#vi’s wonderful world of pretty things

[sapphicdragons-1]

my bio! (long post)

Hi! You can call me Vi. I use she/he (fluctuates) and they/it. Any gendered compliments are welcome, but creature-related ones are encouraged! I’m also very leftist, athiest, socialist, and a punk. (i despise the government and society, but i am mostly a law-abiding citizen and a fucking coward)

Gender: thingy? I identify along the lines of genderqueer, agender, and genderfluid. I don’t stress it too much :3 im mostly a girl but i luv masc terms and im sometimes just a boy

I am homosexual-leaning omni and aromantic; i have a few microlabels but im fine saying just that. I experience alterous attraction and a deep emotional connection in place of romantic attraction. I am also hypersexual (not traumagenic).

Nonhuman identities: I am an Aqua dragon (original species). It fits somewhere between othermidst, othervague, heartedlink, otherkin, otherlink, and fictionkin, but is strong enough that I consider myself dragonkin. Because of this, I am avianhearted, canine and feline simil, have a lush forest hearthome, and feel very connected to bodies of water, the sun, the moon, the sky, and thunderstorms.

I am otherlink of a cryptid i made up. its an undead coyote deer forest spirit thingy with a lust for vengeance and raw meat muehehehe

im also a situational kitty otherlink :3 meow

Hobbies: I enjoy drawing, crafting, jewelry making, sculpting, biking, gaming, swimming, frolicking, collecting, doing quads, “ruining” clothes, and just doing other gooberish activities :D

Music: I have no set music taste, but a few of my favorite categories are ambient [sign crushes motorist, Duster, Other Nothing], scenecore [Odetari, 6arelyhuman, and Asteria], Radiohead, Franz Ferdinand, grunge music [Nirvana, Hole, The Smashing Pumpkins, literally all the dad grunge], a bit of goth music [The Cure, London After Midnight, Cocteau Twins, literally all dad goth], death/deathcore metal [Cattle Decapitation, Infant Annihilator, The Black Dahlia Murder], nu metal [DEFTONES DEFTONE DEFTONES, Korn, Limp Bizkit, and NO slipknot >:€] ambient 2 [Lyn Lapid, Louie Zhong], whatever The Living Tombstone, Lemon Demon, and Bo Burnham is, whatever Mac DeMarco and The Neighborhood is ig, breakcore and noisecore [FEMTANYL AND BLACK DRESSES MY BELOVED], vocaloid [HEAVILY including my love Kikuo], bo en, and yada yada yada. If you have any band recommendations (especially good alt bands!), send them my way!

Fandoms: Too many to count, but my mains are Mouthwashing, OMORI, Wings of Fire, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Heathers, and many, many more. I am also a furry :3

I am also very involved in communities such as alterhuman, alternative, neurodivergent, and punk, but these are not fandoms.

I live in the midwestern U.S.

This account is geared towards teens and young adults. If you’re over 30 and we haven’t interacted, probably let me give you a vibe check before you follow

i’m a bit of a chronic attention seeker, and will do things or amplify things sometimes that might be subconciously for attention. please be patient, and don’t be rude to me when it happens, i have quite a few microtraumas surrounding this :/

will be fine with people goofin off in my asks!

might do commisions for sketches, doodles, moodboards, backgrounds, and maybe stimboards.

just as a disclaimer, i am technically a proshipper. i don’t think anyone should be harassed over what they ship. i personally dont ship things a lot, but i probably won’t end up touching anything relating to pedophilia or one-sided abuse (YOU CANT KEEP MUTUAL TOXICITY AND CODEPENDENCY AWAY FROM ME MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA). i’ll tag accordingly and extensively for anything that could be triggering; reach out if you need me to add any tags :> i’d be happy to accommodate <3

Tag system!

#kaeposting - kin stuff!

#kaecreates - stuff I made that relates to my kintype

#kaefrolicks - picures or videos of the forest, and maybe videos of quads in the future

#kaerambles - dragon go bla bla bla

#vi’s updates - updates about my life

#vi’s passion projects - crafts because slay

#vi’s wonderful world of pretty things - pretty pictures of scenery, jewelry I love, and maybe some outfits. room maybe

#eye of the storm wings of the heart - pretentious ahh name. storm stuff, nice water sounds, avianhearted stuff, basically all my secondary kin things

#+££+|~| - vents. typically angry due to my nature, under the cut with a warning. stylized “teeth”

#€|@\/\/$ - vents. typically obsessive thoughts / talking about hypersexuality. stylized “claws”

#aqua dragons 🪷 - info on or relating to my favorite lil creatures! lilypad as to not to be confused with shrimp or water dragons.

This is a safe place for queer, MOGAI, LGBTQIA, POC, alterhuman, ALL systems, endels, lycanthropes, zooanthropes, physical nonhumans, neurodivergent people (not just ADHD and autism! [them too] ALL! /friendly), age and pet regressors, people with kinks, so on and so forth. I can’t think of many others, but the rule of thumb for paras is [TW ofc]:

If you are a ped0 or zo0, you better be no-contact, as well as pro-therapy/ counseling for at-risk individuals. If you aren’t, get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me. No exceptions.

If you are a necr0, I’m somewhat more fine with that. (thanatophile myself!) However, for the love of nonexistent god, please don’t actually make contact with dead things if you plan on following. Just out of respect.

If ur smthn like objectum like me thats coolio js dont tamper with other people’s property tyyyy

I’d vastly prefer if Big 3 paras weren’t discussed on this blog, for the comfort of me or the thingies around me.

If you either don’t wan’t to, or don’t, hurt others, you’re fine. Example: Nonhumans with a prey drive getting the urge to kill small animals without following through, and people with mental illnesses / personality disorders hurting others without meaning to and feeling remorse. You are loved, and you are safe here. Also, there’s a lot of grey areas, being a bit sadistic is occasionally based but yk dont be horrible ig

DNI: Bigots, transphobes, homophobes, anti-feminists, radfems, TERFS, conservative people, extensively religious, anti-endel/clinical ‘thropes, anti-endos, antifurries, antikins, and other generally dislikable people. tryna use mild language ‘cause this varies wildly in severity.

And I would prefer if Abrahamic religion was kept out. It’s fine to believe in that god, but I would prefer if it wasn’t brought up much on this blog. thank you for your consideration :)

and I think that’s all! I’ll link the Guide to Aqua Dragons below when I make it! [never happening pookies 😔 (subject to change)] thank you for your time :3

[termagax]

like ronnies wuest is ALSO really really good but you basically get to say to her everything i wanted to say. about it not being her fault and about how much i love her and want her to be free and live her own life and not tie herself to a sinking ship forever. girl i love you sometimes your family is determined to wallow in the mud but YOU dont have to. but like you get to tell her that straight up. the combo of not getting to say everything i want to say + arcade LEAVING ME FOREVER. SOMETHING I DID NOT KNOW WOULD HAPPEN. just leaves me with this big aching arcade gannon shaped hole in my heart that will never be filled by anything else as long as i am on this earth. i get to go back to my apartment every night and go HONEY IM HOME and kiss veronica on the mouth. i wont see arcade again for months and months and months of in game time. and i miss him dearly.

[heartyearning]

Looking at knitting machines again 😔

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[dissapointu]

Hi 👋, can u do Vi x Reader. Where Vi was relaxing on their bed. While Reader came in with a cute calico kitten. It has white fur and black and orange spots everywhere and she has grayish eyes just like Vi. Reader saw Vi sleeping and she stare in awe. Reader put the cat on Vi’s stomach and it slowly walks up to Vi. Vi started to wake up and saw a cute kitten and she jumped and the kitten fell on bed cover. Vi stared confused and Reader tells Vi it is a gift for her. She cried a little and cupped her hands so the kitten can come and it did. Vi kissed the kitten’s cheek. Then the kitten licked her nose and rubbed her cheek.

Vi x Reader: Kitten Chaos 🐾

(aka Vi and the Calico Baby)

————————————————————————

Okay, so picture this: Vi’s sprawled out on the bed, looking all peaceful and hot in that messy, “I just fought 10 people and now I’m exhausted” way. She’s got her tank top on, her hair’s a little messy, and her face is relaxed for once. Like, she’s not scowling or smirking—just soft. You’re dying a little inside because you’re staring at her like she’s the eighth wonder of the world (which she kinda is).

But here’s the thing—you’re holding a kitten.

Not just any kitten, though. This cute little calico with white fur, orange-and-black patches, and the exact same grayish eyes as Vi. Like, you swear the universe handpicked this kitten just for her. It’s destiny or whatever. The kitten’s tiny, fluffy, and curious, batting at your hair like, “Take me to her already!”

So you tiptoe into the room because you don’t wanna wake her up just yet. You’re having this whole “awe moment” like, wow, she’s so pretty when she’s not trying to punch something. But then you remember why you’re here. It’s go time.

You carefully place the kitten on Vi’s stomach, and this little fluff ball immediately starts doing the tiniest steps, like, pat-pat-pat. The kitten looks SO focused, like it’s on a mission to wake up the sleeping queen. It sniffs Vi’s tank top, lets out the softest “mew,” and you’re just standing there trying not to scream at how cute this is.

AND THEN VI STIRS.

She blinks awake, all groggy, squinting like, wtf is happening? And THEN she sees the kitten. Like, her eyes go WIDE, and she practically jumps a mile in the air, which, okay, makes the kitten tumble onto the blanket. (But it’s fine! The kitten’s fine! No kittens were harmed!)

Vi stares at the kitten like it just fell from the sky. “What the hell…?” she mutters, her voice all raspy and confused. She looks at you like, did I miss something?

And you’re over there grinning like an idiot. “Surprise!” you say, gesturing to the kitten. “She’s yours. I got her for you.”

Cue the emotional breakdown.

Vi’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, and you swear you see her eyes get all watery. “For me?” she whispers, her voice cracking a little. She scoops her hands together, and you gently place the kitten into her palms. The kitten fits perfectly, curling up like it was meant to be there.

Vi stares at the kitten, her lips trembling. “You didn’t have to…” she says, but she’s already sniffling, pressing a soft kiss to the kitten’s cheek.

AND THEN IT GETS BETTER. The kitten licks her nose with its tiny little tongue and rubs its head against her cheek, like it’s already in love with her. Vi straight-up melts. Like, this badass fighter who’s taken punches from everyone in Zaun is now reduced to a puddle of emotions because of one (1) kitten.

She glances up at you with tears in her eyes. “You’re the best,” she says, her voice all choked up, before looking back at the kitten. “And you’re the cutest.”

And you’re standing there thinking, No, YOU’RE the cutest. But you don’t say it out loud because this moment is PERFECT. You just sit next to her, watching her cuddle her new tiny best friend.

Vi + kitten = softest thing ever. You’re never gonna recover from this.

TL;DR: You gave Vi a kitten

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xxvi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: In the aftermath of everything, back to Woodsboro YN and Tara go.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of violence.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is a bit of a nothing chapter, apologies in advance. This is also the penultimate chapter, part of why I've been procrastinating so long. but alas, all good things must come to an end ;'))

The trip back to Woodsboro hospital is smoother than anticipated. 

The morphine does wonders for your pain, but not so much for your coherence. By the time you’re rolled out into the ambulance, you’ve told Tara how pretty she is at least six times and declared Sam ‘best sister-in-law in the world’ at least three. 

Thankfully, Nurse Rosario is nowhere to be found. 

Although Tara had mellowed slightly after your last talk, you’re not keen for a repeat. After she’d plied you with enough morphine to take down a horse, she’d disappeared. Perhaps heeding the warning of Tara’s stormy glare. 

Tara rides in the ambulance with you, her hand pressed in yours. Sam sits beside you (Dewey had re-romandeered the car they’d stolen with a sigh and a forgiving smile). 

By the time you’re rolled into Woodsboro hospital, it’s near noon. Your Dad’s insurance has paid for a private room for him, your Mom and you and so you tilt your neck eagerly as you’re rolled onto the floor, searching each face for the familiarity of your parents. 

“Your parents are here,” Says one of the EMTs, noticing the way your head tilts around madly, “Your Mom is getting a scan done, your Dad is with her. They’re both okay. They’ll be here soon.” 

“Thanks,” You say, though it doesn’t sate your anxiety. That won’t be gone until they’re both here with you.

The floor is awash with busy doctors and nurses. 

Most don’t give you a second look. 

Except for one. 

Nurse Dawson is standing near one of the nurses stations when you’re rolled into your room. 

You see her first, though Tara doesn’t notice her. 

And when Nurse Dawson turns and sees your girlfriend, her face falls. 

Only for a moment. Her face conflicts, but the professionalism wins out. 

She straightens her shoulders. 

And you can tell by the look on her face she’s the one assigned to you. 

Tara smiles at you as the EMTs settle you into your new bed. Oblivious to the carnage she causes. 

It’s like some sort of reverse superpower. 

The ability to somehow irritate every medical professional assigned to her. 

You sigh and lean back into your pillows as the nurse approaches. 

“YN. Ms Carpenter,” She says politely enough, “Nice to see you again.” 

Tara looks over impatient. You can tell by the lack of recognition in her face she doesn’t recognise the nurse. Instead, she looks over to Sam. 

