#i do not remember how people draw him so sorry if this is very wrong

[dianagj-art]

Is there Oneion facts we can know about?

THIS HAS BEEN ON MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG OMG IM SO SORRY, HERE'S SOME FACTS ABOUT THE BABY BOY

(the baby boy in question is ten years older than me)

I'm gonna go canon stuff first, then some fun crossover stuff:

The version that I'm using is 35-ish years old (a few years before the movie events), he's been the leader of the resistance for around a decade

He still has all his brothers and loves them very much, would kill and die for them

Way more chill than One is right now, still a beast on combat

One can manipulate vines only using the seeds Draxum makes, Oneion can summon them at will from the ground with little issue

In the story he mostly goes by Leo now, very few people call him One (but lets keep calling him Oneion to avoid confusion)

The protesis he uses is an old one from Raph, but he outgrew it and gave it to Oneion when he lost his arm. It was a bit ridiculously big for him at the time, it's still a *little* too big for Oneion, but by the time he's 40-something (movie events) its gonna fit right in

The scarf he has is not the same One has, but as One's it was a gift from Draxum, he has carry the same scarf the whole apocalypse

Still has a lot of gold accents on his clothes

He's still the best fighter out of the four turtles

He loves being around kids but doesn't, he's afraid of hurting them. He knows he didn't had a normal childhood but is not 100% aware of what part was normal and ok and what part is not, and he rathers not take a chance and do something wrong.

He ends up enjoying teaching martial arts, tho he doesn't like being called sensei, and he wont spar with anyone bellow his level (again, being afraid of hurting them)

Casey Jr becomes the exception to these

Crossover stuff!

he can and will beat the shit out of One, he knows how much One can take so he's not really worried about that

when the apocalypse started he basically lost contact with the multiverse, so no fun crossovers for him. Until by the power of "@intotheelliwoods started doing fanart of Oneion before I even had finished his design" he had access to the multiverse again!

First of his "old frieds" he saw was Poptart and Sprout (2al huggy leos) and first thing he did was to hug Sprout<3 (well, he first kinda yelled at him but I'll draw that some day)

I don't think he has met again with the rest of the separated council? I don't remember if I've stick him in any crossover situations

he loves hugging Poptart, he's teddy bear size<3 and he'll never get tired of calling him his friend and loving him "the way he deserves" because he still hasn't forgive himself for the shitty way he treated Poptart (dont worry about it)

he fucking destroyed the attempt of a slau/2al crossover time line

he says he's fine by it but he keeps bringing up the "jawbreaker" incident, I dont think he got over it, actually

he hangs out with Sprout a lot

something something, being with Sprout makes him feel like a kid again, and it makes Sprout feel like a kid again because Oneion reminds him of Big Leo

Sprout and Oneion have a spa day, they deserve it<3 they also go shopping together. Also, they are not exactly good at cooking but they try and they love working together on the kitchen

Oneion got the "Oneion" nickname by Sprout and Poptart

he stronk. he can lift Sprout with no problem, and even Toast

if you wanna have a good time scroll down the besties tag on ell's blog or mine (2)

[sagescider]

love his dumb ass

[devilfic]

omg we need more of the honeymoon shot bruce and reader,, maybe a one bed trope if it’s not too much to ask no pressure obv!!<3

❝honeymoon❞

II. marriage bed.

parts: previously / next plot: the in-laws are in town. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, only one bed trope. words: 1.6k.

"I'm sorry" feels numb to say at this point. You still say it, standing at the foot of what should have been your marriage bed. It's been a long night and you'd wrung your hands of dish soap until your family practically barked at you to get to bed, to get back to your husband.

You can still hear them, cackling downstairs in the living room while your nieces and nephews tumble through the hallway. It must feel alien to have your childhood home, long devoid of familial joy, be suddenly bursting full of it. And have none of it mean anything to you.

Bruce stands shoulder to shoulder with you for a few more beats. Then he walks to the door, and you watch him twist the lock with a firm click. Your heart picks up a bit.

His steps are muted on the carpet and you take in his shoulders, the rolling hills of muscles in his back, and the pants that cling to the divots of his hip bones. The black cashmere is a gift from your mother, something preferable to his "ratty" sweats. He didn't like these very much.

Since you'd started living here, you caught glimpses of him like this. A heavy shadow of a man skulking in the darkness, waiting for you to leave for work before revealing himself. Rarely would you find yourselves crossing paths in the kitchen or catching eyes in the living room. And with each fleeting glance, he would escape elsewhere, receding into the tower the way a frightened cat might hide from strangers. Intruders. Funnily enough, you found avoiding eye contact helped that.

But now there was nowhere to run. Your family was here for the holidays and they were in every room. Eyes everywhere.

"Do you need to work tonight?" You'd started calling it that: "work". It made sense around the family (not so much your mother), and it didn't put him on edge when you skirted around the "B" word. "I can help you get downstairs."

He's half-turned to you, waiting on his side of the bed, so you can see the way his face scrunches up at a thought, "Gordon... told me to take time off. For family."

You snort, "You told him the in-laws were in town?"

"Yes."

You blink, "Oh."

Bruce had told you that between you and Alfred, no one else knew who Batman was. The lieutenant, trusted friend and ally as he were, had yet to join the ranks of your prestigious little club. It felt wrong to be in it when he wasn't; you'd forced yourself into it, and Bruce didn't even trust you.

You round the bed opposite to Bruce, and staring across it at him felt like staring across an ocean—he was so far away. You wondered how many people had shared this bed with him. How many he trusted as little as you.

You understand that the Bruce you remember was still a boy, grieving much differently than he is now, and had liked you just a little bit more.

You're the first to draw back the covers.

Bruce watches you settle in before following suit, reluctant, as if he were still wondering about the cons of sleeping in his car tonight. The weight of the bed dramatically shifts and you glide against the silk to his side when he lays down, your hand going for his upper arm to steady yourself. He jolts at the contact, staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Your second sorry of the night spills from your lips, and you squirm away from the warmth of his side and back to the edge of the bed.

You both lay like that for a while, side by side, neither of you particularly comfortable.

"Why didn't you say no?"

His question rocks the stillness in the air. You almost jolt. You turn your head and ask, as casually as you are able, "Say no to what?"

"The marriage."

Ah. "You've met my mother. It's hard to say no to her. Isn't that why you're in this situation in the first place?"

He remains looking up at the ceiling, but you see his jaw constrict, "The you I knew had a backbone."

He means it to hurt. Reminders of your youth together had not softened with time, it seemed, even if he treated you like a distant memory. You don't muster up the courage to bite back at him. Instead, you tuck your tail and keep the mist from gathering in your eyes, "...Yeah."

He doesn't seem to have expected that response. He finally turns his head to look at you, visibly confused. For a few moments, the two of you just stare at each other. Him, analyzing. You... mourning. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's becoming harder to hold back tears, "Not this. Not with her pulling all the strings. Regardless of what you think about me, or my mother, or my family, I didn't want any of this. I don't... want to be your enemy, Bruce."

You want so badly for him to believe you. You've never wanted anything more than for him to see you honestly, transparently, except perhaps to see him the same. To not have to fight.

He's about to say something when the doorknob wriggles, followed by a tentative knock. The two of you sit up and listen for who could be at the door, until a small voice calls your name through the wood, "My niece." You say, rigid. "She must be lost." You go to stand but to your surprise, Bruce is already at the door letting her in.

She stands at just about his knee, blanket clutched in her chubby arms and mouth hidden by the purple fleece. She has to turn her head all the way up to look him in the eyes, "Uncle Bruce," she says through a lisp, "where's the bathroom?"

You can't fully see Bruce's reaction from the bed. From the side, you watch his shoulders sag and his cheek rise in what you think is... a smile.

Very slowly, he comes to a crouch in front of her, "The bathroom?" He asks. She nods an affirmative. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa Alfred? He knows where everything is."

Her eyes dart to the side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "...Grandpa Alfred is scary."

Bruce laughs, actually laughs. He hasn't laughed around you. Hasn't managed more than a smile today, and only to placate your mother. He's warmer too, more open. You watch him. Mesmerized. "He is a little scary, isn't he? But I promise, he's really nice if you get to know him." Your niece doesn't seem so convinced. A moment passes as Bruce thinks of what to say, "How about I come with you to go ask him?"

Her eyes light up, "Really?"

"Really."

Bruce holds out his arms to her, and though she's reluctant, you watch her tumble into them with arms thrown around his neck. He hops back to his feet with her perched on his hip like she weighs nothing—and she probably does, to him—and asks her in a hushed voice if she's holding on tight.

Her little head turns to look at you over his shoulder and he follows, his smile weakening some.

You almost ask if she'd like you to come with, but think better of it. In the time it would take Bruce to complete this task, you could try to fall asleep. Maybe then it'd be easier on him to share the bed with you, "Go with Uncle Bruce. Maybe Grandpa Alfred will show you the fancy swords if you're brave enough to ask."

Your niece beams, urging Bruce to take her to him this instant, and they disappear out of sight.

You're half conscious when Bruce returns and shuts the door, but there is no click of the lock to follow after.

With your back turned, all you have to tell you where he is in the room are his small sighs. He's on his side, closer than you expected him to be so quickly, and you curse the carpet that hides his footfalls. You keep your breaths measured, pretending you're fully asleep, and wait for him to climb in.

One knee presses into the mattress, then the other, and you quickly remember the problem with this bed.

He's just laid on his side when you go sliding backwards, feeling your body collide with his chest. You force your eyes to stay closed but you are chilled with mortification. Should you move? Give up the facade of sleep and scramble for the other side of the bed? Would he shove you away?

You wait for his heavy hand to fall on your back, but... nothing. Seconds crawl forward at a snail's pace. You can feel the heat of his hand hovering over your hip where your night shirt had ridden up, but he never touches you. You take slow, deep breaths. You wait for him to wake you, then, if he won't shove you.

But that also never comes. The tips of his fingers lightly brush the skin of your hip, and then disappear. You feel his arm wiggle between the both of you, feel him shift a bit on the mattress, but nothing more. He doesn't push you away. Doesn't call your name. Doesn't shake you until you're forced to crawl to the other side.

He gets comfortable. Stiff, but comfortable, and he doesn't move you. You wonder, as the heat of his chest makes you conscious of your heart beating quicker, if it's too late to crawl back on your own.

You wait for what feels like hours contemplating it. So long, it feels like he might've fallen asleep behind you. So long, that you melt into his side of the mattress. So long, that sleep comes and morning soon after before you could even make up your mind.

[karasukarei]

Wind Breaker Drama CD vol. 1 – Fuurin, Memories of a Summer (Part 1)

I received a translation request for the drama CD that came with the first anime DVD/Blu-ray, thank you! It's quite long so I'll be doing it in sections. You can listen to it here!

I'll just be doing the script, if there's anyone keen to time it with the audio feel free to hit me up! Video editor found!

Translation masterpost here!

Note: I took some liberties with translations this time to make it read more smoothly. As always, if there’s any mistakes, feel free to let me know!

Shorthand because some names are really long:

Sakura – Sakura

Nirei – Nirei

Suo – Suo

Sugishita – Sugi

Kiryuu – Kiryuu

Tsugeura – Tsuge

Hiiragi – Hii

Umemiya – Ume

Scene 1 – 0:09~3:14

Nirei: Wahhh!

Tsuge: The blazing sun! The sparkling waves!

Nirei: This is the feeling of summer!

Tsuge: Kuu, I’m getting excited!

Kiryuu: How are they so full of energy? I’m about to melt~

Suo: Ahaha! It’s definitely really hot today!

Hii: They’re probably the kind to use up all their energy in the morning. (t/n: not quite sure if I heard this right; feel free to let me know if this is wrong!

Kiryuu: Nirei-chan, those are trendy sunglasses!

Nirei: Ehehe, I like this style! Eh, I’m getting too carried away, aren’t I?

Suo: I think it’s fine to go for a different vibe from usual! Of course, the usual Nirei-kun is great too!

Nirei: Thank you very much! (t/n: WHAT A PURE GOOD BOY)

Sakura: *grunts of anguish*

Hiiragi: Sakura? You’ve been quiet since just now, what’s wrong?

Kiryuu: Oh yo~? (t/n: THIS IS SO CUTE THANK YOU TOSSHIIIII) Sakura-chan, your face is all red, are you ok?

Tsuge: Do you have heat stroke?! You can have some of my special sports drink to replenish your fluids!

Suo: It’s all good! Sakura-kun doesn’t have heat stroke!

Nirei or Tsuge (edit: Thanks @/pikiiro!): Really?

Suo: Yup! He probably just can’t take the surrounding atmosphere.

Nirei: Surrounding?

Kiryuu: Ooh~ (t/n: this is with a cute down intonation <3) There’s a couple there, there’s a couple there, ah, there’s also a couple here.

Nirei: Speaking of which, it seems that this beach is popular as a date spot for couples!

Suo: You’ve just become embarrassed, haven’t you Sakura-kun!

Sakura: DAAAAAAAAAA

Kiryuu: Sakura-chan is so cute~

Sakura: Shut up!

Hiiragi: You guys shut up.

Suo: Ah yes. Hiiragai-san, thank you for inviting us today!

Hiiragi: It’s fine, sorry for the short notice. Umemiya suddenly asked to invite you all.

Nirei: But it’s amazing isn’t it! He won first place in a lucky draw at the shopping street!

Hiiragi: That guy does tend to win these lucky draws… (t/n: Ume-chan can you gimme your luck for my ichiban kuji draws)

Tsuge: It even comes with a stay at the inn, I’m all fired up! (t/n: I can’t hear exactly what he said, it was either 2 or 3 nights’ stay. As for the inn itself, think of it as renting out a summer house where you can do whatever you want, it’s not a ryokan where there are people at your beck and call.)

