have left bright marks on her lips from the searing tangibility of her concentration. Her patience astounds the other girl, she's never seen Vi hold still for more than ten seconds at a time, yet here she is, brush in hand, lips pinched; the detail is so miniscule and there are small red marks on her skin where Vi has pinched her for fidgeting. Vi's eyebrows have long since been furrowed into harsh lines, so drawn, she's cocooned herself with her thoughts. Her voice is absent when she responds, noticeably lacking in any interest.

"Hey! You gonna let me do this, Miss Chatty, or not?"  Vi taps her leg once. “Keep still.” Is all she says.

There’s a fleeting smile in her eyes. 

ix.

"hey" she smirks her way to where this massive dude is standing, broom in hand, sweeping the floor. He doesn't recognise her, that much she can immediately tell by the way his eyes (dark, cold eyes, eyes with teeth) sweep over her like she's something he needs to scrub clean too, and sudden, furious anger swells up like a flood in her throat. She swallows.

"I didn't know they locked up little kids."

Her cheek spasms.

"funny. They don't."

He just stares at her meaningfully, like she's some kind of a joke, and laughs. Sharklike, his missing teeth feel like they make the bark harsh.

"you gonna give me what I want, or we gonna have to add another missing tooth to your fucking collection?" Vi growls.

He blinks, his eyes empty and on her, like the barrel of a gun held to her teeth.

She's been his shadow, sleek, unassuming, watching him for days now; he's got answers and she will not walk away from him without them.

He pats his thigh, and Vi knows what he's got stashed away there, has watched him use it on another dude at mesh, unblinkingly chewing down her dry bread as her eyes trailed after his every little move like a hook, sinking into the prey.

"I know what you're in for. I know who you and your little friend work for. So." Easy way or hard way, goes unsaid, she cracks her fingers hard, violently rolls her left shoulder into a slow shrug. "Where's my fucking sister?"

"I've no idea what you're talking about." A shrug, more laughter. Rotten, yellow teeth.

"bet you fucking do."

"Don’t let ugly words touch those sweet lips baby, I’ll wipe your mouth clean."

Her fists clench, her mouth twitching spasmodically, "and I'll color you purple." she plunges forward, follows her anger like a fishing line. She cuts out safety and speeds towards the ocean of her fury.

When they drag her away from him, she's laughing, her hands are numb and aching, crimson with blood.

"I got all I wanted." She hisses in triumph, and they have to rip her off of him, but she doesn't struggle when they haul her off, clawing at her back, shove her back into her cell block. Her laughter spills like gasoline through the hallways, waking everyone up, even the air is thrumming with it, sharp and hot.

That night, before she sleeps, she adds the spiked knuckles she's stolen from him in the collection, under her bed.

"fifty-two..." she whispers, and tosses the t-shirt that she was wearing the day they had brought her here, back over the weapons, shielding them from view. They'll be fucking gone next time they toss her cell, but for now, no one's gonna get their hands on them.

Her head feels lighter when she lays her body down on her bed.

She stares at the tally marks on her wall until she falls asleep.

[cauldron-of-oddities]

Lay low. Lay low. Ekko had to keep repeating that to himself as a regiment of enforcers passed through the lanes. The heavy march had warned most people to get behind closed doors, to keep their head down before they got the butend of a rifle to their neck or worse, a bullet or a one way ticket to Stillwater. The smallest of offences was enough. His nails dig into his palm to ground himself.

There were eyes everywhere these days. It's a twisted thought he has as he looks up. He'd never thought he'd miss just the one, scoffing at the half shattered eye above the Last Drop. One of the broken lights flickers, sparks jumping from jagged ends. For a second, it looked like it would ignite before fizzing out. Tingles run down his neck, and he looks up to see three enforcers looking at him, hands on the safety of their guns. Lay low, he repeats. Ekko pulls up the collar of his coat and walks on, not looking back.

He's not here for trouble, not today. He'd gone barefaced, the hourglass too much of a calling card. Today, he wants to be invisible, to avoid the spring wound tight in the air, the knives pointed at backs, and the trap under foot that the Pilties and Chembarons have made of Zaun, he has somewhere to be.

It's been a constant vigil since the blast, Ekko is ever watchful of the corners he passes deeper into the Lanes, weary now of the Chembaron goons and turf wars. With news of Silco's death, rumours had run amok, some said suicide, some said there was a traitor, and some said his daughter had gone well and truly mad. What was the truth he didn't know yet, but he was very aware of the power vacuum. Sticking to the walls, he makes his way past the old arcade. He's almost tempted to go in.

In a large shard of glass, he sees the shadows under his eyes and sags. No, he's chosen where he wants to go. He wants to rest for a bit. He wants to actually sleep for a bit. Slipping in an alley, he climbs his way up to the roof three buildings beyond the arcade to the roof with a single hatch, beyond it an attic. An attic where he and Powder had made a little hide away, where they'd drawn on all the walls and sorted scrap and whispered of futures and how to prank Mylo.

Something fond settled in his chest as he clicks open the latch. It's the escaping dust that makes his eyes water he tells himself as he opens the heavy shutter.

He just wants to remember his friend for a bit. He wants to sulk and soak in the memories. He wants to remind himself of all their hopes, because she may be out of reach, but if it's up to him, the dream they had to live free, of having good things and creating the greatest inventions would never slip from his grasp. With that, he drops down into the dark attic. The light from outside brightens the space just enough to see the scratchy blue crayon cat greet him from the wall.

[chronicsyd]

some of my favorite Arcane fics/recommendations: a thread.

If you're lookin for some fics to get you through the wait until season 2 airs, i have some favorites/recommendations that I'd like to share. now, basically all of these are from ao3 (which is the superior sight i won't be taking criticism on this) and a good chunk of them are popular so you might have heard of them but if you haven't, check em out. (also if you'd like to reblog with fics i haven't mentioned/think i should check out pls do) also I'm going to give a brief synopsis and if it's complete or not so I'm not gonna be spoiling the whole fic. with that, let's begin.