“Sure,” Says Tara, nonplussed, “I’m going to need another bed in here for my sister. She spent last night on a couple of plastic chairs.”

You look around the room. 

There’s two empty beds - presumably for your mother and father. It’s cramped in here, more so than usual with your family reunion. You can tell before the Nurse speaks Tara isn’t going to like her answer. 

“We don’t have beds to spare for visitors, Tara,” Nurse Dawson says pointedly, “Perhaps you and your sister could come back in the morning.” 

Tara stares a moment. 

Then her eyes narrow. 

You tug gently at her hand trying to draw her attention. 

“Babe,” You touch her arm gently, “Maybe it’s not a terrible idea. You and Sam could both go home and get some rest.”

“Absolutely not,” Tara says, voice indignant, “I’m not leaving you alone, baby.”

“Mom and Dad will be here with me,” You assure, but Tara’s turned her glare towards you, “Seriously babe. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Says Tara, voice final. She shoots a look over to Nurse Dawson, “I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.” 

-

Your Mom is wheeled back in first. 

You sit up in your bed so abruptly you almost knock Tara to the floor. 

Your Mom is misty-eyed, gaze a little unfocused, undoubtedly strung out on pain medication. Her eyes well when she sees you, hand twitching as she sits a little taller in her seat. 

“Mom,” You croak, “Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, darling,” She says. The nurse wheels her into the slot beside you and she reaches for your hand, “Are you okay?” 

Sam wanders off to leave you to your reunion, but Tara stays nestled into your side. Your Mom’s leg is gone, and you can’t help the flood of tears that burst through each time your gaze wanders down. 

“It’s alright, YN,” Your Mom assures, “I’m alive. Dad’s alive. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” 

Your Dad follows in, shortly after. 

He’s in a wheelchair, looking so frail with dark circles under his eyes and milky, pale skin. He squeezes your hand and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

And then he surveys Tara. 

She’s sitting up now, your hand still pressed firmly in hers. He watches quietly for a moment. You almost think he’s about to ask her to leave when he reaches out, and outstretches his hand. 

Tara blinks in surprise. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

Your Dad looks serious. The kind of seriousness usually accompanied by a raise in tone or the promise of his shotgun. But there’s none of that now.  

Hesitantly, Tara takes his hand. 

“Thank you,” He says, as she clasps her hand in his. He shakes it firmly, “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Tara doesn’t say anything. 

You look at your Dad. His voice is earnest, his brows pinched.

He looks open.

Like he’s about to cry. 

“Dad,” You say, voice soft.

He squeezes Tara’s hand once, then lets her go. Slowly, he wheels towards you, eyes misty. 

“You,” He says as he pulls you into a hug, “Are never leaving my side again.” 

He pulls back slightly and thinks. 

“Or hers.” 

-

When the dust settles and your Dad has got the last of his dewey, sappy words out, the room moves back into normality. 

Normality now, it seems, is absurdity. 

Tara and your Dad are watching a ball game together. You survey them, eyebrow raised, sharing a look of bewilderment with Sam as she walks back into the room. 

“Hey,” Says Sam, tray of donuts in hand. Tara and your Dad don’t look up from the TV, “What are we watching?” 

“Giants,” Says Tara. She lounges back into your hospital bed, nestling her head on your shoulder, “Flores is killing it.” 

“About damn time,” Grumbles your Dad, “He spent the last game striking out.” 

“Speaking of striking out,” You say, eyebrow raised at Sam, “Did you speak to Nurse Dawson about a spare bed?” 

Sam shakes her head. 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’d rather sleep in my own bed anyway. Besides,” 

She eyes your Mom and Dad.

“It seems like a family affair in here anyway. You’re sure you don’t want to come with me, Tara? The nurse seemed pretty insistent that no more beds would fit.” 

“I’m sure.” Tara says, voice flat. She curls a protective arm around your waist. 

You flash Sam a small smile, “It’s fine, Sam. She can sleep with me. She’s little, she fits.” 

Sam purses her lips. 

Tara glares up at you. 

“I am not little.” She says, frowning. 

You press a kiss to her lips. 

“Okay, then big guy, better go home with Sam.” You tease. 

She pouts. Nudges her face into your neck. 

“I fit,” She tells Sam, and then turns her attention back to the ball game. 

Sam makes her departure, shortly thereafter. Your Dad falls asleep midway through the game, your Mom is wheeled off for an MRI at just the moment Tara’s friends make an appearance. 

Liv’s bought flowers, Chad and Mindy follow in with wide eyes. They hug you, settle down into the seats by your bed, careful not to wake your snoring Father. 

“Hey,” Mindy says, “How are you feeling?” 

“She’s okay,” Says Tara, smoothing your hair back, “Now the morphines kicked in, right baby?” 

“Right,” You echo, sitting up slightly. 

Liv smiles. 

“These are for you,” She says, “Tara said they were your favorite.” 

“Thanks Liv,” You say with a smile. 

Mindy settles on the chair to your left, Chad and Liv hover near the end of your bed. 

Mindy leans over to you, a little wide eyed. 

“The Sheriff,” She says, chewing her lip, “Damn it. I should have guessed.” 

“I just don’t understand,” Says Liv, eyebrows pinched, “Why would she kill her own son?” 

Tara shifts, uncomfortably. Mindy rolls her eyes. 

“She didn’t kill her own son, dumbass,” Says Mindy, “Isn’t it obvious?” 

You swallow. 

“There’s no body” Mindy says, leaning forward in her seat, a little excited, “When Ghostface kills, there’s always a body.” 

Liv blinks back at her. 

“What if…” Mindy says, eyes squinted like she’s thinking hard, “What if Wes isn’t dead at all. What if that’s just what he wanted us all to think? What if there’s a third Ghostface, and it’s him?”

Your heart hammers. 

A wave of nausea rises at the theory, but before you can voice your displeasure, Chad beats you too it. 

“Give it up, Nancy Drew,” He says, shaking his head, “You haven’t been right a single time. All those powerpoints for nothing. I think it’s time to pack it in.” 

Mindy pouts, slumping back in her seat.

“I could have been right,” She says, but Chad raises a hand. 

“But you weren’t. Jesus. Leave it alone.” 

He pats your hand, not unkindly, “The important thing is Ghostface is gone and YN and Tara are okay.” 

“Thanks Chad,” You say. 

He leans back in his seat, eyebrows pinched. 

“I just don’t get why she did it at all,” Says Chad, tilting his head in a frown, “Same with Richie. Why? It all seems so pointless.” 

Tara stirs, pressing a comforting kiss to the side of your neck. 

“That’s for the police to figure out,” She says, squeezing your hand, “For now? Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

-

The days pass by in a blur of morphine, and nausea and the blare of Tara and your Dad’s newfound hobby of watching sports games together. 

Tara sleeps at your side, dotes on you like a baby bird who has fallen from the nest. 

Sam stops by in the afternoons, Nurse Dawson avoids the two of you as best she can, coming into your room wordlessly and appraising Tara with a resentful glare everytime she changes your bandages. 

Dewey returns to take your statement, takes Tara and Sam away for hours to question them, but ultimately, the case is clear cut. 

The Sheriff is Ghostface, Richie her accomplice, and by the seventh day of your hospital stay, Dewey informs you the police are closing the case as solved. 

It would be worrying - the police’s utter lack of comprehension - had it not been in your favor. 

So you nod your head and squeeze Tara’s hand as you accept his apology for the Woodsboro police failing you both. 

“We’ll be suing the police department,” Says your Father curtly, before Dewey can make his exit, “For gross negligence and endangering the life of my daughter.” 

You sigh. 

Tara cocks her head, as if she’s about to list off a variety of law firms she’s learned of through her extensive research before you squeeze her shoulder, and pull her back down to you. 

Your Mother huffs before you can say anything. 

“We’re not suing anybody,” Says your Mom firmly. She offers Dewey the smallest of smiles, “Thank you, Deputy Riley.”

“We should be suing the police,” Tara grumbles later, when she’s helping you into the back of Sam’s car. 

You’d be discharged by a happy Nurse Dawson. Your Mom and Dad would stay a little longer in the hospital while you slept over at Tara’s for a few nights. 

Hospitals give you the creeps, and you didn’t want to spend any more time there than necessary. 

Tara slips your seatbelt around your waist and you pull her in for a brief kiss. 

“What’s all that about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?” You say quietly as Sam slips into the drivers seat and Tara falls quiet. 

Your stomach is still a little sore - you feel it now as Tara and Sam help you up the staircase to her bedroom. 

“Watch it Sam, you neanderthal,” Tara snaps as Sam almost steps on your foot as they're half-carrying you to bed. 

You scold her if you had the strength. Instead, you focus all your energy into trying not to focus on the searing pain in your side as Tara slips you into her sheets. 

“Sorry, YN,” Sam says quietly before Tara shoos her out. 

You’re sweating a little, gone is the morphine. Nurse Dawson had put you on something else - something a little less addictive, and a little more prone to letting the pain in. 

You groan as Tara slides into the spot next to you, soothing your pain with the press of her lips. 

“Does it hurt, baby?” She asks, brown eyes mournful, “Do you want me to get you your pills?” 

You shake your head. 

The pain stings, like a dull ache, but it doesn’t hurt so much you need more. You touch her arm, nestle yourself into her side. 

“Just stay with me and I’ll be fine,” You say, as she curls her arm around your waist. She leans down and places a protective kiss to the top of your head. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” She admits, softly. You lean up and she presses the softest kiss to your lips, “Do you want me to see if Chad can get you something stronger?” 

“No babe,” You chide, gently, “I’m fine.” 

Tara thinks. 

“Do you want me to go down on you?” She asks, hopeful, “That might make you feel better.” 

You laugh. 

“Might make me feel better, or you feel better?” You ask. 

“Both,” She says with a pout. 

You lean up to her, press another warm kiss to her lips.

“Just stay with me,” You say, “As long as you’re here I’ll be fine.” 

Tara rubs her hand along the stretch of your back. 

“Okay,” She says, voice soft, “I’ll just stay here with you.”

[kiraman]

vi is so fucking fascinating to me, I am studying her like a bug in a jar

she was a CHILD putting on her father's gauntlets in spite of the fear gathered in her little body, in spite of just witnessing someone she's known all her life die in a HORRIFIC way (benzo), still she rises, still she says I HAVE TO DO THIS still she takes on men three times her size and fucks them up so bad that silco has to send his shimmered up fucked up monster to try to stop her and STILL she persists, indifferent to the worst happening because she’s survived the worst already. furious and unstoppable and determined to do whatever she has to survive and ensure those she loves survive, no matter the cost.

vi under all that debris, bruised, bleeding, screaming, watching her family die, staring at the monkey head in shock and crying because this can't be happening, they were so close...

sobbing in pain until her father saves her just to watch helpless as he dies protecting her. they were so SO CLOSE to surviving, so close to escaping and everything gets ripped away in a second

vi trapped in that prison cell for years and years on end with the ghosts of her family and her guilt for company, drowning in guilt, wondering if her sister's still alive, no doubt thinking about how she LET her slip right through her fingers

the last thing vander said to her was "take care of powder"

she's let the man who's her FATHER and loves more than anything down.

"whatever happens is on you" / "protect the family" / "take care of powder" .... but she can't, not anymore, she's fucked it up and let everyone down (re "I should have been there for you, for everyone") all she can do is sit in that shitty prison cell, on that freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours until she can somehow rescue powder

Vi is piercings and tats that no doubt got infected, she's a child becoming a woman too fast, she is a danger-zone high-risk disaster area and won't back down, won't give up.

Vi is soft!! self-sacrificing, protective, supportive. ("You wanna talk about today?", "We've all had bad days, but we learn, and we stick together") brave, SMART, witty. she's got a tongue sharp as her fists and a barbed, delicious sense of humour. she gives people nicknames (cupcake, pow pow, pretty boy) and fights with everything that she's got to protect what she loves!!!! she is her father's daughter!!!

she is idealistic and expects the world to see her reason, look at things through her eyes and wanna make a change ( "This is how things are, how they've always been. I was so stupid to think it could change. / "oil and water that's all there is" )

and yes! vi is not flawless. she's obsessive (re sevika. to her eyes she is the last thing standing between her and silco/getting to silco and saving jinx) and complicated, morally ambivalent because she makes mistakes, flies off the handle like a comet crashing through everything in her way, makes reckless choices because she has to. she is selfish when it comes to jinx and would do anything to keep her safe.

also

look at the way she hugs the people she cares about!!!

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 8/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

                “I have a friend in Paris, I want you to go there and work in his kitchen.”

                “Why?”

                “You’re too comfortable here. Time to remind you that you never stop learning,” Leandro states and Bradley lets out a slow breath. He’s been here for three years, and he’s learnt so much, and Leandro and Silvia’s hospitality has been amazing. He feels part of their family.

                “I don’t speak French.”

                “It’s okay. You didn’t speak Italian either when you started with me. I will teach you.”

                “You speak French?”

                “Of course. It’s where I trained.”

                “Trained?”

