#mmm yummy self destruction

[valtsv]

when i'm in a sabotaging competition and my opponent is myself

[mihii-i]

sanctuary.

Pairings: vi x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, self destructive habits mentioned, alcoholism, vi’s trauma, reader is vi’s best friend (again, GO READ PART 1.), friends to lovers, girls kissing this isn’t even a silly warning anymore cause whys there a rise in homophobes, emo vi yes she’s hot but I was lowkey scared at first, mmm angst very yummy, ouuu this is turning out good okay, violence, idk what other warnings to put, caitvi not working out in this fic’s course of events, gay gay homosexual gay, not proofread.

A/N: now playing: head over heels by gunboikaz—here’s the lil surprise I was edging yall for ong- collab fic with @kadriss-loves-gifflars please go read part 1 on her page, yes it is mandatory cause this fic is a part 2 to that. Anyway I guess this was my little way of jumping out of saying that I’m writing for arcane now so yippee 🕯️

“Don’t thank me, it’s what I want to do for you.”

Those words rolled off of your tongue in a timeless, slow sentiment, accompanying your ardent embrace you enveloped Vi in as if you never wanted to detach yourself from the woman hemmed between your arms. Breath fanning against her soaked shoulder, you took the initiative to briefly thumb along the drenched fabric stuck to her skin in comforting, circular motions. Easing Vi into your touch as you attempted to outline her masked tattoos through the fabric as best as you could remember.

Each shaky breath quivering against her lower lip only allowed her to pathetically wallow in the small sliver of solace in your warmth, clinging onto the simple sentence of consolation you had provided her like a lifeline while fighting back the sting of her tears threatening to circle back and spill.

She weakly attempted to push back the fleeting moments of adoration that remained burned into her skull, every time that wave of dizziness latched onto her temples and seeped across every little crevice of her head whenever she reminisced on Caitlyn’s features, staring her down ever since that awful day where she groveled at her feet in tears.

It truly was too much for her. Torn down on countless occasions with nothing but the awful stab of guilt and regret, eating away at her alongside the twist of every set of knuckles burying into her gut, drives of pain endured from her beatings in Stillwater gradually ripping away her sanity along with it over the years. Vi’s motivation had tensed and wavered along a thin string of stability she had dug into the thick earth of her breaking soul, being dragged away from both her younger sister and her best friend, left to wonder what became of them as they were alone…seperated.

Punches upon punches cracked along the rugged stone splayed along the cell walls filling the numbing void within her that swallowed her whole. The two people she had loved wholeheartedly either lingering within the sharp outcome of death, or something possibly worse. Although Vi had always hoped that the former wouldn’t become of you both, praying to herself that she wouldn’t have to stumble upon either yours or Powder’s corpse whenever she was able to bust out of prison—it was undeniable that death would’ve been the more merciful option for the two of you in said circumstances.

Strangely enough, Caitlyn’s presence remedied the sickening ailment that split her in half, being able to slowly piece back together the person Vi once was. The one that she had been stripped of in the hellfire of her waning sanity in the Stillwater Hold. It was ironic, really. The seeds of her pain and suffering where rooted in the causes of enforcers, who reduced her feeling of any security drowned into heaping piles of gravel making up the post rubble of battle.

However the woman who had healed that ache, touched her heart in a way was none other than an enforcer herself, supposed to be draped clad in her armor from head to toe like the rest, yet her soft features as a mural of her humanity were able to pull Vi in, like the calm to a storm, soothing the hurt swirling within her chest.

Perhaps that irony could now be shot down, considering the current situation at hand. Or rather, in your arms. The very source of this newfound pain Vi was drowning herself in, was indeed that same enforcer. Digging herself into the pits of her self destructive habits slowly chipped away at her identity, leaving her to question who she truly was in the midst of the thudding maelstrom her emotions conjured up.

