#ESTHER'S NAME WAS SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD ALSO BE

[seerterror]

CHEFSALTBAKER WASN'T A TAKEN GOATLING NAME????

#radley rambles #ESTHER'S NAME WAS SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD ALSO BE #YAYYYYY

[treasureplcnet]

btw i love revenge stories i dont think anyone should ever move on peacefully. a bit obsessed with the way weissman went to the synagogue and rabbi and asks, "my choices killed a child. would god take mercy on someone like me?" and the rabbi says "it's not god's mercy you should look for. its the child's" and like you think that would spur this man into charitable activities and to maybe look out for orphans but instead he goes on a 24 hour revenge bender that ultimately ends in two revenge killings and his own death. what's better than righteous anger and wrath and love twisting someone into the worst but also a truer version of themselves <3

#like im not even reaching here. (sort of am. whatever) #rabbi goldstein essentially goes 'think of esther. you need to be a man she would take mercy on. be someone she can forgive' #and it takes all of 10 minutes for karl weissman to decide yeah ok what i need is double homicide #do i think esther would have wanted revenge in her name. dunno. maybe. #she is 11 and very much the victim of this story. maybe she would have wanted karl to just live. kids are cruel and kind in that way #but to be fair this is esther 'fuck with me and you'll hang like a dog' jankovsky #so im willing to believe she was rooting for him #also the immediate choice to make elias suffer by shooting his leg (? maybe arm) before actually killing him #i dont know. the deliberate cruelty right after he visits the synagogue. an act of defiance. giving himself up after its done. it gets me #i love . I LOVE REVENGE :) GREATEST PLOT POINT EVER!!!!!!!! #sorry everyone about the bodies thoughts. i have no idea how long this is going to last #bodies netflix #karl weissman

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Clark Gable (Gone With the Wind, It Happened One Night)—There's no proof that Clark Gable stripping in It Happened One Night caused the sale of undershirts to take a nosedive, but there's also no proof that it didn't do that. And either way, him saucily undressing for bed in front of a woman who was married—not to him—is too deliciously scandalous to ignore. He deserves votes for this scene if nothing else. He got an Academy Award for this movie! He could play comedy just as well as drama, he earned medals for his bravery as a bomber gunner in WW2, he competed in car races, he has a great mustache and perfect eyebrows for sexy smirking, he's just HOT.

Sidney Poitier (Lilies of the Field, To Sir With Love)—an unbelievably beautiful man, a complete class act. Something about his eyes breaks my heart every time.

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Clark Gable propaganda:

"Listen, he was "the King of Hollywood" for a reason and a suave motherfucker. Also a Major in the air force during WWII!"

"So Clark Gable was the king of Hollywood for a reason but honestly what makes him hot to me is his relationship with his wife Carole Lombard like if she loved him so she can't be wrong. Their relationship is so tragic like they met first when they filmed No Man of Her Own in 1932 and like there was nothing between them then but in 1936 they met again at a Hollywood party and this time things were different. Basically from that moment on they were inseparable and had to carry out their romance in secret until his divorce was finalized (he was separated when they met again at the party) and then they eloped in 1939 when he had a break during filming Gone With The Wind. They had a 20 acre farm together with horses, cows and chickens and they loved to do all those outdoorsy activities together. When they were apart for various work obligations they would send each other goofy gag gifts. In 1942 Carole was on a trip to sell war defense bonds when on the flight back home her plane crashed in the mountains of Nevada. Her death devastated Gable he flew to Nevada and demanded he be taken to the spot where the plane crashed despite the dangers posed by its location. Amongst the wreckage they found a hair clip he had given her for Christmas. Her death forever changed him he became more reckless and signed up for the US Army Air Corps in 1942 and he kept her bedroom unchanged in their home. He never stopped loving her when he died in 1960 he was buried next to her. I know Clark wasn't a perfect person and their is some speculation that she was racing home on that plane to him because she was worried that he was having an affair or something but relationships are complicated especially ones occurring in 1930s and 1940e Hollywood amongst two of the biggest starts at the time. (I just wanted to include this so ya know I'm not just looking at their relationship as all sunshine but like you can't deny the love they shared)

"They had an ineffable quality in romance, the ability to have fun together... they were soulmates who thought life was delicious, and they made everyone's life delicious around them" -Esther Williams

"GWtW is an epic stretching across years so Clark has a chance to show off a whole bunch of different sides, from Hot Outsider to Husband to Father and so on. But his most attractive is his final line of the movie, made only better by the story that he lobbied the Film Industry to ‘Let Rhett Curse!’ And who is more classic 30s Hollywood than this man?"

"Also apparently his name was Billy Gable then Glark Gable before finally landing on Clark Gable. A fact that I cant forget now glark gable lives in my mind now"

Sidney Poitier propaganda:

#sidney poitier #clark gable #hotvintagepoll #round 3 #fuck that old man!!! #i'd like to present the hottest man of all time: glark

[jeeaark]

in a timeline where the illithid invasion never happen, a world where the absolute never existed, what would greygold's life be like? or maybe even lae'zel's? a world where they stumble upon each other without all the destruction around them.

The funny thing is.

Without squids trying to ruin their life, Greygold would have never discovered the power of friendship

Worse even, they'd still be a dispassionate lone ranger with questionable bird ethics surviving the wilderness and living off raw eggs like a weirdo.

Meanwhile, Lae'zel is still a Vlaakith devotee and if they stumble upon each other without a plot to drive them to work together and get to know each other... Bad things would happen! Someone would probably die. Most likely Greygold. But! Lets say. A plot did happen.

Buckle up buckaroos. This train thought went off the rails enough that I had to draw pics. Faster than writing out a 13k+ fic (for me anyway).

Let's say Greygold got the 'steal the githyanki egg ' job from Esther. Let's say they succeeded in sneaking in and out without too much of a fuss (mostly involving cat familiar distractions). And something Unfortunate happens before Greygold could complete the quest, leaving Greygold with an egg that eventually hatches:

And the githyanki child is not your average run-of-the-mill space lad either (Who loves eating raw eggs now too. It's fine. Builds character. Probably) But uh yeah, that whoosh accidentally cosmos-signaled all the githyankis and Vlaakith to which she reacts with a 'Wtf? Did anybody just get Prince of the Comet vibes from that? With a "I love egg" aftertaste? No? Just me? Hrm.... I do currently have a lot of free time on my hands....Fetch me that child. I want to study him like a bug. I'm suddenly feeling... Creatively ambitious with a side case of nefarious today. Might bury an old big secret if that kid is replacement-viable.' Thus search patrols investigate-

And never return.

After the first surprise patrol disaster, Greygold has been putting their danger ranger skills to good use via setting up counter-ambushes for all the constant surprise attacks. Classic "who is hunting who?" ordeal.

Nonetheless, there is more of them than there is of Greygold, so they resort to hiding in the Underdark after realizing the githyankis don't have dark vision and it's more environmentally dangerous than the surface. It is also a fun learning experience for the kid. Search patrols continue to never return. Until-

Lae'zel can't help but notice her mission orders do not add up and her rationality has a mighty need to make sense of it before solving problems with immediate hostility. Meanwhile this has been Greygold's first super tiny dose of kindness involving people interactions in years. Instant crush. Chase Shenanigans Ensue. Until child makes their first hunting trap. Instead of catching food, Lae'zel is captured. It also turns out the over-the-top trap involves sinking sand and a nest of Ankhegs (giant burrowing man-eating bugs). Greygold tries to help Lae'zel. For Reasons.

Something akin to mutual respect is formed. Stuck working together. Get to know each other. Discuss contradictions with mission. Verdigris worms his way into Lae'zel's heart (as much as she loathes his name). Escape the Ankheg nest which had terribly escalated because a giant fire ant invasion decided to overrun the ankheg nest at the same time.

Everyone is covered in bug guts after this.

Something something bond over experience enough to trust and listen to each other's opinions. Short Rest. Negotiate. Discuss plans to investigate Da Truth together. Shenanigans Ensue. Then Bad Shenanigans Ensue. Argument Ensues, resulting in Lae'zel Splitting Off. Verdigris disagrees with this approach and chases Lae'zel in order to bring back. Unanticipated Ambush happens at most inopportune moment. Greygold is Captured.

But they escape. Not before confronting Vlaakith's projection and discovering her plans and secrets thanks to one extremely curious Verdigrisgold (Verdi for short omg so long) with ridiculous super psionic powers.