                “I went to Le Cordon Bleu. Now I teach you,” Leandro says, and he rolls his eyes but he’s grinning. Bradley feels like there must be a joke there that he’s missing.

…            …            …

                He’s never spent so much time with a guy he’s not in a relationship with and also having sex with. Spending time with Jake feels so easy, like they’ve somehow skipped ahead over weeks of dating and awkwardness by simply forging ahead with lots of sex and hanging out. They haven’t had deep or meaningful conversations, other than some quite frank discussions around preferences in bed. They’re wonderfully compatible sexually and Bradley hasn’t had as much sex in the last year as he’s had in the last forty-eight hours.

                Jake has gone home, well, to his sister’s house across town, to where he is apparently babysitting his nieces and nephew so that his sister can have a date night with her husband. And also so he can have a night chatting with Vi before her flight home tomorrow. Although chat might be pushing it, because he’s pretty sure Vi is going to have a brain aneurism with all the muttering she’s been doing under her breath. Every time Jake put sauce on something her nostrils flared just a little and he wonders when she got a bigger bee in her bonnet than him about shit like that. She doesn’t even cook.

                “He puts sauce on pickles…” she mutters, and she’s pouring two glasses of wine, so he guesses he’s drinking wine tonight. Clearly because she doesn’t want to drink alone.

                “He does seem to put sauce on everything.”

                “Oh my god…” Vi says, pulling a face.

                “What?”

                “You would normally flip your shit at someone adding sauce to everything and yet… here you are looking like it’s cute. You actually like this guy.”

                “I mean, I don’t like his taste in sauce. But yeah… he’s pretty… uh… great.”

                “Oh my god. Leandro and Silvia are not going to believe it.”

                “How about we don’t share the details of my sex life with them until it’s something more than just sex?”

                “Oh, I’m calling it now. It is definitely more than sex. You wouldn’t be staying if it was just good sex.”

                “What about mind blowingly great sex?”

                “With a guy that adds sauce to everything?”

                “Well, he hasn’t brought it into the bedroom. Yet.”

                He supposes he deserves the punch to the arm.

…            …            …

                Leo is an active rester. That’s the only thing he can take away from watching him be completely unable to just sit. Even after sex he seems to buzz with energy until Jake wrings another orgasm out of him, which had been a delight to learn. Now he’s making more food and he watches as Leo cuts, his hands, fingers and blade flying and it’s mesmerizing, like watching the flicker of flame but instead it’s the flash of a metal blade.

                “Damn you’re good with that…”

                Leo doesn’t stop but he looks up to smile at Jake.

                “The knife is an extension of my arm… just like when you fly. Muscle memory and training.”

                “Huh. You know a lot about flying huh?”

                “Navy brat remember?”

                “Even after you dad died?” Jake asks.

                “Yeah… my godfather stepped up and he helped my mom raise me. So I know all about the military lifestyle. How I was raised.”

                “So your godfather was also an aviator?”

                “Yep,” Leo says, tone clipped and okay, not touching that subject then.

                “So, raised a Navy brat then. Not how you live now, we do not eat this well.”

                “Well, not for lack of trying. I ran away from home when my godfather pulled my papers for USNA. And you put sauce on everything, so it’d all taste the same anyway,” Leo says, winking at him and Jake grins, reaches over and steals a slice of pepper.

                “Wait. You were going to go to USNA?”

                “That was my plan. Instead I got on the first plane out and ended up in Italy.”

                “Holy shit… you kind of brushed over how young you were when you did that.”

                “Yeah. I got very fucking lucky.”

                “Is Violet actually your cousin?”

                “No,” Leo laughs. “Her family pretty much adopted me though.”

                “Huh. Okay.”

                “Here. Try this.”

                Jake obliges, although he’s not quite sure what Leo is hoping to achieve here. Jake hasn’t ever been able to differentiate different flavors, not like some people seem to. He licks the spoon, grinning a little when he sees Leo’s eyes tracking his lips.

                “Could use a little sauce,” he says, just to be an asshole.

                “Don’t be a dick… Come on, I'm trying to make a new dish...”

                “A new dish. Why not just use a recipe?”

                “I wouldn't be much of a chef if I used other people's recipes...”

                “Huh. Okay. You want to have someone that’ll actually talk about the flavors with you? Because I know I’m just going to think everything needs sauce, because I think everything needs sauce. You know who would be really good at this?”

                “Who?”

                “My sister. Well, two of them specifically, but Maria is easiest. She loves all this tasting things over and over stuff.”

                “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

                “Are you saying I have no other redeeming qualities?”

                “Oh, you have plenty of redeeming qualities. Your tastebuds just don’t happen to be one of them.”

                “I’ve got good taste where it’s important…”

                “Smooth, real smooth.”

                “I do alright.”

…            …            …

                “Shit shit shit…”

                “What?”

                “I burnt the rice.”

                “You? You still burn stuff?”

                “Yeah, when there’s a guy in my kitchen naked who decides that fucking me on the dining table is a good decision…”

                “Mmm. Sorry baby. I didn’t think about the food.”

                “Yeah well, the smoke alarm kind of killed the afterglow,” Bradley mutters and Jake snorts against his neck before licking a stripe and he groans again. God. He’s never going to get enough.

…            …            …

                “Hey. I have a favor to ask.”

                “Shovel or money?” Maria asks, clearly distracted by something but Jake is still trying to parse what she’s said.

                “What?”

                “Am I burying a body or am I bailing you out?”

                “Wow. Do you guys have a bet going what will come first?”

                “Yep. So which is it?”

                “Neither actually. Fuck. Maybe this is a terrible idea.”

                “Well, I still don’t know what it is and I’m a little busy so… either piss or get off the pot.”

                God his sisters are all so classy.

                “Do you want to be a taste tester?”

                “What,” Maria asks, and Jake doesn’t hear an inflection, she’s just surprised so he waits. “A taste tester… for a competition or something? Oh god, don’t tell me you’re trying your hand at cooking again, because you’d have to pay me danger money…”

                “Hey! I can make some things! But, no. Leo is a chef and he’s trying to perfect this dish and I’m as useful as tits on a bull.”

                “You’ve got a guy who can cook as well as everything else? How is this fair?”

                “You ain’t even seen him yet Maria, he’s fucking gorgeous.”

                “You get all the luck, I swear. So what… you want me to eat some of his cooking? Oh my god. Let me guess, he asks you and you just keep on adding fucking sauce to it.”

                “Yeah. It kind of makes his eye twitch a little, but he still lets me do it.”

                “Does he now?”

                “Yeah. His cousin uh… actually. Nevermind.”

                “No no, his cousin what?”

                “Just said… well, she said it in Italian, so I could have gotten it wrong, but…” Jake can’t believe he’s sharing this with his sister. “Just that, uh, the dick must be good?”

                “Ew.”

                “You asked!”

                “Remind me of this conversation next time I ask a question you think I won’t like the answer to.”

                “I’ll try. You never listen to me anyway.”

                “Maybe I’ll start.”

CHAPTER NINE

[crystalitecloudie]

It's 4 am and I know I should be asleep... BUT I HAD A SAHSRAU IDEA (specifically cult!au with creators and stuff) AND I CAN'T IGNORE IT

This is gender neutral btw

EDIT: here is the link to part 2

Imagine...

You first descend into this world as the player, simply falling asleep in our world, and waking up in theirs. You wake up in Jarilo-VI, specifically in the bountiful snowy landscapes outside Belobog. However, at first, you believe it to be simply a vivid dream.

This is because when you touch the snow, it feels lukewarm to you. In fact, you are simply in flowy clothes (dress, shirt and pants, doesn't matter). You're dressed for a breezy summer picnic, not the harsh, unsurvivable winters of the Eternal Freeze.

But that does not stop barefoot you. You simply do not feel the cold, and it does not affect your body in turn.

The fragmentum monsters also pay no mind to you. They do not actively try to befriend you, but extended periods of time around them does not corrupt your mind like a mere mortal's would. You simply co-exist together with them.

However, after months of living in the Eternal Freeze, you have come to realize this is not a dream. You have yet to realize you are in the world of Honkai Star Rail, and are simply living a peaceful and voidous life.

That is... until Sampo finds you. He asks you to hide him, and when guards approach you, you have been so detached from human civilization that you are barely able to make conversation. You think in full, clear sentences, but your words stumble out like that of a child learning to walk and talk. They are accusing you of helping a criminal, along with three others that you know to be Stelle, March 7th, and Dan Heng. However, you certainly don't let on any clue that you know these people.

You're smarter than that.

And with your babbling like a child, Gepard and the other guards quickly assume that your mind, likewise, is also dumb and toddler-like. Innocent and naive. And as you are led into the city of Belobog's overworld, you realize that you are okay with this. You are a pretty, innocent babbling face, and appearing so allowed you to get away with quite a few things.

For example, when the trio of friends was chased into the underworld, you were not faced with similar charges. Instead, Cocolia forced you into a room in her palace, saying something about how the creator deserved the utmost respect.

You didn't really understand why you were being locked in a room and not allowed to leave, but if it meant free food and all the toys in the world, you could not care less. Humans were interesting creatures anyhow.

Even when you came to understand that this was not a simple Isekai, you simply wondered how the Supreme Guardian knew of your divine heritage. You had planned to keep it hidden for much, much longer... but alas.

I would write more but just seriously need to go to bed istg

Just credit me if you use this concept I guess idk I'm tired

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️ HELLO

Oh jeez more than your usual 129. Okay let's GO.

198 for 🛏️:

---

Buck is chasing it like a fucking drug.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Buck tells Eddie one evening, when the glow of the setting sun shifts the brown to a warm bronze. “I’ve always thought that, you know.”

It’s forward. It’s risky. But the bright, happy look on Eddie’s face when he hears it is so entirely intoxicating. And it’s not just Buck. In fact, it’s not even mostly Buck. Eddie is just as bad, if not worse. 

“I love your laugh.”

“I could listen to you talk about this for hours.”

“You smell really good today.”

And eventually Buck realizes that, okay yes, things have shifted. But also, Eddie has always been like this? He has always praised as much as he teases. He has always showered Buck with such devastatingly sweet things to Buck that Buck’s lungs have stopped working. They’re just changing in tone, a little. And Buck is just advancing in his own understanding of the way they make him feel. 

He didn’t get it, years ago, when Eddie told Buck there was no one in the world he trusted more with Christopher. He didn’t get that the breathless feeling was more than just platonic devotion. He’s starting to get it. He feels like a camera lens, finally coming into focus.

So eventually, when it keeps happening, Buck can’t keep playing chicken.

They’ve got a movie set up on Buck’s laptop. Eddie’s freshly showered. His hair is damp, smelling like Buck’s green tea and ginger shampoo that he’s been using. The one that apparently smells really good. Buck slides a bit closer to Eddie, until they’re a little tangled together. Eddie’s thumb is rubbing small circles over the bone of Buck’s wrist. Something he’s been doing more and more lately.

“That feels good, you know,” Buck whispers. 

Eddie pauses the motions for a second, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it until Buck pointed it out. Then, tentatively, it starts up again.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. “It… You… I mean you always feel… Uh, good.” 

Eddie inhales sharply. Buck wonders if he’s said too much.

“I do?” 

“Eddie,” Buck whispers, a slight complaint in his tone. “You know.” 

Eddie nods a little. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Buck holds his breath. He won’t be the one to do this. He needs to wait for Eddie. To be sure. Though, he thinks it is a sure thing. 

He doesn’t need to wait long. 

Eddie drops Buck’s wrist and raises his hand to cup Buck’s jaw, and suddenly they’re kissing. Kissing. It’s warm and soft and perfect. And honestly, if Buck could have guessed what kissing Eddie would be like, it would be this. Like sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. Like the sun beaming through the window and landing perfect on your cheeks. Like a breath of crisp fresh air. 

It’s everything. 

It’s so good, in fact, that Buck has to pull away from it, terrified. 

“Wait,” he begs. 

Eddie freezes. His eyes dart back and forth between Buck’s eyes and mouth, like he’s torn between the polite thing and his impulses. God, that’s hot. Buck just wants to let him do whatever he wants. 

“This isn’t because I mowed your lawn, right?” Buck asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops. “What?”

Yeah, okay. That sounded ridiculous. 

“Like, you’re not kissing me right now because I’m letting you stay in my bed and I mowed your lawn and you feel like you have to kiss me?”

Buck really hopes not. Because that might genuinely break his heart. 

“What?” Eddie asks again. “Buck? Seriously?”

“I-I don’t know!” Buck stammers. “You’ve never… So I just want to make sure that I didn’t accidentally pressure you or something.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leans forward and kisses Buck again. 

“I’m kissing you,” Eddie says, between a series of small, quick kisses. “Because I really, really want to.”

Oh. Oh, well that’s the best case scenario, then. Buck turns off his brain. He kisses Eddie back with enough passion and fervor to make up for six years of not kissing him. 

After that, kissing becomes a thing they do, too. 

vi.

It’s early August when Buck makes the suggestion. 