“Vi? You feeling okay now?” You inquired in a soft murmur, the showers of rain continuously pattering against the ground outside both heightening and easing Vi’s anxiety in a mind breaking juxtaposition. Your voice however, no doubt was a remedy to her pain, the tip of her nose brushing against your neck once more as her eyes glued shut. Her hold on you remained firm as she tried to calm herself in the moral quandary of what she had became, attempting to suppress those rising feelings of abhorrence that consumed her whole.

Vi simply shook her head in response to your question, choking back the light sniffles that threatened to gag out themselves. The freezing steel of her nose ring continued to collide flush against your already frigid throat, thin drops of water dribbling down your chin as you somber expression remained fixed on your best friend’s ruined form.

Dull streaks of black paint smudged along the dusted skin of your arm, taking in the vile tar smudged along her face to mask the tattoo of her own name engraved deep onto her cheek. It was quite hard to tell from the way she remained silent in your arms, had she truly lost herself altogether? You could only do nothing but ponder if the Vi you had once knew had dissipated into a mere memory lingering in the back of your head.

Every hit. Every scream, each downed bottle of alcohol was disturbingly clear in your head. Tracing back on the times you in fact watch Vi lose herself right before your eyes, unfolding into a self destructive flurry that circled back on and on in a seemingly unending routine. Clatters of coins pebbling to the ground at your feet as she continued throwing hook after hook at her opponent, along with steel alcohol cups colliding against each other with erupted cheers among the crowd was nothing short of sickening for you.

God, why couldn’t you see earlier how bad this really was?

You were a shitty friend for being unable to stop her.

Frequently, you’d have an arm slung over her wasted form, the reeking scent of alcohol emanating from her soiled lips in shallow breaths. Often times even having to treat her bloodied self as you spent several minutes cleaning and patching up her wounds.

“Why are you still here?”

She finally croaked out, her voice hoarse and shaky. You replied with a shrug, retracting your head before giving her exposed shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“Probably cause the woman I was best friends with was nowhere to be seen for seven years? I knew that once I saw you again, I wouldn’t let go again. Not for a second.”

“You’re oddly stubborn aren’t you?”

Her brief laugh was mixed in with a hint of a scoff, disbelieving of the fact that you’d go to such lengths for someone like her.

“Maybe I am. What about it? I care about you, Vi. I thought that much was obvious.”

You paused, a hint of a tiny smile crossing your lips in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Also, you’re getting that paint all over me.”

Before she could back away as a subtle apology, you swiftly grasped her calloused fingertips between yours, gently tracing your thumb against the crimson lumps of her knuckles through the wrapping of the bandaging. Expression residing in a woeful sting, you carefully observed the battered injuries protruding through the dirty white lining, a grim reminder of the turmoil she had suffered at the disheartening experiences of both her sister and—now ex-girlfriend is what you supposed you could call her.

“You’re strong, Vi. You’ve got a good heart, and I’m proud of you for being able to endure this.”

A brief flicker of that fluffy tenderness returned for a split second to mist over her eyes, both your scent and touch occupying every sense in her body to block out the dizzying whiff of alcohol, alongside the trashy odor of the crappy room she found herself laying in to cope with her grief.

You. Her best friend. You were able to keep yourself anchored to her like an angel looking out for her best needs, keeping an arm around her even when she batted it away. She was truly greatful to you.

But was she supposed to be feeling this for her best friend? Especially after she had gotten all mopey over Cait to the point where she was in every sight of hers. Fuck, was this how Jinx felt every waking moment of the day?

Despite the presence of Caitlyn in her life, Vi couldn’t help but feel the pressure of her affection toward you clenching her heart like the cut of a thin string, the twinge of guilt quickly being replaced with the manner in which you entranced her with a magnetic attraction. She wasn’t supposed to, but perhaps she imagined what life would be like with you if Caitlyn didn’t steal her heart first, picturing the impossibly perfect life of residing on peace with your head nuzzled to her shoulder.