Sakura: Anyway, where is that Umemiya?!

Suo: Now that you mention it, he hasn’t come yet.

Hiiragi: That guy, he’s late again… (t/n: rip Hiiragi’s stomach)

Ume: Hey everyone!

Nirei: Umemiya-san! Good morning!

Ume: Sorry about making everyone wait!

Sakura: You’re (“omae”) the one who invited everyone you shouldn’t be late!

Sugi: It’s not “omae”, it’s “Umemiya-san”!

Ume: Sugishita, don’t fight here ok? (t/n: he sounds like he’s talking to his pet dog LMAO)

Sakura: Also! Why is this guy here?!

Kiryuu: That’s true, Sugi-chan seems to hate stuff like this…

Ume: I invited him! Since it’s summer, let’s do stuff befitting our springtime of youth! (t/n: ok I took some liberties with this translation, but I think this sounds cooler)

Sugi: Thank you very much for inviting me.

Ume: I told you guys when you entered the school right? “This summer let’s all go to the beach!” Don’t you guys remember?

Sakura: He was serious about that?

Hiiragi: This guy is always serious.

Ume: I invited Kaji and gang too but they had plans today… next time it’ll be all of Fuurin!

Nirei: Isn’t that a tall order?

Ume: Anyway let’s get into the sea! Don’t you guys find it hot just standing around here?

Hiiragi: We were waiting for you!

Ume: Oh yeah, that’s right!

Hiiragi: *groans of acidic anguish*

Suo: Hiiragi-san, it’ll be nice if you won’t need to use your stomach medicine today ^^; (t/n: reading back on this it sounds as though he’s telling Hiiragi not to use his medicine. It’s closer to “man, I sure hope you won’t end up being forced to use your medicine today” – I hope this makes sense x_x)

Nirei: Ah, hahaha…

Scene 2 – 3:14~4:59

Hiiragi: I think we can leave our stuff here.

Nirei: Eh, is that so, Sakura-san?

Kiryuu: Hmm, what is it, what’s up?

Suo: It seems that this is Sakura-kun’s first time at the beach!

Tsuge: That’s rare!

Sakura: Is it that bad? It’s not like I had any reason to come anyway…

Ume: Isn’t that fine! Since it’s your first time, it means that you can start to have fun here from now on!

Sakura: *gulps of embarrassment*

Ume: Hehe, make memories together with us. Hey everyone, let’s go!

Sakura: Oi, don’t pull me!!!

Kiryuu: Ooh- They’ve left.

Hiiragi: *sighs* You guys go too.

Nirei: Hiiragi-san, aren’t you going?

Hiiragi: We need someone to watch our stuff.

Nirei: Then I’ll stay behind. We can’t leave Hiiragi-san to take care of our stuff!

Hiiragi: Don’t sweat on it, we can take turns later.

Kiryuu: Ah, I’ll be staying behind so it’s ok~ I’m not going into the sea~

Tsuge: You’re not, even though we came all the way here?

Kiryuu: Hmm, I don’t like getting all stick from the seawater, and I also haven’t cleared my login bonuses today~ (t/n: this man has his priorities right)

Nirei: As expected of Kiryuu-san, your resolve is firm!

Tsuge: He’s displaying his virtue here! (t/n: the literal translation was “I can smell his virtue” but it’s… kinda weird lmao)

Suo: I’ll be staying behind too.

Nirei: Suo-san, you too?

Hiiragi: By the way, you guys are wearing parkas on top of your rash guards, isn’t it hot? (t/n: think of a light beach jacket, not a literal winter parka)

Suo: I don’t want to get sunburned!

Tsuge: Oh, that’s a virtue too! That’s great, I want to learn more about everyone’s virtue!

Suo: Eh… aren’t you going into the sea? (t/n: I see what you did there Suo)

Tsuge: Oh yes! Come Nirei-kun, let’s go!

Nirei: Yes!

Hiiragi: For crying out loud… I’ll be leaving our stuff to you guys.

Suo: Of course! Please take care!

Kiryuu: Everyone has so much energy~

Suo: Yes, it does seem that way.

[chiaraeliz]

some people were talking about green eyed ventus on my last post which then led me to think about how i draw ven and roxas differently, which THEN led me to go on a lil character analysis tangent (below the cut if you wanna read!)

but for how i draw them differently, i still try to keep them pretty much identical in physical appearance! minus green eyes for ventus, but that’s more because he just feels like he needs green eyes. the main difference i think is fun to play with is how they carry themselves, which leads into my ven and roxas character analysis ramblings:

i haven’t been the most active in the kingdom hearts fandom in recent years, but i remember the big headcanons for roxas and ventus always were that roxas is really angry/a little shit, while ventus was always seen as the pure/sweet one. i like to think of them as a bit more nuanced than that based off of canon, though!

i think roxas is more mellow/not extremely outwardly emotional unless provoked to be. i mean, there’s a whole game where roxas learns to understand himself, his relationships, and his emotions. i get how the angry headcanon came about from canon, but really all the moments where he is REALLY pissed off, it’s super warranted and not necessarily a main personality trait of his. instead, he just gives off a sort of quiet maturity to me (even though he’s one of the youngest characters lol. bros been through a lot)

in comparison, ventus always seemed more… energetic with both his positive and negative emotions. we see that right from the start with him in bbs with the meteor shower, and when he gets a lil salty over being told to take grown ups to disney town (i could definitely think of better examples but it’s 12 am and i’m tired). he feels a bit more immature, especially when put next to terra and aqua. hell, ven reminds me of sora way more than roxas does. we see the ups and downs of his emotions very clearly. in a way he feels younger than roxas with the way he carries himself. (this isn’t me saying he’s an uwu baby who Needs To Be Protected, but more that he projects his feelings in a more direct way imo). also, jesse mccartney voices ventus with a higher pitch and more energy than roxas (i love this detail so much)

all this to say, while i do think the angry roxas and super sweet ventus content is great and i enjoy seeing it from time to time (i might even play into it with my art sometimes tbh), i personally see them as less of those extremes. i like to see ventus as the high energy one, and roxas as the lower energy one, without dictating one emotion as their default. this isn’t really anything groundbreaking (and could probably just be a “duh chiara we all knew this” moment) but i just felt like rambling about them because i like to think about them a lot! (i’m sorry if i got anything wrong or if things are worded weird, i’m about to fall asleep rn)

[lizdive]

I was thinking of older sister violet_evergarden!reader who is also a stoneheart x aventurine. I'd like to see how they interact since canonically, violet sees herself as nothing more than a weapon and will do whatever she has to do, to protect the person she cares for. Aka aventurine. I can also sorta see her either being an emanator of preservation or one the stronger stonehearts.

Hi anon :3 !! I love aventurine with my whole heart he’s just so squishy 😞 i had to go to the violet evergarden wiki for this one bcs i’ve never watched the anime so i’m sorry if stuff isn’t accurate this was kinda of difficult for me,, tysm for requesting <3 if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it!!

notes 𐙚 fem! reader — "you" + "she/her" used to refer to the reader ,, reader as an older sibling ,, reader is based off of violet evergarden from violet evergarden anime ,, reader is an emanator of preservation but it isn’t mentioned much ,, reader is a stoneheart ,, aventurine is referred to as both "kakavasha" and "aventurine" ,, corundum’s are a type of gemstone that is ranked 9 on the toughness scale ,, of course you can change this to the stone of your desire !! this isn’t proofread ignore typos,,

"The hammer of preservation will fall on all beings, regardless of life or death, regardless of race, regardless of ideology, to uphold the basic rights we inherently posses."

The Rising Stars, the Stonehearts, the Gambler and the Soldier Maiden — all nicknames for two siblings who have seen it all. A handsome aventurine and a beautiful corundum. One blessed by HER, and another blessed by THEM.

To be an Emanator is to be seen as a piece of an Aeon — their will so strong that their abilities have been gifted to them by the Aeon. To be an Emanator in the IPC is to be seen as an asset that cannot be lost. And to be an Emanator of Preservation is to be seen as the biggest tool.

With THEIR blessing you have overcome all that life has thrown at you just for the sake of keeping your beloved brother save from harm. From the moment he was brought into this sad world, you have fought to protect him and your younger sister.

Only one of the two made it out alive.

Many people would call you a murderer, and while they technically aren’t wrong, they fail to see why you do it. Or perhaps they do not care. You killed and therefore you should be sent to your own death.

You remember the day when you and your brother were taken by the IPC. A woman clad in luxury, a smirk on her face, and her tone breathy and warm. "As a servant you should not resist your master." she had said, but you did not pay attention for her.

KAKAVASHA did most of the speaking for you. He was free to go — he had no blood on his hands. You were the one to be sent to the gallows. But you couldn’t and wouldn’t. Death was not an option. It never was and never would be until KAKAVASHA lets out his final breath from old age.

You didn’t see what was wrong — you never did. Yes, you killed the man and many more, but it was self defense. KAKAVASHA and you had always lived in a world where it was kill or be killed. Remorse was foreign to you.

And then came the offer. Join the IPC. Join the corporation that was the reason your kind fell and vanished off the map. Become the same as them. You could not care less. Should your brother join, you will, as well. And he did.

By the end of the day you both were clad in luxuries the same as her.

⭑ Missions were always a package deal. Where AVENTURINE goes, Corundum always follows. Where Corundum goes, AVENTURINE is most likely following. There is no separating the two.

⭑ AVENTURINE is very patient with his big sister. He knows that unlike him, she is not able to properly express what she feels. He’ll try to help explain why people feel the things they feel — he’s good at putting up a mask of emotions and to do so he needed to understand them first so he’s good at explaining.

⭑ If you have prosthetic limbs like Violet does and have room for drawings and doodles, AVENTURINE will definitely doodle on your arms during free time. Even if you hide them with your sleeves, it’s a nice pass-time activity. Nobody says anything about it because 1: he is a stoneheart and 2: you’re a stoneheart.

⭑ Will try to get you to be less hyper-independent. Ask him for help, it’s okay. He’ll even try to make you a bit reliant on him. He’s not a little kid anymore, he can definitely help you take out those guys. He’s good with a gun and it’ll finish the mission quicker, just let him do some fighting too,,

⭑ I feel like there could be some heavy angst potential here, especially with the entire aventurine boss fight. You’re so determined to protect him, and you aren’t against killing people to do so. He knows this, and so he tries his damn hardest to hide his plan from you but he’s your little brother your little KAKAVASHA so you know him. You’re not the best at emotions but you know he’s lying and hiding something.

⭑ He accepts death and welcomes it with open arms but he also doesn’t want to leave his big sister alone. His big sister, who has done everything and more to protect him. She had killed, she has been wounded, she has put up with his shenanigans, and she has done the impossible. He feels like he’s just throwing that all away,,,

⭑ You are lost without him when he 'dies'. He is your purpose in life. Helping the Astral Express fight against Sunday? Screw them! You need to find your little brother, there is no way he is dead. You pray to Mother Gaiathra, to Qlipoth, to any Aeon that will hear your prayers, that he is alive.

⭑ And when you find him alive and well in the real world, alone in his room in the reverie hotel, you feel like a dam inside you has bursted. You don’t cry, but you’re close to doing so and AVENTURINE doesn’t know whether to encourage you to let out your emotions and calm your through them or reassure you that he is alright and there is no need to cry.

⭑ On a lighter note: AVENTURINE doesn’t mind if you communicate with him via letters instead of messages when you’re on your own solo missions! He’ll get you the nicest envelopes and stamps to put on them. Maybe even some stickers! He loves when you use the silly ones. If you tell him it helps you understand emotions better, he’ll encourage you to write letters more and for other people. If you use an old typewriter, he’ll get you the nicest one on the market!

⭑ It said in the wiki that Violet feels guilt for killing the people she has killed, so if you also feel that, AVENTURINE will be by your side to reassure you that it’s okay. That it wasn’t your fault and it was needed for survival. He might use the "you were just trying to protect me" card to make you feel better since he knows he’s your weakness.

⭑ Sadly, to make a pledge to never kill anyone again like Violet did would be pretty much impossible. In the eyes of the IPC, violet evergarden! reader will always be a weapon, so it’ll kinda be forced upon her.

⭑ AVENTURINE loves the anxious expressions of the people he’s gambling with as his big sister stands behind him, intimidating the patrons of the casino. It also reassures him because if anyone tries to get violent he knows his big sis will be there to protect him so he can be as reckless and as infuriating as he wants.

⭑ Overall AVENTURINE would be a very good younger brother to a violet evergarden! reader because he fulfills her wish to protect and she fulfills his want to be cherished.

[favcharacterpoll]

ROUND 6 MATCH 3: CECIL VS. C!WILBUR

Cecil Palmer from Welcome to Night Vale faces c!Wilbur from the dsmp. @10piecechickenmcnugget get over here sage

Cecil Propaganda:

"Cecil is not only the Tumblr sexyman, he is the first gay protagonist of a podcast that most of us have ever heard. From the very first episode he was unashamedly queer and no one has ever called him out or given him shit for being gay. He is a gay Jewish fashion disaster who is the mouthpiece for an incredibly bizarre town and plays the whole “this horrifying thing is completely normal”thing so well. If Cecil wasn’t there, I think a lot of people wouldn’t have felt so accepted for just being who they were. Cecil is an inspiration and the queer podcast rep we all deserved as we were growing."