He doesn’t predict that this will lead to any sort of negative response. Hell, it seems innocent enough. Here they are, nearly two months into Eddie being here, with no sign of leaving. Kissing has escalated into other things. Buck thinks, maybe it would be nice to have multiple pieces of furniture that can support both of them, for when movie nights are really just movie nights. So he asks.

“Do you want to help me find a couch on our next four-off?” 

But instead of an easy-natured reply like Buck is expecting, Eddie’s face sort of freezes. He is not happy with this question. Buck just doesn’t understand why. 

“Eddie?” He asks, frowning. 

Eddie swallows. “Uh… I don’t know.”

“O-Okay,” Buck replies. “It’s fine. I can do it by myself.”

“No,” Eddie blurts. “No.”

“No, you’re coming or no, I shouldn’t do it by myself?” Buck asks. He really doesn’t get what the issue is, here.

“No, I don’t think you should get a couch,” Eddie says. 

Buck blinks. “Since when? You’re, like, the first person to make fun of me not having one.”

“That was Chris,” Eddie mumbles.

Buck’s chest hurts a little. 

“Why don’t we bring my couch here?” Eddie asks. “It’d fit.”

Buck’s head cocks to the side a bit like a confused puppy.

“Uh, Eddie… Why would we do that? Your house needs a couch.”

“Does it?” Eddie asks, nervous edge in his voice. “No one lives there right now.”

“Right, but then when Chris comes home, we’ll have to move the couch back, and the problem remains. I still need a couch.”

Eddie looks at the ground. 

“Eddie?” Buck presses. “Come on, what’s going on?”

Eddie takes a shaky breath and looks back up at him. “What if he doesn’t come home?”

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Buck can see how he got here from a couch, but it’s still some seriously anxious pathways of logic. Buck doesn’t need to buy a new couch, because Chris isn’t coming home, so they can move Eddie’s here, and Eddie will stay forever. Because he can’t go home if his son isn’t there. Jesus. 

Buck grabs his hand. “Of course he’s coming home, Eddie. That’s… That’s not a concern. He’s coming home.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie argues. “He’s barely talking to me. And when he does… He doesn’t want to come home.”

“I do know it,” Buck shakes his head. He squeezes Eddie’s hand tighter. “Chris is coming home, okay? I know you don’t trust yourself fully right now, so trust me.” 

Eddie’s eyes glaze over with tears. “I want to. I do.”

Buck hugs him, squeezing him. “I’ll believe it for both of us. And then get the honor of saying I told you so.” 

“You do not get to tease me when-”

“Ah, you said when! Not if!” Buck exclaims triumphantly. 

Eddie groans, defeated, but then sinks deeper into Buck’s arms. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

Buck kisses the top of Eddie’s head. 

“Always,” he replies. “But I still need a couch, Eddie. When was the last time we comfortably played video games?”

Eddie sighs. “I don’t want you to get a couch that isn’t mine.”

It feels like a sort of confession. And maybe it’s entirely ridiculous, but Buck wants to give him exactly what he wants. 

Buck squeezes him again. 

“Well, okay then.”

vi.

A few days later, they’re moving Eddie’s couch into the loft. 

Buck tries not to complain about the tight squeeze and awkward journey into the elevator and up to his floor. He supposes other couches might be just as difficult. And, without the added bonus of already knowing it’s the perfect couch. So he deals with the ridiculousness of moving a couch into the loft which he knows will return home before too long. Regardless of what Eddie believes. 

They’ve had a good talk about things. Which is something they actually hadn’t done before. They just sort of kept slowly inching forward, not addressing much of anything with words or formal understandings. But the way things are going, that wasn’t quite sustainable. They needed to lay it all out in the open. And when they did, this is what they found. 

They are both pretty entirely and devotedly in love with each other. With or without shared bed arrangements. No matter what.  Eddie is still figuring himself out. A lot of himself. Not just the parts that are new in terms of their relationship.

[vimara00]

You'll never leave me (Yandere!DabixF!Reader)

Hi everyone! It's Vi ✨ I received a request from @oyasumimosura and I hope you all enjoyed it! (I'm sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language 🙏🏻)

Warnings: yandere themes, curse words

All characters reservations to Horikoshi

Touya's childhood was field with sadness and disappointment. Every passing day he wished his father would look at him and be proud of how big of a hero he would be, strong enough to surpass All Might!

Not even his brother and sister could understand how he felt; no one ever did! Until a certain someone appeared and brought light to his miserable life. Her name was y/n, a little girl he met at the forest he used to go for training.

At first, he was irritated by the fact that a stupid girl was at HIS secure place but couldn't stop staring from distance how wonderful her quirk was. Apparently, the girl had a water manipulation quirk and was practicing next to the lake. Touya felt envious about how much control she had over her power and how it made no damage to her body.

After a while, the little girl notice that there was someone near the rocks and find a pair of blue eyes staring at her. When she saw a boy around her age, she smiled waving at him and Touya felt his heartbeat fasten. He was accustomed to angry stares that made his blood run cold not pretty smiles that made him feel warm. After that day, y/n and Touya became inseparables. They trained together and share bento boxes her mom made for the two of them (he even went to her house when thing got heavy at home)

One particular day when Touya was crying into her arms and she would whisper that everything was going to be okay, they share their first kiss, a little messy but still beautiful, and promised eachother that someday they'll get marry and he won't suffer anymore.

However, as Endeavour's need for Shoto to be better than All might increased, so did Touya's resentment and he started developing really bad habits that worried his new friend. He would questioned whenever she arrived late and got mad if it was because of others; he started showing up covered in scars and eyes field with tears but when she asked him about it he would leave; Also, his flames turned blue and more powerful that she couldn't keep up with him anymore. Due to his sudden change, she became a little bit afraid so she didn't see him as regularly as before but this did not sit well with the blueyed boy.

The oldest Todoroki started following her to the park where she played with her brothers, to her house and even to her martial arts classes. He couldn't understand why did she distanced herself but was too proud to asked so.

If only that day y/n arrived on time, she could have been able to save him...but she didn't and lost her first love in the blink of an eye. After the incident, she concentrated on working her ass off to be one of the biggest heroes this world has ever seen and maybe, by doing that, she could forgive herself for Touya's death. She even tried to keep in touch with the Todorokis in order to save Shoto from ending like his big brother. She usually would call or text the siblings and went to visit Touya's santuari

Some years later, y/n fould herself patroling the streets at night. Since the appearance of the LOV, she had worked a lot more to keep the streets safe but something has been making her anxious. Everywhere she went, the hero felt some pair of eyes watching her every move and she was sure it has to do with some villian

Y/n heard some noises coming from a near alley and decided to check just in case someone needed help. There it was Dabi leading on the wall and looking at her while smirking, as if he had been waiting for her to arrived.

"Well, well, well I finally found you, doll" He said as he took a few steps towards her "It's not a coincidence that we are here tonight. I think we are destined to find each other" he continued to get closer and the hero took some steps back. Something about the way he was looking at her made a shiver run down her spain. The last time they faced each other, he left her with some pretty marks but she wondered why didn't he killed her when he had the chance but soon enough she'll have her answer

Water started to form around her as she was ready to attack but no before saying "You should've killed me that time" and then, with water manipulation, grabbed Dabi's body while she came closer to give him a big blow of water on his stomach and throw him against the wall while blood came out of his mouth. He stood up as it nothing happened and looked a almost as he was enjoying being hit.

"You are stronger than when we were kids, y/n but there is one thing that haven't changed and it's the fact that I'll always win" Dabi said and took advantage of her hesitation to advanced forward enough to make a fire wall to surround them. To say y/n was shocked was understanding. Nobody new her real name, how did he ? And that thing about knowing each other since they were kids?...

Being surrounded by fire made her body temperature raise and ,because of that, her mind felt dizzy but she tried to move in order to attack again but Dabi speed faster towards her and put a cloth around her mouth till her eyes started to close and her legs to trumble.

Once y/n woke up, she couldn't feel her body and the room was spinning around her. From the corner of her eye, she saw someone moving and she remembered who brought her here. Dabi took a sit next to her on bed (she was sitting on a bed with her back against the wall) and run his fingers crossed her cheek tenderly "You do look sexy wearing my clothes but I prefer that red lingerie you wore on monday to work. Damn I almost lost it, doll!" He said while bitting his lip. Hearing what he he just confessed made her want to vomit as y/n realised that he was her stalker! If her mouth wasn't covert, she would've shout or curse at him.

"I see you still don't know how I am so let me give you a guess" He took some piece of jewelry that was hanging from his neck and put it in front of y/n. Her eyes open like plates and everything came rushing back to her head. The ring that was in the necklace was the one she gave Touya all those years ago when they made a promise to get marry. Tears purred down her cheeks as wipe her tears and said "shhh it's okay. It's really me... Finally we are together again, love. And now that you are here no-one is going to take you away from me and you'll never leave me" His face twisted into a manic smile and laughed loudly. Then he took the cloth away from her mouth and she said " I used to love a boy called Touya but you are not him. You murdered and tortured people. You are fucking crazy if you think I'll stay with you" You tried using your quirk but nothing came and he laughed even louder saying "Oh y/n, I almost forgot to tell you...You don't have a quirk anymore. Isn't it great? I just saved you from that horrible life you had and from now and on, it's you and me! And we are gonna get married and you will never leave me!"

"I would never be with someone like you, fucking monster" she screamed at him as she jump of the bed and continued to run to the exit when suddenly, her felt a huge pain in her right leg, so strong that she fell to the floor and couldn't stand up. She looked at her leg and it was broken. Touya was standing behind her with a hammer with a serious face saying "You are not leaving me again so you better get use to it"

At that moment she understood that there was nothing she could do to scape from him and she cried even harder while he carried her to bed and laid her down. He was on top of her as he took her hand an put the ring on finger and smiled satisfied.

"I will get you something to eat, love. Rice with fried chicken, your favourite!" He pause and then said "I love you, doll " and kiss her forehead.

When he was gone, y/n burst out crying and she prayed that all of this was a nightmare but it was far from the truth, the nightmare had just started.

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

vii. be known in it's aching, shown in the shaking

[masterlist] | [part vi]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 6.4k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, multiple pov, angst, feelings, masturbation (m), kissing, oral (f), fingering, semi-public / outdoor sex, birth control mention, begging, piv, outercourse

Your routine watch with Fennec takes an interesting turn when someone very unexpected appears to take her place.

His reason for first going to the Pika Oasis had been rooted in duty. Never expecting there to be anything more than that - no pleasure in the long days spent away from Mos Espa.

But that had been when he thought he had been going alone.

Before he had been unable to shake Fennec. The others soon following, so sure in their decision to stick by his side.

Before… you.

He still marvels at your transformation. From that pretty little bluebird to something far more fierce. All sharp talons, now. Spreading your wings, prepared to soar.

The girl he had found at the farmhouse never would have insisted she come with. That hunch in your shoulders as you had scurried after him, startling at the crack of a branch underneath your own foot.

He can no longer pretend he doesn’t look for you. The quickest flick of his eyes when he’s walking down the main road, even now.

Looking. Searching.

Finding.

There's confidence in the way your hands brace on your hips. A little tilt of your head as you listen to the settler, watching where he points towards the row of houses being slowly cleared out.

Hands reaching for the box he holds, where it wobbles from being stacked too high. Kindness in your unguarded expression. A rarity, in a world where personal gain often came before the needs of others.

A softness still lingered in you. A remnant of the before - something he had never truly wondered about, until now. Never worth his time thinking about a past that would not exist again.

It’s in your eyes, in your smile.

In your form - the hard work and warm weather baring inches of skin that his eyes couldn't help but to be drawn to. Desire was a tricky thing, but even with his attempts to distance himself, his mind was brought back to you, again and again.

Leaving his mind to wander, in the dark. When the hard day was finally over. When what starts as a replay of a moment turns into more - a hand dropping to curl around where he’s already half-hard.

The jerk of his fist twining with his thoughts. Imaging your sweet mouth pressing against his, how your lips would feel wrapping around his cock. Soft and warm and wet - how good you’d be, for him.

Your name catching in his throat, snarled out through clenched teeth as he spilled across his knuckles.

Sometime over the past month it had changed. From a physical appreciation of the memory - the way that blue suit had clung to your form - to something deeper, something that lasted into the next morning.

No longer thinking of just the during, but now - the after.

His mind torn between that moment of reaching out and taking - like he had wanted to, just the night before. Hoping to find you on that evening shift, to go to you, himself.

Now, in the light of day - seeing you now, he wonders if he was right to wish it.

If his touch - so stained as it was - would dent your softness, mold and mar it into something unrecognizable. If it was fair to return your gaze, the desire that so often flickered in your own eyes.

The morning washes away the smoldering fire from the night before. Brining a fresh clarity, unwanted but inevitable.

No, he thinks. Perhaps not.

He has tarnished enough things during his time walking this world. The one bright spot in Mos Espa would not be one of them.

He'll let you down, gently. He can do that much.

Then, he'll make himself forget.

The sky bleeds from blue, to gold, to a deep, hazy orange.

Your plate dipping where it rests on your knee, scraped clean from your dinner-from-a-can and roasted tatos.

Lost in thought, stuck in the night before. Replaying the conversation - a loop of wondering why Boba had been asking about your shift.

