#iii. japanese breakfast

[kamaluhkhan]

HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK

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

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

i. sorry about the blood in your mouth

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

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

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

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

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

“morning, killer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh. right. 

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

what kind of pitfighter wears pure silver?

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

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

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

“did you bring me here for round two?”

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

“so you’re — what an enforcer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re not my enemy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“i can hold my own — ouch.”

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

“when you’re sober, maybe.”

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

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

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

“vampires?”

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

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

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

“so….what are you, exactly?”

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re joking?”

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

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

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

“no,” you admit. 

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

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

“sounds like do more than slay vampires.”

“whatever it takes, i guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were….asking her out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

except —

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

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

really, it’s more nightmare. 

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

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

it’s your destiny to end those nightmares. 

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

ii. you’re an angel / i’m a dog

there’s an intimacy to knowing how someone fights. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're on, killer." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but, you don’t.

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

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

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sure you’ll manage.”

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

“clearly i bet on the wrong fucking dog.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“this is serious, vi.” 

“i know! but —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi shrugs. “it does the trick.”

you chuckle dryly, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

“so….” 

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

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

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

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s really the little things. 

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

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

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

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

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

it works. it works really well. 

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

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

….

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

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

she closes her eyes and indulges in a little daydreaming:

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

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

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

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

you’re not talking about her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your chest is heaving as you pace back and forth. 

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

you freeze. “how much did you hear?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi swallows the lump in her throat.

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

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

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

“please, angel, don’t —”

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

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

a tense silence follows. 

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

you’re planning your next move. 

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

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

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

“wait. you should know that i’m —”

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

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

“then let me – i mean, i can help —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why are you doing this?” she growls.

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

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

with that, you’re out the door.

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

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

you’re not dying tonight. 

and vi’s been hungry for too long.

iii. all my devotion turns violent

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

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

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

fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she just hopes she wasn’t too late. 

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

you’ve lost blood. a lot of blood. 

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

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

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

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

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

“please wake up,” vi whispers. 

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

another sleepless night passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you thanked her for saving you. 

you apologized for using who she is as a weapon. 

what did you mean by that? 

unless —

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

she’s worth it. 

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

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

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

“are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“were you scared that i’d hurt you?”

vi blinks at you. “never.”

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

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

she feels like her entire world has flipped upside down.

this whole time…..

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

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

you welcomed her into your home, into your life. 

you kissed her. 

this whole time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi whines when you start to pull away even more.

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

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

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

“you’re on, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what else do you want?”

vi paws at your breasts from above your shirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but then you would —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

eventually, you both calm down. 

“you hungry?”

“not really. you?”

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

“sounds heavenly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you let out a surprised laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

v. my heart is black and beats for you

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

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

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

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

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

it’s her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

in other words: fuck the council. 

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

you manage to get her to her feet. 

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

you trust your instincts and carry her home. 

[asoftepiloguemylove]

i've polished this anger and now it's a knife

rubyetc.com / unknown / @/rbhvleo (tumblr) / Venetta Octavia The Burning / David Lynch The Angriest Dog in the World / Japanese Breakfast Boyish / unknown / @/jovialtorchlight (tumblr)

i. rubyetc

[ Messy drawing of two hands holding a bird. "HOLD ME, / NICELY, / I'M UNLOVELY" ]

ii. unknown

[ Black and white background image of people fighting. A man kneels down holding his head with his right hand in front of the audience. Right behind him is another man raising his fist in a punch. People lay on top of each other in the background. "WHY ARE YOU FULL OF RAGE?" ]

iii. @/rbhvleo

[ "TELL ME WHERE TO PUT THE ANGER / TELL ME WHERE TO PUT THE ANGER / TELL ME WHERE TO PUT THE ANGER" ]

iv. Venetta Octavia, The Burning

[ "You are shaking fists & trembling teeth. I know: You did not mean to be cruel. That does not eman you were kind." ]

v. David Lynch, The Angriest Dog in the World

[ Stylized drawing of a tied up dog in the backyard of a house. "The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. / ...Bound so tightly with tension and anger, he approaches the state of rigor mortis." ]

vi. Japanese Breakfast, Boyish

[ "And all of my devotion turns violent" ]

vii. unknown

[ "You are / a better knife / than you are / a person." ]

vii. @/jovialtorchlight

[ "once you understand the form kill it / once you understand the form kill it / once you understand the form kill it / once the form is dead hold it and weep / once the form is dead hold it and weep / once the form is dead hold it and weep / once the form is dead hold it and weep / once the form is dead hold it and weep / once the form is dead hold it and weep / once you have wept for the dead whatever / once you have wept for the dead whatever / once you have wept for the dead whatever / once you have wept for the dead whatever / once you have wept for the dead whatever / once you have wept for the dead whatever / HOLD THE LAST LIGHT AND MOLD IT / HOLD THE LAST LIGHT AND MOLD IT / HOLD THE LAST LIGHT AND MOLD IT / HOLD THE LAST LIGHT AND MOLD IT" ]

[joelapologist]

NO PRIZE TO PERFECTION -- a playlist for viktor, in three acts.

ACT I. the man

1. knock knock // band of horses

2. watching the waiting // wye oak

3. transition from nowhere to nothing // ezra furman

4. ways & means // snow patrol

5. the modern leper // frightened rabbit

6. big dipper // half waif

7. body // mother mother

8. timefighter // lucy dacus

ACT II. the magic

9. breath of life // florence + the machine

10. possible deaths // typhoon

11. resurrection // son lux

12. sky took hold // grizzly bear

13. paprika // japanese breakfast

14. automatic // kyle morton

ACT III. the machine

15. goliath // woodkid

16. whispers in the echo chamber // chelsea wolfe

17. science/visions // chvrches

18. the line // twenty one pilots

19. spore // ramona falls

[madewithlove-sophie]

What Did Love Do? | iii. | JJK Fanfiction

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Chapter iii. Bound by Destiny, Blessed by Friendship

Two children, born under the heightened scrutiny of their clans. One considered blessed by the heavens, the other cursed by fate.

In the lavish, traditional Japanese home of the Gojo Clan, with its sliding paper doors and meticulously maintained gardens, these two children lived intertwined lives.

Despite the grandeur of the Gojo estate, Satoru and Y/N surprisingly found solace in each other's company, away from the watchful eyes of their elders. Who would have known that these two children, seemingly so different, were bound by destiny? Yet, their kindred spirits found each other, and a friendship blossomed, pure and untainted by the prejudices of their clans.

-

It was breakfast time. The maids of the Gojo Clan scurried about, diligently serving their masters an array of exquisite dishes.

Plates of eloquently grilled salmon, its aroma filling the air, and bowls of savory miso soup were placed carefully on the table. Shiny, perfectly seasoned vegetables added a splash of color to the spread.