"he’s gay. he’s a dilf. he’s ageless. he has been since there’s was nothing and he’s still here after the world ended. he can summon music. his mother is a oracle his father is a tree. his cat is a man who got cursed and also has wings a stinger and poison??? he thinks a tutu and crocs is formal wear and has talked to god and she said ‘I love you. I’m sorry’. he’s definitely guilty of manslaughter from negligence"

"this is the website Night Vale built!"

c!Wilbur Propaganda:

"Accurate depiction of mental health and spiral, handled delicately and deliberately, every piece of his story was thought and planned and in the end he went home to Utah. Thank you lord."

"Please don’t let the name dream smp effect how you feel about this submission, this character is completely unrelated to dream and I’m pretty sure the person who played him has nothing to do with dream anymore. This man single handedly got me through a horrible patch filled with extreme paranoia by also being extremely paranoid. Genuinely really helped me feel seen and I coped a lot by getting invested in this character. I almost cried when he died :("

"He’s so fucking stupid. I could infodump for hours this man transed my gender. Everything has gone wrong in his life. He’s the definition of a bisexual disaster."

"I didn’t fail 10th grade math bc I was thinking about c!wilbur for him to lose round one"

"I mean look at him!! his Minecraft skin is adorable!!!"

"if you people vote for cwilbur i'll draw him in a bikini."

"A VOTE FOR C!WILBUR IS A VOTE FOR GIRLBOYS EVERYWHERE"

"i should not have underestimated minecraft fans they came together"

"Season 1 changed me. I didn’t know minecraft videos could have good acting, dramatic plots, etc. Wilbur was one of the best there. His plot was so interesting with the L’Manburg and the unfinished symphony arcs. He was funny, dramatic, sad… I fondly remember my dsmp days (though I only saw up to like part of Tommy’s exile)"

[grxmreaperx]

Professor Hoffman

Pairing: (professor!) Mark Hoffman x (f!) reader

Word count: 3.1k (oops)

Warnings: 18+!! this is absolute filth. Daddy kink, choking, oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), dirty talk, p in v penetration, creampie, age gap (everyone is over 18!!), praise/degradation. Mark being a bastard. I’m so sorry

Summary: You weren’t expecting much from your criminology class. But when you see your professor for the first time, you realize the class may be much more interesting than you were expecting.

I went so overboard with this. I do not know where this came from. I apologize for my actions. Also, all of my knowledge comes from Jim Can’t Swim and Explore With Us interrogation analysis videos, so don’t come for me if some of the criminology stuff is wrong!!

You walked into the lecture hall, bag digging into your shoulder after a long day, trying to find a seat. You sighed. Almost every seat was full, people congregating in the back. You set yourself down in the second row from the front, one of the few empty seats.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag, trying to keep yourself awake. This was your last class of the day and all you could think about was getting back to your apartment and having a nice dinner.

You stifled a yawn, eyes unfocused on your screen.

“Welcome, everyone.”

The deep voice jolted you from your haze, drawing your eyes up from your computer, and onto him.

You felt a jolt run through your body as you took him in. Dark hair neatly pushed back, full lips, chest straining at his suit.

“I’m Professor Hoffman. I’ll be your criminology instructor this semester.”

Shit, maybe you weren’t so ready to go home anymore.

--

That was the one class you didn’t find yourself dreading. Your other psychology and criminal justice classes were a bore, lecturers talking monotonously for an hour and twenty minutes as you tried desperately to stay awake. Professor Hoffman’s class was actually interesting, it challenged you, made you think. He didn’t force you all to listen to him talk the entire time, even if you wouldn’t have minded hearing that voice for hours on end. He had been a detective before switching to teaching a few years back, so he played interrogation tapes, having you all watch the body language, the word choice, the facial expressions of the suspect.

And it was nice to have something pretty to look at while he taught.

You were a bit embarrassed by how many times he had caught you staring at him. You had never looked at a professor as anything more than a teacher, a mentor, before now. But during his lecture, you found your mind drifting. What his voice would sound like in your ear, how his hands would feel roaming over you, the noises he would make.

You had had your fair share of adventures in college, going out with your friends and ending up in someone’s bed every once in a while. But none of them had been anything to brag about; frat boys only in it for themselves, guys who had no idea what they were doing, or didn’t know how to make it last.

You needed something more, something satisfying.

“So, tell me, do you think this suspect was guilty or not guilty? And tell me why.”

His voice shook you out of your daydream, bringing you back to your reality. Your eyes scanned over the screen, trying to remember bits and pieces of the interrogation you were supposed to have been watching.

You raised your hand; as much as you hated it, you wanted to impress the man. You wanted to show him that you were smart, that you knew what you were talking about. And that you were paying attention, not just staring at him the entire time.

He nodded towards you, telling you to go ahead. “Not guilty. He got angry when you accused him, which is a very typical response from someone who is being falsely accused. And he didn’t use any hedge words when he was talking, which would be unusual for a guilty person. And there’s no obvious motive.”

Your professor smirked, nodding along as you answered. “Very good. That’s exactly right. Another clue to tell you this was…”

You zoned out, trying to contain yourself at his praise.

--

He scolded himself, his gaze continuously falling onto you throughout every class.

He had left the police department a couple years ago, looking for a job with shorter hours, more time to relax, less frustration.

But now he had a different kind of frustration.

Every class, there you were. Sitting right in front of him, eyes watching him intently as he spoke. He saw the way your face changed every time he walked in the room, your tired face lighting up a bit. He saw the way your gaze lingered on him when you were supposed to be working on an assignment, or watching one of the interviews you were meant to be dissecting.

He noticed your attempts to impress him, always eager to answer his questions. You were always there early, even when others began to slowly fade out, showing up late or not showing up at all.

And, he had to admit, it was working. You were smart, and he could see how interested you were in this topic, even if you seemed to be a bit more interested in him than the class. He knew you’d make a great detective one day; your understanding of others’ minds would be a great asset to the force.

He almost wished he hadn’t left the department. He would give anything to still be in his position when you were first starting out in the field, eager to learn, to impress, to please. He would love for you to train under him, your frustration growing as he teased you, giving you smaller and smaller tasks, making you prove yourself.

He pulled himself away from his thoughts, shuffling his notes together before the start of class.

“Alright everyone, I’ve posted your grades for your last assignment. Some of you did very well, others seem to be a bit distracted in this course.” He purposefully shifted his gaze, meeting your eyes as he spoke this last part.

He suppressed a smirk as he saw your face flush.

“Now, the rational choice theory…”

--

“I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong in that class,” you sighed.

Your friend nodded. “I mean, he is a pretty tough grader. I don’t think I’ve gotten above a C on anything.”

“Yeah, but I feel like my work is good! Some of it he seems to really like, and then others he’s super harsh. But I thought this last paper was really good!”

“Maybe you should go talk to him about it. Maybe he could help you out, tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess. I probably should. I really like this class; I want to do well in it.”

Your friend smirked. “Do you like the class, or do you like the hot professor?”

You lightly slapped their arm. “Shut up, I don’t think he’s hot.”

They laughed. “Of course you do! I see you staring at him all the time! It’s ok: he is pretty hot.”

You felt your face heating up. “Ok, maybe I think he’s kinda hot, but I like the class too!”

“I hear you.”

--

As class ended the next day, you took a breath. You shouldn’t be this nervous to talk to him, he was your professor, of course he would be willing to help you. You lingered in your seat for a few moments, taking longer than usual to stuff your laptop back in your bag. As people filed out of the room, you carefully approached his desk.

“Professor Hoffman?”

He looked up, smiling slightly as he met your eyes. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping that maybe you had time to talk to me about my last paper? I was wondering if you could tell me what I did wrong, or what I could improve next time?”

He regarded you for a moment and you couldn’t help but shift a bit under his gaze.

“Of course. I have another class in a few minutes, but I have time to meet tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You nodded, thanking him as he gave you a time and his office number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

He smirked. “See you then. Don’t be late.”

--

“What are you all dressed up for?” your friend asked.

“What? I’m not dressed up. Do I look dressed up?”

“I mean, maybe not dressed up, but you look nice. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They smiled. “Oh! Now I remember. You have your meeting with the hot professor today! That’s why you dressed so cute.”

“I did not!”

“I don’t believe you. You better hurry up, don’t you have to be there in a few minutes?”

You looked at your phone, cursing under your breath. They were right, you only had a couple minutes before your meeting. You sped up your pace, telling your friend you’d see them later as they walked to their class building.

“You better tell me all about it! Don’t do anything inappropriate, young lady!”

You hurried into the brick building that held Professor Hoffman’s office, trying to find the room number he had given you. Your eyes scanned the plaques next to each door, looking for the one engraved with his name. When you finally found it, the door was shut. You knocked softly, waiting patiently until you heard a voice tell you to come in.

You pushed the door open, examining his office as you entered. One wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with books on psychology, criminal justice, and what looked like case files. His desk sat in front of the window, his back to the light streaming in through the glass. He sat, leaned back in his desk chair, shirt slightly unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. You quickly complied, smoothing your skirt as you sat down.

--

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when you walked into his office, closing the door behind you. He should have punished you right then for testing him like that: all dressed up for him, pretty skirt cutting off just above your knees, shirt lower cut than he had ever seen you wearing in class.

“So,” he started, trying to regain his composure. “You wanted to talk to me about your paper?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” Fuck. “I was wondering if you could tell me what I could have done better with this assignment. I thought I did really well on it, until I got my grade back.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it was very well-written. And you have the concepts down. But your job was to analyze the video, not just repeat what I had said in class. Even if you put it a bit more eloquently than I did.” He smiled. “I almost get the feeling that you’re a bit…distracted in my class.

He watched as you became flustered, a smile still on his lips. “Well, professor, I just – I just have a lot on my mind. Sometimes it wanders, you know?” Your eyes darted around, staring at your hands, your bag on the floor, the surface of his desk.

He nodded. “Wanders to what?”

He couldn’t help the smug look on his face as you struggled to answer. He knew what your mind wandered to, he could see it on your face when you were supposed to be paying attention to his lectures. He saw the blush on your face, the way your pupils were blown. And he knew exactly where your mind was wandering to.

“Well, you know, to other things I have to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like me?”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me. I see the way you stare at me, the look on your face when I catch you. You think I have no idea what you think about when you’re in my class? You think I can’t read you like a book, sweetheart?”

He tilted his head, watching as you took in his words. You looked like a deer in headlights, knowing he had figured out your secret. He saw the way your body stiffened at the pet name, your legs pressing together.

“I’ll tell you what,” he started, against his better judgement. “You really want to improve your grade?”

You nodded. He told himself to stop, to kick you out of his office before he put his career in jeopardy. But, God, the look on your face, so eager to hear what he had to say, pretty face flushed with embarrassment, legs squeezed together so tight he thought you might explode.

“Cmere,” he said in a low voice.

You slowly stood, making your way around his desk to stand in front of him. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled. “Where does your mind wander to during my class? I want to hear you tell me.”

“To you,” you said softly.

“Cmon, baby, you can do better than that.” He knew he was being a dick, he saw how flustered you were, how you were trying to work up the courage to answer his question. And he loved it.

“To you – to you…”

“To me fucking you?” he helped.

“Yes.” Your eyes were fixed on your hands.

“Look at me and say it.”

Your eyes met his. “My mind wanders to – to you fucking me.”

“Much better. Now, you really want to improve your grade, sweetheart?”

You nodded and he saw the eagerness in your eyes, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He smiled, chuckling as you quickly dropped to your knees in front of his chair, hands getting to work on his belt. He watched your eyes widen as you released him from his dress pants and couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swelled in his chest.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asked, cocky smile spreading across his face. You shook your head. “Then go on.”

He let out a deep groan as you took him into your mouth, placing a hand on the back of your head. He wrapped his hand in your hair, guiding you as his dick hit the back of your throat. “Such a good girl.” He leaned his head back against the chair, savoring the feeling of your head bobbing on his cock.

His looked back down at you, eyes darkening as he saw how eagerly you sucked him off, spit coating your lips, tears welling in your eyes every time you took him down your throat. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted during classes too, picturing you just like this.

He pulled your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him. “Get up here, sweetheart,” he said, motioning to his lap.

You shakily got to your feet before straddling his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He reached under your skirt, hands gripping your ass. He watched as you began to grind your clothed core on his dick, admiring the desperate look on your face.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, hand slowly wrapping around your throat. “So desperate for me. No one been taking care of this pussy?”

You frantically shook your head, grinding down harder.

“Poor little slut. Take them off. I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart.”

You shifted on his lap, pulling your underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side. He slowly ran a finger through your folds, letting out a low hum. “God, baby, this all for me?” Your answer was cut off by him pushing two fingers inside of you, your words turning to a moan. He slowly pumped his fingers, curling them inside you while your ground down on his hand.

“Poor baby, those college boys don’t know how to make you feel good? You’re so fuckin’ desperate.” You quickly shook your head, too lost in the feeling of him working you to form words. You whined when he pulled his fingers out.

He lined himself up at your entrance, the other hand wrapping around your waist, holding you steady. “Go on, baby. Show me how needy you are.”

You slowly slid yourself down onto his cock, mouth falling open as he stretched you out. His head fell back onto his chair, eyes screwing shut, before quickly opening them again, taking in the sight of you full of his dick. He placed his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as you began to bounce. You quickly picked up the pace, grinding yourself down on him, eyes clouded from pleasure.

Your moans filled his ears, eyes roaming your body as you fucked yourself on his cock.

“God, baby, you look so fuckin’ pretty. Such a good little whore for me, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, just for you, Daddy!” you moaned, before quickly catching yourself. He saw your eyes widen, realizing what you had just said.