Vi felt safe whenever you were so much as seated beside her, basking in the comfort of your enchanting presence even if you were doing nothing but staring off into space in exhaustion. The comfort of her best friend was her sanctuary where she could escape the struggles of this battle ridden life, balanced on an imbalance of chewing off scraps and living in luxury among the duality of both Zaun and Piltover.

That feeling only amplified upon feeling your palm caress her tar stained cheek, tilting her head to face you directly as her eyes fixated on your piercing glare of fondness. Eyes boring into yours, Vi really couldn’t tell what came over her as she strung her fingers into the back of your thin locks, digging them to massage along your scalp as her lips gnawed at yours hopelessly in desperation.

She was about to withdraw herself from you in regret, fearing that she had broken the only relationship she had left intact. But she wouldn’t have to worry about that. Not from how you were grasping at either side of her face with a heightened need roused in your own kisses dragging along her chapped lips to drown in the metallic aftertaste of old blood seeping along your tongue. Pressed chest to chest with her as you could practically feel both of your hearts hammering against each other’s chest in rhythm.

Heavy breaths fostered the atmosphere of the murky room upon pulling away from each other, a tired smile adorning Vi’s lips form the aftermath of your gentle kiss as she collapsed back onto your chest in exhaustion. You could only muster up a giggle as your heavy breaths subsided, stroking your fingers along the remaining fades of pink peeking through the blackened stains of her locks before whispering while you hugged her from behind, leg draped over her waist.

“I missed you, you know.”

A/N: BOOM SHAKALAKAAAAA YES GAWDDDDD SURPISE HOS I WRITE FOR ARCANE NOW please request more of this show now I’m back in my arcane prison phase pls PLEASE REQUEST THIS ALONG BES YUMYUMYUM

Anyway @kadriss-loves-gifflars tysm queen I had so much fun with this collab and this turned out very yummy I love this

[fanby-fckry]

Saw you are fan of both The Amazing Devil and Hazbin Hotel, so, combining those two, what TAD songs would you assign each Hazbin Hotel character?

Ooh, this is a good ask!

Ok, not a character, but I once was someone say that Farewell Wanderlust is Lucilith coded, and they’re so right.

"Come, devil, come, " she sang, "Call out my name" Let's take this outside, 'cause we're one and the same Our gods have abandoned us, left us instead Take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead

Especially if we’re including the Lucilith divorce, tbh.

He said, "Hey, darling, hey, hey, darling, hey I'm the hardest goodbye that you'll ever have to say"

…

Because farewell wanderlust, you've been, oh, so kind You brought me to this party, but you left me here behind So long to the person you begged me to be She's down, she's dead Instead what is left but this old satin dress And the mess that you left When you told me that I wasn't right in the head

…

Because farewell wanderlust, you've been ever so kind You brought me through this darkness, but you left me here behind And so long to the person you begged me to be He's down, he's dead Now take a good long look at what you've done to me

He's down, he's dead He's gone, oh, he's lost He's flown, he's fled Now take a good long look at what you've all done to me

But, you didn’t ask for ships, you asked for characters!

Charlie as The Horror and the Wild

I will admit, I cannot fully explain this one. It’s just. Vibes.

You were raised by wolves and voices Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed They said it all comes down to you You're the daughter of silent watching stones You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more

…

Fret not, dear heart, let not them hear The mutterings of all your fears The fluttering of all your wings Welcome to the storm, I am thunder Welcome to my table, bring your hunger

Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring I promise you, they'll sing of every time You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child Witness me, old man, I am the wild

Something, something, her parents’ legacies; something something fighting against the establishment and sniffling and repressive traditions.

Vaggie as King

Just change up the pronouns a bit, and it’s surprising how well it works. Very similar to her part in Whatever It Takes.

Every moon in the sky, every promise and lie (All that matters) All hell and its fire Waits for us

I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep [her] safe from the dark things that wait In that house at the top of the In that house at the top of the I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep [her] safe from the dark things that wait In that house (all hell) at the top (all hell) (All hell, all hell, all hell, all hell, all hell, all hell) Of the rock

“Every promise and lie,” you say? “All hell and its fire,” you say? “I’ll keep [her] safe from the dark things that wait”? Is that not Vaggie’s arc?