Hellhound of the Underground: basically this is a "what if" fic if Silco were to choose Vi instead of Powder that night and Powder ends up with Viktor, Jayce and Caitlyn up in Piltover. It's SO good, the only thing is that it's pretty dark (but hey, so is Arcane) and don't worry there's plenty of Caitvi for the soul. Last update: 2/18/2024 (Author kerosene_dream)

Makeout Lessons with a Boxer: Caitvi but in college, everyone is horny, pining and usless lesbians abound. Fic Completed (Author p0etess)

You Don't Own Me: Caitlyn works 2 jobs as a bookshop worker and has a stripper alter ego and Vi is a boxer who doesn't like talking to/doesn’t trust Caitlyn but likes talking to/appears to trust her alter ego. Last Updated 08/30/23 (Author snootka)

Stolen Sister: Powder again ends up as Caitlyn's "sister" in Piltover but gets kidnapped on Progress Day. Caitlyn enlists the help of Vi to track her down but neither knows that the "sister" they're looking for happens to be the same person. Fic completed, has an ongoing sequel (Author PiLambdaOd)

don't try to follow me (i would hold you down): Caitlyn and Vi meet as teenagers and Caitlyn discovers perspective about the storms and trauma of the Underground and Piltover. a "canon-to-the-left" treatment if you will. Last updated 05/29/22 (Author searchforthescars)

The Threads of Fate Tangle and Twist: five years into Vi's stay in stillwater, a topsider shows up raving about being a councilors daughter. that's it. all i have to say. fic completed (Author Misthios)

the perfect ache: soulmate fic where soulmates can feel each others pain. angst abound in this one and i think you can guess how the two find out about each other. Last updated 01/31/22 (Author Amandosh)

Astray: Teen Vi tries to steal from the Kiramman's and Cait catches her in the act. an unlikely friendship blooms. beginning is set before act 1. Last updated 05/12/22 (author TheReaderWrites)

In The Woods of Wolfcreek: Caitlyn escapes city life to a town where no one knows the name Kiramman. she falls in love with the town, and it's people. unknowing that some of the people are wearwolves. Last updated 01/22/22 (Author OFJ_Eden(OneJumpFromEden))

In the end, we're both terrible people: Caitvi high school enemies to lovers. Cait is the popular, closeted, accidentally turned mean girl and Vi is the misfit, outcast, out of the closet lesbian. the two hate each other until they kiss in the locker room. fic completed (Author loveshazel)

That’s all I’ve got for the time being, like I said, reblog with some I might have missed but these are ones I think are really worth checking out. Bye! :)

[mollysunder]

The more I think about Lock (Silco's tattoo goon) ending up in Stillwater the more I realize how deeply fucked up Piltover is again. With Vi, we already know she didn't get a trial and was just thrown in there without any care or oversight. With Lock, as far as anyone knew outside of Marcus, he was just an injured man on crew where a raid broke out that hid to escape the violence after being hurt. Just because he was loading the Shimmer onto the ship doesn't mean he knew that it was contraband. I know Lock knew snd was a part of it, but I say this to show innocent till proven guilty isn't how Piltovan law works for for Zaunites. Everyone, including Cait, immediately assumed and accepted that he was a part of the guilty party instead of just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time.

[eggbertith]

what if we get to see one (or several) of vi's escape attempts from stillwater

[spicyratcakes]

You Never Saved Me

TW: suicidal thoughts. Generally quite sad and angsty. I refuse to disseminate happiness.

Prologue: Caitlyn Kiramman saved me from Stillwater just after progress day. Except, she didn’t. I never met her, because she died in the explosion my sister caused. I would never know what happened. I would never know none the wiser to the life I could have had. The escape.

November 13th. 5:00pm. The cafeteria. Vi had been in still water since she was fifteen years old. The last sight she had of the outside world was that of her brother's mangled bodies. Her fathers final sacrificial act. Her sister like a newborn lamb, unaware of her impending slaughter. The only thing that kept each day moving was the fantasy that perhaps her sister ran in time. After all, as the chloroform ripped away her consciousness it wiped fragments of her memory. Perhaps she imagined it all? Perhaps Vander still breathed, waking in time to rip Powder to safety?

The illusion played beautiful behind VI’s eyes as she stared into the darkness of her cell. The metal wall served as a canvas to these fantasies. The swaying of her punching bag, a child’s mobile lullaby. She never quite found warmth, but she found a way to move all her senses beyond the physical reality, into her desired one. It wasn’t as if she had no social interaction though. Those little missions she made for herself every time one of Silco’s goons came in kept her from slipping into insanity.

The latest one was a tall beefy man, wrapped up in some shipment scheme. As Vi took her food tray (first devouring the cold carrots and processed peas first), she passed some guards talking about one of the councilor’s daughters, and how she was killed in a progress day bombing. Vi considered asking Silco’s goon about it. Deep in her stomach she felt something about the incident was wrong. Unnatural. A veil over a truth she ought to know, but didn’t have the time to fully think through as she took her metal tray to the guy's face.

December 13th. 11pm. The cell. Confinement. Obviously. She still had her punching bag, but after dinner she became one herself. The guards beat her so badly she threw up her dinner, it’s puddle marinating in the middle of her cell somewhere. The month she was in time out, it got severely cold in Stillwater. They never provided a jacket, so she made due with tucking her arms into her sleeveless tank top. If she could have a jacket, she’d want a leather one. Vi missed the smell of leather. Working out helped with the bite of cold air too, but one could only push themselves so much before giving out.

The steam of her breath reminded her a lot of the lanes. It was comforting. The guards returned the next day, bringing her back to the regular cell block she called home. The entire journey upstairs they gossiped about the lanes becoming a place called Zaun. Apparently a new councilor took a seat while she was in confinement, brokering a peace with Silco. Part of her died then. It was an intimate awareness her people were now beyond saving.

January 13th. 2pm. The yard. Vi kept herself busy the following month. Trying to find out information on Zaun’s independence kept her occupied, as well as her additional tattoo appointments. She was receiving a fresh new piece spanning the entirety of her thigh. It was a sketch of the Last Drop as she remembered it. Looking up at the guard tower she considered how easy it would be to scale that wall. Leaving the island that kept the prison isolated was impossible, otherwise she’d be gone already.

As a teen, she tried a few times to escape, but not success. This time she wasn’t envisioning an escape that brought her back to Powder. This one would bring her to Mylo and Claggor. Perhaps they could rob every selfish Angel in heaven, using every bit of profit to create the Last Drop in hell. She considered it for a month straight, telling herself maybe it was time to go. To let go.