And then they coincidentally interwovenly meet/save/recruit their bg3 companions anyway because there are no mindflayer abduction to stall certain ill-fated situations from happening to certain Companions-to-be and I need for them to be OKAY. So. Greygold discovers the power of friendship again. But is also now co-parenting a fate-of-the-githyanki-freedom child with Ex-Vlaakith-devotee Lae'zel. How's that for an AU timeline?

#What the hell do I even tag this as #bg3 spoilers #I GUESS ??????? #lae'zel #Greygold #Bg3 AU #The only reason Greygold even knows that what Verdigris is is because of their craftsman background. #Originally was GreenGold. But. Easy Weed Joke. #Somehow. The Emperor is also involved -Somehow- #I am now suddenly realizing that I accidentally made up a mandalorian AU.... HRM. Still a fun thought.

[irb-pascalito-99]

I Can Keep a Secret

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (no outbreak AU)

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: insecurity, jealousy, smut, p in v sex, oral f!receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, grief

Summary: The relationship between Joel and Ellie’s older sister is complicated after the two share some tense moments while Ellie is in the hospital. Once Ellie is able to go home the two meet up during their lunch break to discuss where to go from here.

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter eleven on my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing check out my a03.

We eat lunch at a diner nearby. The waitress, a tall woman named Esther with thick brown hair and bright blue eyes, comes by the table frequently. She does her best to flirt with Joel, batting her eyelashes and holding his arm as she refills his coffee cup each time she passes by. I fight the urge to say something, a pit of jealousy growing in my stomach each time she reaches out to grab his arm, but Joel doesn’t seem to notice her attention.

She comes by the table again to top off his cup. I watch her manicured hand grip his bicep as she asks if he needs anything else. He looks over at me, raising his eyebrows to ask if I need anything. When I shake my head he briefly thanks her for the coffee and turns his attention back to me.

“So, sounds like you had a long morning. Is it just about Ellie going back to school?” I take a bite of one of my fries.

“For the most part,” I respond. “I also had this meeting with the social worker this morning so…”

Joel nods, giving me space to continue if I want to but not pushing the conversation in any way. I know I should be opening up more. I’m trying not to fall back into my usual isolation, but I keep the wall there. It’s comfortable on the other side, safe.

He notes my apprehension toward continuing the conversation, so he moves on. I watch him rub the back of his neck again. It must be a nervous habit of his.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about the other night,” Joel says.

I take another bite of a fry, fighting the blush creeping up my neck as the memory resurfaces. My body feels hot as I think about it. His hands on my hips. His moans in my ear.

“I just wanted to clear the air a little. It feels like things have been a little tense lately, with the kiss and then the moment at the party. I know you’ve had a lot going on, and I don’t want to pressure you or anything,” He says his words slowly, as if examining each one before he says it.

Esther watched us from the counter, her eyes skipping from him to me. I feel angry watching her assess the situation, like she’s trying to make a claim to something that’s mine. Except, Joel isn’t mine.

I try to ignore Esther and focus on Joel when he continues. “I completely get it, if it was a heat of the moment, just want to feel something, kind of thing. We can just leave it at that and never talk about it again, but I want to know what it is for you.”

What is it for me, the big question. I knew I’d have to define it soon. It’s been keeping me up at night. I think about it while I paint. Every stroke of brown reminds me of his eyes. The golden light filtering through tree lines reminds me of the warmth of his arms around mine.

“I don’t think,” I try to formulate my thoughts. I like him. I know I do, but I have baggage that he shouldn’t have to deal with no matter how much he claims he can handle it. “It wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing. I mean, the moment gave me the courage to act, but I meant it. I wouldn’t take it back. I think I really like you.”

A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. My heart leaps at the gesture. “Me too.”

I bite my lip and push some of the fries back and forth on my plate. He wants me too. My stomach is doing somersaults. I nearly jump up to yell my triumph across the room at Esther, but I think back to Ellie and the promise I made to Marlene.

Jumping into a relationship right now, with Ellie’s best friend’s dad, would put everything I’m working toward in jeopardy. What if something went wrong and it caused issues between Sarah and Ellie? What if Ellie found out and hated me for it? As much as I like Joel I can’t afford any mistakes right now.

“I can’t give you what you deserve though. I can’t give you the whole relationship thing. I have to be careful though,” I blurt out. Joel places his mug back on the table. “In that meeting with the social worker, she said some things. I really like you, but Ellie comes first. Ellie always has to come first.”

“I understand that, I’m the same with Sarah.” Joel responds. He reaches his hands across the table and I take it in mine. “I’ll take you in whatever way I can have you.”

My heart sinks at his concession. It’s sweet, and every girl’s dream, but I don’t feel deserving of it. Why should he be relegated to stolen moments behind closed doors? It’s selfish to ask that of him.

Just then Esther crosses back over to our table. I pull my hand back from Joel’s grasp as she approaches. She grabs his bicep again and I got my teeth.

“Everything alright over here, sugar?” She asks Joel, completely ignoring me.

He flits his eyes up to her face and smiles back at her politely. Blood rushes through my ears as I watch her grip on his arm tighten. Screw it, I’ll be selfish. I grab Joel’s hand again and turn my attention to Esther.

“I think we’re good, thank you.” I respond with my best fake smile. Esther’s eyes move back to me and then my hand holding Joel’s.

“Alrighty then,” she says. She lets go of his arm and sulks away.

—

I rush to unlock the door the second Joel texts me to tell me he arrived. Sure enough, he’s standing on the front porch, the glow of the porch light illuminating the waves in his messy brown hair.

We’ve kept things quiet over the last couple days, being careful not to act any different around other people. It seems best to keep things secret for now. We’re not in a relationship, it’s more casual than anything. I’ve waited all week to get my hands on him. There was no good way to sneak in a visit during the school week, but the girls are having a sleepover at my house tonight. I texted him when they finally fell asleep and he came over immediately.

I look at the empty street around him and then grab a hold of the collar of his shirt and pull him into the house. He grips my hips for support as he follows me inside, smiling against my lips when he leans down to kiss me. I’m careful to close the door and lock it as quietly as I can to ensure the girls stay asleep in Ellie’s room upstairs.

There’s an excited energy coursing through me. I’m not sure whether it stems from the newness of this thing with Joel, the building pressure off barely having seen him sided we agreed to see what this is, or the rush of sneaking him around like a secret to be preserved just for me. Whatever it is, my body aches to feel him, to hold him, to be felt by him.

“Somebody’s excited,” Joel chuckles as he pulls my body closer to his. He kisses me again, deeper this time while he holds my hips against his.

“I need you,” I respond when we break away from each other. Joel squeezes my hips tighter, a low moan escaping his chest.

“Say it again,” Joel pleads.

“I need you, now Joel.” I say again. He whimpers at the sound of it. We don’t have a lot of time together tonight. He still has to head home when we’re done so the girls don’t get suspicious, and I can’t wait any longer. I press a quick peck to his lips and then take his hand to drag him up the stairs.

He quickly follows at my heels. I take him to my bedroom and push him back toward my bed. He topples onto the mattress, his hands gripping the sheets at his sides as I climb on top of him. I press my knees on either side of his thighs and lean down to press delicate kisses along the column of his neck.

“Fuck baby, what’re you-“ he gasps when my hands reach down to his belt buckle.

His body is already twitching under my grasp while I slowly undo his belt and throw it behind me on the floor. I lower his jeans next. His hands move from where they had been grasping the sheets to squeeze the sides of my thighs. I make quick work of his shirt next, pulling the buttons open and kissing down his exposed chest.

I press kisses all the way down his body, nipping and licking at the skin from time to time as well. When I reach the waistband of his underwear I press a kiss to his hip and slowly pull the boxers down his thighs as he throws his head back and groans.

His cock springs out at me, hard as a rock already. I’ve felt how large Joel was through his jeans before, when he pressed me down on his lap to grind against him until I came, but to see it is a completely different thing. Joel is huge, his cock easily bigger than any I’ve ever seen before let alone been with. The tip is already leaking a bead of pre-cum which I happily lick into my mouth.

His hips twitch as my lips press against his tip and he makes a quiet hissing sound through his teeth. I take his reaction as encouragement to continue, licking a delicate stripe up the side of his shaft. His hands tangle in my hair as he desperately fights to keep his moans quiet. I take more of him in my mouth and start bobbing my head up and down.