All these delicacies were prepared and presented with the utmost care, fit for the distinguished Gojo Clan.

As one of the maids, Aiko Tanaka sets the final plate onto Satoru Gojo's breakfast table, the small child suddenly grabs the maids Kimono and tugs the fabric.

"Where do you hide the mouse?" he whispered with a mischievous grin, his playful tone barely audible but still carrying the spirit of a spoiled child enjoying a game. A new toy.

Aiko, careful not to react conspicuously, merely glances at Satoru as she pours the child his drink.

Aiko Tanaka was rather protective of the child her sister had hurriedly given her. Clear as day, she remembered that eventful night.

-

The flickering light of the oil lamps cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of secrecy and urgency.

"She is to be killed. I can't let that happen to an innocent baby!" Her sister's words echoed in Aiko's mind as she recalled the frantic urgency in her voice. Her sister, a passionate and caring nurse, had burst into the room, disheveled and blood-spattered, as if she had raced there straight from the scene of some terrible event.

"She's the child of Shiro Akayami," her sister had explained breathlessly as she handed over the softly sleeping baby. Aiko unwrapped the white cloth that enveloped the infant, revealing a few strands of black hair peeking out. As she inspected the baby's features, she was greeted by the innocent gaze of two crystal rubies, shining like beacons of hope amidst the chaos.

Aiko Tanaka cradled the infant closer, her heart sinking as her sister's words sank in. The weight of their predicament bore down on them in the dimly lit chamber, shadows dancing eerily around them.

"I'll have to report back to the clan head of the Akayami Clan," her sister said, her voice heavy with resignation.

"Aiko," her older sister paused, exhaling deeply, "Shiro Akayami will probably kill me."

Aiko's eyes widened in horror at the bleak possibility. She reached out, gripping her sister's shoulder in disbelief. "All for a baby? Let's run away, Naoko!" Her worry for her sister overwhelmed her.

But Naoko shook her head, her expression resolute. "No. He will ensure that I do not share any of the details I saw spread, but I can't let this baby die just because of some wild beliefs." With a heavy sigh, she rose to her feet, leaving Aiko with the baby.

"On the way here, I named her Y/N. Although she's an Akayami, it would be nice for her to be a Tanaka for a while," Naoko said with a defeated laugh before looking at the dark night at the window.

"Please. I know this may seem a lot but I instantly felt-" Aiko cuts of her sister in understanding.

"I will take care of her, Naoko," she declared, her determination unwavering.

Naoko nodded in gratitude, then turned to leave, disappearing into the darkness of the path she had come from.

"Thank you," her voice floated back to Aiko before fading into the night.

-

Aiko's thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present as she felt her kimono being tugged once more. She glanced down to see the bored child looking up at her expectantly.

"Master has instructed us that if we were to bring our children into his home, he does not want them wandering around, Satoru-sama," the maid whispered quietly, her voice tinged with apprehension, wary of any prying ears that might be listening.

Satoru snickers in arrogance. "Want me to tell father about the two of you wandering the garden a few nights ago?" The child says wanting nothing more but to probe the two.

This kid! Aiko sightly laughs in annoyance over the bothersome child before relenting.

Aiko's shoulders sagged in defeat as she addressed Satoru, her voice resigned. "What is it you want, Satoru-sama."

Satoru's lips curled into a smug grin at Aiko's submission. He hummed in approval at the maid's words before issuing his command.

"Bring her to the garden later this afternoon," he instructed, his tone dripping with entitlement as he crossed his hands across his chest.

A heavy sigh escaped Aiko's lips as she processed Satoru's demand. What a way to start the day, she thought to herself, her heart heavy with the weight of her responsibilities. Despite her reluctance, she nodded in agreement, her sole focus on protecting Y/N.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Satoru declared, "That will be all," already bored with the conversation as he turned his attention back to his breakfast, leaving Aiko to contemplate the daunting task ahead.

-

"Whoa!" Y/N squeals in excitement as a red aura appears in her hands. She wiggles her fingers, and the red stuff follows, making circles around them.

The red color keeps popping up whenever Y/N thinks really hard. Aiko-chan says not to play with it, but it's just so much fun!

Giggling with excitement, Y/N keeps playing with the aura. Her hands move faster, making it go up and down. She pushes it to her side, and it follows her, but then it comes back to her hands. She tries pushing it the other way.

Then, Y/N gives it a big push forward, but it was a little too hard because suddenly, she's on her back. Flipped by the force of her unknown power.

"Ow!" Y/N whimpers, feeling a bit teary and shocked as the aura comes back to her.

Before Y/N can stand up, Aiko enters the room, surprise and worry evident on her face.

Aiko rushes to Y/N and helps her stand. "Y/N! You were playing with your technique again, weren't you? I told you not to play with it while I'm gone! What will you do if you get hurt?" Aiko exclaims, her voice filled with concern as she begins examining the child, checking for any injuries or cuts she might have.

"I'm sorry, Aiko-chan," Y/N says softly, her ruby eyes filled with tears as she looks at the ground and crumples the front of her shirt in guilt.

"There, there, let's see if you're okay," Aiko murmurs softly, gently inspecting Y/N. She brushes off any dirt from Y/N's clothes and wipes away any tears that may have welled up in the child's eyes.

Gently, Aiko lifts Y/N's chin so their eyes meet. "I know you didn't mean to. But you have to promise me you'll be more careful next time, okay?"

Aiko's voice is gentle, comforting, as she reaches out to wipe away the tears from Y/N's cheeks. "You're okay now. That's what matters most. Just remember, I'm always here to look after you," she reassures, giving Y/N a warm hug to comfort her.

Aiko gives Y/N a moment to collect herself before she shares the news about a certain boy who wants to meet with her.

"Do you remember the white-haired boy we met at the garden?" Aiko asks Y/N as she starts to carry her to the bed.

"You mean the one that looks like a frog?" Y/N says, recalling the boy who bullied her.

Aiko sets Y/N down before she places her hands on her hips, looking at the young girl expectantly.

"I know that boy bullied you, but he's the master's child. Promise me you'll stop calling him that," Aiko says, but the only response she got from the young girl in front of her is a grunt of annoyance.

"He said he wants to play with you," Aiko says as she starts fixing Y/N's clothes, making them look neat.

"I don't wanna! He's mean!" Y/N says in frustration, her voice echoing softly in their small, quaint bedroom.

She recalls the boy's hurtful words, feeling the sting of them. Y/N looks away from Aiko and crosses her arms in defiance.

Aiko expected and was concerned about Y/N's reaction. Instead of reprimanding her, Aiko considers another approach to encourage the child.

"Satoru-sama was just cranky from not having chocolate that night, Y/N," Aiko says gently as she settles beside Y/N on the small bed they both share. A small lie wouldn't hurt.

"Well, I would be too..." Y/N says, her voice carrying a hint of understanding as she finally starts to relax.