He wrapped his strong arm around your waist, standing from his chair, still buried deep inside you, before setting you on his desk. He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and pushing your back down onto the surface. “Say it again.”

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you said softly.

“That’s fuckin’ right baby.” He set a fast pace, roughly fucking into you, one hand still around your throat, the other gripping your hip so hard he knew it would probably leave marks.

He let out a groan at the sight of you underneath him, skirt bunched around your waist, mouth hanging open, hands gripping his arms. He watched your back arch off the table, squeezing your eyes shut.

He froze, abruptly stopping his thrusts. “Look at me when you cum on my dick, baby. Fuckin’ look at me or I’ll stop again. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” you cried, eyes locked on his.

“Much better.” His fingers found their way to your clit as he continued burying himself in you. “Cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock.”

Your nails dug into his arm as your legs shook around him, moaning loudly as you reached your high. He felt his own end coming on. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Tell me sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside…” was all you could manage, still overcome with pleasure.

He smiled. “You want me to fill you up, baby?” You nodded, begging him to fill you.

His pace faltered as he came, gripping your hips tightly. He let go of you, placing his hands on his desk, catching his breath. He slowly pulled out of you, pulling his pants back up and tossing you your underwear. You carefully sat up, legs still shaking slightly.

He settled himself back in his chair, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, sitting on his desk, completely undone.

“I suppose I can raise your grade on that paper,” he started. “But I do think we should have weekly tutoring sessions. You obviously need some more help with this.” He smirked at you. “Does that sound good to you?”

You never agreed to something faster in your life.

--

I really liked writing this, if y’all like it I may give you a part 2👀

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

1: Magic is a Metaphor < 2: Morgana is a Lesbian < 3: Merlin is Gay < 4: Arthur is Bi

Do you remember when you were bullied in middle school? Because if you're reading this, I think it's fair to assume that you were. And your parents would say to you, 'that boy is just being mean to you because he likes you'. That's what this is.

Arthur is just so repressed. He has really bad daddy issues, and he doesn't know how to express his emotions, and he's really uncomfortable with physical intimacy, especially with other men, especially with Merlin. And this isn't me trying to psychoanalyse away his heterosexuality. It is a very evident part of his character.

And another big part of his character is that he has inherited all of these bigoted ideas about magic from his father that he has to work to overcome. Because, of course, Arthur himself is born of magic, but his dad is so ashamed of it that he hides the true circumstances of his birth from Arthur. Honestly, I don't know exactly how that would fit into this whole metaphor. I do have a half-formed theory that it could be interpreted as an allegory for intersex identity, I know that a lot of people headcanon Arthur as trans, so idk there could be something there. But regardless, it is only through his relationship with Merlin that he is able to overcome this magicphobia, because he realises: how could it be wrong when everything about Merlin is so right. And I just feel like there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Of course, I have to mention this iconic quote from the audio commentary of the final episode: when the executive producer refers to Arthur taking off his royal seal to give back to Guinevere as passing over "the last vestige of his heterosexu- oh sorry, I mean his marriage." So, they knew exactly what they were doing.

I also thought I would just draw your attention to the fact that at one point Arthur says, "I only care about my men, they're more than friends, more than brothers." Now, I think we can all agree that out of context, that is a very gay thing to say, and yet somehow the context is even gayer, because Arthur is pretending to be talking about the Knights of the Round Table, but he's actually talking about Merlin, how Merlin is the only person he cares about, more than a friend. And then Merlin responds, "I understand. I wish I didn't, but I do." It's barely subtext at that point. This of course, brings me to my final argument:

Arthur risked his life to save Merlin at least eight times. It could be more than that, I genuinely lost count. And you have to keep in mind that Arthur is the King of Camelot and he doesn't have any heirs. It is quite important that he stays alive. And yet anytime that Merlin is in the slightest bit of danger, he will just drop everything to protect him.

And it's really only in those moments where he's faced with the thought of losing Merlin that he shows him genuine emotion. Such as in this scene (which was cut out of 4x02 purely because it was too gay) where Arthur is planning to sacrifice himself to protect Merlin, again, and he gives Merlin his mother's sigil, the only thing he has left of his dead mum and he wants Merlin to have it as something to remember him by. Also, apparently in medieval times giving someone your family crest was basically a marriage proposal, so that's pretty gay.

You know what else is pretty gay? Telepathically communicating with Merlin and then immediately leaving Gwen in the middle of an active war. This is literally the last time that Arthur and Gwen ever see each other. Poor Gwen.

In conclusion, Merlin is the story of gay sorcerers and bisexual knights getting into love triangles. Everyone in this show is queer and you cannot tell me otherwise.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

I’ve been simping over your ‘human’ Nomicon design since it came out in Ninja-November. If you have any headcanons about them, would you please share?

ah, a fellow monster/eldritch horror enjoyer I see! thank you! <3 tbh that Nomicon design was like an one day revelation, because while I love all the human!Nomi designs I've seen over the years (and there are some banger ones, man), it hit me that we as a fandom really underutilize all the uncanny aspects Nomi possesses. So ye. I do have a couple hc.

Nomicon is an entity that doesn't have its own face and voice.

Whenever Nomicon talks to Randy it uses proxies in form of art/images/drawings/scribbles/writings. It gives strangely non-verbal vibes for something so cryptically eloquent! And whenever it does use a voice, its voice of the First Ninja (or more accurately his VA xD) , its first owner/wielder. When it uses a face, its usually the static/unmoving marble-like faces of Art or silly pen scribbles - both of which hold that uncanny valley look of something that looks human but really isn't. Not to mention the fact that it once literally stole Randy's face/body to teach him a lesson.

I like to think that Nomicon has a library of faces/visages/voices it can take on, but all of them are creepily unsettling because - what would a book know about how to be human? It's face moves wrong, the eyes are too wide open, its body is creepily still, the voice uses inflections like its copying someone else (and sometimes voice warbles and changes/overlaps with other voices because it has so many).

All of it gives these fae/cryptid vibes of creatures that steal voices/faces to trick people, but in this case Nomicon collects those faces/voices from its owners along with their memories (which is another messed up thing we collectively forget is very creepy lol).

Nomicon is an entity that doesn't have a body, and most importantly - hands.

The reason I gave Nomicon so many shadow hands is because, well, Nomicon is a book. Hands hold those books, so the hands are very important to Nomi. All those shadow hands? Are memories of all the hands that held it (mostly previous Ninjas, but also the Creep and some others). It remembers everyone who held it.

The fit- the hat and the cape are kind of obvious, it look like center of the cover and the cape looks like covers on either side with pages underneath. The weirdest addition I made - is the spaghetti noodle-doodle 'hair'.

It constantly fascinates me that Nomicon, besides the Greek Key/9 motif, has those sort of concentration circles that are also present during Mask/Suit transformation. It gave me thought of sort of weird halos i guess?? Which adds to creepy vibe, but in this case its biblically accurate angel / holy deity type of vibes.

Nomicon has very basic understanding of humanity.

For all the experiences/memories/personalities it was created from and it absorbed over the years, human things are a rather alien concept for the book. It's the reason Nomicon is so bad at its timing whenever it buzzes Randy. It just doesnt care that you are at school Randy, its trying to teach you how to be a better ninja!!! In some sense, it absorbed the most prevalent quality of First Ninja - the dedication to duty, the whole reason for its existence - to serve Ninjas to be the best they can. So, such human/mortal things as good grades/video games/a good nights sleep are very nebulous concepts to it.

Less of a hc but more of an observation/gripe but-

COME ON ITS NAME??? Ninjanomicon as in Ninjanecronomicon??? Because lets be honest its not just a book/guide for Ninjas its a book full of DEAD NINJAS??? LIKE??? In some sense all previous Ninjas, when they go through Ultimate Lesson, 'die' in the real world (because they are no longer Ninjas) and are preserved in Nomicon. And First is like deadass dead? (Plop plop too lol). So I feel like there should be more creepiness about that.

Anyway thats basically most of it, and sorry for silly doodles but i cant really draw creepy stuff xD

[thetarttfuldickhead]

It’s a little unclear, in the end, how the conversation gets there, because all in all the Richmond dressing room isn’t the site of that many sex jokes, not since Colin came out and no longer feels the need to make them. But they’re still lads, yeah, and young, mostly, so the jokes still happen, even if it’s just gentle ribbing, and silliness.

So: somehow, one morning halfway into Roy’s first year as head coach, the topic turns to sex, of the rougher variety. Roy’s only listening with half an ear, he’s busy sketching out the new trick plays Nate’s dreamed up on the whiteboard, and he doesn’t really catch the build-up, but when Jamie’s name is mentioned his ears perk up without him even really noticing. It’s become instinct at that point, keeping track of Jamie (even as Roy does his best to give all his players at least some semblance of equal attention).

“We know that Jamie likes it rough, though,” Zorro says, and the rest of the group oh:s and ah:s either knowingly or in surprised glee.

“Eh?” Jamie sounds startled by the assertion, but not particularly put off. (He never really is, as long as he gets attention, Roy thinks with an internal scoff that’s far fonder than he’d ever admit to.) “What makes you say that?”

“You told us!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy can see Jamie shake his head. “I don’t know what you’re on about, mate.” Still not bothered, but clearly not understanding what Zorro is getting at either.

Isaac throws him a disbelieving glance. “You don’t remember, bruv? It was when you first came here, before you started going out with Keeley.”

“Yeah,” Colin interjects, “You’d only been here for about two weeks, I think, but you came into training with these marks and bruises, and it turned out you’d hooked up with a girl the night before, but you hadn’t known she was a professional dominatrix before you got to her place.”

Hoots and titters at that, delighted and amused but not unkind.

“Exactly,” Zorro says. “And you told us you’d just gone with it because you have to try everything at least once, and it hadn’t been bad.”

Ah. Roy remembers now. He’d already been absolutely fed-up with Jamie’s attitude, the arrogance and selfishness and incessant need to put others down, and the striker’s total lack of shame and casual smugness about the marks had rubbed Roy entirely the wrong way. Not because people should be ashamed for liking that sort of stuff, of course (Roy wasn’t), but there was such a thing as common decency and unspoken rules about not parading around the dressing room like you were in a fucking porno or some shit and—

If Roy was honest about it, he’d mostly been pissed because it was Jamie, and everything Jaime did pissed him off back then (though, to be fair, most of what Jamie did back then was fucking shitty, so it’s not like Roy was wrong to be pissed. Most of the time).

“Oh.” Jamie’s voice is soft, suddenly. Small, in a way that has alarm bells going off like air raid sirens in Roy’s head. “Yeah. Um.”

The realisation hits Roy a second before it does the rest of the team, and his ears are already filling with a terrible ringing as the room falls silent behind him. He can feel himself grow rigid with rage, and with cold, curdling shame.

“Shit, man,” Isaac says eventually.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.” It’s odd, the way Colin’s earnest, unhappy voice seems to be coming from so very far away.

“What?” Zorro, still not getting it, and then he does, and Roy, at a great distance, can hear his face crumpling. “Oh shit, Jamie, I didn’t mean—“

“No, don’t worry about it, man. It was a long time ago, yeah? It’s fine.” It’s a heroic attempt at sounding casual. Might have succeeded, too, back before they all knew Jamie as well as the do now.

Roy doesn’t stick around to hear the team offer their comfort and Jamie try to wave their concern away. He walks into the coaches’ office, and the only reason he doesn’t slam the door as hard as he can is because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. 

“You all right there, Coach?” Beard looks up at him from behind his book, brow creased in quiet assessment.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Nate jumps down from the desk he’s been perched on. “Did someone die?”

And Roy wants to tell them to fuck off. Wants to punch the wall so hard it stops his mind from spinning. But he’s been talking with Dr. Fieldstone about that, hasn’t he, how his maladaptive coping strategies are tripping him up, and fucking over the people he cares about in the process.

So he takes a deep breath. And he doesn’t look at them when he starts talking. “Back before Ted came here Jamie came in with these bruises all over his chest and back one day, and he told us he’d had sex with a fucking dominatrix. And I believed him, okay? I just… I fucking believed him, even though it was weird fucking bruises for— That’s not the fucking point. But because I thought he was an arrogant fucking prick and I fucking hated his guts, I told him— “ He trails off, looking up at the ceiling. Uselessly, his cheeks are burning. Maybe his eyes are, too, if he’d let himself feel it. “I told him I’d be happy to pay to see someone give him a trashing. Give ‘em extra if they knocked a couple of his teeth out so he’d shut up for once.”

Beard doesn’t say anything, but he leans back in his chair with a look on his face that lets Roy know that, yeah, he’d fucked that one up good and proper.  

“Oh,” Nate says. “So it was his dad who— That’s— But— I mean, that’s not good, obviously, that’s awful, but it’s… It wasn’t you who hurt him, Roy. And I mean, you and Jamie have said all sorts of thing to each other. Done all sorts of things.”

And that’s true, isn’t it. And mostly Roy is happy enough to write it off as tit-for-tat, old foolishness and bygones, Jamie a prick and Roy sometimes an idiot, and they’re both better now. And he doesn’t know how to explain to Nate and Beard how knowing that Jamie looked up to him ever since he was a kid, knowing that he never took that poster down, even after that, after everything, makes his casual cruelty and failure to protect Jamie all the harder to bear, even if he hadn’t known at the time that there was anything to protect Jamie from.

“Coach—“ Beard begins, but is interrupted by a knock on the door, and before Roy can tell whoever it is to fuck off, Jamie sticks his head into the office. Must have made his escape from the rest of the team, then. “Sorry, Coach, are we getting started or what? The lads— “ He catches sight of Roy’s face and his eyes widen. “Jesus, Roy, what happened? Are you all right, man?”