“Yes baby, god,” Joel groans. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.”

I hum appreciatively at his praise, causing his hold body to shiver and his hips to buckn further into my mouth. I choke slightly at first, but quickly adjust to take more of him down my throat.

He’s having a hard time suppressing his noises now. One of his hands adjusts in my hair to hold it in a makeshift ponytail while the other moves to his mouth. He bites down on his hand to muffle his sounds as he watches me through heavy eyes. I pull up for a moment, swirling my tongue around the tip before sinking my mouth back down again.

“Fuuuuccckk,” he moans around his hand. He starts to thrust his hips up, unable to hold back any longer. I welcome his length deeper into my mouth, the tip of his chock brushing against the back of my throat with each thrust. I continue to moan while my eyes water.

I haven’t always enjoyed this part, many of my boyfriends before were so rough with it, and quick to move on once they got what they wanted, but the sight of Joel coming further and further undone as I take him in my mouth makes me clench my thighs to ease the pressure at my core. I could do this all night, enjoying the feeling of him taking what he wants, but suddenly he pulls me off of him.

“Stop, stop,” he says exasperated. He breath comes out in pants while his cock twitches against his stomach.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” I ask. Joel leans down and uses his thumb to wipe my cheeks off the tears that escaped while he fucked my throat.

“No baby, that was so good, but if you didn’t stop I was gonna come.” I stick out my bottom lip and pout.

“Isn’t that the point?” I ask. I reach my hand out to start pumping him again, but he grabs my wrist.

“Not before you it isn’t. I gotta be inside you tonight.” I whimper and he pulls me onto the bed.

Joel adjusts our positions so I’m splayed out on the bed with my head on the pillows. He slowly pulls my old t-shirt over my head, revealing my naked breasts. He groans at the sight of them and quickly lick over one of my nipples. My back arches into him involuntarily. It’s my turn now to muffle my sounds as he sucks on my nipple, releasing it with a pop before moving on to the next one.

When he’s satisfied he lowers his lips to nip at the underside of my boob and moves his hands down to push my sweatpants off and onto the floor. He traces his fingers over the center of my soaked panties.

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart,” he says. He moves his lips up to suck on my neck while he moves his fingers in circles over my panties. “She really been needing me that bad?”

I whimper in response, nodding my head in desperation as I squirm underneath him. He flashes a devilish grin.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” He promises.

His fingers grip the waistband of my panties and he quickly pulls them off my body as well, leaving me completely bare in front of him. He stands over me, eyes roaming over my figure hungrily.

I move to cover myself, but Joel grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand. His other hand slowly caresses my body while I whimper.

“Don’t you dare cover yourself, you’re too damn gorgeous for that.” He says as his hand moves lower.

He cups my mound and smiles when I buck my hips up for more. He carefully slips one of his fingers through my folds, watching my reaction as I squirm underneath him. I fight to keep my eyes on his face and spread my legs further for him.

His thumb reaches down to gently start making circles on my clit. I throw my head back, panting with my eyes squeezed shut. My back arches and Joel uses one of his hands to pin my hips down.

He slides further down the bed and slips two fingers inside me while his thumb continues to circle my clit. I moan quietly at the new feeling. His fingers are thick. It burns softly as my body stretches to welcome him further, but it’s not enough. I need all of him.

“C’mon baby. C’mon, give it to me.” He says, sending a shock through my whole body as his fingers start to thrust into me harder and faster.

I can feel my climax building. His fingers hurt a spot inside me that causes me to see stars. I bite my lip so hard that I can taste blood. The hands on my hip grips me tighter to keep my ass against the mattress. I climb higher and higher until I break.

I whimper Joel’s name as I come, his eyes never leaving my face while he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of my throbbing pussy. When my orgasm finishes he stops for a brief moment to wrap his arms around my thighs. He pulls his mouth to my core, his breath fanning over my sensitive pussy before he begins licking through my folds.

I thrash underneath him, still sensitive from my orgasm, while he holds me still with his hands on my thighs. He sucks on my clit and then releases it with a pop.

“Knew you’d taste so good,” he groans. He kisses my thigh and immediately goes back to my core.

He thrusts his tongue inside me, swirling his tongue around then going back to sucking on my clit. My fingers card into his hair. One of his hands lets go of my thigh to bring his fingers back to my pussy. I pull on his curls as he slides three fingers inside, immediately finding the spot that makes my toes curl.

He smiles and hums against my clit as my pussy clenches around his fingers. I can already feel my next orgasm building.

“Joel, fuck. Joel.” I chant his name as I feel the edge approach. He moves his fingers faster, his tongue moving in quick motions over my clit as well. When my second orgasm washes over me I rush to cover my mouth to muffle my screams.

He continues lapping my juices as I come down, twitching from the sensitivity. When he’s satisfied he moves back up the bed to my lips and kisses me again. His beard is slick with me and I can taste myself in his tongue.

“You ready for me baby?” He asks when he finally manages to pull his lips off mine. I nod, quickly grabbing a condom out of the nightstand drawer and handing it to him. I need him.

Joel tears the foil open and rolls the condom down his length. Then he reaches down and rubs his cock through my folds. I gasp, tilting my hips against him. He smiles as he rubs the tip against my clit. He notches himself at my entrance and I whimper.

“Please, Joel, I can't wait any longer. I need you, plea-“ he slowly begins to sink into me. “Joel!”

I moan loudly as his cock stretches me open. He moves a hand up to my mouth to stifle my moans, grunting himself as he bottoms out. He is so deep inside me. I’m not sure if I’ve been with anyone as big as Joel before. He pauses once his hips are flush with mine. He reaches down as kisses me as my pussy throbs around him, and then he slowly pulls out almost completely. The breath is forced out of my lungs when he slams back into me.

He sets a steady pace, his cock hitting my g-spot with each thrust. I can already feel the next orgasm building as I focus on his grunts. So good. So good.

Joel moves his thumb down to my clit again. He moves it in small circles as he thrusts into me. My nails rake down his back, sure to leave marks behind, but it just stirs him on.

“That’s it baby, fuck! You gonna come again? You gonna come on my cock?” He asks. I’m dangling over the edge again. I moan out as he thrusts harder.

“Yes Joel, fuck. You feel so good. So fucking good inside me. Fuck! I’m going to come. I’m going to come again.”

My pussy clenches and then I let go, Joel moving his head to bite into my shoulder to keep himself from shouting out while I clench around him. When my orgasm subsides Joel pulls all the way out and flips me around on the bed.

“Hands and knees sweetheart,” he directs. I do as he says, spreading my knees apart for him. He groans as he looks at my glistening folds and then quickly pushes himself back inside me. “Fuck, you’re so good baby. Feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock like that.”

He wraps my hair around his fist and pounds into me hard. Each thrust has his hips slamming into my ass. I’m starting to feel weak after my three orgasms, shaking slightly as my hands try to keep my upper body off the mattress.

A familiar tightening begins in my core. I didn’t know it was possible to orgasm this much in one night, but my next one starts building again. Joel is close too, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he moans more. He leans down to press his chest against my back while continuing his thrusts.

“One more sweet girl,” he whispers in my ear. “Been doing so good for me. Give me one more and then I’ll let go.”

I whimper as I get closer, my fists baking the sheets up tightly as he continues to slam his hips into me. He moves his chest off my back and pulls my hair again which immediately sends me over the edge. My arms collapse and I cry out as the pleasure takes over.

“Good girl, fuck, perfect. You’re perfect.” Joel grunts. He slams his hips into mine once, twice, and then he spills into the condom.

He groans as he lets go, one hand gripping my hips tightly while the other stays tangled in my hair. His body twitches against mine for a couple of minutes until he pulls out, tying the condom and throwing it away. I stay laying on the bed while he slips his boxers on and sneaks across the hall to the bathroom. When he comes back he has a warm washcloth. He gently cleans between my thighs and puts the cloth in the laundry bin before returning to bed.

I immediately wrap a leg around him and put my head on his chest while he lies down. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around me to pull me close.

“If you want to keep this secret I can’t stay all night,” Joel whispers into my hair.

“I know, just a little longer.” I respond. He kisses the top of my head and we rest, listening to the soft sounds of each other's breath until I hear Joel drift into sleep.

—

I watch the clock with bleary eyes as Joel’s chest rises and lowers under my head. He can’t stay all night, despite how much I want him to, so I stay awake.