"Will you give him a chance, Y/N? Please, for me?" Aiko asks, a playful twinkle in her eye as she starts to tickle the little girl.

"Okay, Aiko-chan. But if he bullies me, I'll pull his hair!" Y/N says excitedly, raising her hands as if ready for action.

"Please don't," Aiko says gently, her tone tempered with a hint of admonition.

Y/N lowers her hands at the reprimand, her gaze wandering thoughtfully around the room. Maybe next time! she tells herself with a mischievous grin.

-

It was the afternoon, the golden hour when the sun bathed the garden in warm, amber hues. The soft light filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustling of leaves played a soothing melody.

Y/N holds Aiko's hand as they walk together inside the garden.

There in the middle is a child with white ugly hair waiting for his new playmate.

Aiko pauses as she and Y/N stand in front of the boy. Aiko bows her head, "Master Satoru, here is Y/N as you requested."

Satoru merely grunts in superiority over the child who seems to be hiding behind the arm of her beloved guardian.

Before Satoru can begin teasing the shorter child, she peeks out from the comfort of her shield and hands Satoru a small paper bag.

Out of curiosity, Satoru takes the paper bag and opens it, finding a few chocolate desserts inside. He glances at the girl in front of him, trying to decipher any plots she may have against him.

"It's for you..." the young child says as she steps away from Aiko and faces Satoru directly. Two three-foot-tall children stand face to face, the tension between them palpable. Y/N’s small hands tremble slightly as she clasps them together, her eyes flickering with a mix of apprehension and determination.

"I'm sorry for calling you names," she says hesitantly, blushing in embarrassment. "You are very handsome, Master Satoru," Y/N finishes, her voice barely above a whisper. An internal conflict plays out in her mind, torn between pride and the desire to make amends.

Satoru's initial expression of skepticism softens slightly as he processes her words. The boy's icy demeanor cracks just a bit, revealing a hint of curiosity and perhaps a touch of understanding. He takes a moment to consider her apology, the chocolate desserts still in his hand.

Aiko watches the exchange closely, her heart swelling with hope that this small gesture might bridge the gap between the two children. She gently places a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, offering silent support.

Satoru finally nods, accepting the apology in his own way. "I guess you're not so bad," he mutters, barely audible but clear enough for Y/N to hear.

Relief washes over Y/N as she sees a small smile tug at the corner of Satoru's lips. The internal conflict eases, replaced by a budding sense of accomplishment and the possibility of new friendship.

"Now, what do you say to Satoru-sama?" Aiko asks as she brushes Y/N's hair a few minutes before their meeting.

"I'm sorry. You don't look like a frog?" the young girl hums, enjoying the feeling of her guardian brushing her hair.

"No! You say, 'I'm sorry, Satoru-sama! You are very handsome!'" Aiko says with a mix of exasperation and amusement, her eyes twinkling as she continues to gently work through Y/N's hair. She pauses for a moment, looking at Y/N in the mirror. "It's important to be polite and kind, even if you don't feel like it. It helps us make friends and keep peace."

Y/N pouts slightly but nods, understanding the lesson. Aiko finishes brushing her hair, smoothing down the last few stray strands. "There, all done. You look lovely," she says, giving Y/N a reassuring smile. "Remember, you can always come to me if you need anything."

Y/N takes a deep breath and looks at herself in the mirror, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Okay, Aiko-chan. I'll try my best."

Aiko gives her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "That's all I ask. Now, let's go meet Satoru-sama, shall we?"

Although Gojo Satoru did not notice Y/N's words weren't entirely genuine, he could not stop the sudden quickening of his heartbeat. Embarrassed and surprised by this new feeling, he looks away, blushing.

"It's no problem... I'm sorry for calling you names too," he said, brushing his hair—a nervous habit of his.

Y/N nods in agreement and turns to Aiko. "I'm bored. Can we go now?" she says, not caring about the white-haired boy in front of her.

Satoru, irked by her dismissive attitude, scowls. "THAT'S NOT HOW YOU PROPERLY APOLOGIZE, YOU UGLY MOUSE!" he says, suddenly grabbing her cute chubby cheeks and stretching them playfully.

"YOU UGLY FROG, STOP THAT!" Y/N retorts with the same energy, pulling his white hair in return.

The two children engage in a comical tug-of-war, their faces scrunched up in exaggerated expressions of mock anger. Satoru's grip on her cheeks and Y/N's hold on his hair make for a comical sight, their bickering more akin to a lively game than a real fight.

Aiko, initially surprised by the sudden outburst, steps forward to intervene but then notices the playful nature of their banter. She pauses, a smile spreading across her face as she watches the two.

Satoru's grin widens as he teases, "You're lucky I like mice, otherwise, I'd turn you into a froggy!"

Y/N wrinkles her nose, playfully defiant. "Nuh-uh! I'm too fast for you, froggy boy!"

"You wish you were as cool as me," Satoru declares with a smirk, puffing out his chest, "but everyone knows frogs are the best!"

Y/N sticks out her tongue. "You're just jealous 'cause mice are cuter than frogs!"

Satoru, still holding onto Y/N's cheeks, grins mischievously. "You're lucky I'm letting you off easy, mouse."

Y/N, her cheeks stretched but her spirit undeterred, scoffs. "Yeah, right! I could beat you in a race any day, frog boy!"

Satoru releases her cheeks, pretending to be offended. "A race? Please, I'd leave you in the dust!"

Y/N sticks out her tongue. "Dream on, frog prince!"

Their laughter and childish insults echo through the garden, a stark contrast to their earlier tension. The golden afternoon light bathes them in warmth, making the moment feel timeless and full of innocent joy.

Aiko exhales in relief, glad her child has someone she can play with now. Her heart swelling with happiness at the sight of her child finding companionship and laughter in the garden.

Who knew this playful rivalry would continue for years to come?

[arterartthings]

There’s been a lot of Max/Bradley ship art influx lately and so allow me to show off my own Ship art of that lovely brat

Bradley Uppercut III x Kaito „Clio” Matsuda to be more precise

Some headcanons about Kaito:

Clio is an exchange student from Japan. He studies Japanese culture anthropology and history

He comes from a very rich family with long history reaching Azuchi-Momoyama period. His relationship with his male relatives however is very strain

Clio is a half-blood- his mother was a french Romani woman, while his father is full japanese

This caused our poor boy to have a lot of complexes about his heritage from mother’s side back in elementary and high school. Mostly it was caused by his relatively darker skintone and curly hair (he actually straightens his hair to this very day).

He recently got over it and now prefers his more Roma nickname. He actually dislikes being called by his surname or real name.

He was very hated by middle school teachers for his unruliness. At some point, when they forced him to cut his hair, he purposely failed his tests and assignments as a form of protest for ridiculous standards. When Clio was allowed to grow his hair back, he rewrote all his tests near perfectly and got very good grades from then on.