If it had just been checking in again, or if it had been something more?

You think… maybe it had. The prospect thrills you, and sends your stomach twisting in knots. Feeling the heavy weight of his gaze today, your own darting back his way when his attention pulls from you.

A slow circling, steps in the sand - just waiting for the loop to complete, to finally converge.

"About time to head out.” Fennec tells you, her boot reaching out to tap yours. The corner of her mouth lifting, when you don’t immediately reply, “Where'd you go, bluebird?"

"Oh. I'm here." You blink, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

Brushing off her questions, the raised tilt of her brow, as you wash off your utensils, turning them back into the rusting wire basket at the cantina.

The easy silence lingering, as you walk beside her. Down the long dirt road, past all the houses. The flickering lights above and lanterns slowly dimming the further you go, until you reach the ridge that overlooks the river.

The remnants on an old one-room cabin was found nestled in the trees - bolstered with wooden boards. Furnished into something almost cozy with a discovery of an old picnic table, a rickety chair, and some crates that passed as storage.

An open window on each side that gave a good view of where the river spilled into the lake, a fine place as any to watch for Raiders.

Some of your gear is dumped inside - a small lantern lit that hopefully acts as a deterrent. An almost familiar path taken together, as you start down the wooden trail.

The nights were close to routine, now - a slow loop around the lake, and then back. A few hours of watch, and then the same.

It's about half-way down the river, near a bend that loops perfectly around a massive fallen tree, where there's another nudge. Your thoughts drift again, this time back to your childhood.

Younger you would have loved a walk like this. Toeing off shoes and socks - rolling up the hem of your pants to wade in water and wiggle your toes in the mud.

With the radiation that lingers, you don't know if you'll ever get the chance to do that again. There were areas that were safe, and perhaps this river was too, but you'd lost that carefree edge the moment you woke up.

There's an urge to look into the rippling water - see if it's still you looking back. A step forward as your eyes drop - the stars and line of trees reflected in the surface.

Again, still you. Still her, deep down, when your eyes narrow and your vision blurs.

"Don't think you'll find anything in there." A hand touches your elbow, as she brings you back again.

Your reflection distorts with the twist of your head, as you step away.

Offering a small smile, an embarrassed huff of a quiet laugh, "Sorry. I've just been a bit... distracted lately."

It's an understatement.

A sideways look shot your way, as you move on, "Don't tell me you're wishing someone else was on patrol with you."

It's a misinterpretation - and you haven't been wishing that, not really - but she still strikes at something close to your heart.

"No!" You sputter, with a little wave of your hand, "I like patrols with you. I just-"

She is quick, smart. Second in command for a reason, tongue rubbing against her teeth as she fights a smile. Easily plucking at the way your words peter out, unable to help poking at them.

"...but?"

"But, nothing." Your cheeks feel hot, as you move ahead on the trail.

Embarrassment licks at you. The thought of talking about your crush with Fennec feels silly - too juvenile on a multitude of levels.

It was fine enough in your thoughts - a soft, cozy thing. But to speak it out loud would make your desire real. If she were to laugh at your presumption, you'd be crushed.

"You don't have to tell me." She sighs, when she catches up to you a moment later, "It will be more fun to guess, anyways. Just… be careful. Okay?"

That has you pausing, a little glance over your shoulder. A frown, as you try to figure out the source of her worry.

"I’ve talked with vault dwellers before." Fennec gives you a look, as if you should know, "Things sounded a lot different back then. Life moves a lot more quickly now, with a lot less attachments."

You think you know what she means. From what you've heard, life had turned more fluid, when the world had turned all but lawless. A bad day could get you separated from your family for months, or far worse.

Love had persevered through it all, but the slow dance of romance were rooted with traditions that have long been forgotten.

"You're jumping awfully far ahead," You shoot her a look, "You're telling me there's no white dresses or ringing church bells at the end of the line?"

Her brow furrows, as she thinks about your words. Your humor had been another thing that has disappeared, when the world had changed. All those little references that came without thought, now an ancient language.

But you think she tries to understand, for you. A shake of her head, with a small smile, "Not out here. Not anymore."

"That's too bad. You'd make a pretty bridesmaid, Fen." You deflect with a grin, and then the tension breaks.

And this time she's the one to roll her eyes - to walk on ahead.

Her laugh joining yours, as you follow.

By the time you make it back to the shed, the earlier conversation has trickled down into the back of your mind. An ease in the way you settle into your usual seats - Fennec leaning against the picnic table.

You, propped up against a large crate, nearby. A leg pulled up as you rest an arm on it, giving you a good look out of one of the open windows. Idle chatter passing the time - plans for the next few days, the tiny bits of gossip you've caught while working.

How Krrsantan got that scar that arcs across his eye - a story you didn’t quite believe at first, because there weren’t laser swords in your time.

The piece of paper with some writing on it that she had seen in Mos Espa - the words illegible but somehow binding Charon to Boba, leaving him unable and unwilling to disobey an order.

And just as the sky reaches its darkest, the moon hanging full, there's the sounds of footsteps coming from the path behind.

Coming from the worn dirt path to town - someone to relieve Fennec of watch duty, since she was covering for a villager this coming evening. You still had a few hours ahead of you, until dawn rose.

You don’t look up - too busy narrowing your eyes at the flicker you thought you saw in the distance. But, through the old set of binoculars, there’s just the inky night looking back at you.

Shifts had increased when there had been rumors of Raiders nearby. Krrsantan spotting them when he had been out earlier that week, a few miles past the far edge of the fences. Disposing of some, but they always travelled in packs.

The settlement was growing, food starting to become even more plentiful. Word would spread, and those who were hungry would come - welcome or not.

Fennec uses your knee to push herself upward, and you sway with the moment. Something solid bumping into the leg that dangles, her casual “thanks, boss” capturing your attention.

Your head turns until you can see the person behind you, whose hip brushes against your thigh.

Boba Fett.

The breath catches in your throat as he lowers himself down, taking up the space where she had sat - the old picnic bench creaking, but holds steady. Your focus so solely on him, that you don't quite catch the goodbye she tosses your way.

Fennec shooks you a look, catching your delayed response. A cocked eyebrow, a smirk that splits her face; before she’s slipping out the door.

Leaving the two of you alone - the small flickering lantern warming the space where you're wrapped in darkness.

A silence lingers, until the conversation slowly begins. Going over routine ones during and after a shift. No changes in the traps set - tripwires scattered throughout the woods. No new tracks in the muddy riverbank. Nothing on the horizon.

As the minutes pass, you can't help but wonder why he's here. A small bud of hope just starting to sprout in your chest. Happy with the thought that maybe he just wanted to spend time with you, like you had been so secretly hoping.

And slowly, the topics turn. Away from the semi-formal reporting, to detailing small moments about your day. Boba tells you about the defense turret they got running at the entrance to town. Only one, but it was a start.

About the second story above the old storefront that's finally been upgraded to home an official clinic - instead of the tucked-away corner they had been using.

You tell him about the large generator you'd gotten running. The couple lucky breaks you had gotten with the old equipment, how you had managed to find enough scrap metal to replace the rusted bolts and wires.

The look in his eyes is pleased, appraising. Crinkling at the edges with his smile - as you wonder, if perhaps he no longer wishes he had left you in Mos Espa.

"Not many Wastelanders would be able to do that." The curve of his lips tilt into a frown, as if he's not sure how to word his question, "Did you do similar work before?"

Before. Before the end.

"No." The shake of your head is small, "Nothing like this, this has all been new. But I had a lot of time to learn, since I..."

The words thicken in your throat - almost choking you - but you push through, "Since I was alone for so long. And I've learned a lot in Mos Espa, too."

His eyes drop.

"I am sorry for your loss. We've all had them, but to lose everyone-" He doesn't have to words to finish, to even begin to convey the breadth of what you had gone through.

And for the first time, there's the urge to talk about them. A want to clarify, a deep-rooted feeling that you'd be safe to name them here, in this tiny shack.

"My family, they're... they're not gone." You begin, with the smallest waver in your voice. A second as you collect yourself - sending a glance his way, a small smile, "They're still in the Vault. The one I woke up in."

His face has gone from sympathetic to concerned - a sharp focus of his brown eyes, a pinch of his brow as he concentrates. You think he knows, somehow, how important this is.

"It's hard to explain but from what I've pieced together, when the bombs fell we were put into an extended cryosleep. Frozen in time." You frown, as you try to cut down your extensive research into the barest of bones, "I don't know why, but I woke up early."

There’s a slow nod as he follows, a relief coming when he does.

"And I tried to wait it out in the Vault. I really did. But after months had passed, I couldn't take it anymore." You get lost in the memory for a moment. The aching hours of isolation, those painted-white and silent walls, "So, I left. I went out."

"Very brave of you." His voice is low, in the dark.

"Very stupid." You smile, remembering those weeks - months - ago, "If you hadn't found me-"

The words die on your tongue, as you look at him. The curve of his lips as he remembers that fateful first meeting. Pure luck - you know that now, living in the outside world as long as you have now. The warmth in your chest swells at how far you've come since then.

"…But, I think they're okay. I think they'll wake up when it's time." You still hold onto that last tiny part - the exact timing. That feels like too much to give, to anyone.

Boba hums in contemplation, his fingers steepling as his elbows press into spread knees. Eyes drifting past your shoulder and beyond, as he thinks.

"They are welcome in Mos Espa. There's plenty of space in the east wing now." Boba's voice is solemn, a finger breaking free to brush against his lower lip - already planning, "I can move you over there, when we get back. Block out the rooms.”

So casual in the way he offers you salvation, once again. The heavy weight of worry that’s been sitting on your chest for some weeks now - wondering how you’ll ever afford housing for everyone, even in four years time.

A kindness offered out now, without thought.

Everything seems to go still for a moment, as your feelings tip into something almost tangible.

Love, you think dizzily. That bud in your heart suddenly blooming fiercely, the petals filling up the cavity of your chest.

Not even realizing you’re standing until his eyes drop, to where your feet creak on the thick wooden boards.

Yours stay fixed on his face. The dim flicker of the lantern catch the shadow of his scars, and you in this moment you don’t know if you’ve ever wanted to kiss someone more.

It’s then that he catches you looking, his head cocking as he considers you. The flicker of a shadow across his expression, the grit of his jaw - as if he was steeling himself.

His next words catch you off guard.

“I’m not one of your handsome princes or noble knights.” Boba’s voice is a low rumble, soft in the night air, “You know that, right?”

You frown - confused by the sudden turn, not knowing where this is going.

A protest, that he is handsome - that you’ve spent weeks thinking so, knowing so - bubbling in your throat, but he cuts you off.

“I’m an old man. I’ve seen-,” He frowns then, a moment before he continues, “I know what you want, princess. But I don’t think you really know, yourself.”

His words make you blink. Stepping towards him, as your hands brace on your hips.

Bypassing the embarrassment and barreling right towards indignation, “You don’t think I know what I want?”

Boba’s lips press together, the mark deepening between his brows. A shake of his head, the movement slow, “You want the idea of something. But it’s not reality.”

The rejection stings. It rips through you, your hands curling into fists, until your nails bite into your palms.

A final blow, “You’re not seeing, sen’ika.”

Your eyes drop. He makes you feel small, as if he’s wearing his hulking power armor now. Easily battered aside, left and forgotten in the Wasteland.

But you’ve grown, since then. Stronger and braver than when you first met.

“I see just fine.” You bite out, your heart fluttering in your chest, your breaths shallow, “I see someone that Din listens to, and respects. Someone who saved Fennec and gave her another chance.”

He’s looking at you, unblinking. Face impassive, as your voice threatens to crack, “I see someone that this settlement trusts and follows, when there’s little left for us to believe in.”

You inhale a breath, blinking back the prickle that stings your eyes. You’re aching and crushed, and the feelings in your chest are breaking out of their shackles, bursting free.

“I see someone I-”

Boba doesn’t let you finish.

The shell around him cracks with your words - a hand darting out to wrap around a wrist. It only take one willing step, before you’re tugged between spread knees.

His other broad hand spans the back of your neck, cradling it as his mouth presses to yours with a growl.

It’s messy, insistent. Your lips slotting with his as you move closer - knees knocking against the breadth of his chest as you climb onto the bench to straddle him.

His tongue brushing against your lip, a scrape of teeth as you open, whimpering. The layers of his dark robes beneath his armor are soft to the touch as your fingers sink in, as his hands find your waist and drag you closer.

It’s not like the times you’ve had, before. Hushed whispers in bed, careful fumbling. Moments from lifetimes ago - a different world.

Here, his finger dig into your hips. The nudge of something that stiffens against your core as your thighs spread wider. A mouth that presses open-mouthed against your neck, a low chuckle as you whine.

Boba knows where to touch you, your head tilting back so he can kiss at your throat, and then down. Fingers rucking up your shirt, plucking at the buttons until the cool night air is raising goosebumps against your skin.

Heat pools between your thighs, a neediness that has you rutting against him. A shiver making you tremble when his lips brush the curve of your breast, his breath warm against your skin.

“Is this what you want?”