February 13th. 6pm. The escape. Something was happening. These alarms weren’t secluded alerts of the occasional dumb ass run away or riot. No. These red blaring lights were bottled migraines. Vi wasn’t there for it though. She used Mylo’s old tactics to pick her cell lock. It wasn’t hard to climb that wall to the top of the tower. She anticipated a guard would have shot her by now. However, Vi was completely unaware just how occupied they all were with Zaun’s citizens storming to prison to retrieve their loved ones.

Marcus’ corruption came to light by an investigation left behind by that Kiramman girl, taken seriously by the newest councilor as well as her mother. That’s when it became public exactly who was in Stillwater, even if they ought not be. On the rocks below, Vi swore she could see the figure of a woman. Blue hair, tall, slender. She was flipping through a book, some rifle by her side. It had to be an illusion, for the violent waves crashing did not disrupt what looked like this enforcer off duty. The woman looked up to Vi, giving a small smile and wave.

It was just before Vi was about to jump down that she heard a voice behind her say “Vi?” Another feminine voice, this time a whisper in her ear said, “Not your time yet, Violet.” Then a male voice, Claggor, saying “Just a little longer.” Lastly, Mylo’s voice said “don’t be such a pussy.”

As she rounded to find the sources of these words, she only landed on one individual. A woman with long blue hair. Powder. “Can I come home now?” Vi whispered with tears in her eyes. She didn’t believe the sight before her was real.

With an outstretched hand, still covered in Silco’s blood, her sister replied, “About time, huh? Here I was thinking you forgot me!” It was obvious something was different about Powder. Something was different about Vi, too.

“I know the feeling,” Vi chuckled nervously. She looked down one last time, the woman before gone now.

“First order of business, let’s get you real food,” Jinx offered, leading her sister from the edge.

“I’ve been craving cupcakes for three months straight,” Vi admitted, leaving it all behind.

[greenlightbulbonawire]

Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song)

XLII.

______________________________________________________________

Summary: From the dark musty cell of Stillwater all the way to the very base of Firelights, but where to from there? Guess you'll just have to let fate lead you.

Author's note: Alright I've got no excuse why this is coming out at the end of this week rather than the beginning, all I can tell you is that I now have over a hundred hours on stardew valley so...

Fourty first chapter

Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

“So where exactly would we get those, professor?” You tilted your head and waited for Heimerdinger to answer. The hunt for the elements of the list Ekko gave you turned out to be a slightly more difficult task that you firstly realized, and the fact that Heimerdinger seemed to know even less about the layout of the Undercity that you didn’t really help. “I’ve got no idea, my child, normally I’d stop by a shop in Piltover , but that’s not possible as of right now.” A sigh escaped your lips and you stared at the ground in front of you, trying to think of something, a few ideas coming to mind, but most of them being just a plain waste of time. “Maybe we could ask someone?” You looked around the Zaun street that you found yourself on, searching for someone that looked at least a little friendly, but instead of that, you spotted a group of enforcers making a scene nearby.

“Professor.” His attention shifted to the blue dressed men, one of them pushing a middle aged woman, causing her to fall onto the ground, while the other enforcers argued with some other Undercitians. You looked over to the short wise man, but he was already walking towards the commotion. A scoff came out of your mouth and you followed after him, pulling the hood of your cloak over your head and putting a hand on the gun in your pocket, the same one that helped you blow up Silco’s ship before. “What seems to be the problem gentlemen?” “What’s it to you, scrap?” “Dude, that’s Heimerdinger.”

Heimerdinger talked to the enforcers while you helped the woman stand up again. “Are you okay?” “I’m quite okay, but they took my cane, I can’t see without it.” You froze up a little at the words, before you turned to the enforcers, busy explaining the situation to the professor. Your brows furrowed and your lips turned into a frown. “Give me a second then.” As you approached the ground with a pissed off face, their faces turned to you, you couldn’t see their full expression, since they were wearing some devices to breathe better or something, but you couldn't care less in that moment. “Which one of you took the lady’s cane?”

The consequences of your actions were flashing through your mind, but you reminded yourself that you had Heimerdinger with you and the enforcers respected him a lot. “What did you say?” “They took the lady's cane, she’s blind.” The enforcers exchanged glances and one of them stepped forward. “We’ll return it.” “Oh you better.” You stared straight at the younger male and watched him carefully as he picked up the cane, that was kicked a few paces away and brought it back to the lady, you had no idea how Heimerdinger's sole presence managed to change the whole approach of the enforcers, but you sure did like it. “I apologize.” The male enforcer said to the lady and quickly returned to the rest of the group. “You better not cause more trouble, young ones.” The professor scolded them, or whatever it was that he was going and the enforcers slowly walked away, going on about making everyone's lives more difficult than they already were. The lady approached you, the people that argued with the now leaving enforcers joining her by her side.

“Thank you, how can we repay you?” She said to you, taking you by surprise once more, you stared at her for a few moments, trying to figure out if she was really wanting to offer something to you for helping her, a rare occasion in the Undercity. And also one that played right into your cards. “Actually, there is one thing, is there any chance that any of you might know where I can find a junkyard or something?” The people stayed silent for a second, before one of them spoke up. “There is one not far from here, see that tall old building? Take a right turn when you walk past it and you should be able to get there without a problem.”

[diversegaminglists]

Games Finished in 2023

Didn't get as much gaming as I usually do, due to a combination of health issues, my cat having cancer (she's fine now) and my computer breaking in a couple of infuriatingly nebulous ways.

Games I recommend are bolded.

Archvale

Franken RPG

Symphony of War: The Nephilim Saga

Signalis

Bound by Flame

Monster Train

The Last Door Season One

Unforgiving: A Northern Hymn

Dirk Smallwood HD

The Excavation of Hob's Barrow

Flynn: Son of Crimson

Dishonored: Knife of Dunwall

Dishonored: The Brigmore Witches

Sands of Salazaar

Adios

Talk to Me

Dishonored 2

Power Wash Simulator

Power Wash Simulator: Tomb Raider

Power Wash Simulator: Midgar

Pilgrims

Stone

Teacup

Cloud Gardens

Memory Traces: Japan

Khimera: Puzzle Island

Katamari Damacy Reroll

I was a Teenage Exocolonist

100 Hidden Frogs

lure

Lights Off...