Angel Dust as The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

I waffled on this a little bit, but in the end I always kept coming back to The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace for Angel.

This part in particular stands out to me:

'Cause I've been here so many times before Don't you think I look pretty Curled up on this bathroom floor? But where you see weakness, I see wit Sometimes I fall to pieces Just to see what bits of me don't fit

Romanticizing his own breakdowns, self destructing because it’s the only way he knows how to cope.

There’s also something to be said for the way that the glass metaphor mirrors Poison:

Somehow now I'm drinking, and I'm lifting my glass To that last good man grace Who has left me, he's left me at last

…

Then the hollow folk pour me another shard full of glass And I toast to their talents and I forgive them at last

Mmm yummy broken glass, yummy poison. This is fine. He’s fine, guys, don’t even worry about it!

Narrator Voice: He was not fine.

Angel using humor (often sexual humor, but still) as a shield comes up here, as well.

And I laugh, and I laugh 'Cause laughing right now, it's all, all that I have

And the conflicting forces throughout the song, the Old Witch Sleep and Good Man Grace, themselves, can be fitted over the conflicting forces on Angel’s Afterlife.

I could see an argument in either direction for which force matches up with which, but personally, I’m for the Old Witch Sleep as Angel’s addiction and the people with a vested interest in keeping him from being sober vs Good Man Grace as redemption and the pressure to get there.

There's a fire burning, and I'm learning to be So much more than my tiredness So much more than that old witch sleep wishes She kisses my eyelids And I breathe

The Old Witch Sleep represents the comfort in familiar, yet ultimately unhealthy coping mechanisms.

In the song, alone, I would say she sounds a lot like depression and the symptoms and coping mechanisms that come with it – telling the singer to rest, to give in to his tiredness.

And isn’t it easier to sleep? To lay in bed for hours, wasting away because you’re so, so tired, and everything is too much, and it’ll all be there when you get up (if you get up), so sleep, just sleep.

When applied to Angel Dust, specifically, she sounds like addiction.

Return to the comfort of your vices, break yourself so that it hurts less when he breaks you, escape through drugs and sex and dissociation. Isn’t it nicer here, where your thoughts and your feelings and your memories and your pain are blurred and distant and forgotten as you rewrite the narrative from trauma to indulgence? Isn’t it easier than trying to face it all sober?

She’s well intentioned, the Old Witch Sleep. After all, sleep is a necessity. The problem comes in excess, and even then, it can be seen as a kindness – as shelter from the inherent cruelty of being awake.

It kind of reminds me of Cherri, trying to comfort Angel by bringing him back to his vices. Her intentions were good, but ultimately she wound up putting him under even more stress.

So, what about Good Man Grace?

"You're better than this" He says as a hand slaps my face and I stand And say, "No good man grace" I can't do this (you can) I can't do this (you can) I can't do this (you can) I can't do this, you don't understand

Yeahh, remember Charlie and Vaggie’s whole thing in the first half of Masquerade? And to a lesser extent, Video Killed the Radio Star?

Good Man Grace is expectation. Being told that you can do better, trying to do better, wanting to do better, and oh fuck, they don’t understand, because there are forces here beyond your control and it’s harder than it looks, damn it!

And (through Angel’s slightly skewed lens of things) when you don’t make progress fast enough for his liking, Good Man Grace turns his attention to some fucking snake and you wonder if you were ever worth anything to begin with.

Ultimately, neither extreme is helping him.

(Luckily, though, I think Charlie and Vaggie are willing to give him a bit more leeway now that they understand the circumstances behind his resistance to change and his clinging to the mask of his persona/the comfort of his old coping mechanisms. And Cherri may become more of a neutral party, now that she’s stopped viewing the hotel as the problem.)

Alastor as That Unwanted Animal

LISTEN. I know this song is about sex. But can we pretend for a moment, that it isn’t?