I memorize the feeling of his hand on my hip, and the rush waving through my hair with each exhale. I draw patterns on his bare chest with my fingertips, lingering on the raised scar tissue in places. I trace the outlines of his sleeping face in my mind, so tranquil. His usual worry lines fade slightly. They’re still pressed into his skin, inevitably they’ll become wrinkles some day, but they’re faint now.

At 5:30 I wake him up. I say his name softly and press gentle kisses to his skin. He stirs slowly underneath me and blinks while he tries to assess his surroundings. His arms instinctively pull me closer to him, causing my body to melt into his.

“They’ll be up in a couple hours, you gotta go,” Joel groans. He buries his face in my hair. I find myself debating if it really would be that bad if they found out. For all we know Sarah and Ellie could love the idea, but now is probably not the time to test that theory.

He presses a kiss to my forehead before he pulls away and sits up. He stretches out his body, grunting at the effort. I slide off the bed and grab his flannel from the floor. Joel watches me put it on with a big smile on his face.

“What?” I ask, blushing. His eyes moved slowly from his oversized flannel hanging on my shoulders to my bare legs underneath.

“Nothin’” he responds, the twang in his voice more evident when combined with the deep tone of his morning voice. “You just look beautiful is all.”

He slips on his boxers and jeans then pulls his socks and shoes back on as well. Before he walks down the hallway I peek into Ellie’s room. Both her and Sarah are still fast asleep, their heads pressed together as they share Ellie’s bed.

Joel looks in on them over my shoulder and then I quietly close the bedroom door. I hold his hand as I sneak him across the hallway and down the stairs. I feel like a teenager again, sneaking my boyfriend down the stairs before my parents can notice.

He lingers at the front door, gripping my jaw and pulling me in for another kiss. His other hand grips my hip over the top of his flannel and pulls me close to him. I tangle my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

When we separate he kisses my forehead one more time and walks out the door. I stay on the doorstep and watch his truck pull away, Joel stopping to wave at me before he makes his way out of the neighborhood.

I try to get some sleep afterward, but I end up just tossing and turning in bed while smiling like an idiot. I look at the click on my nightstand and decide I probably still have a bit of time before Ellie wakes up. I take a deep breath of Joel’s scent in the flannel, taking it off to change into my painting clothes.

I check Ellie’s bedroom door one more time before I slip into our parents’ room. The floor crinkles when I step onto the paper I placed on the hardwood in order to protect it from any paint splatter. I pick up supplies and start a new canvas, absentmindedly stroking my brush across the empty space.

I mix different shades of pink, purple, and blue to create a sunrise, but each color also morphs into the shape of him. The dark brown mountain tops shift into the waves of his hair. The golden peach color of the sky adding highlights to his skin. I lose track of everything but the details of the paint until I hear the sound of a knock at the bedroom door. Shit.

I shift the painting out of view from the door and put my supplies back on the dresser. Ellie is standing at the door when I open it. She looks at me confused before she peers into the room behind me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. I try to leave the room and close the door, but Ellie grabs it from me and opens it wider.

“What are you?” I stand aside so she can see I haven’t moved any of the furniture. She pinches her eyebrows together and looks at the canvases I have laying around the space.

“Nothing, I’ve just been getting back into painting again and I needed some space,” Ellie walks inside while I stand in the hallway. “I know I should’ve told you first. This was their room and it was off limits. If you’re not comfortable with it I can totally move my stuff out.”

Ellie makes her way around the room, looking at the different paintings I have leaning against the walls. It’s not a large collection, but I’ve managed to get a couple done over the last week. She stops in front of the first painting I completed.

It’s a meadow. Wildflowers bloom in the foreground while two girls play in the distance behind them with the evening sun setting under the mountains. Ellie leans in closer to see the faces of the girls, recognizing them as her and I.

“These are really good,” Ellie says with a smile on her face.

I look at the paintings as well. I don’t like to brag, but I truly do feel like this is some of the best work I’ve ever done. I can visibly see the emotion on every canvas. Each piece tells a story. I’ve painted great art before, but there’s a level of vulnerability to these pieces I’ve never attempted before.

“Thank you,” I respond.

I watch Ellie run her hand across the dresser next. She walks to mom’s closet and holds One of her shirts in her hands as it hangs off the hanger.

“She would’ve loved that you’re painting in here.” Ellie says with her back to me.

Ellie walks back to the painting of her and I. I move to be next to her, both of us focused on the painting. The version of us on the canvas are the girls who don’t yet know tragedy. They dance in a meadow of wildflowers with nothing holding them back. They are girls, they are sisters, they are free to live and love without limits.

“I think it’s okay. This space was meant to be lived in.” Ellie says. I bite my lip and nod. “They’re not coming back.”

Ellie turns to me, my eyes watering a bit as I fight tears. I can’t tell if it was a question, or a statement, but she doesn’t wait for my response.

“It’s time for us to move on I think.” She says. A couple of her own tears slip from her eyes. I reach over and wrap her in a hug. She squeezes me tight as she hugs me back.

“When did you get to be so smart?” I laugh, tears escaping my eyes as well. Ellie’s bedroom door opens and Sarah makes her way across the hall.

Ellie and I both let go, quickly drying our eyes before Sarah can notice. She looks at the art around the room as well.

“Wow, this is so cool! You painted all these?” Sarah asks.

She looks at the one I was just working on. I hold in my breath, hoping she doesn’t notice the similarity to her father. She doesn’t mention anything.

“Yeah, I’ve been getting back into it.” I respond. She moves over to the painting where Ellie and I stand.

“You’re really good.” I thank her. It’s actually kind of exciting to see their reactions to my paintings. It feels as though I’ve regained a piece of me.

The girls look at the different paintings, commenting on the colors I used and debating on what is happening in each one. They both ask me if I can show them how to paint which I happily agree to, it’ll be nice to share something with them the way our mom shared it with me.

When the girls are done assessing my work we go downstairs for breakfast. The girls hurry downstairs to start pulling out the ingredients for blueberry pancakes. I open the bedroom curtains before I go, letting the sunlight enter the room one more. When I leave the room, I keep the door open.

To read more visit a03.

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou hbo #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #sweet joel #a03 fic #read on a03 #a03 link #tlou #joel tlou #ellie tlou #tlou no outbreak

[butterflywithsass]

Watched Dead Boy Detectives last night and I’m obsessed. If you like the queerness of good omens, but with more gore, and in the same universe as the Sandman (death and despair both show up) if you like dark academia gay boys, if you like ghosts, or paranormal stuff, or demons, if you like cats — lemme tell you this show is for you.

So, like, there’s these two ghost boys who are best friends but also gay for each other but also a secret third thing and their names are Edwin and Charles.

Edwin Payne was a demonic sacrifice in 1916 and as spend literal decades in hell but escaped. He’s a repressed Victorian gay who has zero charisma but every single man he meets becomes obsessed with him and wants to sleep with him except the boy he actually likes which is his best friend Charles. His entire character arc is about gay panic and getting over his internalized homophobia — he wears bow ties!!!! He doesn’t know what a hand job is. He’s literally the perfect tumblr blorbo. His superpower is getting tortured. He’s so sassy! His sexual awakening comes at the hands of a cat king and his first kiss is with a crow.

Charles died in like the 90s or something I’m not sure. He’s so optimistic and sunshine but also so full of rage. He’s the most supportive guy 100/10 would trust him with anything. He doesn’t like to talk about his issues. When confronted with the inexorable monsters of hell he solved the problem with a Molotov cocktail. I love him and his single earring he’s a golden retriever who would rather stay on earth with best friend than move on to a peaceful afterlife. His jawline is impeccable he can’t not press a big red button when he sees it.

Crystal Palace I wasn’t sold on because I thought she’d get between my boys but she actually so cool and I developed a bit of a crush let’s be honest I have a thing for curly haired witchy girls, she’s a physic with amnesia and a demon stalker ex boyfriend people stare at her when she hangs out with the boys cause it looks like she’s talking to herself. Everyone she knows thinks she’s insane. She’s a reformed mean girl.

Niko Sisaki I was a little iffy about because it felt like they were gonna go with the bimbo anime Asian girl but turns out she just had a parasite that made pink hearts float around her. She’s so weird she tries to help Edwin with his gay problem by introducing him to explicit gay fan fiction, she tries to get her landlord to date, she likes cool rocks. She has two tiny people trapped in a jar in her room. Her friendship with Edwin is everything. She’s ghosting her mom.