He became somewhat of a hero and symbol among other students, who also started failing their tests and assignments en masse on purpose so the school would be forced to loosen restrictions on appearance (ot worked)

As you can guess, he was a delinquent with a heart of gold.

Also, although I didn’t draw it, he vapes. A lot.

Back to ship with Bradley

When Clio started attending the exchange program, his first encounter with Bradley was quite hostile. Bradley basically challenged him to prove his superiority by (inserting casual racism) showing off his karate skills. Bradley later regretted it with black eye from him.

They somewhat reconciled after Clio showed him off his ice skating skills on the rink and Bradley invited Clio to Gamma Mu Mu as their sportsman.

And Bradley had lots of issues understanding cultural differences of Clio, like him sleeping on floor mattress, spending an hour in a bathroom, eating soup for breakfast or taking off shoes upon entrance to frat house.

Clio COULD NOT stand living with other gammas (aside from Tank and Bradley). He always found a lot of their habits very annoying to bear (like leaving empty beer bottles, leaving laundry mess or not cleaning regularly).

Their romance began to grow once they started tutoring each other. Bradley was tutoring Clio in English and skateboard, while Clio tutored Bradley in Math and ice skating.

They tried to dismiss their feelings towards each other. Eventually, thinking his love is one way, Bradley confessed his love to Clio, expecting ridicule, only for him to clap back with that he also has feelings for Bradley.

They thought that nobody knows about them being gay and that they must keep it a secret. However, their love in reality was an open secret among gammas. There were so many situations where they caught the lovebirds sleeping on sofa together or that Bradley accidentally once left out a clearly love letter to Clio in the locker. But in the end, Gammas were absolutely fine with their leader being gay. In fact they made sure nobody bullied Bradley and Clio on prom night.

After graduation, Bradley has chosen to go with Clio back to Japan and find study opportunity

Now headcanons about their love

Clio os the dom, Bradley is the sub.

Clio is the one who cooks, while Bradley is the one who cleans after dinner.

Bradley doesn’t mind Clio calling him „Brad” anymore.

When sleeping, Clio always has to cuddle Bradley like a pillow all night and wriggle around their futon with him.

Clio also tutors Bradley in japanese.

Their favorite time of the year are Hanami and Christmas (they eat a lot of KFC on holidays)

Both fathers of the boys disapproved their love, but after some time (and mr. Uppercut and mr. Matsuda eventually met) they just let it fly.

Might feature doodles of them in the future

[bezuss]

Of course we will hurt each other.

Hannibal | Saw III | Breaking Bad | Boyish by Japanese Breakfast | Emily I’m Sorry by Boygenius I Will Tell This Story to the Sun Until You Remember That You Are the Sun by Erin Slaughter | Geyser by Mitski | Emily Skaja, from Brute: Poems

[woman-respecter]

bestie @damejoansutherland tagged me to share my top 10 fave albums! thanks!

in no particular order, and including only 1 per artist

women in music part iii - haim

evermore - taylor swift

modern vampires of the city - vampire weekend

rumours - fleetwood mac

e•mo•tion- carly rae jepsen

lungs - florence and the machine

jubilee - japanese breakfast

bridge over troubled water - simon and garfunkel

illinois- sufjan stevens

the good witch - maisie peters

tagging @newtrenchcaot @mariacallous @bookish-bimbo @ttpd-chair @uncahier @staybeautifulmp3

[purpleboysstuff]

🌟 ABC Music List 2024-2025 🌟

A list of my favorite albums, mixtapes, EPs, etc. Which cover all the letters of the alphabet 🎶

Rules:

1. No artists are allowed to be repeated

2. Two letters are allowed to be replaced by a "Wildcard" option (a random album of my choosing)

3. Compilation albums count as well

A - All of This Will End by Indigo De Souza

B - Badlands by Halsey

C - CAPRISONGS by FKA Twigs

D - Desire, I Want To Turn Into You by Caroline Polachek

E - EVERYTHING IS LOVE by The Carters

F - Fanfare by Dorian Electra

G - GUTS by Olivia Rodrigo

H - Honeymoon by Lana Del Rey

I - Immuntiy by Clairo

J - Jubilee by Japanese Breakfast

K - KicK iii by Arca

L - lately I feel EVERYTHING by WILLOW

M - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy by Kanye West

N - Night Time, My Time by Sky Ferreira

O - OIL OF EVERY PEARL'S UN-INSIDES by SOPHIE

P - Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain

Q - Queen by Nicki Minaj

R - Red (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

S - Sass Pancakes by Ashnikko

T - Trouble by Natalia Kills

U - Unlimited Ammo by Namasenda

V - Vroom Vroom by Charli XCX

W - What's Your Pleasure? by Jessie Ware

X [WILDCARD] - the record by boygenius

Y - Ys by Joanna Newsom

Z [WILDCARD] - In Search Of The Antidote by FLETCHER

[winterblues]

july playlist. light scalds the sky & the world's still spinning

i. crocodile, ttng, ii. flies - aubrey key, iii. sinking just right - shelf life, iv. lightning of july - baird, v. out of reach - vi. old man canyon, vii. wisdom - french for rabbits, viii. dancing in the moonlight - thin lizzy, ix. danny (the pipes) - felix m-b, x. there is a dark place - tom rosenthal, xi. bees - ALASKALASKA, xii. cycle - ginga soup, xiii. sunsetz - cigarettes after sex, xiv. cough syrup - young the giant, xv. paprika - japanese breakfast

[dhampiravidi]

my muses' favorite things...

Jayn

Food - peach ice cream & herb-crusted fish

Drink - hot coffee mixed with chocolate OR sangria

Colour - gold & where deep blue meets violet

Season - spring/summer

Scent - lavender

Instrument - violin

Time of Day - late morning

Item - anthology of fiction from her childhood

Movie - Iron Man

Naela

Food - Moroccan-style tagine (stew w/lamb, dried fruit, spices)

Drink - pretty much any fruit juice made fancy (like mimosas)

Color - periwinkle/lavender (like her/her mom's eyes)

Season - summer

Scent - fresh flowers

Music - harp OR anything by Shakira

Time of Day - late morning

Item - her sword(s) OR a worn fantasy romance paperback

Movie - The Princess Bride

Achilles

Food - banana pancakes OR spanakopita

Drink - he just wants gin, a frappuccino, an Italian soda or water

Color - sea green

Season - summer

Scent - the sea

Music - pop (like Britney Spears) & rock (like Nickelback)

Time of Day - noon

Item - a pair of earrings that his mom bought him

Movie - Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith

Jas

Food - Japanese food (sushi, curry rice, mochi)

Drink - peppermint tea

Color - bubblegum pink

Season - spring

Scent - citrus

Music - classical (piano)