Can we take its metaphors about violence and animalistic hunger literally, and transfer the themes of vulnerability in sex to vulnerability in human contact of any kind?

Honestly, as an aroace, I find myself doing this to a lot of songs about sex.

Actually, as I’m writing this, I’m realizing that it is very fitting for @prince-liest’s 666 Live On Air! Alastor, specifically. Which allows us to add the sex back in, but in a uniquely aroace way.

I’m not going to go into a full analysis, here, but I will drop one very relevant, already somewhat aro-coded line:

You try so loud to love me I cannot seem to hear

Lucifer as Welly Boots

Is it cliché to choose the dad-est song for Lucifer? Perhaps. But come on.

I get to watch you grow up now and make me proud Make all of the mistakes that make me laugh Oh, darling, Lord, how you make me laugh Get drunk for me, sing louder than you've sung for me Grow young each time that thunder in your lungs Begins to rumble at the world

Cause you were always strong When you were young, you'd kick things just to see if they would fall They said, "That girl, she's wrong" But I'll stick up for you, even though you haven't got a clue You haven't got a fucking clue

And I'm so proud of you And when they laugh at us You'll feel my fingers down your back And when you scream, "I'm not alright" And throw my picture at the wall You were supposed to be my light And keep me safe against them all

Bonus Round: UH!Lilith as Pray

I’m not going to attempt to get into canon!Lilith outside of her relationship with Lucifer until after we see more of her onscreen, but oh the things I could say about Lilith and Pray if we use the version of her from my pre-season 1 fanfiction.

If you knew all that I'd done The words that shone are all but gone, oh whoa The hearts I've broken, the minds I've woken Sweet nothings are screamed, not spoken, oh whoa

God made all man in his image (God made all men) Honey, I'm, I'm no man I'm what's left when children go to war Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand (run from you, understand) What holy men really mean When they speak of sand and sons and seams And symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Pray is undoubtedly her song. The first woman, the first feminist, who dared to disobey her husband and was forever branded a temptress and a whore, who redefined her womanhood, and who wears her sexuality and her femininity proudly.

She is a wife and a mother, but she is not subservient to her husband or to God, himself. She saw Eve take her place, endure the burden of the role she broke free from, and rather than acting superior, putting Eve down, or drowning her in pity and condescension, Lilith met her with kindness, open arms and listening ears.

Also, can you tell my favorite TAD album by looking at this post? I um. I think I mayy have a The Horror and the Wild bias, lol.

[thewritewolf]

Multiple Second Chances Chapter 22: Outfit Change

Marinette puts into place her plan to heal the kwami. Adrien finds a novel way to hide his identity during an akuma attack.

@adrinetteapril

Enjoy!

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

“Are you sure about this, pigtails?”

Plagg looked at her warily, floating above his miraculous that sat in the middle of a star pattern she’d made on the ground in her room. At each point of the star, she’d placed one miraculous.

“Pretty sure, yeah!” Marinette looked over the book one last time before setting it down. “You embody destruction and you got yourself sick because you got a bunch of Tikki’s energy inside you.” She poked his gut and he groaned. “It’s sitting like a rock in there and you’re only slowly getting rid of it naturally since you and Tikki are equal in power.”

From her spot curled up in a tiny bed, Tikki let out a self satisfied noise. It was better than she’d managed for a while, so Marinette knew some slow progress was being made. But if that was all the progress the last month of rest had done… this had to work.

“Why’d sugarcube get hit harder anyway?” Plagg’s tail flicked uncertainly behind him, his ears flat against his face. Whether this was a sign of fear at the ritual or concern for his other half, Marinette wasn’t completely sure.

“Well… it’s not that she got a bigger dose, its that you handle it better since destruction and chaos are what you’re made of. So you’re sick, but you’re not bedridden.”

“...Alright, I guess that makes sense.” Plagg gestured at the other miraculous. “What about them?”

Starting at the point closest to her, Marinette moved clockwise, activating each of the miraculous in turn and calling their kwami out into the world.