Jenny. I love her so much, she feels so safe which is weird because she chops meat and all her clothes are covered in blood. Everything about just screams big sister and her character arc is learning to embrace that. She goes on one date and almost gets murdered.

Monty. He’s literally a crow turned into a boy. He’s down bad for Edwin. He’s a secret honeypot agent for an evil witch. He has the most adorable smile, the whole time I was expecting him to be an agent of Morpheus. He’s obsessed with astrology.

The Night nurse originally annoyed me a bit (in a good way) I just wanted to get rid of her. When Charles punted her into a giant sea monster I clapped. Then it just got weird and I love it.

The cat king. He’s such a creep, but honestly, I love that for him. He has some of the best lines and he just exudes cat. He’s a classic fairy tale trickster, he a nuisance for the whole season, he’s central to the plot, he’s constantly hitting on Edwin.

Esther. She’s a archetypal evil witch. She gives off mystic trash vibes. She’s obsessed with beauty and revenge. She’s shamelessly horrible. She feeds kids to her giant snake. She literally can’t die.

All in all, I think I’m gonna have brain rot over this for the next year, go and watch it.

#neil gaiman #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #charles rowland #gay men #slaps Edwin “this bad boy can fit so much suffering #why are my fictional crushes always repressed Victorian boys who are too gay to ever look at me?

[skayafair]

Ghost Clothes

There were many enough posts on how deliberately and meticulously the costume designers approached the wardrobe choices for the characters.

What I want to talk about is a different thing - how clothes matter inside the show. Namely, the ghost clothes.

It's less prominent with Charles, so I'll mostly talk about Edwin.

Let's start with the fact that none of their clothing exists in a living world. It's not physical, otherwise people would have seen a pair of costumes flying around like with that jar. So I believe their clothes is being deliberately manifested.

Like I said, it's simpler with Charles: his clothing doesn't change much in general and remains mostly as what he was wearing when he died (he took off some because it was cold and soaked through but it still imprinted on his memory and mind). It's mostly just the colour of his polo that changes to reflect his emotional state.

But that's how I came to this whole train of thought because with Edwin it's much more interesting.

Because he doesn't wear what he died in. I'm not even sure it's his school uniform. Sure it has indications of "this is a young man and a student" but all in all doesn't look like a uniform to me. So Edwin chooses it very, very deliberately.

I wonder if he stumbled out of Hell wearing just the same night pajamas he had on when he was sacrificed - maybe just cleaner because it wasn't dirty or bloody back then and that's how he should have remembered it. Or maybe it remained dirty and bloody because Edwin didn't remember much of his life before Hell at that point, all the horrors being too fresh in his mind.

This look is defenseless. It's meant to be worn while asleep - the most vulnerable time. Edwin wore it when he was the most helpless and powerless - while being dragged from the bed and sacrificed. It's also a reminder of his time of torture in hell. It's also plain white - colour of purity - as a sacrifice - but also death. And, moreover, it's PLAIN. It has no distinguishing features. There's no Edwin in it, Edwin is being erased with all the torture. Lastly, this is something - just another thing - Edwin had no control over in Hell, it stayed there by default.

So I BET the first thing he did after pulling his thoughts together in living world was to change that fucking nightwear into something that was him. As an act of regaining himself and control over what was going on with his existence.

After he found out he could do that and how, of course. I wonder if he met other ghosts or just ended up back in school and stayed there for a while.

So no wonder Edwin is so thorough with what he wears. This is him - his armor, yes, but also undeniably and glaringly HIM. His existence, his way of it, his freedom and will, his choice.

Of course it reflects his attitude and relationship with others. With Charles Edwin has no issue with shrugging off both the jacket and the vest, leaving only the shirt - and even it has its sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned when he's ears deep in some research or problem-solving mode. Edwin is this comfortable with Charles, we all know that.

With Crystal it's always a full buttoned-up mode or I didn't make a mental note if it was otherwise some time. Hit me up if it was!

With Niko it's mostly a jacket off - which is a considerable step towards trust and comfort.

Anyway, these are little details.

And now imagine ending up back in Hell, but also back in that nightwear. Stripped off everything he was trying so hard to keep. A similar thing happens when he's taken by Esther. No freedom, no choice, no will of his own, no Edwin. Just a soul, a toy, an energy source.

The costume Edwin picked for himself as more or less default one comes back immediately once he and Charles stumble back into the living world. Notice this - he was wearing a different attire when he was dragged to hell.

Edwin regains everything - himself, his freedom, his connections.

Also I'm not sure how to interpret the gesture, but once the Night Nurse's boss proclaims that DBDA can exist as is further and they are let off the hook (although not off the leash), Edwin pats his jacket from top to bottom. I thought it might have been connected to his notebook and episode 4, but it also may be just that - "I'm still here, in one piece, and still me". His clothes is a proof of his freedom of will.

Lastly, there was another case apart from the main two when this is reflected. The girl who took her life because of two jocks - her ghost was wearing a sport suit. At first I couldn't understand why, it was clearly not what she died in (or, well, unlikely). But sport has been the most important thing in her life - her goal, her pride. No wonder that's what she chose to appear in.

UPD. Oh I've just remembered about the Cat King, another example of a character who goes through a variety of costumes. If my pov on Edwin's approach to clothing is correct, his words to the CK in the 8th episode make so much more sense. They really are alike - not just in loneliness.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #I'm also a control freak because ADHD autism (very likely) and anxiety #so the topic of agency freedom and control is deeply personal to me; I'm fiercely protective of these #so yeah I FELT that aspect of Edwin's character #the creators just went and made up the most relatable character ever huh

[starrypawz]

AO3 What can I say I had an idea

On the shore of The Dreaming he senses something that ebbs and flows with the tide.

Whatever that something is very…

Small

Tired

With a broken heart… 

But the heart still beats strong. 

Curious. 

Gently he reaches out and

A crow? Most curious.

The crow, more than a little bedraggled, tilts their head as they stand.

“Caw?” (weakly) 

“Easy now,” 

Caw…. Caw?... Caw!  (Slightly panicked)

“No you are not, much longer though and you likely would have met my sister,”

Caw!! (Profanity) 

Caw (Apologetic) 

“That’s an… understandable reaction… although I will say she is actually… very nice.” 

Caw? 

“I am known by many names but… Often I am known as Dream,” 

“Caw!” (Introductory) Dream gives a faint smile, “I am aware,it is a  pleasure to meet you Monty the Crow” 

He regards the Crow who has just informed him that he is known as Monty (although he knew that already)  some more and then asks.

“What was your aim?” 

“Caw,” “London?” 

“Caw,” and then “Caw?”

“Unfortunately you didn’t get very far,” 

“Caw,” (Dejected) 

“Agreed, that was a rather foolish idea,” Dream tilts his head, “I must ask why did you undertake this fool’s errand?” 

“Caw?”

“I… can only sense fragments, you are rather weak right now,” 

“Caw,” (Panicked)

“Do not worry, you are safe here,” “Caw,” (Grateful) 

Dream pauses.

“So Monty the Crow what was the goal of your fool’s errand?”

“Caw?” 

“I only sensed fragments, you are… rather weak right now,”

“Caw,”

“You are safe here,”

“Caw,” (Grateful) 

Monty pauses and the way his feathers ruffle translates as a sigh before he takes a couple of hops that translate somehow as ‘pacing around whilst trying to get your thoughts together’

“Caw…” Another hop, “Caw… Caw…. Caw,”  Another hop, “Caw” (Dejected) 

“That… that is a rather noble cause,” Dream reaches out and then pauses, “May I?”

Monty nods. 

Dream lightly scratches him on the head, feather soft under his fingers and Dream feels a soft rush of affection run through him as Monty leans into his touch and ruffles his feathers and gives the faintest hint of a smile. 

“I… I sense you have not been treated kindly,” He offers his hand and Monty struggles to hop up. 

“Let me,” He soothes as he carefully guides him into his hand and lifts Monty closer to his face.

“I am sorry that has happened to you,” Dream stiffens, “Who… Who did this?” 

“Caw,” “A witch?” He pauses and… feels, “One named Esther Finch, I know of her and… I can sense she has met her long overdue fate,”

“Caw,”

“Maybe that offers you some comfort?” Monty moves his wings in a way that somehow reads as a shrug.