Time of Day - noon

Item - her dad’s necklace (Wayland ring on a leather cord)

Movie - A Bug’s Life (her dad took her to see it when she was little)

Skadi

Food - beef pot pie (potatoes, peas, carrots) OR blueberry muffins

Drink - something w/cinnamon (rum/horchata) OR Bai Mu Dan tea

Color - forest green

Season - spring & autumn

Scent - cinnamon OR fresh pastry

Music - low woodwinds & chanting

Time of Day - morning

Item - a Jotnar song her parent taught her

Movie - the LOTR trilogy + Good Will Hunting

Oraia

Food - dolmades (Greek stuffed grape leaves), pizettes (Italian chocolate cookies w/almonds & cinnamon)

Drink - paloma (tequila, lime juice, grapefruit soda) or mojito (white rum, sugar, lime juice, soda water & mint); peach green tea

Color - N/A, though she wears a lot of blue & white

Season - any time that isn't cold

Scent - vanilla

Music - Euopop, modern rock, anything worth dancing to

Time of Day - just after sundown

Item - the knife her mom gave her

Movie - Jumping the Broom OR Disney's Hercules

Hestia

Food - Thai coconut chicken soup OR Bûche de Noël [Yule Log]

Drink - Kahlua & Chai OR Chai Tea Latte

Color - orange

Season - winter

Scent - whatever her lover & her kid smell like

Music - 90s pop (mostly dance songs)

Time of Day - early morning

Item - picture of herself & a bunch of the X-Men outside

Movie - Love Actually

Rose

Food - garlic noodles (also she's a vegan, just sayin')

Drink - bourbon OR green tea (either w/honey)

Color - ballet pink OR white

Season - spring (no solstices & few cold breezes)

Scent - the sea

Music - punk-pop (especially acoustic covers)

Time of Day - early afternoon

Item - magic locket (allows for multidimensional comm w/father)

Movie - The Prestige

Aurelia

Food - chicken vindaloo

Drink - simple stuff. Latte. Tom Collins. CBD oil ;)

Color - jade green & gold

Season - summer

Scent - dewy grass, hot cocoa, woodsy cologne

Music - classic rock (especially The Rolling Stones)

Time of Day - early evening

Item - her wand OR a souvenir scarf from Nigeria

Movie - Die Hard OR Waiting to Exhale

Rela

Food - Jogan fruit OR a simple Chinese-style stir fry (vegetarian)

Drink - doesn’t like alcohol; Royal English Breakfast Tea (w/milk)

Color - the electric blue of a holobook

Season - autumn

Scent - trees & forests in general

Music - acoustic covers & R&B

Time of Day - middle of the night

Item - her late master, Maglos Nerot's, yellow lightsaber

Movie - historical documentaries (w/o reenactments)

Eugenia

Food - carbonara (pasta)

Drink - hates alcohol; Arnold Palmer (tea & lemonade)

Color - maroon

Season - spring

Scent - dewy grass

Music - R&B + 00s pop

Time of Day - late morning

Item - she can't pick (isn't materialistic anyway)

Movie - The Bodyguard OR Legends of the Fall

Shayera

Food - chicken mole enchiladas OR falafel

Drink - Hurricane (3x rum, grenadine, OJ, simple syrup) OR a vaguely fruity thing infused w/some caffeine

Color - hot pink

Season - autumn

Scent - cocoa butter

Music - 90s rap & modern alt (Hozier)

Time of Day - noon

Item - her mace

Movie - The Equalizer OR Rush Hour

Mu Lan

Food - nkwobi (spicy Nigerian stew w/cow foot & fish stock)

Drink - ginger beer (doesn't like drinking often)

Color - crimson

Season - spring

Scent - ginger

Music - violin OR indie folk (The Civil Wars, The Lumineers...)

Time of Day - late morning

Item - petals that she preserves in her books

Movie - Miss Congeniality

Monet

Food - steak (medium) frites

Drink - sidecar cocktail (cognac, orange liqueur, lemon juice)

Color - maroon

Season - summer

Scent - apple pie

Music - 80s pop music

Time of Day - noon

Item - her black trenchcoat (which she sometimes wears as M)

Movie - The Mummy

Fantomex

Food - pretty much anything French that's 4-star quality

Drink - White Russian (vodka, coffee liqueur & cream)

Color - white, sometimes silver

Season - winter

Scent - roses

Music - rap (in French, obviously)

Time of Day - nighttime

Item - a picture Evan (his adopted son/nephew) painted for him

Movie - Casablanca OR Atomic Blonde

Renée Michele

Food - her dad's étouffée OR her mom's lotus root pork bone soup

Drink - vodka & blue raspberry Jello shots OR caramel macchiato

Color - neon colors, typically purple

Season - summer (partly for the thunderstorms)

Scent - chocolate

Music - pop-punk & grunge

Time of Day - noon

Item - her eyes

Movie - Bullet Train

Rhea Livia

Food - cheeseburger w/onions & tomato OR pork broth ramen

Drink - Baya Energy Mango Guava (premade)

Color - electric blue

Season - summer

Scent - chamomile

Music - modern/10s pop

Time of Day - noon

Item - her skateboard

Movie - Scary Movie

Cathan

Food: best described as fish resembling salmon

Drink: Faerie wine (newer the better)

Colour: black, though he says red

Season: summer

Scent: vanilla

Music: 90s pop (he’s been to mundane clubs)

Time of Day: sunset

Item: scarf gifted to him when he was twelve

Movie: Good Luck to You, Leo Grande or Moulin Rouge

[jolienjoyswriting]

The Maiden in the Mist (ft. Riku (the-minuscule-task), Ch. III

Chapter 3 of 4 for "The Maiden in the Mist," a fan fiction story.

Riku gets Joseph alone in her tea room.  And then… they have tea?

Word count: 2,969 – Character count: 17,117 Drafted: April 5th, 2023 Revised: April 6th, 2023 –

"Wah~!  What are we gonna do on the straw mat~?"

Honestly, this whole story was inspired by a certain drawing Task did… which I'm inclined not to share here for "content" reasons. (Said drawing happened in Chapter 2.)  But, beyond that… I definitely fell in love with an Eastern dragon~

Riku and related characters and concepts created by and © the-minuscule-task Joseph Lithius and related characters and concepts created by and © Jo Li

[ ← Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter → ]

    The dragon girl was standing in the main area, patiently waiting for me.  It was odd seeing her dressed, but I really liked what she wore: a simple, Japanese-style kimono gown, colored like – and covered in etchings of – cherry blossoms!  I'd later find out she had more casual clothing like a hoodie and slacks but never mind.     Continuing, she wore her long hair in a low bun, held in place by chopsticks, and there was a flower-shaped barrette on the right side of her hair.  I think it was a barrette, anyway – it seemed to be holding her bangs away from her face.  It was cute, but she was beautiful.