Under other circumstances, Roy might have found it remarkable how quickly and effortlessly Jamie makes the switch from Roy’s respectful star player to Roy’s friend, his entire demeanour changing as he moves into the room. As it is, Roy doesn’t say anything, but he must have made some sort of noise or moved some sort of way, because Jamie’s face twists in alarm, and then he’s across the floor and gently but firmly pulling Roy into a hug. “There, it’s all right, man, I’ve got you, lad, it’s all right.”

Roy blames all the fucking therapy he’d been doing for the past eight months for not pushing Jamie away but instead allowing the other to hold him, and allowing himself to hesitantly wrap his arms around him in turn. Fuck Nate. Fuck Beard. Fuck the team. Fuck anyone who thinks they get to have opinions on that.

He’s got an inch on Jamie, but Jamie’s broader, solid and strong. Steady, as he puts a hand on the back of Roy’s neck, murmuring nonsense that Roy knows is supposed to be soothing, and which maybe is. Mostly, it’s reassuring to have Jamie there, whole and hale and safe.

“What’s going on? Is Phoebe all right? Did something happen to your sister? Keeley?” Jamie is starting to sound a little freaked out, and Roy realises that he can’t just stand there mutely forever and let the fears grow in Jamie’s mind, he needs to fucking say something, explain.

He’d rather never say another word.

Tough fucking luck, Kent. “Do you remember what I told you when you said you’d had sex with a dominatrix?”

The way Jamie stiffens tells him that, yeah, Jamie does. “Roy—“

Roy tightens his grip, not wanting Jamie to pull away. “Don’t fucking tell me it was fine, because you were a nightmare for the rest of that day, you were absolutely fucking horrible to everyone.” Worse than usual, lashing out—not that Roy had known it at the time, or had thought it anything more than Jamie being a fucking prick for no other reason than to be a prick.  

For a few moments, Jamie doesn’t say anything. Then he lets out a long sigh, relaxing into the embrace and pressing his face against Roy’s neck. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters, “it was all shit, mate. I mean, all of it was, it wasn’t just you— But, Roy, listen… “ And now Jamie does pull back, just enough so that he can look at Roy. His eyes are tired, but the set of his jaw determined. “You fucking hated me, right? Back then, I mean. You hated me, ‘cause I was a prick, and I hated you, ‘cause you were a bitter old cunt.”

There’s no fucking denying it, is there. Roy gives a sharp nod. “Yeah, but—“

“No, let me just— I’m not saying that makes it all right, yeah, I just— You hated me, okay. But, would you have said what you said if you’d known what really happened?”

Roy’s lips twist into snarl. “What? No! Of course I wouldn’t fucking have— “ He might have ached to put Jamie’s head through a wall several times a day, but he wouldn’t have stood by for Jamie’s piece of shit father—

“See?” The little twat has the audacity to look triumphant at that, as if he’d scored a particularly neat goal. “That’s what I’m saying, yeah? Even when you hated my guts, you wouldn’t have said that, if you’d known what was going on. But you didn’t know, ‘cause I didn’t want you to, or anyone to, and I’m an amazing actor, yeah? So, like, it’s not fine, but it’s… Don’t beat yourself up over it, man. You didn’t know.”

It’s absolution, the kind Roy doesn’t think he deserves and the Jamie is far too quick to offer. But Jamie is also right: Roy hadn’t known. Wallowing in guilt won’t do anything to change the past, or help Jamie now.

“All right,” Roy says. “But that was still a shit thing to say and I wish hadn’t done it. You never deserved any of what that arsehole did to you, and if… fuck it, when I made you feel like I thought otherwise, that was my fucking bad, and I’m sorry.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.” And there’s a tremulousness to his faint smile that makes Roy think that for all his claims to the contrary, it had still been something Jamie needed to hear.  

It does Roy’s fucking head in that Jamie’s been up to see his dad several times since he got word that James Tartt is in rehab. But they’ve argued about that already, bitterly, and Roy has very reluctantly admitted that it’s not his call. All he can do is offer Jamie whatever support he needs, whenever he wants it.

Clearing his throat, Roy gives Jaime an awkward pat on the shoulder before carefully extricating himself fully from the hug. “We’re still on for dinner with Keeley tonight?” He’ll make Jamie’s favourite dish, he decides. Throw in some dessert.

“Yeah, of course, yeah.”

“Good.” He jerks his head to the door. “Go on then, tell the lads to get on the pitch, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, Coach.”

As the door shuts behind him, Roy turns on Beard and Nate who – wisely – don’t say anything.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about this,” he tells them sharply. “I don’t want you mentioning a fucking word of it ever again.” Because maybe he’s gotten to a point where having a fucking breakdown and hugging it out with Jamie in front of them isn’t the end of the world (even if it’s a near fucking thing), but if someone tries to make him discuss it, he’ll need to start head-butting people, and he’s been trying to stay off that since he became manager, because it just isn’t a good look, is it, and he’s trying to be better about that sort of thing.

Nate and Beard glance at each other. Roy doesn’t really care for the knowing look in their eyes, but they merely offer a nod and a yeah, yeah, of course, sure in reply, and that will have to do.

In this messed up world, a lot of things would have to fucking do.

“Right,” Roy says, already moving to follow Jamie. “I’ll see you on the fucking pitch.”

---

A/N: This was supposed to be the fourth of the stand alone ficlets I call The Locker Room Conversations, but it got quite a bit darker (and less team focused) than I usually do for those, so I’m not sure. I’ll sit on it for a bit, maybe fiddle a little, and see where I put it when it goes up on AO3 eventually.

If you like the idea of the team uncovering sad truths about Jamie’s past and are into heavier angst (and more of the team taking care of Jamie), I highly recommend checking out i should be the poster kid for this shit by anotherlongstoryshort / babytarttdoodoo

[vhagarlovebot]

NOW OR NEVER.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond sees you flirting with the bartender and realizes he’s not ready to lose you.

content warnings: +18, jealous aemond, thigh riding.

note: this is based on this request. also if there are any grammar errors i apologize, english is not my first language! i suck at writing smut but i tried :( hope you enjoy.

AEMONE CLENCHES HIS FISTS as he sees you, for the second time in the night, talking with the bartender, who is clearly flirting with you. he’s sure you’re doing it all on purpose, dancing with some random guy first and then this? you are going to drive him insane.

“that’s it.” aemond hits the table with his fist, drawing the attention of a couple of his friends who are very aware of what’s currently going on between you two, and stands up, his gaze fixed on you and the stupid, stupid bartender.

as he’s getting closer he can hear how you tell him that you are totally available on friday, which makes him walk faster, the mere thought of you with another man makes him want to throw up.

aemond knows it’s now or never.

“sorry, mate,” aemond rests his hand on your lower back, startling you. “she has a date on friday. with me.” aemond does not say anything else, he simply drags you with him.

you don’t apologize to the bartender, whose name you can’t remember, as you let aemond guide you through sweating and drunken bodies. you are not surprise at his reaction, you are actually turned on.

you recognize the neon sign outside the bathroom before being pushed inside, aemond immediately locking the door.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his voice comes out more soft than he intended. all he want is to be mad at you, but he just can’t.

“i’m single. i can do whatever the fuck i want.”

aemond expression darkens, immediately walking towards you and pinning you against the wall, one hand next to your head and the other one parting your legs to position himself between them.

“you made me remember that earlier today.” you say with pain in your voice.

you had a pretty ugly fight just hours before your night out because you couldn’t fight your feelings anymore.

it is true you were totally fine when you started this friends with benefit thing, you were just having fun. but then you fell in love with him and you really thought he felt the same. how wrong you were. aemond’s reaction was of shock but then he smiled and when you thought he was going to kiss you, he simply said that he didn’t see you that way, that you were being selfish. after that, it was ugly.

you’re not a thing anymore, not that you were before, so he doesn’t have any right to stop you from wanting to flirt and meet new people. he doesn’t want anything to do with you? there are plenty of people in the world and you have a lot of time to meet them.

“you are mine, is it not clear?” aemond pins your arms above your head, free hand lifting your skirt up, his knee brushing against your clothed cunt. “forget everything i said earlier.”

you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affect you. however, his knee working you up makes it very hard.

“you hurt me.” you say, bottom lip between your teeth trying not to make any sound.

“and i’m ready to make it up to you.” he pouts and you can’t resist to him. you pull him by the shirt, lips colliding against his in a heated kiss.

aemond grabs your ass, slowly guiding your hips on his left thigh. “lift your shirt up, let me see those pretty tits.”

you obey, lifting your shirt. one of your hands immediately going to play with your hard nipples. and the music is loud enough so your moans can’t be heard for anyone but him.

aemond wraps his lips around one of your little buds as his other hand squeezes the flesh of your ass. your eyes close and you hold onto him tightly, you choke out a moan at the sensation of his mouth on your breasts and his knee making just enough pressure on your clit.

“rub that wet pussy on my thigh, make a mess.” his teeth nip your skin and your lips part, the most obscene sounds coming out of your mouth. aemond lips curve into a smile as he watches you closely.

aemond can feel your slick transferring to his jeans, his cock twitching in his boxer. you rub your pussy back and forth on his thigh, face hidden in his neck as his hands roam your body, losing yourself in how good it feels.

you let out a whimper, followed by soft please as you stop your movements, legs shaking so much that you can’t keep going. but aemond is quick to grab your hips, guiding you once again against his wet thigh.

aemond sucks and bites your neck, leaving evidence for everyone to see who do you belong to. him and only him. you can barely think straight because of how close you are, and aemond can see it in the way your face contorts in pleasure. his hand slides to your clit and you can’t help but scream his name, which makes him chuckle.

“pathetic slut.” he groans, circling his finger on your clit, your eyes rolling back. “does that feel good, baby?”

aemond grabs your hair with his free hand, pulling your head back. your eyes snap open and you are meet with a smirk on his face as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

you don’t hold back your moans as your orgasm washes over you, walls clenching around nothing, the wet patch on his thigh growing, soaking it.

he gives you time to recover, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face and wiping the sweat off your forehead. aemond has a soft expression, completely different from the one he had just minutes ago.

“so, what now?” you ask breathlessly, feeling scared of his answer. if he says that he doesn’t see you like that one more time you are definitely not going to handle it well.

“first, we are going to where that fucking bartender is. you’re going to tell him you have a boyfriend.” he states, helping you with your clothes. “then, we’re going home. i’m not finished with you.”

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Now that I’ve spoken it out loud, I can’t ignore the strangeness around Ash anymore. The nightmares, the flashes of memory that don’t belong to me, and now, what feels like someone else’s words coming out of my mouth.

I’ve decided to keep some distance until I can figure this out, even if the very idea of it has me twisted up in knots.

As usual, when I arrive at work, he’s already there, joking around with Evan and Lex. I make a point to walk back by the windows to my desk, so I won’t have to face him. I know I’ll need to talk to him eventually, but I have no idea what I’m going to say, and now doesn’t seem like the time or place to say it anyway.

So, I avoid him. I avoid the situation. I avoid myself.

I sit at my desk, put my earbuds in, and I retreat to a familiar place deep within. And I work. I work through lunch despite the protests from my stomach. I don’t stop working until six o’clock, long past when Ash usually leaves. I don’t know if he tried to say hello or goodbye. I don’t even remember the day.

When I finally look up, the office is nearly empty, and the sun has just started to sink toward the horizon.

Rather than taking my usual route home, I take a right out of the building and head toward the gym. No one else is going tonight, but that's fine. I just need to think, and I think best when I'm climbing or running.

But I only make it two blocks before I hear his footsteps behind me, moving quickly along the wet concrete as he tries to catch up. I hadn’t even realized it rained today. The sky is clear now, but the moisture has left the air feeling sticky and unseasonably warm.

My heart jumps when I feel his hand tap my shoulder even though I was expecting it. I take a breath and turn to face him.

“Hey,” his greeting is like a hand reaching into a dark well, reaching down to try and pull me up from where I’ve retreated deep inside myself. His eyes search the darkness in mine. I can’t tell if he can see me or not.

He squints slightly and I know then that he can’t. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” I say automatically.

“Everything’s fine?”

“Yeah.”

He squints harder, and the corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, “Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion in his voice twists at my stomach and I have to focus on staying upright, on keeping all the muscles in my face and shoulders relaxed. It’s not easy, but I’ve had two decades of practice and I’m better at it than I’d like to admit. “No,” I say simply. Keeping my answers short to keep the emotion out of them.

Then it happens. I watch as his eyes harden like stones. This is it. This is when I fuck everything up. I can feel it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But maybe it’s for the best. I can’t risk him getting close to me.

“Atlas, what the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Do you think I’m stupid?”

The sharpness in his tone makes me flinch, cracking my armor, and I feel my brows pull together, “No,��� emotion sneaks into my voice, drawing out the word.

“Atlas, I—” he seems to struggle for a moment. I wait, desperate to reach out to him, to put my hand on his arm and reassure him, but I’m trapped. My armor has become a cage, as it so often does. Helpless, I listen as he tries again, “I like you, a lot, and we had a really great time the other night, but… you said you’d call and you didn’t, which is fine, like, people get busy, it’s whatever… but you’ve spent the entire day acting like I don’t  exist and now you’re telling me everything is fine, acting as if nothing happened, making me feel like I’m fucking delusional or something. Do you have any idea how awful that feels?”