“I… I know what it is like, to be trapped,” Dream sighs, “Taken by someone who seeks power they do not deserve.. Let alone understand.” 

Monty tilts his head again.

“Tell me Monty, Tell me your story,”

“Caw-” 

“I am fond of long tales…” Dream smiles, “And we have all the time in the world whilst you are here,”

Monty ruffles his feathers and then 

“Caw-” 

And then after some time. 

“That is… quite the tale.” 

“Caw?” 

“Yes… now what,” Dream sighs, “I think I can aid you?”

“Caw?”

“Do not worry, I would not pull you into such a bargain, I would also not expect you to serve a new master so soon after gaining your freedom,” 

“Caw?”

“So…The Witch Esther Finch turned you into a human, tell me Monty do you wish to be back in that form?”

“Caw… Caw…” He pauses, “Caw?”

“I see… Understandable you do not want to be bound to one form… even if you found thumbs incredibly useful,” He gives an amused snort and gently scratches Monty on the head, “I believe… I believe I know someone who can aid you,” 

“Caw?”

“No he is not a witch… although I guess he is bewitching in his own way,” “Caw!” (Teasing) Dream swallows, “I am… incredibly fond of him.” Dream pauses, “You… you remind me of him, he is… an incredibly kind soul, eternally joyful,” He smiles, “Even if he is a little foolish at times, His name is Robert Gadling although he prefers to go by Hob, ” Dream pauses, “So Monty The Crow if you agree, once you awake you will find yourself in London,” 

“Very well them,” Dream pulls him against his chest, “Now rest,” 

Monty rests.

Hob awakes to early morning light through the window and realises he forgot to shut the curtains again as he winces  whilst in the background he can hear the ever present drone of the traffic of 21st century London. He finds his laptop in the bed and connects dots he was planning to grade just a couple of more papers last night, but judging from the Turnitin page that greets him when he wakes up the laptop that he’d fallen asleep about a quarter into grading the first one.

Later… later. Deal with that later.  At least two cups of coffee later. 

He’s just about to pass through to the kitchen when he notices something at the living room window.

Matthew? 

No that’s not Matthew.

Wait… that’s not a raven anyway, the beak’s the wrong shape and they’re too small that’s a… 

Crow. 

Oh. 

There hadn’t been A Visit last night (It’s actually been a while but not quite long enough that Hob is worried) but Hob had in that point where reality is a little… loose between waking and sleeping had heard a whisper. It’d been somewhat cryptic (He didn’t expect anything less) but the pieces start to slot together. 

Hob shakes his head with an affectionate snort as he lifts the sash window. It’s thankfully a warm morning. 

The crow tilts their head at him. 

“Well… come on in?” 

Hob takes a step back and watches as the crow hops through the opened window, carefully he shuts it behind them. 

There’s a pause for a moment before they hop from the windowsill and then

Falll  to the ground. 

Hob is caught off guard for a second before there’s a ruffle of feathers and then. 

Ah

So that’s why there’d been something about ‘spare clothes’ that’d sounded rather out of place coming from Dream. 

Hob now looks at the dark haired teenager who had been a crow moments ago who sits on the sofa. The borrowed t-shirt and shorts hang loose on him in a way that looks more ‘Handmedowns from an older sibling’ than ‘fashionably baggy’ 

The teenager looks up at him through curtain bangs with dark eyes that are bright and… oddly captivating.

Just like someone else I know. 

“So… Monty, right?”

Monty nods. 

“Dream?” They say, voice still croaky, “Sent me to you… somehow? Said you could help me?” 

“Hopefully?” Hob clears his throat, “So… are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” 

Breakfast. Right. That’s at least a problem he can fix. 

“Ok,” Hob smiles, and hopes it looks less nervous than he feels. “I’ll go make us something and you can tell me all about… whatever’s going on,”

“Sounds great!,” Monty’s voice is bright, almost a little too bright for this time in the morning and gives him probably the softest smile he’s ever seen before Hob turns into the kitchen. 

What the hell have you gotten me into this time?

#starry writes stuff #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dead boy detectives #monty the crow #monty dead boy detectives #dbd monty #dreamling

[vikkirosko]

Hi, I was wondering, if your requests are open and this was ok with you. Can I ask for, what would it be like for Slasher characters Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Norman Bates, Chucky, Stu Macher, and Billy Loomis were dating female s/o that was like Esther from the movie Orphan. How would they feel about having a dwarf girlfriend that was a killer? What would the relationship be like? I hope I didn't overdo this request. If you're not interested in doing this delete this.😁✌🔪

So. Regarding the characters. Until recently, I didn't know who Norman Bates was, and I didn't plan to write about him. However, now I have watched the first movie, I plan to watch the rest and the Bates Motel series (as it turned out, an actor who I like plays there). I liked Norman and I plan to write about him not only this request, but also something else. However, I can't say that about Chucky. I am not interested in this character at the moment and therefore the part with him is missing here

Headcanons Orphan

🔪 Michael Myers x fem!Reader 🎃

You and Michael met at the sanitarium. He didn't think much of you at first. You were brought there when he was a teenager and he didn't pay attention to a girl younger than him. Other people didn't interest him much, and he rarely paid attention to them, including you, until one day he saw you with blood on your hands. You killed an orderly who often mocked you and you clearly did not regret what you had done

He overheard the doctors discussing you and was genuinely surprised when he found out that you were a couple of years older than Michael. Because of a congenital disease, you stopped growing and looked so young and you took advantage of it. It intrigued him and pretty soon you started noticing that he was looking at you. He saw that you did not give up trying to escape and used a variety of methods for this

You ran away a few months before him and he doubted that you would ever meet, but he was wrong. When he snuck into one of the houses and killed a married couple who lived there, he heard your voice. When he turned around, he saw you with discontent on your face. Even though you didn't know about it, he was pleased that you met again. You were deprived of a foster family in which you planned to stay longer, so you decided to go with Michael and, if possible, get as much benefit as possible. Next to him, you were sure that you were safe

It was difficult to characterize the relationship between you in any way. Both of you didn't have a proper understanding of romantic relationships, but you stayed close and protected each other. You were physically weaker than Michael, but no one expected you to attack them and you took advantage of it. You were the perfect murderous duo and you were both sure that it wasn't the only thing that could connect you

🪓 Jason Voorhees x fem!Reader 🏕

When Jason first saw you, he was surprised. He thought you were a kid who got lost and ended up in an abandoned camp, but your clothes were different from the usual ones. It was more like a hospital gown. He came closer while you were hiding in one of the cabins, and only then was he convinced that it really was a hospital shirt and saw that there was blood on you, although he doubted that you were injured. When he saw a crashed psychiatric clinic car and several dead orderlies in the woods, he realized what had happened to you

He came to you the same night and was surprised when you were not sleeping but sitting holding a scalpel in your hands. You were ready to defend yourself, even though Jason was much bigger. However, he didn't feel any negativity towards you. Jason raised his hands to show that he wasn't going to hurt you. Only after that did you calm down a little. He even treated you to dried meat and brought you clothes from the bag of one of the tourists he killed. It was only when you cleaned yourself up that you quietly thanked him and told him about your name, that you were supposed to be transferred to another psychiatric clinic, and also that you and Jason were the same age, but you looked younger and were much shorter due to a congenital disease

You stayed to live in one of the huts and Jason often came to you. He cared about you and he was sure his mom would approve of it. When there were new tourists who decided to relax by the lake, Jason saw how you killed several of them at night. One of them, a big guy, tried to grab you, but Jason wouldn't let him do it, killing him. You weren't afraid of killing, you were a murderer yourself, and as a sign of gratitude for your help, you kissed Jason on the cheek, which caused him to blush on his cheeks

Jason often stayed by your side. He would put you on his shoulder without any problems and carry you with him. You killed people together, even though you were motivated by different motives. There was a warm relationship between you. You took care of each other and helped each other. Apart from each other, you had no one and your life in the forest suited you both

👻 Billy Loomis x fem!Reader 📞

You and Billy knew each other because of his father. He was friends with a married couple who adopted you and at first he was sure that you were just an orphan girl with oddities. He was sure of it until your foster father was killed. Everyone claimed it was the same killer who was operating in their city, but Billy knew it wasn't him, because neither he nor Stu did it. That's when he started to get suspicious about you