Viltnemda

Suspicious Downpour

The Lost Dachshund

Resonance of the Ocean

Swallow the Sea

Shadow Burglar

Kore

Fears to Fathoms: Home Alone

Greedfall

Rapture: The Beginning

Adventure Escape Christmas Killer

Apeture Desk Job

Corridor Z

Hero of the Kingdom: The Lost Tales 2

The Shore

Alder's Blood: Prologue

Mirlo Above the Sun

Stillwater

The Call of Karen

Karisvale

Momotype

Epic Battle Fantasy 5

Aztlan Uncovered: Prologue

Good Dog

Adventure Escape Mysteries: Cluedo

You are a Whale Also Part 1

Adventure Escape Mysteries: Midnight Carnival

I want to be a Triangle

Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery

The Case of the Golden Idol

The Darkside Detective

Project Exhibited

The Case of the Golden Idol: The Spider of Lanka

The Test

Fayburrrow

Faefever

You Will (Not) Remain

Bad Dream: Stories

Star Apprentice: Magical Murder Mystery

Arcanbreak

Glass Masquerade 3: Honey Lines

Dot's Home

Westwood Shadows: Prologue

The Suicide of Rachel Foster

The Looker

Nancy Drew: Legend of the Crystal Skull

Without a Voice

Escape Academy

One Night Stand

Nancy Drew: The Phantom of Venice

Janosik

Don't Escape Trilogy

Spirit Cleaning

Fatum Betula

Viridi

Sarawak

Baldur's Gate: Siege of Dragonspear

Riddles of the Past

Desolatium: Prologue

Apocalipsis

The Vagrant

Apocalipsis: One Night in the Woods

Hayami Chan

Ginkgo

Alba: A Wildlife Adventure

Memory Traces: Egypt

Wilful

Distraint

Baldur's Gate 3

Zombie Admin

The Lost Night

Inside

Kingdom Hearts 2 Final Mix (PS4)

The Painscreek Killings

Eiyuden Chronicle: Rising

One-Eyed Lee: Prologue

Nasty Little Man

Halo CE: Anniversary

Technoccult: Covenant

To be a Herpwitch

Seethe and Scab

Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition: Main Campaign

Moons of Madness

Dragon's Crown Pro (PS4)

Paradise Killer

Amnesia: Rebirth

Dave the Diver

Zemblanity

Fighting Fantasy Classics: The Warlock of Firetop Mountain

[piltover-sharpshooter]

The Tapestry on your Skin. (Drabble)

Two figures were resting on Caitlyn's giant queen sized bed, one the eponymous heir to the Kiramman fortune herself, and the other her trusty partner, born fighter and long time survivor, Vi. This was, however, no moment of raw passion and roughness, that moment had just passed, and now they were simply caressing each others naked bodies and enjoying their respective company. It was only when Vi started to touch one of her many scars (Her old kickback wound on the shoulder) that Caitlyn sought to ruin the moment by speaking up.

"You don't have to force yourself to do that, you know?" It was a simple statement, but came baggaged with a lot of things behind it, and she was surprised to find she had spoken without meaning to. Something that came from the chest.

Her partner would stop for a second before raising an eyebrow. "...What do you mean? You can't tell me you don't like scars, you just spent the last hour getting your hands all over mine" And it was true. Caitlyn herself loved scars, adored them even, she found them extremely appealing, and on more personal moments with her partners she'd target them for kisses and caresses. So yes, Caitlyn Loved scars....on other people. On herself? She had to admit to finding them horrid.

It was one of the many things that had been instilled into her from a young age, the concept of a 'proper lady' and how one should take care of her own body. 'A lady's body should be like a smooth marble statue'. Pristine, perfect, not a blemish on sight, and while she understood on a logical level that it was rubbish, a part of her would always keep it in mind. She'd remember how other nobles acted when a lady got into an accident and had to wear a mask to cover her face, how a simple nick in the wrist would be treated as losing the hand itself, and her parents, bless their souls, despite doing their best to convince her they didn't care, had reacted badly to her own scar. Caitlyn could still remember their shocked faces.

Her tattoos would escape judgement as it was something she willingly did to herself, as and established, on others such marks were cause for appreciation. But on her? Her mind would always rebel against scars. "It is different, your scars are beautiful, mine are not"

"...Have you seen me, Cupcake? I look like a chopping block compared to you." Her answer was instant and accompanied by giving her scars little kisses, brushing her fingers along them gently, ensuring each one gets the same amount of attention. It was that simplicity and honesty about the pugilist that she adored, simple like a sword is simple she thought, it does it job, and it does it job well. Much like Vi. Others might give long winded explanations or corrections, but she just went from A to B.

For her part, Cait just blushes and let's her scars be pampered. "I'm not saying that I'm right...it's just that...I don't know, your scars seem like proof of how sturdy you are, of your will and strenght and willingness to survive and sometimes I look at mine and feel...ugly."

She is leaning against the touch and kisses, moving to caress the fighter's own scars herself, paricularly the one across her face, with her own thumb. "Your's feel like tapestry on your skin, endless stories and deeds and mine feel...mine feel like they are there to ruin said tapestry."

"Ugly is the farthest thing from my mind when I look at you." Vi muses, letting her fingers dance across her skin, caressing and kissing each scar she comes across.. climbing her body to do so. "Your scars tell stories. Mine are just.. all the same. Just some trencher trash getting beat by someone who thinks they're better. You can't call this a tapestry, this is a bloody rug." She never talked much about her scars from Stillwater-- though they where the ones to primary tatter her back like blood on white linen, and the sniper herself would never pry about it, if she ever wanted to tell her, then Cait would be there to listen, not a moment before. "I like yours much better, personally. Make you look real hot too." Adding a goofy little smirk as a flirt.

Perhaps that was the case for a lot of people, Caitlyn realized, perhaps wounds and scars looked appealing to others because they just tell the end of a story, rather than the horrible things one had to go through, hence why the one with said scars wouldn't appreciate them as much. Still, much like how Vi refused to let her think her scars were awful, Caitlyn was commited to make her appreciate the ones she had as well.

"Well...how about we compromise and say that we believe the other is right and that both our scars are beautiful?" Putting one arm around the woman's body, she'd lean forward to gently press her forehead against the fighter's own, managing to finally cause her to blush as well. That was the trick with her, always so direct, but if you are just as direct she stumbles, as she did now letting her mouth hang for a few seconds as she stared at Caitlyn's eyes, before softening her expression and smiling.

"...I think that sounds like a pretty sweet deal Cupcake..." And Vi, always to the point, kissed her, letting silence fall as their caresses remained. Both realized that logic was a compromise, one that wouldn't really solve the issues both had internalized....