“That’s the Ox miraculous, which represents earth. Rooster, metal. Pig, water. Wood, rabbit. And…” her finger lingered on the Bee miraculous. “Technically, this should be the Snake, which represents fire. That one’s being used and I can’t exactly ask Adrien for his miraculous without being Ladybug. According to the Guardian book, though, Pollen embodies energy, which should be close enough to fire to work.”

“‘Should be’?!”

“Well…” Marinette frowned. “This is the best chance we have of getting you back to Chat Noir. Unless you want to do this the long way around-”

Plagg’s eyes narrowed in determination and he crossed his arms in front of him. “Alright, alright, let’s do this. That hopeless cat is going to need me as soon as possible.”

“Okay, big guy,” Marinette smiled and scratched Plagg’s cheek affectionately. “Let’s see if this works…”

Marinette had made sure her parents were away and her door locked for good measure before she started. Once that was done, she focused her energy just like the text said and called on each of the yin kwamis names in the destruction order.

“Fluff. Stompp. Daizzi. Pollen. Orikko.”

After repeating this for a few minutes, an orb of shadow moved along the lines of the star. Once it had gained more definition, she willed it toward Plagg where it was sucked in like a black hole.

“Yummy!” Plagg rubbed his belly and licked his lips. “That was almost as good as a wedge of camembert!”

Marinette kneeled down on her knees to get closer to the hovering kwami. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm…” Plagg stretched his appendages and took a few deep breaths. “Much better, but still kinda funky.”

“I figured,” Marinette said, nodding with her hand on her chin. “It’ll take a few times to break down Tikki’s energy inside you and get you back to full strength.” She looked over at Tikki. “Okay, before we do that, let’s get you some energy.” She gently scooped up her kwami, frowning. “Poor Tikki… I hate seeing you like this.”

“Don’t worry,” Tikki said weakly. “I know you’ll take care of that stinky cheese energy and I’ll be good as new soon enough.”

Marinette giggled and rearranged the ritual site. A star was replaced with a circle, and the miraculous were swapped out with different ones but the positions of the miraculous were the same. Once everything was in place she began speaking the names of the yang miraculous.

“Roaar. Longg. Mullo. Kaalki. Xuppu.”

Just like last time, an orb appeared. Although this one was a bright white that radiated light, one that Marinette felt a connection to. Was it because of her ties to the Ladybug miraculous? Regardless, it moved along the circle, picking up speed and intensity as it went before Marinette willed it into Tikki.

Stretching out, Tikki slowly floated up and off her bed, the first time she’d done so since getting sick. She nuzzled Marinette, who held her close to her face.

“It worked! Now we just need to-”

A notification from the Ladyblog popped up on her phone. Curiosity changed to frustration when she read the big red text - “Akuma Alert!”

She shrugged helplessly at Tikki and Plagg. “Sorry guys. We’ll have to do this again soon.” After she put away the miraculous and hid the box, she transformed and went out to fight the akuma of the day.

--------------

The akuma was, for some reason or another, rampaging at an Agreste set. Multimouse was keeping an eye out for Adrien to make sure he could get away and transform when she found someone else entirely.

“What are you doing here?!” She said as she carried someone in a banana suit away from some of the akuma’s mind controlled minions.

“What are you-”

The voice sealed it for her, she could recognize it anywhere. No question this was Chat Noir, in civilian form. How he got caught up in this fight, she had no idea. But clearly he thought he could help so he put on the same suit he’d worn in his fight against Feast. Heck, she could even tell it was the same suit - it was worn and faded in the same places as her chaton’s.

“I don’t have time to argue with you. Just… get out of here, okay? You can be a hero some other time.” Multimouse set the banana man down. “Get somewhere safe, and I better not catch you around here again!”

As Multimouse returned to the fight, a very confused Adrien ran into a closet. There wasn’t any time to take off the suit, but thankfully the transformation didn’t care what he was wearing and turned him into Aspik without problem.

At least, without any immediate problems.