Yes. I feel myself deflate, a wave of shame pouring over me. I don’t think I can hate myself more than I do in this moment, realizing that I am indeed my mother's son. “I’m sorry,” I try to infuse as much sincerity into the words as I can, but they still fall flat.

“Right. You wanna tell me what’s going on then?”

“I can’t do this, Ash, I’m sorry. I think we should just be friends.” I let it out in a rush, unable to look him in the eye.

“Friends?”

I nod.

“You know, a ‘friend’ would’ve had the decency to talk to me about this rather than avoiding me.”

“I know, I’m—”

“Sorry. Yeah. I got that. Can you tell me why?”

“Because…” I sigh, grabbing on to the only explanation I can think of that makes any sense, “because we work together. I just… I don’t date people I work with.” It’s not necessarily a lie. I usually don’t consider my co-workers part of the eligible dating pool. But maybe if things were different, I’d’ve made an exception.

“You don’t date people you work with?”

“That’s right.”

He scoffs, “This would’ve been good information for you to share with me a lot sooner. I really don’t appreciate being led on.”

“I know, I didn’t mean… I got caught up. I shouldn’t have. I really am sorry.”

His head drops away from me, “Yeah, me too,” he says to the ground more than me, nudging a rock with his shoe. “So, friends then? That’s what you want?”

No. “Yes.”

He nods, still looking at the ground as he takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He finally looks back up at me, his eyes shining, not with their usual playfulness and excitement, but with tears threatening to spill over. I’ve hurt him. “Okay,” he says again, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turns around abruptly before I can respond and starts walking away.

I stand there for a moment, stunned. Everything about this feels wrong. I want to take it back. And I nearly call out to him, tell him to wait, that I didn't mean it. But then he reaches a hand up, wiping his face, and I stop myself. I've done enough damage already.

I was wrong earlier. It turns out I can hate myself more.

Prev // Next

[klausysworld]

would u be down to write Klaus x vampire hunter? I need that forbidden love angst and all that goodness!! I also may have seen a Buffy the vampire slayer post and couldn’t stop thinking about a Klaus x slayer relationship 🤔

Plot twist? She ends up getting pregnant!?!? I just need the juicy stuff loool

(this is gonna be a multiple part story FOR SURE! I can't lie I've had a very similar idea/scenario running through my head for the past few weeks so i'm really glad someone really wanted this too! The only reason it'll be multiple parts is so that it's easier to read and so that i'm able to add the build up how i imagined :))

Love is never simple

(Part 2 here)

Y/n was the first born daughter to Grayson and Miranda Gilbert.

When Y/n was born they had only very recently claimed Elena as their own, passing the two babies off as twins to those they knew. Fraternal of course for they were definitely not similar not for their looks nor their behaviour.

Elena was a mommy’s girl, she wanted to dress up and be the princess: have her hair and nails done, go shopping with her friends Caroline and Bonnie.

Meanwhile Y/n was more curious. She liked to follow her father, learn from his actions. She still spent time with the girls but given the choice to run around a field and swing a bat then she wouldn’t say no.

One day Miranda was unable to pick up the two girls from school, they were only young and couldn’t get a lift home. Grayson came straight from work and took the girls back there with him. Elena did as she was told, stayed in the designated room and wrote in her diary. Y/n decided to sneak after her father, wondering down a cold staircase to a dungeon of sorts. Men were walking with purpose in lab coats and barking orders at weak, pale beings in cells.

She could see card shot glasses filled with a deep red liquid laid out in rows on a tray. She held onto the railing of the stairs and watched as, who she assumed to be sick people, begged for the cups. Eventually they were given the small dosage, dark veins travelled down their eyes to their cheeks and sharp teeth poked into their lower lips.

A hint of fear swirled within her eyes, confusion and fascination. Something was wrong with these people. She peered closer, accidentally drawing the attention of one of the patients. His eyes narrowed before a small, cruel smile formed on his lips. It barely lasted a second before Y/n was harshly grabbed by the upper arm, causing a shriek to leave her as her head whipped round to see her fathers alarmed face staring back at her

“Y/n!” He yelled “you do not come down here!” Grayson hurriedly lifted her up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind him. “Where’s Elena? Is she still in the office?” He questioned in a panic and Y/n nodded quickly

“She stayed- I’m sorry Daddy- i just wanted to see” she whispered and he sighed, placing her down onto her feet and kissed her forehead.

“It’s not safe for you there” he warned

“What was wrong with those people?” She asked quietly and he clenched his jaw

“They’re not people Y/n…” he murmured “they’re…monsters…they just dress up as people”

They both looked at each-other trying to figure out what the other was thinking

“Dressed up?” She questioned curiously and he clicked his tongue

“Yes…see y/n, they aren’t humans. They just want you to believe that they are, they’re dangerous and it’s part of my job to stop them…to help real people be safe” he explained and she nodded

“You cure them?” She tilted her head, she knew her father was a doctor. Perhaps by stopping them he would make them people instead of monsters.

“If only that were a thing my little y/n….these beasts cannot be cured. Do you remember last summer when there was that…mountain lion on the loose?” He asked her and she nodded with a puzzled smile. “Well that creature hurt people, sent them to heaven…and because of that, the lion had to be put to rest” he told her and she nodded, viscous animals were put down, she knew that. “These beasts, they’re just like that lion. They’re viscous and they won’t ever be tame…they won’t ever feel love. They just want to hurt people.” He whispered, his eyes conveying passion as he spoke of the monsters.

“So you put them down?” She murmurs and he nods

“That’s right” he confirmed and she nodded back at him.

“Because they deserve it?” She utters and he smiled

“Exactly y/n, exactly”

And that was the start of a very twisted childhood.

Miranda was furious when she found out that Y/n had seen the Augustine vampires. They yelled all through the night, their angry voices sounding through the house which resulted in a frightened Elena and a crying Jeremy to climb into Y/n’s bed, all huddling together, looking to y/n for protection.

The next morning nobody spoke a word of the previous day. They ate breakfast, Grayson kissed the heads of each of his children and went of to work. Miranda got them all ready for school and dropped them off before going to work.

The system repeated itself until Y/n stepped out of line again. Tyler Lockwood had shoved Jeremy into a wall and called him names, Y/n wasn’t nearly as big as Tyler but threw punches just as hard. By the time the teacher had separated the two, both Grayson and Miranda were at the school beyond worried.

The school recommended Y/n went to a child’s psychologist to catch her anger management issues earlier rather than later. The same message was passed onto the Lockwoods.

But Grayson didn’t see a troubled little girl when he looked at his daughter, he saw someone strong, a fighter, a hunter.

With many disagreements and arguments, Miranda demanded that neither Y/n or Elena and Jeremy would ever be faced with the supernatural life as long as they were alive.

Grayson however didn’t listen. When Miranda took Elena out and Jeremy was at a friends, he would bring Y/n back to the vampires.

He showed her brain scans of a vampires brain vs a humans brain. He showed her a sociopaths and a psychopaths. He taught her what they had learnt, how a vampire thinks. How it behaves and why. He had her taking multiple self defence classes a week as well as personal training where she was allowed to used weapons, stakes.

On her 14th birthday, when everyone was getting ready for bed, Grayson came back into her room and gave her a box. Inside the box was a dagger, a very special dagger. One she had seen drawings of, heard stories of. And with it came the promise that one day she would get to use it.

Y/n was given weekly lessons on vampire history, all the way back to the originals.

By the age of 16 she was searching for them. For him. She wanted to see the one and only Niklaus Mikaelson. Supposedly the most ruthless, most dangerous and most powerful creature to walk the planet? The one who was supposed to kill her very very own sister.

Grayson didn’t approve of her wanting to seek him. He agreed with almost everything she did but not that. He couldn’t risk Klaus. Y/n could fight off a vampire, she was even able to kill a ripper while it was in a frenzy, but an original hybrid? At 16? He couldn’t guarantee that.

So she left in the night. She was gone four full days and nights before she returned. Miranda was in tears and begged her to never leave them again. Elena was angry and Jeremy felt betrayed. But Grayson could tell that Y/n had exactly what she wanted. She knew what Klaus Mikaelson looked like.

And when she placed a photograph of the beasts face on the table beside his glass, he knew he had successfully created a true vampire hunter.

Y/n had boards drawn, hidden from her siblings and mother and only accessible to herself. They held the locations of vampire nests, werewolf packs and witch covens all over the US. She began to form connections with witches. Shiela Bennet, Grams, was aware of Y/n’s involvement and although she wanted nothing more than to stay out of vampire business, she knew Y/n was in too deep to back out and she would protect that girl. She helped her get in touch with other witches, warned her of the witch trials that took place, where a hundred spirits would support her. In return Y/n promised to protect Bonnie, to never take advantage of her and to try her best to keep her away from vampires.

Everything was smooth for a while until that tragic night. One slip in the road and the car was in the water. Y/n had kicked and punched with everything in her to break the windows open, to save Elena, her mother and her father. But she watched as the life drained from their eyes, she watched as Elena tried to tell her how much she loved her. And then, in what she thought would be her last moment, she saw a figure force the door open with a supernatural strength. A vampire, Stefan Salvatore, saved both girls that night.

Y/n didn’t know what to think.

She understood that maybe he saved Elena because of the doppelgänger history that she had learnt of over the years. But she never understood why he would save her too.

Y/n had searched on Stefan before, the ripper. To say she was disgusted was an understatement, but now he was acting as though he was nothing more than a bunny muncher? Lies. There was darkness within him, waiting to be let free. He would kill them all. She was sure of it.

So sure that she broke into his house, only to find his brother Damon already there nursing a glass of bourbon. She observed the two brothers as they through each other from the window and hissed like feral cats. Like a mountain lion.

Damon didn’t even bother to hide his darkness, he was a monster in her eyes. Clear as the moon amongst the stars.

But before she could get her hands on the right stake, Grams was at her door

“Y/n, child, you mustn’t” she warned and Y/n frowned

“I will not have two vampires in our town, ruining my family.” She snapped back and Shiela shook her head

“Child, please” she begged “you have to trust me, trust me that you will need them” she whispered urgently

“Why would anyone need a vampire?” She sneered and Grams grabbed her hand

“Just believe” she uttered “they will not touch you, I can guarantee that not a hair on your head-“

“I don’t care if they hurt me, they will hurt Elena- Jeremy- Jenna-“ she listed, taking a pause before looking Grams in the eye “they will destroy Bonnie”

“You know I wouldn’t put her in danger, they will come and go. The older one of here for one thing, once he has it he will leave and the younger is nothing more than a nuisance” she tried to encourage but Y/n only shook her head

“You know that would be the easiest thing to believe. But they are not made to make friends, they are not here because they feel anything other than hunger. Hunger for blood and hunger for power. Your power, Bonnie’s power.” She threatened

“Y/n, you must trust me just this once. We will rid ourselves of these demons but we must do it right so that we do not become the monsters we fear”

And so with much reluctance, Y/n waited and watched.

She didn’t reveal any of her intentions, she just stayed quiet.

Even when the vampires escaped the tomb, she didn’t make herself known. When Grams died it broke something inside Y/n but it also made her stronger, she knew she had to protect her family, the Gilbert’s, the Bennett’s.

Not even the council knew she was in on it all. Grayson never told a soul outside of the Augustine community so that Miranda never found out. She helped of course, but at the end of the day when she watched Stefan and Elena beg for Bonnie to let them save Damon…Y/n just couldn’t decide where she stood. In that moment she froze, she watched Bonnie Bennet help a vampire and it confused her beyond belief.

And she witnessed it time and time again.

How could this happen? How could everyone in that godforsaken town so easily submit to those animals?

It was Damon who finally caught onto Y/n, noticing the pure disgust on her face when a vampire entered the room. The way she looked at Caroline after she turned, the inner battle she faced when Caroline cried like a child and begged Y/n to tell her everything would be okay.

He eavesdropped on Y/n’s conversation with Caroline’s mother, Liz. It was after Mason had outed the Salvatores and they were waiting for the vervain to leave her system.

“She isn’t my daughter anymore Y/n” she whispered and Y/n just stared back at the wall

“No?” She questioned slightly

“She’s a monster- my little girl is…my little girl is gone” she uttered, tears brimming in her eyes and Y/n’s thoughts stirred

“Gone” she repeated “it’s just a monster…dressed as Caroline?” She mused and Liz let out a sob

“How could this happen? They killed my baby” she cried over and over but Y/n remained emotionless. She wasn’t expecting Damon to be back yet, she wasn’t aware of the way he looked at her. The tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes. The shock he felt when he heard the question slip from her mouth

“Will you kill her?”

Liz looked up at Y/n, horrified to an extent as she slowly shook her head “I couldn’t…” she breathed and Y/n nodded in understanding

“Would you…would you have someone else kill her?” She asked quietly and Liz sat up a little straighter, looking at Y/n almost quizzically

“I…don’t know” she whispered “should I?”

That was the biggest question Y/n had. Where was the line drawn? The line between right and wrong, the line between human and monster.

Silence hung over them and Damon watched as Y/n pondered the idea, he could see the way her eyes glistened as she thought over the idea of tearing Caroline’s heart out and then he saw the guilt settle in and the confusion take over again.

“Maybe” she mumbled “maybe Caroline is truly gone. Maybe now she is just a hollow shell of who she is supposed to be and a violent, vicious animal” she stated unfazed “but then what if she’s still your baby girl? What if she’s everything she was and more? What if she’s…better” she whispered, a glint in her eye.

Liz couldn’t give and answer, neither of them could. Neither of them ever would.

By the time Y/n left, Liz was almost asleep.