But perhaps, each other's appreciation is enough.

(Drabble inspired by @risingshine's amazing art of Caitlyn's scars and tatoos, and a conversation I had with @undercity-merc )

[ferinehuntress]

◈　 ⇢  @shimmerbeasts　 ⋯　 Umprompted Ask 　　The window creaked quietly as Jinx forced it open ever so carefully. A pair of dark, heavy leather boots touched the floorboards surprisingly softly. Long, cobalt blue braids flicked across a lithe, slender back. They curled like a pair of snakes. Jinx snuck across the bedroom as swiftly and gracefully as an adder slid through the grass. She stopped beside the bed, upon which lay her target blissfully asleep.

Vi had scrunched up the blanket and tangled it between her legs. Her sister lay sprawled out on her side, all limbs stretched away from her. Her long, dark magenta hair had knots from being squeezed between the pillow. Jinx's eyes reflected the dim light of the room, making them glow an ever-radiant purple. The Loose Canon climbed on the bed and inched closer towards Vi.

Jinx finally leaned forward, and with her hands clasped upon Vi's shoulder to hold her sister still, she leaned over her and tenderly dragged her tongue up Vi's underarm and across her wrist, stopping shy of the palm. She gave the softest of purrs before she nuzzled against that wrist, remembering how Vi would caress her cheek.

  　⊰ ⸻ ⊱　Sleep rarely happened when Vi was alone, it caused her mind to perceive the thought of being in Stillwater again. Her room was just right across from Caitlyn's, her room facing out toward the gardens. The large cherry blossom tree was the focal point of her bedroom window and every morning soft pink rays would bless her bedroom.

Vi had been awake for a few days when she finally crashed, the need to sleep overpowered her will to stay awake. Her body had rejected the covers due to her natural body heat and only a single foot lay underneath the blanket. Her hair, usually trapped within a braid at night, had been unattended to and tangled around her pillow and head leaving little waves from the sporadic movement of sleep. A slight whimper escaped her lips when something heavy pressed down against her shoulder and turned her head slightly as she tried to pull her arm from the weight.

Her mind couldn't process the weight, and she started to breathe faster, twisting her head sideways as her hand curled and flexed with her claws. The tongue of Jinx's rolling over her arm sent bristles of her hair standing up against the back of her neck, as she started to growl, and then the sweetest touch against her wrist. Her mind twisted in confusion between the restraint leaving her uncomfortable and the fluttering pleasure of her wrist being touched.

Vi's eyes shot open and reflected white against the bright hint of light from the window. No one touched her wrist, NO ONE! Vi shoved Jinx back, wrenching her arm from her grasp and nearly hitting Jinx with her fist before rolling to the other side. Her teeth bore as she flexed her hands, claws outstretched and ready to fight. During the brief moment here, Vi wasn't herself. She had been triggered in her sleep and her first instinct was animalistic. In the darkness, Vi looked like a predator, her eyes glowing ready to attack. Her mind had equated the feeling to restraints, the way Enforcers would hold her down, shackling her wrist and restraining her.

Not Again! NEVER AGAIN!

She hissed as she couldn't focus or connect the dots yet about who or where she was. It took her a minute to process those deep purple eyes, the horror of memory from months before when she was tied up, how everything right now equated to one form of trauma or another. Her chest heaved, before slowly realizing it was Powder in her room. "Pow-Pow?" Vi whispered, completely confused as to her being in her room and thankful Caitlyn was out on a mission. She wasn't home yet, was she? No, she would have known!

She grabbed her wrist, still feeling the saliva over her skin, and visibly shuddered at the idea of her sister getting that close to her arm and just the small hint of pleasure she felt before it spurred on the trauma of the pause. Tiger-stripped scars covered her wrist as she covered her hand over that wrist and pulled it up against her chest. "What... why did you do that!?"

[bullet-prooflove]

Stuart Scola Masterlist

One Night (NSFW) - A near death experiance leads to a great night.

A Good Man - Stuart has no idea he saved you.

Count Your Blessings - Stuart remembers Doug's advice.

Connection - Stuart tells you about his issues.

Serious - Stuart buys a ring.

Smile - Stuart finds out what changed your mind.

Flattery - You remind Stuart of how you feel.

Rebel Girl - Stuart reflects on you met and where you are now.

Exile - Stuart admits that he's lied to you.

Ask Me Again - You recieve a change of perspective after being injured in the field.

Think Fast - Companion piece to The Scola Wedding - You decide you can't wait to get married any longer after Stuart catches a bullet.

The Scola Wedding - Stuart pulls out all the stops when you decide to get married at the last minute.

Paris - Stuart takes you away to Paris for the honeymoon.

Stillwater - Stuart finds himself the target of secret admirer.

Unruly (NSFW) - You get a little territoral when it comes Stuart.

Surrender! Series:

Club Night - Stuart turns up at the club you're at with some surprising information.

Surrender - You surrender to the enemy.

Must Be Love - Stuart wakes up to a nightmare.

Spooky - OA has always had a term for the yours and Scola's synchronicity.

Scars - You struggle in the aftermath of what happened.

GoneGirl! Series:

Trouble at Home - Stuart tracks you down after you don't come home one night.

Gone Girl - You disappear from Stuart's life.

Private Booth (NSFW) - Stuart runs into you in an unlikely place.

Welcome Home - Stuart's surprised when you return home after months apart.

Little Changes - Stuart notices when you start to make little changes.

The Last Time - You and Stuart face a problem regarding your wish to start a family.

Fresh - You decide you need to start fresh.

Seduction (NSFW) - You decide to seduce Stuart.

Jack - Stuart discovers that he fathered a child with Nina.

This Ain't Goodbye - Stuart and you make the decision to divorce due to the revelation about his son.

Every Inch Of You (NSFW) - You and Stuart spend the night together after two years apart.

Escapee - You and Stuart are reunited when a face from your past escapes from prison.

Safehouse - You and Stuart discuss moving forward now you're back in NY.

[bossmamacita]

Hiii long post ahead~~ this is some random history and fun facts about my boss Luz! I keep drawing her so it was time for the info dump. Suggestions and feedback always appreciated! Parts of this are based on my Colombian family lore so LMAO

Luz Armando Vega-Luna

Pre-SR1

In the shadows of Colombia's lush landscapes, Luz was born into a world that refused to see her for who she truly was.