You can only manage a weak sound, a soft gasp.

“Tell me, princess. Do you want this?” There’s a firmness to his voice that has you finding your own.

“Yes.” You look at him, his chin pressed against your sternum, waiting for your answer.

Lips parted over clenched-together teeth. A groan, then - as a finger hooks around the center gore of your worn, cotton bra.

A rough yank as he tugs it down, baring you. His tongue pressing against the stiff peak of your nipple, as your thighs close around his thick waist.

You jerk in his touch, moaning as his lips close around you. Leaning into the soft suck as his hands grip at your waist, fingertips brushing over the bare skin above the waistband of your trousers.

Tugging then at your belt, as your fingers fan out and then wrap around a shoulder.

His teeth graze your nipple, the briefest pinch before his tongue soothes it. The night quiet except the rasp of denim against his armor, as your hips rock again.

As you moan his name, sounding so pretty on your lips, “Boba. I need you.”

Racing past want, now. A throbbing in your core, an excitement coursing through your veins that feels so new. You’ve desired before, but never quite like this.

He’s tugging at the zipper now, and your hips lift to help him. Your fingers hooking around the waistband, a foot dropping down to the earth as you stand.

A knee resting in the bench as you awkwardly push both layers down to your ankles.

Your small squeak is shushed when he nudges at you - hands that press at your hips, drawing you back to the bench.

The old wood seat pressing into your bent knees as he bends you over the table, a hand smoothing down you back.

“You need me, hm?” His mouth is level with your shoulder, now. A flex of your muscles as his lips brush against your skin, as he peels the opened shirt from you.

Tucking it beneath your elbows for padding, a small moment of consideration.

“Please,” you breathe, eyes closing as his strong hands shift you up just a little further - the edge of the table biting into your skin, until - yes. There.

Right where he wants to you be.

Right where he can see you - his thumb tracing the curve where your thigh meets hip. Then, brushing against your core, so warm and wet, making your hips jerk.

“Here?” He asks, as his thumb makes a pass again.

Ghosting over soft skin, just shy of where you want him. Teasing you.

“Yes, there. Oh my god, there, please-”

You feel yourself clench, rocking your hips into his touch.

Expecting the blunt press of his cock to follow. Trying to turn your head to watch him disrobe, not expecting him to lower himself down onto protesting knees, instead.

Unable to - as his mouth replaces his fingers, tasting you from behind. The hot swipe of a tongue against your folds, as your head drops forward to thunk against to wood.

Eyes closing as he eats you, a pleased hum in his throat as his palms flatten on the curve of your ass, gently tugging.

Keeping you spread, even as you grit out an “oh, fuck-” that is way too loud. Unable to help it, with the way his lips suck against your clit.

Your fingernails scratching against the wood, as he draws back. Eyes sweeping over your soaked skin as his thumb presses against your opening - nudging just the tip inside.

“Just look at you.” He husks, as he feels your muscles tighten around him. Seeing how the angle keeps you spread so open for him, a tremble in your thighs as you hold back the urge to grind into his touch.

“A sweet thing like you, so wet for an old bounty hunter like me.” Boba’s voice is low - drawing his thumb out so it can swipe over your folds. Leaving you glossy, slick with desire, “You should be running, princess.”

The edge to his voice makes you moan, goosebumps raising at his warning. Too far gone to take any heed of it, not when his middle finger is pressing inside you.

Sinking deep, down to the knuckle - before withdrawing. Pulling back to fit it back in, and you can hear the sound of your cunt swallowing him.

It’s been too long. Two hundred years, you think derisively - the strangled laugh coming out as a hushed whine by the time it passes through your teeth.

The slow build across these weeks too much, your feelings twisting with your desire until you feel ripe - about to burst.

Your breathing ragged as his nose presses against you, as a second finger hooks inside, scissoring you open.

His face angling to press a tongue between those fingers, inside you, before his tongue licks at your clit again.

The arch of your hips is automatic, as is your cry. Never expecting this, the man that is groaning into your cunt. The soft shuffle of fabric as his other hand drops, as he frees himself without looking.

Preparing his cock to replace his fingers as soon as he feels you drip onto his tongue. It won’t be long, not with the sounds he makes.

A low sigh, the wet, rhythmic suck as you take his fingers. Curling the tips to stroke against a soft spot inside that has you clenching around him.

Rumbling words and warm breath between your thighs, punctuating the flick of his tongue.

“Tight little cunt.”

“Need to make you cum before you take me.”

Words escape you. Twisting in your brain, only to escape as half-hushed sounds. A tightness stringing through your body, as he threatens to wrench something from you.

With the pump of his fingers and the pull of his voice. Tender words twisting up and around you as it feel like a countdown flares to life in your belly, ticking down with each swipe of his tongue, the pointed curl of his fingers.

“Boba,” You moan, and it’s a filthy thing. A harsh, strung-out moan as your breathing turns short. Each one turning into a soft “oh!” as he hums.

“Fuck, ah-, don’t stop-”

And you know he won’t. Intent behind every movement, as his hand leaves himself to smooth over the curve of your ass.

Three, and then two, and then one.

And then you’re burning, a bright spark that begins low and then spreads throughout your belly. Coursing down your limbs with a blinding, pulsing pleasure.

Your muscles stringing tight as you rock into his tongue - trapped between his chest and the wooden tabletop.

The moan muffled where you bury your face in the discarded shirt. Worried about crying out too loudly - alerting the others out on patrol.

He is not. A rasping growl as his fingers slide free, leaving you empty. Replacing them with his mouth as he spreads you open, leaving streaks of slick on your skin.

Letting you ride out your orgasm against his tongue, leaving his lips and chin smeared with you.

Waiting until all of your muscles go slack, before he pulls away

There’s a low hum, the creak of wood as he pushes himself to his feet. The hot, swollen curve of his cock brushing against your core.

A slow drag as he tucks himself flush, rocking his hips forward as he fits between your spread thighs.

“Have you had your fill, princess?”

Even with the sharp throb of arousal, he’s content to leave you like this. Loose-limbed against the table - a pretty enough sight for him.

But for you, it only makes you crave for more.

A strength coming back as you push yourself up again. Twisting yourself so you can see the parts of him he’s bared.

Lingering, for the briefest moment. Never thinking you’d get to see him like this. The thick curve of his cock making you wonder how heavy it would feel on your tongue.

A thrill in your belly at the way the flushed tip gleams, all from tasting you.

There’s the tap of his hand against your ass then, a gentle squeeze.

Your head shakes, your teeth sinking into your lip as you risk another glance. Lingering on the peek of skin above, the dark trail of hair leading down.

A second, as your thoughts come back to you - the slightest hesitance.

“I want all of you.” This part is easy to say, because you do. Desperately. “But I don’t have… anything.”

You never thought tonight would end up like this. Never thought you had to worry about what passed as protection, now.

He steps away from you, and you’re immediately missing him.

“We can stop.” His voice is low, but not unkind. Your nose scrunches because you very much don’t want to do that, but then he’s speaking again.

“But-” He catches your hand, brings it to the curve of his hip. Giving you a second to twist around, to press - feeling the slightest something beneath the skin, “This is an implant, very effective. It’s your choice, princess.”

Your hand drifts from his hip, then down. Trusting him, as your fingers curl around the base of his shaft - gently squeezing as you hear his soft groan behind you.

“Fuck, please-” You sigh, as you bend again.

Angling him against you as he hums in amusement - letting you try to line him up, in spite of the angle.

“Easy now, princess.” He rasps, as his hand wraps around yours - warm and firm.

The other curling against your hip, an intake of breath as he nudges against your slit.

“Tell me again,” Boba commands, with a slow sweep - pressing just barely against swollen, soaked flesh.

You don’t know if you can take much more teasing, “I want you. Please fuck me, please-”

He makes a low sound then, a strained groan in his throat. A pressure, as he starts to sink inside. First the blunt head - only to draw back, as you clench around him.

Then, another thrust.

Fingers biting into the table at the slick slide of his length. Each one inching him deeper, as you sigh.

The final punch of his cock steals your breath. A soft gasp at feeling so full, in that moment where you can feel his stomach pressing into your back.

Pinning you against the table, before he’s rocking back. Feeling the drag of his cock - almost all the way out. Nudging it’s way deep again, with a smooth thrust.

Picking up, as his hands splay flat against the table. Using it for leverage as he sets a steady rhythm.

Pounding into you, as you back arches. Doing your best to rock back and meet him, as that pressure bleeds into pure bliss.

The flickering lantern rattles with the force of his thrusts, jolting when your hips bump against the table. Again, and again - until a hand leaves the grip he has on your hip.

A finger looping around the handle. Reaching to set it on the knee-high crate, instead of the floor.

All the better for him to watch, to see. The perfect height to illuminate the shine of his cock as it disappears into you. The way your thighs glisten with your first release, while he works you towards a second.

If you thought you were a mess before, it’s nothing compared to now. Each breath no more than a gasp, with the way he’s pounding into you.

Your hand drifts then, sliding across the wood - trying to slip between your thighs, press where his tongue had been.

His own hand leaves the table to wrap around your waist, pressing between your breasts.

Tugging you back, and then up - until you’re curving against his chest. Your fingers forgetting their path as they curl around the edge of the table for balance.

Lips brushing your ear, his voice a low rumble, “I’ve got you, princess.”

Wanting to do this, himself. To pull every orgasm from you tonight with the press of his own fingers.

Canting his hips upward - seeming to drive even deeper as his other hand traces across your hip. Over and down, until it’s swirling against slick skin.

Finding the tight bud of your clit, a low hum when you whine as he presses down. Making your back arch further, toes curling as he begins to circle.

Winding you up, like before. That build of pleasure accelerated by the sound of his grunts and panting breath in your ear. The way he cock drags inside you, filling you so much that it’s impossible not to feel every inch and ridge of him.

“Fuck,” He groans, filthy in your ear as you clench down around him - as if you’re trying to keep him buried in your tight heat.

The rough gravel of his voice make you moan. His breath warm where it fans against a bare shoulder as his lips press to the spot under your ear.

“Taking me so well.” He sighs, with the scrape of teeth against your skin. No longer sounding quite so put-together, his voice losing that aloof edge, “Want to feel you come on my cock. One more time, yeah?”

The words are muted in your ears. Your heartbeat thudding louder, a steady drumming as you’re brought closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes,” You manage, the word coming out ragged, “Oh my god, I’m close-”

Grasping onto the table is no longer enough. Your hands twisting behind - wrapping into robes and around the edge of chilled armor as you cling to him.

Nothing to mute your cries other than the clenching of teeth, the whimpers still slipping between to be caught by the wind.

He grunts as you grind into his thrusts, your head tipping back against his shoulder. Muscles stringing tighter and tighter, as you try to tell him, warn him.

“Oh, oh, I’m gonna come-”

Barely getting the words out, before the pleasure tears through you. A shift of his arm - a mercy as his palm presses against your mouth, muffling the sound of your cry as he growls in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. That’s fucking it, come on-”

Too far gone to hold it back yourself, too caught up in the way you seem to radiate from the inside out.

A humming groan as he feels you, the tight pulse of your cunt as you come - those sharp thrusts turning into a slow grind.

Slicking him up further, dripping down his cock. Fingers keeping their steady rhythm as your hips buck, riding it out until the pressure starts to twinge.

Only then, does his hand lower. Pressing again against your heaving chest as your head tilts.

A hiss of air through his teeth as you mouth at his jaw with contented sighs. Those sounds dropping low as he shifts - leaving you empty as he pulls from you.

You whine, before he’s fitting himself between your thighs. A slow slide as you shift your legs closed, his cock tucked between your legs and pressed snug against your pussy.

A thrust, and then another. It won’t take many, not with the memory of you coming on his cock, the way your lips press again to his throat.

His breath coming in short huffs, hands gripping at your hips and moving you to the rhythm he wants.

Fucking your thighs, so slick with your release. Nearly overcome with your murmuring encouragement, the way you can’t help but look down - admire the peek of his cock when his hips are flush with yours.

“Gods.” He snarls, and then his fingers are pinching - your hands flying to the table again as his chest flattens across your back.

“Fuck. Fuck-”

He spills himself - each streak dripping down between the table top and the bench with the force of his orgasm. The grind of his hips leaving him sticky on your thighs, a low growl with each twitching throb of his cock.

Keeping himself pressed flushed for a few long minutes - the sounds of your joining petering out, as your heartbeat returns to normal. As he softens between your thighs, as arms and fingers finally relax.

There’s a softness in the way Boba kisses you after, a press of his lips against your shoulder. A hand petting across your hip, pressing slow, soothing circles.

Eyes averting politely as you tug up your clothes, as he kicks dirt over his mess - he’ll clean it up later, in the morning.

When you settle back on the bench, his arm rests across the tabletop behind you. Letting your head dip against his shoulder as he tucks you into his side.

“I’ll wake you at sunrise, sen'ika.” His voice soothes, as you feel your eyelids getting heavy. Warm in his embrace, something you’re not used to.

A little sigh, as you wiggle closer. Gloved fingers trailing against your arm, in a soft looping pattern. Your mind wandering as you start to drift off, thinking you can ask now - about that name he calls you. A fixture since that first day - something you've thought about endlessly, but never had the courage to ask.