    "Ah!"     She spotted me and waved.     "Kitsune-san!" she called, drawing attention to herself.  "Kite, kite!"     I felt a little embarrassed as I walked over.  People were looking at us.  Guess she didn't seem to mind being a spectacle.  Me, though… I generally liked to keep a low profile.     "Redī?" she asked, sounding chipper.     "R-ready…" I shyly said. "Retsu go!!"

    I continued to blush as she escorted me up to the second floor of the building.  Before long, we encountered a metal door.  She smiled at me, reaching into her tail's plume and retrieving another key.  She opened that door, then she walked in and opened a sliding door beyond that.  I peeked inside where she was standing…  That little "airlock" was, seemingly, a bathroom with a sink and a toilet.  Finally, she stood aside, letting me into the room beyond.     I walked inside, looking at a pretty, traditional Japanese room.  Directly in front of me was a low table with seating cushions on either side.  The cushions had chair backs, too.  I could see a small area near the window at the other end of the room with two regular chairs and another small table.  To the right appeared to be some storage space.  Further ahead on that same wall was a small television and a small air refrigerator.  There wasn't anything of note on the left wall save for the remote for the in-room air conditioning.  Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting when I walked in.  Don't get me wrong, the room was nice enough.  It just… wasn't a bedroom like I'd expected.  It was more like a waiting room.  I guess the cashier lied about lodging and breakfast, too…  Even so, it was a nice enough room, I suppose.

    I heard the sliding door click behind me.  When I turned around, I noticed that the dragon girl was blushing and smiling at me.  Her eyes were innocent, again, but there was a definite excitement to them.  She clearly liked the idea of having me in her room.     I pulled out my cell phone, saying something into it.  She cocked her head when the phone asked her "What are you up to?" or "What's going on?" in Japanese.     "Nani?" was the answer I got back.  So, I tried again.     "What are we going to do in this room?" my phone interpreted for me.     The girl blushed, her tail wagging a little.  She then gestured to the little table.  As I sat down on one side, she walked over and reached down to a little plate of things that I'd somehow not noticed.  It looked like… a small teapot, two serving cups, and maybe some kind of small cylinder?  I curiously watched as she took the black cylinder into her hands and opened it.  She used her other hand and opened the teapot, pouring some leaves from the cylinder in, then she picked the pot up and headed to the bathroom.  Not long after, she returned.

    "Tī," she said in Engrish.  "Mattete kudasai."     I more or less understood what she was saying.  She wanted me to wait for the tea to… steep?  Is that the right word?  I figured it wouldn't be long before my sensitive nose picked up on the scent of hot tea leaves in any case.  I didn't like tea… but I liked the idea of spending more time with a very lovely lady.  And so, I smiled.

    "'Riku'."     "Sorry?"     As we waited for the water to become tea, the lady got my attention, again.     "'Riku'," she repeated, pointing at herself.  "Riku…?  Etooo…?"     When she gestured my way, I smiled and wagged my tail.     "Josefu," I answered, pronouncing my name in a Japanese dialect.     Riku giggled and nodded.  "Yozefu-san…"  Something about the way she pronounced my name made me blush.  There was a sweetness to it that I can't explain…     After a moment of reflection, Riku reached into her tail plume and retrieved something.  It was a cell phone not unlike my own.     "Hello, Joseph!" the phone said as it translated her words.  She had spoken energetically, but the phone had spoken plainly.  Still, I got the subtext.     I smiled, blushing as I spoke into my phone.  "Hello, Riku!" it said back in Japanese.     She blushed, herself, starting to giggle.  "I like you…"     I blushed more and smiled.  "I-I like you, too!"     She was having a hard time staying calm.  I could practically see hearts bubbling off her head as she blushed hard and smiled brightly.

    "Hey…  I… wanted to apologize for before."     She perked, looking confused.  "What do you mean?" her phone translated for me.     "When I walked into the spring, I wasn't expecting to see you…"     She cocked her head, confused.     "It's a public hot spring," her phone said for her as she smiled.     "No, I mean I didn't mean to walk in on you during a… p-private moment."     When my phone relayed my message – without hesitation or stuttering, of course – she cocked her head the other way.     "It's a public hot spring," she repeated through her phone.  "I don't understand."     I typed something on my phone… then slid it over.  It had translated my silent word without saying it.  When she read the characters for "jii" and "kōi"… Riku's face turned bright red.  She didn't say anything… but she was typing something.  A lot of something.  I bit my lip a little, feeling incredibly tense.  What was she writing…?  A novel?

    After about a minute, she slid her phone over, still blushing like crazy.  I picked up the phone and began reading… only to keep blushing.  She had described how much she liked standing in that warm water, completely bare.  She went on to say how good the warm steam felt on her scales.  Actually, the word she used was "caressed" or "stroked" – something more sensual, b-but with the same basic meaning.  I politely handed the phone back, tilting my head as, almost immediately, she started typing something else.  When she handed it back over, my ears fell and I blushed even more.  W… wow.  Okay.  That was… a lot.

    I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate me sharing this… but for the sake of storytelling, I'll share.  In her second message, she went into detail… great detail… about how wonderful it felt to do what she was doing in places like that.  She specifically clarified that she was not an exhibitionist.  She just really enjoyed herself at the hot springs!  Apparently, this was something she did regularly…

    I looked up, my face so red that even my fur couldn't hide it.  I'd bitten my lip as I read the final translated sentence: she wasn't an exhibitionist… but she did get a little excited when I'd caught her…  Her face was red through her scales, too.  Guess that innocent lizard lady wasn't so innocent, after all.  Things were tense, again, as she then gingerly drew her phone back over…     "E-e-etooo…" she stammered, "A-anata wa watashi ga warui hitoda to wa omoi…?"     She hadn't said that to her translation app so I had no idea what she'd said.  However… I had a feeling she was asking me if I was judging her.     "Everyone is different," I said, forgetting my phone existed.  "Sh… shouganai…"     She covered her mouth, continuing to blush.  Tears were starting to show in her eyes…     "W-wait.  No," I said, "that came out wrong."     She huffed and whimpered a little.  Did she think I hated her, now?  She was definitely going to cry…     "Riku, I…"     I paused.  Words weren't gonna cut it.  I got up and scrambled over to her.  When I wrapped my arms around her shoulders from behind… she immediately relaxed and leaned into me as best as she could.  There was a chair-back thing in our way, after all.     "Yozefu-san…"     She softly purred my name, calmly breathing.     "Riku…"     I quietly purred hers, just holding the sensitive girl close.     "Kissu me?"     "Gladly…"     I gently turned her head toward mine, then I nuzzled her nose before softly kissing her on the lips.  When she grabbed my head, I had to lean on her to keep from falling over.  I guess she'd really wanted that kiss.