Luz's existence as Cesar felt like a prison, shackled by the chains of her religion and culture. From the moment she drew her first breath, she knew that she was different, a fact she couldn’t communicate that filled her with a seething, simmering rage that threatened to consume her and those around her.

In the tumultuous environment of her childhood home, Luz found herself locked in constant conflict with her mother, Maria, whose strict adherence to Catholicism strained their relationship. Luz's relationship with her sister Elena was marred by their mother's manipulations, pitting them against each other. However, amidst the chaos, Luz discovered solace in her bond with her father, Armando, who shared her love for cars, the outdoors, and music. Through these shared passions, Luz found temporary respite from the turmoil, finding moments of peace in the midst of the storm.

Despite her father's attempts to provide comfort and guidance, Luz could not escape the tragedy that loomed on the horizon.

One summer night, Luz awoke to a fire. As their home became a blazing inferno, Elena shielded Luz from the worst of the flames, but not without bearing scars of her own. Amidst the chaos of fleeing, tragedy struck with brutal finality as their father, Armando, fell victim to violence, his life extinguished in the kitchen of their burning home.

It was clear to Maria that Armando had involvement in illicit affairs and had drawn the wrath of dangerous forces, sealing his fate with a bullet to the skull. As Maria fled with her children in tow, the flames of violence and betrayal illuminated the darkness that had engulfed their lives. Luz found odd comfort in it.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, Luz, Maria, and Elena couch-surfed, aiming to cross the US border. Despite the hardships, Luz's relationship with Elena improved, finding comfort as Maria's influence waned. Luz found solace in the nurturing relationship with her older sibling where she could explore aspects of sisterhood that aligned with her true self with her sister’s support. Luz’s rage grew like a tumor, poisoning all that surrounded it as Elena began to have medical problems due to the fire. This sped up the households’ progress in crossing the border. Luz worked odd jobs to help out. Luz’s rage for the world only seemed to grow stronger as they got to the border.

After successfully crossing the border, Maria's online boyfriend who lived in Stillwater offered them refuge in his studio apartment, the pair of siblings unaware of the neglect and abuse that awaited them. It happened slowly but the two adults in the house were the worst of the worst. Trapped in a cycle of abuse, Luz found herself thrust into a nightmare of violence and trauma. She focused her skills on surviving and becoming stronger.

As Luz grappled with the tumult of puberty and the torment of their living situation, she flunked out of public school. She had a few friends but wouldn’t call any of them close. Her education was not amazing but she was exposed to many different types of people that helped her explore her identity. Despite Elena's attempts to intervene and guide her onto a different path, Luz found herself inexorably drawn into the dark underworld that surrounded them.

As Elena's health deteriorated, their abusers remained indifferent to her suffering, leaving Luz to bear the burden of their shared trauma and worry alone. When Maria finally took Elena to the hospital, Luz was left behind, consumed by a sense of abandonment and resentment towards her sister for getting to escape due to her illness.

Fueled by her rage and a desperate desire to escape, Luz plunged headlong into a life of crime and violence, navigating the treacherous streets of Stillwater in search of a way out. She made some friends, lovers, enemies. With each illicit act, she clawed her way towards independence, determined to carve out a new life free from the shackles of her past. Her personality shifted from pure rage to something more controlled and witty, using her rage as a well-placed weapon in place of an explosion of undiluted rage.

But even as she forged ahead, Luz remained tethered to her sister, sending her money and paying for the hospital stay. Her true vulnerability was Elena. Afraid of cursing or condemning Elena to death, Luz kept her distance and called her regularly in place of visiting.

In the grimy streets of Stilwater, Luz found a temporary reprieve from the suffocating weight of her past. Growing out her hair brought a measure of relief from her dysphoria, yet she continued to present as Cesar until she felt she amassed the resources and confidence to transition fully. Amidst the chaos, she explored new hobbies and worked to heal the wounds within herself, determined to forge a path towards authenticity and self-acceptance. Then she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and stumbled into joining the Saints.

SR1

I need to play the game more LOL. Luz loves being in the Saints. I do canon that Luz names herself Luz after seeing Luz Avalos and is like “this damn woman dont even know her shoes…. nice name tho I’m taking that lol” its not like anyone calls Luz by her name anyway as the Boss character but it’s still funny. Relationship wise I think she gets along with Johnny the most due to chaos factor. I am not super sure how she would be with Troy or Dex or the others yet I will add to this later! Definitely likes Lin and Aisha tho.

Random:

- Elena has burn scars from protecting Luz from the fire. She later develops medical problems due to her wounds and lungs from this event. Specifically, I think of scar contractures that cause her to need physical therapy due to constricted movement, COPD, and PTSD.

- Armando was a priest or some form of clergy member and not actually married to Maria. He faced criticism in the community for having children out of wedlock, not being married to Maria, and they were planning on moving near the time he was assasinated. He tried his best with Elena and Luz to not have them be shunned in the community. He was in the process of trying to get married, gaining money for it through illicit means, as Maria had given up, assuming his faith would be chosen over her so she dated around.

- Luz Age Timeline: 10-12 years old, the death of her father and escaping. 13-15 years old, the family couch surfs in Colombia and they make it over the US border. 16-18 years old, they move in with Maria’s boyfriend in Stillwater and Elena is admitted to the hospital. 19-20 years old, Luz leaves to get her own apartment and is a criminal. 21 years old is when she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and SR1 begins.

- Luz’s first acts of being a criminal are in car hijacking and fucking things up mechanically due to her childhood knowledge.

- Luz beats the shit out of her mother and the boyfriend as she collects her stuff when she moves out lol.

- Luz gets a tattoo to remember her father after she moves out from her mother’s boyfriend’s apartment as a respect to him and her new beginning. Maybe a candle or flame? This is also the start of Luz’s transition. She looks androgynous for the most part but does not fully transition until near the end of SR1 where she feels big and safe enough to pop on over and get the procedures and whatnot done to feel at peace. (Giant boobs) (Super bimbofication hell yes)

- Personality wise, Luz starts as a conduct disorder child that outwardly expresses pure unfiltered rage on anyone. She is pretty extroverted. As she ages she refines her rage into something digestible and uses it in more of a cocky way that is controlled. It’s still pretty easy to piss her off tho.