Damon seized Y/n’s arm as she walked toward the front door and attempted to pin her to the wall only to be knocked off his feet and kicked straight in the gut. His hand automatically grabbed ahold of her ankle and twisted but nothing more than a grunt left her as she grabbed something, a glass, and smashed it against the side of his head. He let out a growl and lunged for her throat but her hand was in his chest in seconds. They both stayed completely still as she held is heart still inside his body, his fangs on display and pain clear in his expression.

A silent stare down happened before Y/n squeezed at his heart and forced a surrender out of him. Once she let go they both crawled away from the other and sat on the floor, facing the other with a contemplating look.

Eventually he spoke, “what are you?” He questioned and she scoffed

“Human” she stated as though he were stupid

“It isn’t human instinct to rip someone’s heart out” he raised a brow and she sighed

“Well maybe not every human but when we have things like you living in our town-“

“Things like me?” He laughed “oh you really aren’t who I thought you were” he grinned a grin of disbelief and stared up at the ceiling. “You think all vampires are monsters?” He murmured, glancing to her

“I’m not sure anymore” she mumbled and he hummed, his brows furrowing

“So…me…Stefan and Caroline are the demons and you? You’re a little angel?” He mocks and she rolls her eyes

“Nobody said or implied that” she sighed and he squinted his eyes

“So then what?”

“I don’t know.” She stated, angrier.

The both went quiet for a moment until Stefan walked in. His eyes were wide and confused. Both Damon and Y/n looked to each other, a look that said they needed to keep this quiet.

“What the-“

“Caroline thought I was gonna hurt Liz, she threatened me by grabbing my heart” Damon lied, a sarcastic smirk on his face which made the situation much more believable. “Y/n stayed to watch Liz, didn’t you?” He glared and she nodded

“Yeah, course, anything to help” she smiled and Stefan slowly nodded. Something wasn’t right but he knew he shouldn’t ask.

And from there stemmed an odd and twisted friendship.

Damon liked to purposefully annoy Y/n, see what made her angry enough to the point where she would hurt him. He wanted to know why she was so strongly against vampires. He wanted to know where she went when she disappeared.

Because disappearing wasn’t uncommon for Y/n, since those days when she hunted down Klaus Mikaelson. The beast who was supposed to be impossible to find but clearly wasn’t trying very hard to hide. Since then she would disappear for a week every couple of months, release her built up anger and hatred for the supernatural by going to a vampire nest and seeing how many she could take on at a time.

Between stakes, wooden bullets and enchanted blades she did very well.

She would return, any wounds wrapped in bandages and nobody would ask, Elena and Jeremy had come accustomed to it. They would hug her, thank her for coming back in one piece and she would promise to never leave without coming back.

Damon however would dance circles around her: “where were you?” “Why do you smell of blood” “what did you do?”

One day she snapped at him and told him she killing of leeches like him. She proceeded to stake him through the stomach and leave him on floor before going up to bed.

That was how Stefan found out. He witnessed the scene and very cautiously raised his hands in surrender when she stomped past him on the stairs.

Damon and Stefan had many conversations on it but nothing ever came of them.

Actually a sort of alliance was formed between the three, nobody tells Elena or anyone for that matter that Y/n is a vampire hunter and Y/n will help behind the scenes when needed.

It worked well.

When Elena and Caroline were taken by the wolves, Y/n killed more of those dogs than Stefan Damon combined.

When Elena was kidnapped by Rose and Trevor for Elijah, she had seen it happen and tracked them before anyone else realised they were missing. She waited patiently in the shadows for Elijah to arrive. She already knew so much about him and it was a dream of sorts to see him so close. She had the dagger of course but she wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. Looking at the situation, his tone and the look in his eyes, he didn’t seem to carry any untoward intentions with Elena and if Y/n were honest she wanted to take Elijah down to Augustine. She wanted to scan the originals brain, test his blood to see if he were different to the others.

But when Elijah continued to smack Trevors head clean off and grab Elena in a painful hold, she couldn’t just stand by. A stake was thrown strain into the top of his spine, temporarily paralysing the original and causing him to let out a sharp cry of pain and anger. Elena turned to face Y/n in shock, confusion and relief. Damon and Stefan moved as soon as Y/n did and tackled Elijah unto the others presumed him dead. Y/n however collected a small sample of his blood before they left.

She returned home with the others, explaining to Elena the best she could about how she got to be who she was. About their father’s secret vampire hunting job, leaving out the Augustine side to the story as she knew Elena would not approve and Damon, Stefan and Caroline would be appalled.

Everything was different from then, Elena seeked more support in Y/n like she used to do when they were younger and Y/n guarded Elena with her life. Even when Elena was determined to sacrifice herself, hand herself over to Klaus, Y/n was there.

Y/n could feel her heart in her throat when Elijah stood in-front of her, two hearts in his hands from the vampires that were here for the doppelgänger. He gave a her a strange looked, confused as to who she was before he noticed the way Elena hid behind her and Damon grabbed at her wrist. He vanished into thin air and Y/n went on edge.

She slept in Elena’s room or had Elena in her own. She dug back through her original’s knowledge and information, pages and pages worth of history and myths. Sketches of Klaus’s face and the daggers. A small figure, hand carved by Klaus himself and made of white oak which she had stolen and kept hidden away. But then she remembered what she had learnt from the witches she had conversed with.

Killing one original would wipe out every vampire of that sireline.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Kill Klaus and the Salvatores, kill Caroline? Her childhood friend? Destroy her bond with her sister and be left alone?

She hid the white oak away and decided on presenting Damon with the mystical dagger and white oak ash. He immediately took to the idea while Stefan was hesitant but after another week of Elijah proving to be nothing but a threat in their eyes, he found himself as close to death as he could be in the cellar of the Salvatore’s.

But then Klaus showed up, we’ll sort of.

He had taken over Alaric and assumed they would all be too stupid to notice.

But Y/n could sense something. And he didn’t like the way she was looking at him, a calculated and curious look. She knew he couldn’t question her, that would be confirming her theory. So she just waited and watched. Klaus couldn’t help but feel a little nervous when she narrowed her eyes and glanced toward Elena.

When he finally revealed himself and attacked the girls in the school, Y/n was already in the cellar and forcing Elijah up the stairs.

“You’re fucked up brother is here, wake the fuck up” she yelled as his fingers slowly twitched to life. She threw blood bags at him, watching him drain them in seconds through coughing and groaning.

Once he came to he tried to have her by the throat only to be smacked back by the invisible force of the doorway. She held the dagger threateningly at him until he calmed down and took a step back to compose himself.

They grabbed Elena ASAP and got to talking.

It was another couple days before she actually saw Klaus in his true form. Y/n had just stepped into the grill, ready to yell at Damon for force feeding her his blood when she noticed the dirty blonde, blue eyed vampire stood with a glass of scotch in his hand and a cruel smirk on his face. She swiftly weaved her way through the grill and to a booth in the corner to watch the interaction.

Klaus finished threatening Damon, walked all the way to the door and paused. He could feel himself being watched, his head turned in her direction, his eyes locked onto hers and his brows pulled together with a hint of confusion. He watched as Damon noticed Y/n and called her name, drawing her attention and beckoning her over. Klaus left with her on his mind.

She was soon forgotten when he completed his ritual, was faced with his brothers betrayal and then set free.

He then left with Stefan, unaware that Y/n knew exactly where they were all of the time. Following them, tracking them, hunting them.

She watched as they moved from the road to motels, to diners to hotels to dodgy alleyways to drain helpless humans, to houses to slaughter petrified people.

And while they slept she would break into their hotel rooms, seeing how long it would take to wake the beast. She rummaged through his duffle bag of clothes and papers. She flipped through his sketch books, seeing what new things he had added since the last time she looked. She made her own copies of his maps, marking the same places as he had to know where he would be going next to find the werewolves. It was amusing to her that the reason he struggled to find them was because she had helped kill a proportion of them over the past few years.

Klaus could always feel like someone was watching him but he wasn’t sure if it was actually there or just his paranoia so he never thought too much of it. She was always hidden when he looked over his shoulder anyway.

What he didn’t know was that sometimes she would slip a concentrated doses of ketamine into his and Stefan’s drinks when he wasn’t looking to ensure he would sleep through the night. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to have a nightmare.

She had been in Klaus’s room, transferring all the data from his phone over to her laptop so she could track is messaged and phone calls when he began muttering. She ignored him and waited for it to load but he began to get louder so she stood up, a little worried he would wake. But when his breathing turned rapid and his mumbled became cries for help in fear she started to understand. He was in the middle of a nightmare and the ketamine refused to let him wake.

Hesitantly she came over to his sleeping form, placing a hand on his shoulder which his shook off.

“Shhh” she hushed quietly, not wanting anyone else in the motel to wake. “It’s okay” she whispered but he wouldn’t shut up. He just wouldn’t stop screaming, begging for the wolves to let go of someone- Henrik.

Y/n pulled the covers off him, leaving him in only his boxers. His skin was covered in sweat as he struggled against his own mind. She gently rubbed her hands over his chest, trying to soothe him with physical touch. She whispered kind words to him as she smoothed her fingers over his skin to his face, petting him gently and calming him back to a more settled sleep. His face turned to press his cheek into her palm and she sighed, relieved.

Carefully she pulled away and grabbed her laptop which now had all of his information. She placed everything back when she found it and left, locking the door and moving into Stefan’s room.

Klaus could faintly remember the feel of hands on his body, such soft skin on his. He could remember her soothing voice as she told him to breath and relax. He could still feel her fingers in his hair when he closed his eyes.

Stefan almost always knew that Y/n had been there, he could always smell her perfume. Plus sometimes she would leave him little notes to let him know she was with him.

What wasn’t planned was for Klaus to actually find Ray. She was torn between staying with Klaus or following Stefan when Stefan promised to get rid of Damon, who was searching for him as he assumed Y/n was glad to be rid of the two monsters.

Y/n only stayed because Stefan had spotted her in the bar and mouthed for her to stay, that he would be back.

So she stayed and observed. Watched as Klaus threw vervain-dipped-darts into the man’s body with a smirk on his face. It was creatures like him that she reminded her of why she killed. Why she was apart of Augustine.

So she ordered a drink for him, had the waiter tell him a girl had gotten payed for it and watched as he grinned, flattered and looked around for her. He didn’t spot her as she hid herself behind the bar, he shrugged anyways and took the drink in one gulp. His eyes went wide instantly as the liquid quite literally burned through his throat, a mixture of vervain and wolvesbane in his system. He angrily looked around for the culprit but she was out the door in seconds and in her car.

Once he came back outside, Stefan was back and Ray was unconscious.

She followed them to the mountains and followed at a safe distance, stakes and wolvesbane grenades ready. She stayed low and far enough away, occasionally climbing into trees to watch as he snapped each wolves neck.

She watched in boredom as he failed, she already knew why he wasn’t successful. The witches had already told her Esther’s plan. The double curse.

Cruel but necessary.

She watched his tantrum and then she watched as they both dragged themselves back down to the car.

Following them to Chicago was a low point for her. She had dozens of cans of red bulls and protein bars in her car and had been listening to the same list of songs for months. Klaus’s messages were dryer than a dessert and Stefan was losing his spark. He was losing what made him special, the reason she began to trust a vampire. He was proving that all vampires were beasts.

Thankfully for Y/n, she had already met Gloria in the past. So when Y/n came into the bar after Klaus and Stefan had left and explained the situation, Gloria was happy to let Y/n stay with her in the apartment above the bar for a few days. Without Klaus’s knowledge of course.

She was also happy to let Y/n sit and watch the security cameras whilst Klaus and Stefan were downstairs. In return Y/n offered Gloria a favour, whether it be an ingredient to a spell or the death of another supernatural. Either way it didn't bother Y/n, she was just as happy to do either. if anything she craved to kill a vampire, it was her release and this trip was nothing but a bore for her so far.

It became slightly more interesting when Klaus woke his sister; Rebekah. watching them whine at each other was somewhat amusing but it also reminded her of Elena and Jeremy. She had never been away from home for more than two weeks and these past few months had been isolating and lonely.

What definitely sparked her attention however was when they began talking of Elena's necklace. She bit at her finger tips as she watched Stefan's dreadful attempt at behaving oblivious and the way Gloria's eyes darkened when she glanced toward him. y/n knew this would not end well. she was 100% certain that Klaus or Rebekah would figure out what was wrong and so she left with a head start.

She had Damon on the phone in minutes, bag packed and on the road.

"They know Elena's alive and by they i mean Klaus and his wacko sister, that's right another crazy original bloodsucker is coming to town! Get Elena, get Bonnie and get out!" she yelled down the phone as she drove way past the limit.

"woah woah woah, what? Y/n is this a joke? I'm not in town!" Damon whisper shouted back, clearly frustrated

"where the fuck are you?" she borderline growled

"I'm.... I'm with Katherine" he sighed, knowing the pissed off expression she would have on her face in that moment

"Well I'm in traffic! So get home, get Elena back ALIVE and then say goodbye to you dick because I'm gonna chop it off!" she screamed down the phone at him before abruptly ending the call and coming to a standstill as dozens of cars in front of her come to a halt. She clicked the radio on only to be told that a crash had happened a few miles ahead of her. Y/n smacked her head against the horn of her car and groaned loudly.

Klaus must've taken a diversion because she returned late into the night, Stefan was home with zero humanity and an angry blonde bitch. klaus was missing again and Elena was crying in her bed. Y/n laid with her until they both fell asleep.

The next morning Y/n, Elena, Jeremy, Caroline and Damon were piled into the Gilbert's kitchen. They figured out Tyler was sired/Y/n told them that it was obvious. Together they agreed that getting Mikael would be a good idea. Y/n didn't want him to kill Klaus, although it would have probably been the best thing for her. However she did want him to scare Klaus away at least for a while.