"Boba?" Your eyes crack open, as he makes a sound of acknowlegement, "What does that mean? That name... sen'ika?"

The question comes out sleepy, mumbled - punctuated by a yawn.

"Go to sleep, little bird." Boba's words are pointed, but you think you can hear a smile in them.

You grin, as your eyes close again. A coziness in his answer, settling over you as your thoughts go quiet. As your cheek presses against the cool metal of his armor.

Uncertain if he has anything more he can offer, beyond tonight.

Out here, trust and tenderness carry a weight you’ve never known before. Actions have a currency that wordsno longer held. Things left unsaid - because there’s an ache in everyone now, and sometimes it’s too much to voice them.

After all, this is the Wasteland. And you’re a scavenger, now.

You’ll take anything you’ve been given.

Ahh their conversation in the cabin and the storytelling in the last chapter were the first scenes I had mapped out when I started this (back in Jan!) so it feels so exciting to get to this chapter! Thank you for reading 💚 part viii will be out thursday, the 20th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @ri-a-rose, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ray-rook, @dumfanting, @bedky, @thirsty-boba-fett-posts, @dukeoftheblackstar, @lifelikefae, @pentaghasm, @izbelross, @margowritesthings)

[nomatterwhatnomatterwhere]

What a (Not so) Strange World - VI

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“So you had prepared a room for me”

The room was on a red, white and black theme, clearly Crewel's work, but it wasn't dark at all; There was a beautiful window that looked out onto a small balcony, the curtains were probably also a stylistic choice by Crewel, as was the four-poster bed - which was very reminiscent of the one you slept in at the Crewel house. He told you that in any case there was a spell thanks to which the room would light up as needed if requested.

Even though the presence of Crewel's hand was visible, you knew Trein had contributed too. You could see it in the choice of the wooden desk, large as you liked, in the library already full of books, some definitely off target but with a very emotional meaning. The dresser and the wardrobe - and the clothes inside them - were Crewel's work, you were pretty sure the man wouldn't agree to a deal about something like how you would get around.

There was also a bathroom, nothing exaggerated, but still a personal bathroom

(Crewel had actually taken care of most of the things in the room, he had also made sure to provide you with not only several uniforms but also more casual clothes - what monster wouldn't give a child at least a change of clothes - many clothes were from his fashion house; in the same way he had provided you with various beauty items and some potions kits. Trein had focused more on the 'little things', he didn't hide that Crewel might have some more knowledge on the style you would have preferred, but Trein knew what you were interested in - not that Crewel didn't know, you simply talked more to Trein about the little things that caught your interest - hence the different books that talked about how to make the most of elemental magic or the fairly rare editions of some potions manuals; at the top right of the library you could find a photo album of when you were at Trein home, an idea of ​​Anastasia and Drizella.)

“Why shouldn't we? Do you like it?”

Well you sure liked it better than that … thing in Ramschackle. Nothing to take away from the place, which in its golden years would certainly have been splendid, but as you saw it, it wasn't a totally habitable place.

You had already wondered how Yuu and Grim could live in those conditions, but now you actually had someone to ask.

Except that the answer left you rather confused.

What the heck did “I’m pretty sure nobody lives there Pup, well, if we don’t count the ghost of course” mean?

So you told Crewel what the ghosts had told you about Yuu and Grim, and Crewel confessed to you that he had no idea who you were talking about; he didn't think there were any students with those names.

The ghosts may have been messing with you, but the room you had seen had been cleared out and you doubted the ghosts could take care of it.

Your roommates were the reason you shopped with Crewel's card.

The man was interested in this conversation

“Well…I looked around that ehm, place” you were playing with your fingers, you were afraid Crewel would scold you and you didn't really like the idea “And I found out that their fridge, if we can call that thing like that, was totally empty and they had nothing to eat, like nothing at all, nowhere” that situation had partly reminded you of your time in the orphanage, where when you did something you shouldn't have done your portion of food was halved.

(It had never happened to you, even though you were an outcast you were still a calm and definitely not problematic child, but other children were not so calm at all, they were children, but that was what was called 'Tough Love' and for a while you had come to think it was normal, but the more time you spent with Crewel and Trein and your guardians in your world, the more you realized that this was just psychological abuse. Thinking that something like this could happen to someone right before your eyes gave you shivers.)

“That's kind of you, Pup” you were convinced Crewel was going to scold you for doing something without permission but he was just ruffling your hair “But you're banned from using my card for buying all of this Tuna again” ah there, well you could expect something like this.

You asked him if he knew any spells to make a kitchen work, since you weren't sure if the one in the Dorm wouldn't decide to explode at any moment.

He looked at you as if you had offended him personally, but it wasn't directed at you. No, it was directed at Crowley and his very poor decision-making ability.

“Um…there's a kitchen I could use in the meantime?” you were reluctant to ask anything, given the look in his eyes that contemplated revenge.

He accompanied you to the school kitchens - he had thought about taking you to Vargas, but he was quite convinced the man would be quite a hindrance to you, not to mention the absurd diets he could subject you to, it gave him the shivers - and left you in the care of the ghost of the canteen.

He had some bureaucratic paperwork to look at.

When you finished you were quite satisfied with the result, you had overestimated the amount of food you would need, so you offered some students who were stationed near the kitchens to taste something, and they didn't have to think about what to do

(at first they were attracted by the smell, you didn't have to be a beastman to smell the scent coming from the place, but then they saw that the source of the wonderful smell was a cute girl – and as far as they knew, the NRC was an all boys school - and the aforementioned had offered them to taste the food she had prepared with a really kind smile. To refuse such an offer would have been really stupid of them)

The ghost invited you back, he liked having company and you were really friendly and – even too – kind, compared to the students he was used to; It didn't matter whether they were beastmen or not, most of them at lunchtime were comparable to hungry beasts.

Some of the students had offered to help you carry your things to your Dorm, but their good intentions went up in smoke as soon as they saw Trein and Lucius coming – especially Lucius, that cat was not nice at all.

But apparently that beast had some weaknesses too, as as soon as it saw you it started meowing happily, even though you were threatening it not to come closer – having cat hair in your food wasn't exactly your initial idea, no matter how clean his fur was - fortunately the cat had decided to sit in the arms of his owner, who in the meantime had floated everything you had prepared.

The walk with Trein was funny, how could it not be with Lucius sourly comments on Crowley – and Trein didn't disagree.

You discovered – and were quite shocked – that Trein had a cell phone; there was nothing strange about it, it just sounded bizarre to your ears… well, during your time with Crewel you communicated with Trein through letters, it was strange to imagine the austere man writing messages via smartphone.

When you got to the dormitory, Trein's expression was unreadable – he had your room in the staff area ready in a day and Crowley couldn't even get the dust out of a couple of rooms. Absurd.

He made sure the kitchen didn't explode in the short time you were there, and cast a spell that would make the dust disappear – it didn't last long, there were probably centuries of dust in that place and just one spell wouldn't have been enough.

Trein insisted on staying, but you politely refused, you weren't actually sure that seeing Trein's stern face as soon as they got home would make a good impression. You had grown up with Trein, but you too were aware of the aura the man had.

The ghosts were amazed, they didn't think you would return and they were definitely happy with the company - you didn't have the heart to tell them that it would only be for that evening - but of the other, er, living tenants, there was no sign.

Time passed and you were definitely getting worried, you were starting to think that there really wasn't anyone else besides the ghosts.

You were also starting to feel cold, obviously there were drafts in this place too.

You let the ghosts show you where you could find clothes that could keep you a little warmer and obviously you found a rather dusty blanket…

You know what? You didn't feel cold, not at all.

You were really about to give up when you heard a noise that resembled footsteps and immediately ran out of the dormitory to see if, finally, Yuu and Grim had returned.

“Um…Hi” you were uncertain.

In front of you there was a very tall boy, with two horns on his head and two really, really beautiful green eyes, who was staring at you somewhere between confused and curious.

You were about to ask him if he was Yuu or Grim, but noticed a couple of things that made you stop: first, his eyes really reminded you of Maleficent's, you weren't sure what specifically - it could even be the eyes and horns combo – the second, was that the boy in front of you was probably a Fae, the aura of magic was slightly noticeable, but it was the ears that made you widen your eyes with understanding.

And the boy understood it too; after all, that was the expression everyone made when they recognized him, and then they moved uncomfortably just like you were doing at that moment.

“I guess you know who I am, Child of Man”

You stiffened slightly at his question, was he someone you should have known?

(Malleus could read the anxiety in your movements, you had an expression of recognition, but when he asked if you knew who he was you went into a slight panic. Was he really that threatening in your eyes?)

“I'm sorry, I don't know who you are”

You weren't meeting his gaze, but Malleus still wasn't clear on why…if you had no idea who he was, why did you look so uncomfortable?

“However, I do know what you are…”

To your great surprise the boy chuckled for a few seconds, well you definitely hadn't expected this reaction and he was partly relieved that you weren't afraid of him as a person

“So, you're not scared of me?” this made you raise your head at a rather impressive speed

“It's not that I'm scared…I'll say I'm uhm…wary” it was true, Maleficent, despite her name, had been rather kind to you, but she had still warned you to be very careful of Fae.

“So you're not gonna give me your name?” he smiled curiously, it was the first time in a long time that Malleus found something, someone, interesting

“Uhm, I can't give you my name but you can call ..uhm… as you like, I guess?”

You weren't very good at avoiding questions, especially when it involved your name; in your defense you had never had to lie about it and this was the first time you had met a Fae

“Uhm… I'm not sure if I can actually ask for your name now, but can I offer you something like, uhm I don't know, would you like some milk and honey?”

You had to be polite to the Fae, but there was no point in inviting them into your house; Ramshackle wasn't your house, but it didn't seem the case of inviting him in anyway, so maybe offering him something was a good middle ground?

“I believe it is better for you to not know my name, Child of Man, but I would gladly accept your offer”

You were still a little hesitant; offering him anything in the terrible dorm garden didn't seem very nice, but the fact remained that you couldn't let him into the Dorm, just in case.

You asked him if he minded taking this milk, on the steps - hoping they would hold your weight - and he nodded, which made you relax a little

Malleus watched you prepare the milk, but he told you he wouldn't enter the dormitory, and he wouldn't. It was nice to talk to you, unlike others you weren't uncomfortable about who he was, but more about what he was, and you were still trying to be nice despite everything. Furthermore, your suspicion in this case intrigued him, it was the first time he had seen such a reaction.

He was quite interested in knowing what experiences you had with the Fae, since you acted as people would have done many centuries before – and many had been lost to time - when talking with Faeries.

You sat on the steps drinking this milk and honey, which you really hoped wasn't disgusting.

“Uhm, since you say it's better for me not to know your name, how should I call you er…Mister Fae?”

You didn't mean to make him laugh, even though his laughter was really pleasant to hear, you were seriously trying to be polite towards him, but you didn't get any other response, since in the blink of an eye the boy had disappeared in a whirlwind of very bright lights. similar to fireflies.

This was because not too far from your position you could hear some footstep approaching in the distance.

Omake

It's been a while since an intruder could be noticed among the numerous dishes present in Diasomnia. It was a cup, anyone could tell it wasn't in its prime: chipped, faded, a few small cracks in the handle, but no one knew who its owner was. It had appeared out of nowhere but was always among the other dishes, no one had ever seen it used.

Also because it seemed to be attached to the shelf and no one had yet managed to grab it.

(so much for the Sword in the Stone, here we are at the ' Cup on the Shelf levels)

[evelmiina]

Hi Eva,

I have a fee questions regarding your wonderful work. I'm currently working on my visdev portfolio, but going a bit insane thinking about keeping my artstyle consistent if i'd ever be hired. I just looked through your background paintings and wondered how you keep your backgrounds in a consistent style. I love your nature studies too, and they look so different from your work pieces... More free and explorational. Is it difficult to keep up the habit of learning new techniques and exploring styles once you're on a job? I'm so full of ideas and feel like sometimes the idea would require a certain style/technique to be pulled off in the best way. Do you feel that too sometimes and is it restricting in a way to then keep the style of the paintings the same.

Would love to hear your thoughts on that!! :)

Hi Eekonis!

First off: don't worry! I don't think consistency is an issue... I feel like any artist no matter the level, feels like their work is all over the place. I think of consistency more like per project, rather than overall my work. 

If you're interested in vis dev, a good way to showcase your work in a portfolio and not feel overwhelmed and all over the place, is to create just one project. I saw in your portfolio the bat story exploration, that's great! Just pick one of the ideas you have. Truth is we never feel ready to do something and we postpone and ruminate, but you have to start somewhere. My friend always says, "vain tee se" (just do it) and that's really all there is. Imagine your story as a film/TV (or game, or comic, but you have to choose one), and make designs and paintings of how you imagine it. You can try searching for visual development portfolios and see what other professional artists have included in theirs, there's so many ways to go about it. From the top of my head I'm thinking Aurelien Predal, Marie Thorhauge, Scott Watanabe, Kevin Roualland, Sylvain Marc. Also art books of movies or shows you like are really useful. There's a lot of art of movies and artists, tutorials etc collected in character design references website, from all around the world.