    I blushed a little as she started to stand.  My heart was thumping as the girl towered over me, arching her neck and continuing to hold my head… and the kiss.  She wasn't purring anymore, but she was humming softly… sweetly…  I stepped forward, getting closer.  She reciprocated, letting her arms find their way around my shoulders as mine found her waist.  We kissed for a little while longer… then we paused to breathe.     "Yozefu-san…"     She kissed my forehead and giggled.     "Sankku yū…"     I couldn't stop purring as she held me.  Her body was warmer than before and I could hear her heart softly beating as she sweetly purred back…  I didn't know what was going on, exactly… and I didn't care.  I just… wanted to stay like that.  With her.  Forever…  Eventually, though, we let ourselves part and returned to the table.

    Things became tense, again, as she served us some tea.  We couldn't stop glancing at each other… couldn't stop blushing.  Something was happening and neither of us seemed to want to bring it up.  I could see such fondness in her curious eyes… and I'm sure she'd noticed the warm way I kept watching her.  Luckily, the instant I tried to take a sip of that tea…     "Ehn…"     My face instinctively scrunched.     "Dō shita no…?" she quietly asked, the tension breaking instantly.     "I don't like tea…" I said, softly laughing.     "Mm…"     She shook her head before tapping my cell phone.  I repeated myself, letting my translator app explain.     "Ah…!"     And she immediately bowed.

    "G-g-gomen'nasai…!" she cried as she scrambled back to her feet.  "Omowanakatta!  Jūsu wa ikagadesu ka…?  M-matawa sōda?"     I actually got "juice" and "soda" out of that.  However…     "Eeeeeh…?!"     Instead of answering her… I took the cup of tea and pressed it back against my lips, politely sipping.     "You made this tea for us to drink," my phone translated for me.  "It would be really rude if I didn't try!"     "Ch-ch-ch-chottomatte…!" she said, still standing by the miniature fridge.  "H-h-honkidesu ka?!"     I took a rather wild guess as to what she was saying, and I told her… "Honkidesu…"     She stared at me like I'd gone mad.  Did I say something stupid…?     "W-wait…"     My ears fell back.  Her hands were back over her snout and she was starting to cry again.

    "Did I do something wrong…?" I asked through my phone, genuinely confused.     She shook her head, bursting out with a single laugh.  She sat back down, then, and offered me a warm, beautiful smile.     "Suītto boy…" she said, trying to stay relatively calm.  "Sankku yū…"     "Riku…  You're acting like no one's ever had tea with you before."     She perked, listening to my phone translate for me.  When it finished, she softly smiled and took her phone into her hand.     "You don't like tea," her phone said for her, "but you're still willing to drink with me.  You are kind and sweet…"     "You're the one who's kind and sweet!" I answered with a smile.  "You made tea for a person you just met!"     "I like you very much…" she shyly told me.  Her phone didn't pick up on the way she said it, of course… but I could tell from how she said "Watashi wa anata ga totemo sukidesu…"     "And I like you!"     "Aaaaah!  Sugoi…!"  She beamed as she told me, "Anata ga subarashīdesu…"     Her phone hadn't caught that… but I did.  "You, too…" I whispered back.

    We continued to idly converse through our phones as we sipped the tea she'd prepared.  I'm not sure what kind it was…  It was weedy, though… grassy.  I tried not to make too many faces as we emptied the pot, but she noticed… and she giggled.  Well, at least she was amused…

    It was completely dark outside by the time we'd emptied the teapot.  I stretched and sighed, offering another soft smile to my companion.  She blushed and smiled back.     "I wish there was a bed in here," I idly whispered, "so I could cuddle you like crazy…"     I kept smiling… until I heard something.     "Koko ni beddo ga areba īnoni, anata o muchū ni dakishime rarerunoni."     My eyes widened and my smile became stiff.  I couldn't stop staring at the blushing lizard woman sitting across from me.  Apparently… my phone had heard me speak… and felt obligated to translate it for me.  Which meant… she understood every last word of what I just said.     "Ch-ch-chottomatte…!" I cried in Japanese, "I didn't mean–"     "Uesu."     I stared in astonishment.  "Wh… what?  Nani?"     "Retsu dū itto!" she exclaimed with a big, bright smile.  "Hōruddo me… kissu me… nevā retto mī go…!"     "I… w… wha–"     "Jāsutto kiddingu!!"     The girl in the kimono furiously giggled, largely amused by her own joke.  When I started to smile in return, though…     "But seriously, I want it much."     She let her phone translate her words… and blushed, shyly looking away.  I was pretty sure that was a mistranslation.  But… at the same time… well…

    We anxiously moved the low table and cushion chairs from the middle of the room.  A second later, we sat on the straw mat, sharing soft, nervous smiles.  Things seemed so much easier when we were naked, somehow…  Eventually, we laid next to each other, face-to-face, and we drew inward.  It was only after cuddling up that we started to relax again…

    "Kawaii…"     "Mm…?"     I smiled, leaning back to look at her.  "Kawaii ryuusei…" I whispered.     For those keeping track, I accidentally called her a shooting star instead of a dragon.  Yeah, oopsie.  Even so, she blushed hard and giggled… then she kissed me.  Just like that.  So… I kissed her back.  And once again… we found ourselves sharing a long, meaningful kiss as we lay there in her room on the straw mat.     "Sekkuretto…"     "Hm?"     She nuzzled my cheek as I paid attention.  "Sekkuretto…" she whispered again.     I smiled, nuzzling back with a purr…  "Yes?"     Her face warmed until it was red.  "A… anata…"     I started to blush a little.  She seemed so tense…  I softly stroked her cheek and she calmed a little.  Then, she whispered… softly… sweetly…     "A-anata ga sugoku suki…"

    I didn't know how to respond… mostly because I wasn't sure what she said.  I knew that "suki" could mean "love"… but it could also mean "like".  And given her body language and general composure throughout the night… I was pretty certain she meant the second one.  I softly bumped noses with her and warmly looked into her eyes.     "Suki…" I whispered.  "Suki desu…"     She giggled… then she started laughing.  Oh, boy…     "Suki desu ka?" she asked, still softly laughing.  "Suka reru no wa sukidesu ka?"     I was pretty sure I'd said something silly.  She definitely wouldn't have laughed that much, otherwise…     "Translation, please?" I asked, leaning back to grab one of our phones from the displaced table.  "Toransurētto, purīzu?"     I tried to offer her phone… but she just rubbed her nose against mine, smiling.     "Suki…" she purred.  "Suki, suki, suki…"     I wasn't sure why she was repeating that one word over and over again, but…     "S… suki," I whispered back, fondly pressing my nose to hers.  "Suki, suki, suki…?"     "Aaaaah!"  She cried out, beaming.  "Kawaiiiii kitsune-san!"     Without any warning, she pulled me into another rough kiss.  Her claws were running through the fur on my head and she was holding me pretty tightly…  I guess I'd said the right thing.  Or… the wrong thing in the right way?