His theory was confirmed when he snuck into the house where you and your foster mother stayed to live. He intended to just watch and maybe find out more about you, but he saw how you stabbed your foster mother. You grumbled obscenities and even cut yourself on purpose to deflect suspicion from yourself. Billy couldn't help but chuckle and you quickly turned to him. You understood that he saw everything and he understood that you were not who you seemed, so he set you a condition. He won't reveal your secret if you honestly tell him who you are

He listened to your story with genuine surprise. You turned out to be a couple of years older than him, and you spent several years of your life in a psychiatric clinic. Because of your congenital disease, you looked younger than your age and took advantage of it. Billy was intrigued by you. Looking at you, smeared in someone else's blood, who shamelessly deceived and killed, he realized that he could not let you go so easily. Especially considering that you also weren't going to let go of the person who found out your secret

His father temporarily took you under his care, and Billy, in front of others, played the role of a caring older brother who sincerely empathized with your loss. However, in fact, he let you get very close to him. You quickly guessed who exactly he was and now you had a common secret. You were both murderers and this secret seemed to bring you closer together

👻 Stu Macher x fem!Reader 🔫

You and Stu have known each other since your first day in town. You were adopted by a couple who were friends with his parents. He heard that they couldn't have their own children, so you became an important family member for them. Several times they came to their house for dinner and Stu tried to communicate with you many times. He was amused to watch you, a girl who behaved not like a child, but like an adult. It seemed funny to him. When your foster parents needed to leave town, they asked Stu's parents to look after you. However, he found out about it only at night, when he returned home covered in blood, confident that everyone was asleep

He climbed into his room through the window and planned to go to the bathroom, but in the hallway he bumped into you. You looked at him with absolute calm, as if there was blood on him. However, he caught sight of a scar. There was a scar on your neck, as if from some kind of belt, usually it was hidden by the collar of your dress, but now you, apparently, did not expect to run into someone. Before he could say anything, you grabbed his arm and dragged him into his room. Despite your calm expression, he noticed a mocking twinkle in your eyes

He expected to hear words of concern, but instead he heard discontent that if he really decided to play the killer, he should at least come home clean and not attract too much attention. Stu was surprised by this, and also by the fact that according to you, you had much more experience in this than he did. During your late-night conversation, he found out that everything he knew about you was a lie, your name, your age and your story. You were a few years older than him, you spent part of your life in a psychiatric clinic and you kill people. You didn't hide that you were planning to kill your foster parents, but now you had a more interesting task. You wanted to see if you could make a real serial killer out of Stu, since he's already started killing people

Stu didn't tell Billy about you, realizing that he could be against it or use you in his plan. When you and Stu were alone, you didn't hide your true identity and he liked you much more like that. He hoped that he could get to know you even better and when his and Billy's plan came to life, you could become a part of their company and his life

🔑 Norman Bates x fem!Reader 🔪

You met Norman when you and your foster mother arrived at the motel. You looked like a young girl in a dress with a high collar and long sleeves. Your mother checked you in and Norman had a little chat with her. She did not hide from him that you are her adopted daughter and that you plan to move to the nearest city after her husband disappeared. Norman was smiling at you in a friendly way, but your face remained calm. He assumed that the reason for this was an emotional shock. Your foster mother rented two rooms, one for herself and one for you

You were quiet and didn't cause any problems, unlike your mother. Norman's mother was angry and she didn't like her, so she got rid of her. When Norman regained consciousness, he hurried to hide the traces of blood and figure out how to explain to you that your mother had abandoned you, as he heard your calm voice. You told him that you were grateful that he helped you. Turning around, he saw you, with a slight smile on his lips. You went up to him and kissed him on the cheek as a sign of gratitude and calmly began to help him get rid of you by your foster mother, as if her death had absolutely no meaning for you

When he asked you how you could stay so calm, you told him that you originally planned to kill her, just like you killed her husband, and a large number of people before them. You told him that you were about the same age as him, that you looked so young because of your illness and that you spent a long time in a bad place where they hurt you, claiming that they wanted to cure you. He understood what place you were talking about. He was surprised that you were the same age as him, but looking at you, looking at you and knowing that you were being harmed, he wanted to protect you. He suggested that you stay at the motel at least for a while, mentally deciding to try to convince his mother to let you stay with them as long as possible

Despite the fact that you looked quite young, you really were an adult woman. Pretty quickly, for the rare visitors to the motel, you were his little sister, a sweet girl who helped him look after the motel and your sick mother. However, in fact, you were much closer to him. You were the only woman his mother was willing to accept and who was willing to accept him and his mother. Maybe you've finally found the family that really would finally be yours

#Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Slashers headcanons #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x Reader #Jason Voorhees #Jason Voorhees x Reader #Norman Bates #Norman Bates x Reader #Stu Macher #Stu Macher x Reader #Billy Loomis #Billy Loomis x Reader #scream #Halloween #friday the 13th #Psycho

[birdbrainedboy]

I’m obsessed with this show and fear a hyperfixation anyways here are my thoughts on every character in the show

Edwin Paine: forever my favorite, even back before the show when I read the comics! I think it’s funny that basically every man in the show wants him? I’m intrigued by his character arc throughout the story regarding his sexuality as despite dying in 1916, he seems to have had time to slowly become more accepting of gay people (I’m guessing in part due to Charles, who is pansexual), to the point where there’s only mild internalized homophobia if at all, which just exhibits itself in him denying any possible feelings for Monty. I love how face-value and logical he is while still being a sweetheart

Charles Rowland: he has a pan flag pin on his jacket which confuses me bc can ghosts only wear clothes they would’ve worn when they were alive, or how do ghost clothes work? Because he died in 1989 and I’m near positive he didn’t wear that pin back there. Anyways I do love him but I wonder about some design choices, like the one earring (not sure why it just kinda annoys me). That was more a rant abt his design than his character, which I have nothing notable to say abt since I LOVE HIM he’s so real

Crystal Palace: sometimes she was a bit annoying the way she was trying way too hard to pry into everyone’s lives, but honestly that was just momentary annoyance since nothing could make me hate her. I love how her past was slowly revealed (as someone who already knew it from the comics) and how she came to terms with the person she used to be vs the person she is now. She’s so cool!

David the demon: honestly kind of caught me off guard at first bc the person I’m dating is named David but I actually enjoyed his character. LOVED when Crystal dealt with him in the end. He was very interesting

Niko Sasaki: I love Niko, but I have some problems with her character. First of all, I feel like ditsy anime-loving cutesy Asian girl with dyed hair is a weirdly common trope? But whatever my main issue is that it feels like characters who normalize the fetishization of gay men are so common. Like if Niko had been a guy obsessed with lesbian manga evb would be weirded out, so why is it different? If we ignore all of this tho I absolutely adore her and I’m actually praying she’s in the next season bc she was one of my favorites (esp her relationship w Edwin)

Jenny: She is so hot and cool and funny I’m in love with her

Esther: oh my god words cannot come close to describing how much I love her character. She felt powerless and weak in the past and now she’s become obsessed with making sure nobody has that power over her ever again. She was so fun and I loved her attitude! I’m sure she won’t show up next season, as she was the main antagonist of s1, and while I love her, I kind of hope she doesn’t since I think her arc was finished.

Monty: His personality was like 2020 “soft boy” who acts nice and dumb but is lowkey a manipulator. So obviously this kind of made me like ☠️ bc why is he acting like that… but I still love him to bits because he’s just a crow guys he didn’t ask to be human,, Anyways yeah his personality annoys me but also I love him so much so? It’s confusing. ITS COMPLICATED. I will cry if he’s not in s2

Kingham and Litty: I honestly thought they were annoying but I can’t lie they were so fucking funny. Every time they were on screen I laughed.

Cat King: oh my god. He is so camp. I love him. There’s honestly not much to say he is simply iconic. Love how he’s afraid to be alone so chases after other people, he’s so real AGHH I love him

Night Nurse: Ruth Connell the woman you are… 😍 she reminds me of Muriel from Good Omens, in a way, and I love her! I really hope we get to see more of her in relation to the guy in the fish, and see her get to better understand human emotions and why they choose to cling onto the human world rather than pass on!

#dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #crystal palace surname von hoverkraft #crystal palace #niko sasaki #david the demon #neil gaiman #esther #monty crow #cat king #night nurse #good omens

[dovrt]

Rosekiller one shot

Tw: death

Barty goes to war, he doesn't have the money nor the influence like Evan does to avoid it forever. He has to.