- headcannon Johnny does not give a fuck that Luz transitions because she’s still the same wild murder machine. “Ok new hair and name. Let’s go murdering” yass ally

- Adding on this: “Hey Johnny this is what post bottom surgery looks like” “Damn you got that thing designer? Cool” LMAOOO just buddies being buddies

- I do not think Luz is emotionally capable of romance apart from hookups in SR1 and before so she definitely sees everyone as homies. I do think her and Johnny are the closest in a bro way. I think her first romantic feelings moment is toward Carlos in SR2. Definitely want there to be a dynamic with Luz being kinda afraid to act on her feelings (i curse everything i touch) so she just doesn’t act and its mutual tension and well… Red Asphalt.

- Also foils of Johnny/Aisha-Boss/Carlos is fun so yeah their friendship strengthens by the end of it but I think they both get angry and push back at both traumatic events so there’s some angst there

- I want Luz and Johnny to get together eventually but I think its pretty down the line out as Aisha was the love of Johnny’s life and Luz respects it and has unresolved emotional issues following acting on her heart

- I like the nickname Luli for her

[matchamilkislover]

In The Darkest Corners, 1.

pairing: vi x fem!oc (y/n with a name)

warnings: mature themes, explicit violence, parental loss, angst.

word count: 2,441

synopsis: After falling from her graceful life as part of a respected family in Piltover, Olive Whitlock takes matters into her own hands to solve her mother’s disappearance. Unfortunately, the only real clue she’s gotten in a while leads her to Vi, a less-than-friendly Stillwater inmate with a bone to pick.

author’s note: originally published january 2023.

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1 year ago.

BANG.

Olive was ripped from her sleep from the sound of doors shutting and closing in quick succession, followed by footsteps racing down the hall. Frozen by shock and uncertainty, she listened for only a second before she heard the heavy front door slam in and what sounded like a dozen pairs of boots stomp in, accompanied by deep shouting and the crashing of furniture and other belongings being destroyed. Without a second thought, she leapt out of bed and ran to her door to see what was going on. She whipped her door open to find her mother hurrying down the hall with her arms full of unfamiliar papers and strange objects.

"Mom? What's going on?" she whispered towards her mother's hunched figure, trying not to alarm whoever was invading her home. Her mother's head whipped around to face her and she dashed almost inhumanly toward Olive.

"Leave. Now. Or they'll catch you," her mother hissed, her eyes alight with fear and something else that Olive didn't recognize. "Out your balcony. Go!" Before she could speak, Olive's mother shoved her back into her room and, with a final glance, whispered "If we live, we'll find each other." With that, she pulled Olive's door shut and disappeared.

After a moment of shocked hesitation, Olive turned away from the door and set into action. Knowing she didn't have time to change, she ripped what clothes she could fit into her pack from her wardrobe and pulled a jacket over her pajamas. Hearing the thundering footsteps and muffled shouting travel up the stairs, she pulled on her boots and slipped through her glass balcony doors. Climbing over the ornate railing, her last glance into her lifelong home was of blurred enforcers busting through her bedroom door as she slid down her balcony and tumbled into the lamplit streets of Piltover.

Current.

Olive slipped quietly across a familiar alleyway in the Undercity, sticking to the shadows and praying that she ran into no one. After the night she lost her once plentiful life in topside, her luck had only gone south. Rumors about her mother's corruption and alleged betrayal of the high houses and individuals of Piltover only needed a night to spread before Olive couldn't escape them. Afraid of being apprehended by enforcers as well (or worse), she fled to the Undercity. It would never be safe, but she knew that here no one could recognize her or what her family had done.

In the past year, Olive had scraped her way by in the Undercity, always working odd jobs and barely slipping under people's noses when things went south. She had her fair share of cuts and bruises, but as long as she was alive or at least not wildly broken, she was persistent in continuing her investigation into what really happened to her mother that night. Most of the work she did involved shady dealings that she traded for information, but so far, she'd been met with snarky remarks and vague statements alluding to what *may* have happened.

Maybe this job will be different.

All she had to do was make a small - albeit strange - delivery; how hard could it be? She slipped past buildings and snuck around brawling groups and staggering shimmer addicts to the low, almost invisible basement building that she was delivering to. Peeking through the smoky window, she could see almost nothing besides a decrepit wooden door and a sign warning others not to enter. Maybe I can just leave it at the door and move on? She wondered - but sighed when she remembered she had specific instructions to drop it off with the receiver. If she were a native to the Lanes, she might have had the insight to just leave the package at the door anyways and do her best to evade the consequences later. But even after a year of fighting her way through the darkness, she still couldn't abandon the manners and instruction obsessed habits that her upbringing had given her.

Grumbling, Olive wrenched open the outer door and paused at the wooden one inside, considering whether or not to knock. Deciding it was best to not catch the inhabitant off guard, she knocked heavily on the door and stood back in case they came out swinging. Not much to her surprise, the door was ripped open by a hulking figure with enraged eyes and the smelliest breath Olive had encountered yet. Gulping, she held up the package and mustered up the courage to speak.

"From Achlan," she squeaked, ready to drop it and run at a moment's notice. Don't get her wrong, she could hold her own if she needed too - but she'd rather not need to in this instance. The large creature, who Achlan, her employer, had identified as 'A big lug of a man' grunted and took the package with one large gruff hand. Frozen, Olive just let him take it and continued to stare at his gnarled face.

"Need anything else, pipsqueak?" The man growled, looking almost murderous at the fact that Olive had apparently overstayed her welcome. Sputtering an apology, Olive backed up a few feet before turning and running the opposite direction, heart thundering in her chest just from the thought of spending any more time in that dusty doorway.

Olive ran as fast as she could through the lanes towards her employer's main camp, scaling a few walls (with some struggling) and launching herself across gaps between buildings that would usually send her stomach turning. Finally, she caught a glimpse of the crooked stack of buildings that her destination inhabited. She slid down the roof and shambled wall of the building she had been perched on, and tried to look confident as she strode towards the building that seemed rather looming when she really looked at it. On the ground floor stood the Undercity's iconic brothel, a haram of substances and lust that constantly hung in the air in and around it. Olive really tried to avoid the place simply so she wouldn't be lured in by the promise of payment, but for this job, she needed to go inside to access the stairwell to the upper floors.

Taking a deep breath, Olive avoided the eyes of the few people lurking outside and pulled open the door, slipping inside and rushing towards the stair at as fast of a pace she could go without looking suspicious. She almost made it before a smooth, husky voice called out to her.