    "Suki…"     After our kiss, she purred into my cheek, resting her head under mine.  I softly breathed as I ran my dull claws through her hair.  I liked holding her.  She was so soft… plus, our height difference didn't matter since we were lying at eye level, anyway.     "Suki desu ka?" she quietly asked, looking at me with warm eyes.     "Suki desu…" I answered with a smile.     "Kawaii…"  She put her head back down, closing those pretty eyes of hers.  "Sugoi…"

    As we lay there holding one another in that hot spring guest room, I started to wonder… was that all Riku wanted?  Someone to hold?  Someone to hug?  Someone to kiss and caress?  Was she just a lonely girl looking for love…  Or… was I a special case?  Maybe she felt obligated because I caught her… w-with her hand in the cookie– no, that's terrible…!  You know what I mean!  Still… was it an obligation thing?  Was she satisfied with cuddling?  Or had she genuinely wanted to give herself to me?  Maybe it was something in between?  Maybe… maybe it really was love…

    As I lay there wondering, I slowly started to nod off.  Riku was purring again, and it was extremely relaxing.  I didn't want to… but regardless of what I wanted, I wound up falling asleep right there on the straw mat, held by a big, adorable lizard lady who seemed pretty fond of me.

    I couldn't have asked for a better end to my night…

[texaschainsawmascara]

“Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains,” Citizen Illegal - José Olivarez / Postcolonial Love Poem - Natalie Diaz / Dog Days - Ethel Cain / Song of Songs - Sylvie Baumgartel / The Horse and His Boy - CS Lewis / Girls Can’t Play Guitar - BONES UK / Medea - Euripides / Shame Reactions - Pom Pom Squad / Bones and All / The Fruits - Paris Paloma / Gunshot - Lykke Li / Angela Carter / on love arriving unannounced / Desire - Meg Myers / Georges Bataille / Lady Lamb / Prozac Nation / Return of the Living Dead III / The Waves - Virginia Woolf / Soft Targets  - Deborah Landau / No Good Bloodsuckers - Emma Rebholz / x / Trouble Every Day / Lie - Halsey / Colourless Musings - Tathève Simonyan / Brothers - Elizabeth Robinson / Lighthead - Terrance Hayes / The Love of the Wolf - Hélène Cixous / Body of Water - Florence Welch / Blood Roses - Tori Amos / Medea - Euripides / Girls Can’t Play Guitar - BONES UK / Smells Like Sex - Sizzy Rocket / Where The Wild Things Are / Maison Margiela ‘Kiss’ - Hannibal / Angel May Chen / Breezeblocks - alt J / Zura.hell / Blythe Baird / unknown x2 / Boyish - Japanese Breakfast / The Agonist - Shastra Deo / Dumplings / Possession / x / You Are The Apple - Lady Lamb / The Best American Poetry (2014) - Marty McConnell / tbd / The Body - Stephen King / Hearts/Wires - Deftones / People Eater, Misery Meat - Sodikken / Sick Like Me - In This Moment / Kokoro - Natsume Sōseki (trans. Edwin McClellan)

[itadakimasu-letmeeat]

[elliottjpg]

Finally got around to draw my Monster AU!

Lupin: vampire. His sire is Lupin the Second (the name gets passed down from sire to siree). When doing robberies, he needs Jigen to break into buildings then invite him inside.

Jigen: inugami (Japanese dog spirit). For most of his life he thought he was a defective werewolf, until he met Goemon and his yokai-detecting superpowers. His fur is extremely soft.

Goemon: sentient sword. He is the physical embodiment of the Zantetsuken, a sentient sword that gained the ability to manifest a body and wield itself. He poofs out of his human form when he doesn't want to deal with social interactions. (note: the sentient sword idea comes from an anon)

(ignore the crappy kabuki makeup)

Not pictured here:

Fujiko: jorogumo (Japanese shape-shifting spider). She normally eats men for breakfast, but Lupin tastes bad.

Zenigata: vampire hunter. I need to find an excuse to make him immortal. A zombie, maybe?

You can find more about this AU (and other variations of it) on my main blog @bookshop-cryptid in the tag #lupin iii supernatural au

[tokyonymph]

goddess of the hearth & home: a hestia playlist

a playlist dedicated to hestia: greek goddess of the hearth, home, domesticity, family, and the state. featuring a mix of soft folk and indie music perfect for sitting by the fire.

[listen on spotify]

tracklist:

i. the earth prelude – ludovico einauldi ii. this house – japanese breakfast iii. milk & honey – billie marten iv. bind us all – the festival v. sons and daughters – allman brown ft. liz laurence vi. skinny love – birdy vii. cherry wine (live) – hozier viii. la valse d’amélie (piano ver). – yann tiersen ix. i see fire – jasmine thompson x. safe & sound – taylor swift ft. the civil wars xi. rose hip november – vashti bunyan xii. to build a home – the cinematic orchestra ft. patrick watson xiii. runaway (guitar acoustic) – aurora xiv. come home to me – léon xv. together we will live forever – clint mansell

[theapotelesma]

i've been lost, but i'm here now

in my dreams, i am kissing your mouth, and you're whispering, "where have you been?" i say, "i've been lost, but i'm here now. you're the only person who has ever been able to find me." — Sue Zhao

a playlist for the lost souls who are waiting to be found by love. [playlist here] other playlists. i. dayglow - can i call you tonight // i hear your voice on the phone. now i'm no longer alone. ii. eyedress ft. dent may - something about you // let's start the day with breakfast in bed. think i'm gonna love you 'til i'm dead. iii. hozier - like real people do // i will not ask you where you came from. i will not ask you, neither should you. iv. vancouver sleep clinic - someone to stay // can you keep me close? can you love me most? v. harry styles - daydreaming // give me all of your love, give me something to dream about. vi. luz corrigan - counting houses // you know, we could frame it and hang it up on the wall. vii. lizzy mcalpine - where do i go? // i wanna tell you i love you. but do i really know how i feel anymore? viii. bleachers - like a river runs // i get the feeling that you're somewhere close and i wanna get up. ix. walker burroughs - the moon song // it probably would kill me to look at the stars with you. x. lorde - big star // i've got so much to tell you and not enough time to do it in. xi. matilda mann - god only knows // i may not always love you. but long as there are stars above you, you'll never need to doubt it.

xii. the japanese house - saw you in a dream // you were the sweetest apparition, such a pretty vision. xiii. lany - let me know // i can't promise you that i'll be waiting. but for you i'll leave anything behind. xiv. joji - gimme love // when i'm far too gone, can you show me love? xv. lizzy mcalpine - ceilings // you kiss me in your car and it feels like the start of a movie i've seen before. xvi. finneas - angel // after you fall asleep, i'll kiss both your eyes and cheeks. and more.