The problem was getting Rebekah to agree but Y/n already knew just the secret to spill to get her attention. It was pure luck that the creatures from 'the other side' were able to cross the barrier and that mason revealed the symbols. Y/n decided it would be better if Damon thought that Klaus killing his own mother was discovered by him instead of Y/n. And she thought it would be better if Elena spoke to Rebekah over herself. Y/n didn't really want to form any kind of relationship with the originals if they were going to be here any longer. Especially not Rebekah, she was too girly and obnoxious for Y/n.

So she let the plan fall out. She played her part, even let Caroline dress her up for homecoming just to make her happy. Afterall if Mikael did end up killing Klaus then Caroline would die too and Y/n would rather she went out on a high.

Everything was going fine, she even had a conversation with Mikael himself. He was rather impressed with her actually, he could recognise a vampire hunter within miles.

They then went to the gym, got redirected to the Tyler's, weird but whatever. And then Klaus made his appearance, reclaimed homecoming as a wake and effectively ruined everyone's night.

Y/n tried to cruise through the evening, keeping to herself and drinking shitty punch. She was pretty happy with just waiting until Katherine, posing as Elena pulled Y/n aside and let her in on what she and Stefan were gonna do. Well not everything they would do but that they planned to save Klaus because the hybrids would kill Damon. Y/n reluctantly agreed, much to Katherine's surprise if she were honest but she took the win.

Y/n then returned to the 'part' in annoyance and relief, that familiar confusion settling over her as she grabbed a real drink and stood to the side of the crowds.

Unfortunately for her, Klaus had spotted her and taken her loneliness as an invitation to approach her. and what was even more unfortunate was that Stefan was glaring straight at her, warning her not to fuck this up.

So she looked back to Klaus with an awkward smile. She knew her body was tense and she could feel her fingers twitch with the urge to defend herself. His power radiated like heat. She just knew Augustine would kill to have him in their facilities.

"Y/n, isn't it?" Klaus questioned knowingly.

"mhm" she mumbled, unsure how to behave.

"why are you all alone?" he asked, his eyes flicking up and down the length of her body, lingering on her cleavage without shame.

"I don't like people" she stated simply and he let out a chuckle.

"Ah I understand that" he smiled but she shifted a step away from him which he noticed but didn't comment on though his smile did drop, it was common for people to distance themselves from him. "you know things aren't going to end well tonight" he warned, his voice quiet but clear

"I'm aware" she mumbled, glancing to where Tyler was dragging an annoyed Caroline toward the house

"Then you should really make better decisions about who you side with, sweetheart. You're strong, and smart. I could tell that from the first time seeing you, it didn't take you 5 minutes to figure out that I wasn't Alaric" he murmured to her, his tone changing from threatening to proud though his face remained neutral.

She said nothing in response, she didn't know what he wanted her to do so she just stared back at him, watching his jaw clench and unclench as he watched and waited for her to come to some sort of answer. He knew that realistically he wouldn't received one but he hoped that she would be intelligent enough to at least take his words into consideration. Klaus liked her, he liked that she was observant and that she had the common sense that everyone else in the town didn't have, to stay out the way. If he were honest, he would have liked her to have been on his 'team', he imagined that she probably had a lot of untold knowledge just waiting to be put to use.

If he only knew the half of it.

Klaus was too buried in his thoughts to notice how Y/n's eyes focused on someone behind him, Damon, who mouthed that he needed 10 minutes before Mikael to get there and that Klaus needed to be occupied.

Y/n could have smacked him when she gave him a look as if to ask what to do and he acted out a dance scene. Her eyes flicked between Klaus and past his shoulder, and then just as Klaus let out a sigh and took a step back she cleared her throat and mentally stabbed herself

"Dance with me?" she offered, her hand very unwillingly lifting out for him to take. His brows shot up but he accepted with little hesitation.

She bit at her own tongue to keep her expressions at bay. Almost everything in her wanted to shove him off, stab him, stake him, behead him. She could feel the vervain syringe she had brought with her in the hidden pockets of her dress, she so desperately wanted to weaken him, kill him.

But no, instead she had a half vampire/half werewolf with his hand on her waist and the other holding her own. His werewolf side made his touch warm, almost like a human's. Slowly her hand went to his shoulder, lightly touching the expensive material of his suit jacket.

Her eyes found his awaiting blue ones, she didn't like how they seemed so deep, they reminded her of Damons. They were those obvious blue eyes, they could be beautiful some of the time and terrifying other times. They were the sort of eyes you could fall into, the kind you could swim in, the ones you would lose yourself in and never find a way out.

It was for that reason that she looked away from them and instead glanced around, taking in the music and the people. There were so many people, it didn't take a genius to guess that most of them were with Klaus, hybrids. She hoped this would be the last time she would touch him, be this close to him but deep down she knew better.

She could feel him pull her a little closer so that his cologne engulfed her, the scent was rich and her inhale for a second too long. She could sense Klaus's smirk in response but refused to acknowledge it. Hopefully someone would come get him soon.

Until then, however, she was to stay in the arms of the beast.

He wirled and twirled her around, doing whatever he could to entice a smile or a laugh from her. Klaus knew many dances from over the centuries, some slow and some fast. Some much more erotic than others and he took great pleasure and amusement in changing between them until a melodic laugh was buzzing through the air. His arms held her close as he brought them low and high, round and round. He spun her one last time before dipping her. Her breathing calmed and her laughs faded as she because aware of how his body pressed to hers, how his arms supported her and how close his face was to hers. The warm air from his mouth fanned over her face and the words she needed to say got trapped in her throat.

Thankfully a women cleared her throat which gained Klaus's attention.

"What is it, I'm busy?" he huffed as he lifted Y/n to stand by herself. He frowned when her touch left him and she moved away, a look of self disgust scrunching up her pretty face.

"Someone's here for you... he says his names Mikael" She told him, unbothered by his angry tone.

His demeanour changed in a second . That familiar coldness returning, it reminded Y/n of the vampires she'd seen with no humanity though it was a little different. She wasn't sure what was different about it but something was.

Either way she didn't like it.

And so by the time Klaus had turned around to apologise to Y/n for the interruption, she was out of sight. He sighed and shook his head before going to end his father.

Y/n proceeded to go sit in Katherine's car, turning the engine on and the radio as she waited for the inside to heat up. She was patiently waiting for the doppelgänger and Stefan to arrive and as soon as they were in the car, her foot was down and they were speeding into the night.

Ripper Stefan and Katherine Pierce were the two worst vampires for Y/n to be around. She wanted them dead, they deserved to die. She wished Klaus had died to his sireline went too. She really did...until she remembered that Elena would be broken. Family would always be more important than anything else.

So when Katherine and Stefan started talking about a way to get revenge on Klaus, she left. She went home and to bed so that she wasn't on 'the wrong side'.

Y/n didn't want to be on any of their sides. She didn't want to be in support of any supernaturals.

Which is why she hated to admit that she had some sort of weird friendship to Damon Salvatore who had been relentlessly teasing her on what he witnessed at the homecoming.

"Oh you should have seen them Elena, for a moment it was like I was in Spain watching salsa dancing and the next I was back in the 1800s" He laughed and Y/n lobbed a dart at him

"You wanted him distracted" she grumbled and he grinned while Elena rolled her eyes

"There's distracting and there's seducing" Damon chuckled

"Hey! He started the whole-"

"The whole what love?" Klaus's voice sounded from behind the trio. It was cold and sharp like the icy wind of the winter. He didn't appreciate being played with let alone mocked, especially when she had asked him too dance. Whether it were apart of a plan or not, she could have done something else for his attention. Throwing a drink on his would have taken him a good few minutes to rage about before changing his outfit but she chose a dance.

"Nothing" she answered, standing and walking away from them all, over to the farthest point of the bar so that she couldn't here what they were saying. 'No involvement' she would warm herself.

She knew they were talking about Stefan from the defensive stances the pair were taking but she didn't want to know why, not even for a second.

And she hoped and hoped that Klaus would just leave after his little threats but of course he had to hover.

A drink was placed infront of her and a hand spun her round on the bar stool forcing her to face the beast once again. "Afternoon sweetheart, lovely to see you again after our little moment. You could even call it a date" the sarcasm was clear but the words alone made her nose wrinkle up.

"I'd prefer you didn't" she mumbled and he hummed

"well I'd prefer a lot of things so I suppose we're all unhappy. Now, where's Stefan hm? I know you had something to do with last night, I witnessed you talking suspiciously quietly with Katerina." He placed a threatening hand on her upper arm and both Damon and Elena stood from their places, worry on their faces as they saw a darkness swirl inside Y/n's eyes. "Where is Stefan, and where had he put my family?"

Y/n let out a laugh, she couldn't help it.

"He took the originals?" she questioned, covering her mouth as hiccups of laughter threatened to escape. Damon headed over fast, muttering to Elena to get it the car. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and let out a nervous chuckle, looking to Y/n with wide eyes but she couldn't stop giggling.

"She's just...going through something right now" He smiled fakely and pulled her out of her seat, holding his own hand over her mouth making her shove him off out of reflex, her voice aggressive as she began to yell

"Get the fuck off you filthy-" she cut herself off when she noticed multiple people staring at her with surprised expressions. Damon simply chuckled and grabbed her elbow, pulling her toward the door

"don't hit me" he whispered quietly as he pushed her through the door and toward the car.

Klaus watched the two in confusion and interest. He certainly hadn't expected her to switch up so fast and he definitely wanted to know what the end of her insult was supposed to be.

His curiosity grew when he went to the Salvatore's to try and see if maybe Stefan was there only to find Damon and Y/n with a supernatural board, pictures and names written with strings running from the to different information.

"God if you and your fucked up brother just pissed off instead of following Elena around like the hungry mosquitoes you are then everything would be sunshine and daisies" Y/n complained and Damon rolled his eyes as he linked Stefan to the originals via some red wool.

"What and you would have carried on hunting and slaughtering vampires while Jeremy, Elena and Jenna would obliviously move on with their lives and eventually Elena would have settled down with good ol' Matt Donovon?" he mocked and Klaus's brows furrowed.

"Sounds better than my life right now" she mumbled and Damon rolled his eyes

"Surely this is every crazy vampire hunters dream?" he questioned "cmon think about it, you're surrounded by the oldest vampires, a famous ripper, hybrids and best of all...you got me?" he grinned and she groaned, dropping onto the couch.

"I know and it just makes me feel murderous all the time" she whined "and gross and contaminated" she gagged and he dramatically huffed.

"Come on, you can attack me" he offered with a playful glint and she let out a mocking 'ha ha'. "hey no come on, how about you get to stab me a few times and I get a shot of your blood?"

"Damon?"

"yes?"

"I would rather rip my own heart out then let a soulless , leech anywhere near my blood" she sneered and he laughed with a clap.

"How did it take me so long to realise you undying hatred for what was it?-my kind?" he raised his brows and she glared at him

"These past few months have done nothing but confirm my every belief. You and everyone like you are monsters" she whispered, enjoying how his expression faltered "unsavable, unloveable-"

"shut up" he uttered, veins appearing under his eyes making her lips curve up

"see? you can't even control yourself"

"says the girl who nearly lost it in the middle of the grill" he quipped before walking out and leaving her alone.

Klaus's mind was spinning with new knowledge. It made sense to him but he still wasn't exactly expecting it. Either way, he would find a way to put this to his advantage.

(Okay I'm going to make this part one and then from here Klaus and Y/n will have more time together and start to fall for one-another. I know this is a little different to my usual stories as I never usually give so much build up/back story but I had a lot of ideas and wanted to share those with you. So thanks for reading and I hope you loo forward to the next part/parts)

[lokh]

demon kyojuro!

in this au he survives mugen train and goes thru a lil corruption arc that starts with senjuro getting killed by humans (sorry senjuro!) and ends with kyojuro becoming disillusioned with the corps and possibly killing senjuro’s murderers. he still doesnt get turned willingly (also not by akaza) and in fact forgets everything except how much he hates akaza (as a human had come to resent him) and having a weird obsession with killing ‘strong’ people/demons (his need to protect the weak → need to stop the strong). i promise it still ends up being renkaza somehow ahgdfgvnfhd

design notes and extended

the first scene that the first image is based on reminded me of kabuki with how theatrical the pose seemed… and it turns out that kyojuro likes watching noh and kabuki (based on fanbook one)! so the makeup is very much based on sugiguma design, which is supposed to represent a hero with great strength but also anger. it is also consciously meant to reflect akazas markings, which also seem to resemble the villainous kugeare kabuki design…?

it being only a ‘mask’ reflects the idea of his playing a role (doing what you ‘should’ do, putting on a brave face) and the whole theatricality aspect… but that his face is ‘painted’ that way beneath an actual mask kind of shows who he Really is?

beneath the hannya mask, representing a demon consumed by anger and revenge, he’s still a ‘hero’ at heart

colors are intended to oppose the demon slayer uniform

fading to black → ash, burnt, but also literally ‘dirtying your hands’

the horns are just there to look cool LMAO but I guess also reflects the very real belief he might hold/have held before being turned that he had done something unforgivably wrong

as you can tell from the drawings he Does eventually start to remember things and stops akaza from offing himself because how in the world is that fair when he has to live with himself?? but he also probably has it in his head that once he helps defeat muzan as a demon hes gonna walk himself into the sun as penance and not take the cure. maybe we have a fun lil role reversal and akaza is the one to convince him to live as a human. i have not thought this far tbh