"Hey miss...you look awfully lonely over there; leaving in such a rush?" The masked man called, stalking towards her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yes, I am leaving, actually," Olive replied, her breathing shallow as she tried to continue on without making eye contact.

"Ah ah ah," The man continued, reaching out to snatch her wrist before she had a chance to slip away. "You're really going to leave a paying customer unsatisfied?" he asked with a smirk.

"I don't work here," Olive hissed in reply, trying to snatch away her arm; the man's grip was surprisingly strong for his lanky build.

"Oi!" A deeper voice suddenly called, causing both of them to whip their heads towards the stairwell. "She's with me."

Olive recognized her employer instantly and shocked even herself with how relieved she was to see him. The masked man released her wrist immediately, muttering a nervous apology and slinking away into another room of the brothel. Olive had never been so thankful for such a terrifying man's nerve-wracking effects.

"You, up here," The large man on the stairs grunted, gesturing towards Olive. Nodding, she scampered up the rickety wooden stairs after his thudding footsteps. Upon reaching his door, he opened it gruffly and didn't bother to check if Olive made it inside or was even following him. Reaching a large desk littered with objects, the man sat down and faced Olive with an unimpressed look on his face.

Her employer was an almost ogre-like man with bulging muscles and strange bumps littering his green-tinged skin. They called him Achlan, and by now, Olive had heard enough rumors to know why his name and his looming presence sent people scattering.

"You finish the job?" He asked, seeming rather bored.

"Yes, sir," Olive said, the words seeming to jolt out of her almost trembling mouth.

"Good. You may leave," He replied, waving his hand toward the door and looking down at his desk.

"I'm sorry, but my payment..." Olive stuttered with her eyes to the ground.

"Ah yes, you're the one that wanted information. Strange request. Let's see, you want to know about Eleanor Whitlock, yes?"

She nodded a response.

"Something tells me you already know plenty about her family history...so why come to me? Surely you've tried to do some sleuthing on your own."

"Yes, sir, but if you could just tell me something — anything you know," She pleaded in a quavering voice. For a few moments, there was silence.

Then Achlan spoke.

"Stillwater Hold, inmate 516."

Olive was struck speechless. In a daze, she walked down the stairs and out to the street, paying no mind to anything, or anyone, around her. Stillwater Hold? What could an inmate there possibly know about her mother?

What if...No. Olive refused to even suspect that her mother could have ended up in jail. She'd had to face a lot of things in the past year, but even now she couldn't face the thought of it. Clenching her fists, she let her anxiety turn into anger, and was basically boiling by the time she reached the one place she knew she could get information about Stillwater - The Last Drop.

The neon glow emanating from the gigantic eye hit Olive's vision before she even spotted the building. The run-down and rather nasty bar was a common watering hole for residents of the Undercity, and no matter how hard she tried, that didn't exclude Olive. Her ears were flooded with noise when she opened the groaning door, and she held back a wince at the stench of alcohol and body odor. Making a beeline for the bar itself, she slid into an empty stool and waited for the familiar bartender to turn toward her.

"Olive, what can I do you for?" The dark, broad-shouldered bartender asked, a small smile whispering on his lips.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Grint," Olive replied with a serious face. "I need advice." Leaning in closer, she waited for him to do the same before continuing.

"Say I wanted to find a certain prisoner at Stillwater...Could I, you know, do it?" She asked in a lowered voice. Grint almost laughed.

"Not unless you want to get thrown in there with them! My advice, if you want to see anyone in that hellhole, you better be ready to stage a full break-in. Not that they're expecting anyone to break in — who in their right mind would want to get in there? Except you, of course." He chuckled and shook his head like Olive was presenting some ridiculous idea. She wasn't.

"And how would I go about breaking in?"

Avoid the light, find a back door, don't get caught. Those were the instructions Grint gave her before being pulled away by other customers at The Last Drop. How Olive was going to pull this off, she wasn't sure — but she'd be damned if she let another clue go unsearched. Taking a deep breath, she started carefully navigating her way around the jagged rocks of the island that Stillwater inhabited. She hissed like she had just been stung when the searchlight nearly grazed her calf. She went to hell in a handbasket alone just to get to the island, and that supposedly wasn't even the hardest part. Eventually, she reached the tall, intimidating building and started to scout it for entrance points.

Shit.

The only point of entry she could find besides the very obvious front doors was a second story window that seemed like she would need about five more years of rock climbing experience for. But time wasn't going to slow down for her to figure out another plan, so she latched her hands and feet into whatever holds she could find and started to climb.

How in the world she did it, Olive wasn't sure, but climb the wall she did. The window was, of course, locked, but it was nothing that a lock pick and a little elbow grease couldn't take care of. Within minutes, the window was open, and Olive was in. Seconds later she regretted every life decision she ever made when she spotted a gigantic guard sitting no more than 20 feet away. That is, until she heard him snoring. Her breathing started again and, after a moment to check that he was truly asleep, Olive began creeping towards him as slow as she could stand to go. Upon approaching the guard, she noticed a ring of keys on his belt. Isn't that a little too obvious? Olive wondered, but hey — she wasn't one to pass up such an opportunity. Her fingers made quick work of the key ring, and within seconds, the keys were in her hands. Now she just had to figure out which cell was 516's.

Initially, Olive figured that 516 must be on the 5th floor, considering that the inmates on the floor she was on seemed to all reside within the 100s. But the higher she went, the lower the numbers got; until she made a frustrating realization. The higher the number, the lower the floor — which meant that inmate 516 must be quite a bit underground. After kicking herself for wasting time, Olive descended floors until she reached what appeared to be the lowest floor, and the home of inmates listed in the 500s. Most of the cells down here seemed to be empty, and as she passed more and more cells, the unexpected sound of fists hitting concrete started to echo in her ears. Her blood chilled, and of course, it was only fitting that as she drew closer and closer, the light started to dissipate, the length of the hallway started to shorten, and the pounding only grew louder.

"Hello?" Olive called barely above a whisper towards the cell marked 516. The fists stopped. Olive came to a nervous stop in front of the cell door, fiddling with the keys in her hands. She caught sight of flashes of dark pink hair and heavily tattooed skin. The occupant tilted their head slightly towards Olive, exposing an angular face with a scarred lip.

"Who the hell are you?"