If your own idea feels too vague or the story is not set and you get stuck on it, you could also choose an existing story like a fairytale or a novel. Try to be intentional with your pictures - you want to be clear and tell a story after all, you want people to feel like they get to know the characters and the world from just one picture, and they really want to know the full story. In your portfolio, I like your bat story explorations and it seems cool, but it's currently missing some characterization and story. It would be a good idea to illustrate story moments or character design that really shows the personality, gesture, acting. And when you create environments, make them feel lived and inhabited, give them just as strong mood and character as you would to characters. 

Consistency within a project is just about setting rules and limitations, some of them come from the ability and skill. Others are more like, what brushes to use, what are the visual goals, influences and references. You can go pretty far in breaking down how pictures are made and what makes a style. For example, why do Ghibli movies look like Ghibli? What kind of color palettes, compositions, camera angles, tools were used? How realistic/cartoony is it? There’s internal logic to everything designed, and with practise it becomes more visible.

I don't know if I intentionally try to learn new styles all the time. I'm generally just motivated by doing what I think is fun or what I want some piece to say about story, character or my own feelings and trying to do it best I can. It sounds simple but... if the goal is to do something really well, then I just do my best to learn it. There are some styles that I really love and think are amazing, but would probably take decades to pull off and I just accept that I don't really want to go that way, and I focus on things that I really want to keep at. It's always possible to switch directions, but to get good at something you have to commit to one thing at a time. 

So yes, I face my limitations all the time. I'm very familiar with feeling like, so and so would do better job, someone is always better than me for sure. Sometimes it is painful to not be able to draw or paint in a way I want. I think this probably never changes, it's just human nature. But I dunno, some people get satisfaction from making AI do their project in the style they want, but if I was able to do something in a snap of fingers, like just get the perfect style for my project, it wouldn't feel good to me. I guess I want the full experience of suffering and joy of figuring things out myself. Sometimes it will suck and hurt, but you learn more about yourself and it'll get easier to recognize what you really want to make. Then, you can always do a little bit better next time.

[skayafair]

Scared Vi

The thing I was finally able to put into a thought and into words after staring at gifs for 2 hours straight: throughout all the post-timeskip Arcane Vi is fucking scared of everything that's going on around her. AND she's on the brink of losing it pretty often. I need to rewatch (no idea when I'll be brave enough to ride this rollercoaster again) but I didn't notice it while watching, because, WELL, there was already TOO MUCH to take in, so some more subtle details escaped me. I've caught that Vi is very vulnerable in her honesty, openness and straightforwardness, but that wasn't all to it, and it bothered me! Because all three don't ooze the vulnerability 24/7 and that's what Vi looks like to me nearly all the time!

So I was wondering.

And here's the answer. She's been suddenly released out of her cell into the world that is now completely unknown to her. Yes the air of freedom is great, and she enjoys it, but at the same time there's always this frightened undertone.

She's constantly on the edge.

Not in the least because when things that used to be familiar, like your home, ones you used to know like the back of your hand, change but not completely, it's the worst trap of all, the most confusing and anxiety inducing. How much of what you remember is still the same? How much changed? Can you trust its exterior even if it looks the same? Or would it betray you in the worst possible moment? How do new things work? How do they work WITH the old things? I've experienced it once coming back to my former workplace that changed quite a lot but no one bothered to fill me in so I was piecing together the information for a YEAR. And I might not be the brightest but I'm not dumb either. I'm pretty good with systems. It was BAD.

So I can't imagine how much worse and disoriented Vi must have felt. And Caitlyn took her out of jail to SHOW HER AROUND. Having no idea how the world Vi used to know so well changed just in several years. So she's on a look out all the time. And her eyes, her expression betrays her put up exterior of confidence and maybe even arrogance, leaking this anxiety and straight up fear almost all the time.

She looks like a frightened, lost little girl. And when she doesn't, she looks like a desperate teenage girl who tries to punch her way out of every problem because she's backed into a corner and that's the only way she knows, even if it never helps. (No seriously, the only time it helped was against Silco's thugs and EVEN THEN they weren't completely dealt with and kept causing problems straight up to the bridge fighting scene. Vi's fists kept her alive and safer but they never SOLVED anything.)  

I think the way she looks just SCREAMS fear and anxiety when she and Powder/Jinx fight back to back after the torch scene. Jinx looks like she's completely in her element, she knows these guys, she's been in situations like this time after time. It's habitual. She's very confident and almost careless there, moves freely, she knows what she's doing. She might even enjoy it. Vi, on the opposite... Vi, who's all about loose body language, free movement and such - nearly curls up into a ball against Jinx's back, keeping her fists and elbows close to herself. Vi NEVER looked like this again, I think. I... believe she was the most thrown off kilter back then. She finally found her most treasured and the only remaining piece of her past - her sister, and sure, lil Powpow changed, she had to survive, but she's still Vi's little sister!

Right?..

Wrong. Powder-Jinx back then is the quintessence of the trap Zaun is to Vi now: familiar pieces are all there, they're recognizable even if a bit changed, but you never know what lurks under the surface.

And gods does Jinx just demolish every last bit of the ground Vi was standing on. It's not even when Jinx goes full on unhinged, it's when she simply starts blasting bullets all around. When she fights and she's confident in what she does. Vi doesn't know this girl. Vi doesn't know this gang flying around. I bet she doesn't even know this TECHNOLOGY because the world made a whole leap technologically while she was stuck in her cell isolated from pretty much everything. It's like a literal time skip for her. And she doesn't know what to trust, so she can't trust anything no matter how much she wants to. And she HAS to want it, because she looked genuinely hopeful fresh out of Stillwater. Before she saw what her home turned into. Silco really did bring the monster out of it, not just himself or Jinx or shimmer junkies. The whole city. So Vi looks small, and frightened, and I think she's even panicking back in that scene.

She's ready to snap at any moment.

It's very interesting to me, because she looks tough and very mentally healthy on the surface but boooy are there mountains hidden underneath.

Vi does snap, actually. Several times. Her voice cracks as she's trying to convince Ekko she's THE Vi, same she used to be. She charges at Sevika TWICE. I think second time was much worse btw. She literally downs a drink IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT - I don't think it was out of mental stability. And, well, the cry in the end. She won, and it helped nothing again. Even her mental state. Another fragile moment with Vi is the way she looks around her sister. Vi is confident and action-charged by nature, she's energetic and isn't shy to take up space. So she never looks small... except when she's around Jinx. She's drowning in guilt, and this guilt is spilling out.

Interestingly enough, scenes when Vi DOESN'T have this scared/guilty/anxious/desperate look is around Cait. She's either playful, or actually confident, or even RELAXED. Which is... wow, all things considered. Part of it is a put up facade, of course, but only in the beginning. The ship sails itself huh...

A lot of people pointed out Caitlyn is about future in Vi's life centered around the past, but I think what's more important is that Cait is about the present. Plus, she's a familiar - an enforcer, a topside - turned unfamiliar in a GOOD way.

Gods once again I'm baffled at the level Arcane is thought through. These are subtle, small details, expressions that aren't exposed or accentuated like many other ones. They are underlying, but once you notice them it's a whole new tapestry unfolding right before your eyes.

As you can see, I'm very normal about Arcane and Vi in particular, yup, totally cool 😌👌✨

[boyslit]

since my brain isn't letting me write new stuff, y'all wanna read the wip i had that sparked every path? it's kind of condensed brain-soup style but has key points and dialogue i wanted to include. :3 the doc name was just "ring"

---

(much, much later: a return to belobog for a week. Caelus catches up with old friends and old flames.)

koski came across a ring he's been holding onto for… no reason. reminded him of someone. more sentimental than valuable so he hasn't sold it. it's just cheap cubic zirconia, pretty as it is. he could probably have gotten someone to buy it at a high price thinking it's expensive orange topaz but… the thought of someone else having this sits wrong in his stomach. he's definitely not thinking about it lying in a box in his jacket pocket as he lies with Caelus after fucking. he holds his lover instead and pretends he's not leaving again in three days

catches a ride to the next stop with the express crew. swears he'll get off at the next stop, he's just wanting to make it off jarilo vi and into new markets. there's a whole wide world and new economies to learn to hustle after all. it doesn't hurt he can spend an extra day or two with Caelus.

when they disembark on a lively civship they still spend a couple days together before sampo realizes if he doesn't force himself to let go he's going to cling to Caelus forever

he secrets the ring into Caelus' pocket directly before they leave each other-it's a messy snoggy goodbye ofc. Sampo's off to find greener markets. Caelus is off finding side quests and people to help. eventually he digs in his pockets for money for lunch (some little hole in the wall Dan Heng knew about and only takes cash) and finds the ring. it's gunmetal finish with a brilliant yellow topaz. just like his eyes, even in a marquise cut like his diamond pupils. there's no way it was a coincidence. but why did sampo sneak it into his pocket?

it fits his ring finger perfectly. he feels warm and happy anyhow. it was nice to have something to remember him by since their work was taking them so far apart.

friends comment on ring later. c mentions he found it in his pocket earlier. m and dh exchange glances. "so he didn't propose with it, he just snuck it in your pocket? how cowardly."

"propose? propose what?"

"uh getting married? duh."

"well that doesn't sound like him anyway. is that what people do, ask someone to marry them with a ring?"

"yes????”

"March, he has even fewer memories than you."

"ooh, right. sorry"

cae studies the ring in his hand and thinks. "it's probably just a … a thing. something to remember him." later he snaps a picture of it on his hand and sends it.

c: [left me a surprise huh?]

[it's pretty. i like it]

[thanks <3]

he doesn't expect much in the way of a response but he did get a reply

s: [reminded me of you]

there's nothing else after that and Caelus feels a jolt of nervousness, wondering what's up. he tries to prod with humor

c: [careful, koski. you're getting dangerously close to sentimental~] a tilde to ensure the mood got through

it's a few minutes before he gets a reply. when calls reads it, he wonders if sampo has been writing and rewriting the text. it doesn't sound much like him

s: [i think i fell over that cliff a long time ago]

Caelus feels his breath catch in his throat- a heavy warm feeling collecting in his chest. they were never for talking about feelings. at least not honestly. sampo's dramatic declarations were mostly that- dramatics… but, maybe they hadn't been all bluster after all? Sampo's response hadn't been couched in poetic language. Even through text, it sounded like it had been muttered quietly, something he was terrified to admit out loud but unable to keep in any longer.

caelus swallows against the dread of the unknown and calls him instead. counts the rings. sampo picks up on the third ring.

“hey.”

“hi.” caelus wonders at the quiet, single syllable greeting. “you still on the Luofa?”

“mm. thought i’d get a …little drink before turning in for the night. skiff leaves in the morning.”

“is it any good?”

“finest plum wine on the entire Luofa~”

caelus chuckles. “that doesn’t tell me if it’s good.”

there’s a long moment of quiet. “i’ve been a bit… preoccupied. more interesting thoughts to hold my attention.”

“mm.” caelus leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “feel like sharing?” after a moment of quiet on the other side, he added, “anything to do with the ring you left me?”

“everything to do with it,” sampo whispered.

curled up in bed with the phone pressed to his ear, it felt like sampo was right next to him. caelus waited.

"my plans haven’t changed. you’ve got your work to do and i have mine. our paths are diverging.” sampo stares deeply into the crystal glass of plum wine without seeing it. “and it’s killing me to let go.” the slight break in sampo's voice nearly broke his heart. smooth-talking sampo koski didn't falter or stammer… unless the truth was that painful to tell.

“do we have to?” caelus whispered.

“we should.” that wasn’t a yes. that was the answer of a man who wanted anything but the path he was on.

“where are you?” caelus said suddenly. he pulled himself off the bed and shrugged on his jacket. “gilded frog by the jetty?” He saw the plum wine advertised when he and March and Dan Heng had wandered past that afternoon with snacks in hand.

“don’t,” sampo whispered, lowering his head to his hand. “that’s just going to make this so much harder.”

“you didn’t say we had to, just that we should,” caelus argued, taking off down the hall at a run now, dodging the night maid and skidding around the corner once outside. He waved apologetically at the person he dodged around and kept going. the frog wasn’t too far from their hotel after all and he was the second fastest of their little team. “i don’t want to let go either,” he said breathlessly. “wait for me.”

“cae-”

“please.”

the bartender’s head snapped up as someone burst into the little tavern, panting, phone still pressed to his ear. Sampo turned around, his own phone still at his ear, and locked eyes with Caelus. Caelus grinned and put the phone away, striding across the rest of the place towards the bar.

Sampo sighed, gave him a weary, tipsy smile, and put the phone away. This was only going to hurt a thousand times worse at the end, but seeing Caelus again now, that impending pain seemed light-years away. When they’d met, he would never have thought in a million years that this surly, grouchy-looking little punk harbored a smile like that.

It weakened his heart.

"Cae…" Caelus strode up to him, grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Just like that, whole again. Everything missing had returned. Sampo wound his arms around Caelus' waist and hugged him tightly.