He goes kicking and screaming and fighting the whole way but he has to go.

When they were younger, not yet directly touched by the conflicts between countries , Barty told Evan about his fear, his only fear . Death.

He never understood his father's points about fighting for honror or dying for their country. He was a child and like a child, he was scared of dying. What would come after it? How would hsi loved ones react? What would he leave behind? Why would any higher power take young lives anyway?

Questions plagued him and Evan didnt have the answers to any.

And now hes in an active war zone, death at his doorstep.

Honestly, Barty doesn't give a shit about either country, doesnt give a shit about his fellow soldiers or his fathers orders to make him porud.

He'd much rather be next to Evan, with the boy's hand in his hair. Evan would drag his fingers across Barty's skin in a manner he deemed utterly sinful.

Even now if he closed his eyes he could pretend the taller boy was in front of him.

Evan was older, although just by a few months. He was all wide shoulders, lazy grins and shy smiles. And his hands, arguably Bartys favourite part of him. They could caress and hold, they could mend and take care but they could also wield an axe and a gun, they could make Bartys mind forget everything and anything, dragging low groans from his throat. They could make him whine and beg, they could steady him or bruise him.

Its these things he thought of late at night under the cover of darkness. Evan.

Just the man, just the name.

Somehow it was always Evan he thought of when things got difficult.

Barty writes to him, for his own sanity. The longer he stays there, the more he loses it.

War is no place for him. Its too bloody, too noisy, too scary. He wants Evan.

He wants to be held, strong arms pulling him close. He wants to be safe. He wants to laugh at Evan's stupid jokes. He wants to kiss Evan, to touch him, to hear his voice.

His body and heart aches with longing.

He doesn't care for the other soldiers who laugh too loud and never sound like Evan. They're terrified of him, of the way he takes life after life in the warzone.

But violence was never his first choice, it was love.

So he writes and he writes and he writes. He never had a liking for literature like his friend Regulus, but he manages fine.

"My only solace is that you're untocuhed by Bellona, by the bloodshed of Mars" He writes. "Although, darling, you'd look divine covered in crimson"

Fuck he loves Evan. And he misses him so much his bones echo with desire.

"I think of you everyday, sunrise to sunset and take a break for dusk, only for you to be in my dreams"

He addresses them to E, his E. Thats all his fellow soldiers know Evan as. "That crazy one's darling E"

Barty hears them wondering about E's name, about how someone could have won Barty's cold heart.

Eloise, perhaps? or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan.

Evan Rosier.

They wouldn't suggest a man's name.

Its a cruel, cruel world they live in, and Barty has never liked it. But Evan always managed to drag out the optimist in him, the mischief and sarcasm he thought he left in his childhood.

"Most of all, its boring, my darling" he writes, "So fucking boring. We barely fight and when we do, we win. Mostly. You'd call me a narcissist and egotistical, but I know my worth. The rest of these soldiers don't know their left from their right"

He tells Evan everything, even if he doesn't always get letters back. Mail gets lost on the way a lot. Sometimes Barty gets upset when Evan doesnt respond only to descover the ship went down. Sometimes Evan writes strong words about scaring him because Barty never replied to his letter, and Barty sends back a response about how he never got it in the first place.

"Really hope the ship doesnt go down again. Such a nuisance, catching you up on everything again" He scribbles down, imagining the expression on his lover's face when he reads it.

War is brutal and unyielding. It stretches on forever. Barty doesn't see himself getting out of it, not now, not ever. But he doesn't tell Evan that.

"We'll go watch a movie when I'm back" he makes false promises, "and kiss in the rain, your lip between my teeth. Just the way you like it. I'll kiss you in front of my father, I dont care"

War is brutal. it takes and it takes and it takes. Are there really winners and losers when the only ones losing seem to be the soldiers that lose their lives?

"My dearest E, I miss you like the sea misses the earth. The water shaking with anticipation in clouds, desperate to return to the ground as rain"

Barty is going to die, he knows it.

There's only way out of this war and its by taking Thanatos' hand.

"Regulus sent me a summary of his reading again" Barty writes, "Some old man a hundred years ago wrote about a man and a woman in love and somehow Regulus made it my problem. Try to punch some sense into him. But don't tell him I might be hooked onto what happens next. Its a guilty pleasure"

Barty doesn't have many guilty pleasures.

You could argue Evan was one of them, but he's not. Barty has never once been guilty about loving Evan, never.

"Regulus wrote to me, telling me Melpomene is the muse of tragedy" Barty could have been jealous of his friends, the ones who didn't have to come to war, didn't have everything stripped from them. But he's glad he's the one suffering because that means Evan doesn't have to and Regulus can keep reading his little stories. He'd die in war a thousand times over if his friends stayed safe. "Melpomene must have gotten quite the story from us"

Evan fills him in on gossip, Dorcas in love with someone, Pandora and her new inventions, Barty wishes he could be there for it all.

Evan can't draw for shit, but his stick figures could rival Michaelangelo for all Barty cares.

Evan, Evan, Evan, Evan. Its all he thinks about, like a broken record spinning and repeating the name. Evan.

He's so much more than a lover. He's a part of Barty. He's seen the good bad and the ugly. He's stuck around for it all.

"Im angry most of the time" He scribbles one night, shaking from barely contained fury after a mission gone wrong. "Angry because my father is the biggest piece of shit to ever grace the earth. Angry because I want you I need you in my hand, in my arms, in my bed bext to me. I'm angry because the world was never kind to us. I'm angry because I wish I could kiss you now. I would. I'd kiss you in front of the world, grab you by the jaw and not let go. I want to taste you, I want you to linger on my tongue, to ruin my life. I'm angry because..." because I'm scared.

Barty never lets anyone see the letters Evan sends, scowling at anyone who ever tries to peek. He's got quite the reputation now. He'd cut off a finger or two before he let anyone have a taste of Evan's words. They're for him. Just for him.

"Come back" Evan writes, "Come back or I'll publish your writing for the world. Let everyone see how embarrassingly in love you are. Regulus alone would have a field day with the poem you once attempted"

Barty laughs because he can't help it. Its so on brand for Evan to threaten him with that.

"My writing is scacred, how dare you?" He writes back. "Maybe that would help the world understand us, though. Maybe one day there would be a world free of war and hate. And just us, together, kissing in front of my father as I flip him off"

"You'd look sharp in a suit on our wedding day" Evan writes back. "I'd love to see you in it. I'd love to take it off"

Fuck.

"Darling, I'd wear a wedding dress if you wanted. I'd do anything for you (and if it pissed my father off)" Barty scrawls with a rare smile on his face.

The last letter Evan Rosier ever got from Barty Crouch Jr was about wearing a dress to their hypothetical wedding.

Decades in the future, when they're all well and gone, buried so they're only dust and bones, their letters are found again.

Love letters from wars always fill people with a sad and romantic feeling. They always remind people that love is eternal, the only constant in the world of destruction and tragedy. No matter how it ended, at least the love was there.

Historians scratch their heads over who the "Darling E" was. Some say Eloise or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan, says one.

Evan Rosier. Barty Crouch Jr. Decades after theyre gone, their love makes headlines. Flirty and sweet, cute and filthy, rebellious and devoted, they call the pair.

Barty Crouch Jr died at war, bleeding out in pain, supposedly with his eyes wide in fear and fingers digging into the earth, desperate to live.

Evan Rosier died not long after, peacefully in his bed. Heartbreak, the doctors said.

Their letters were found in a house that used to belong to their mutual friend, Regulus Black.

#inspired heavily by Gilbert Bradley and Gordon Bowsher's letters #barty crouch junior #rosekiller #angst #in my feels #regulus black #evan rosier #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #the marauders #one shot

[skarkkk]

Ok, ok, so, I read this post (and loved it) and the idea was instantaneous. Maybe I'll write it, maybe I won't, but I need it written down, so if anyone is interested.

Imagine a case of human sacrifices. The boys are called (Niko alive and with them!) to this case through a ghost who was sacrificed and seeks justice and can pay well. Then they find out that these people are being sacrificed to the Cat King. A witch turned one of his cats into a human (Esther and Monty style) and the cat becomes a bit fanatical and sacrifices people as gifts, secret admirer style. Edwin is clearly jealous. And the Cat King helps them with the case, just to get close to his ghost. In the middle of the case or when it ends, Edwin admits (by accident) that he was jealous and the Cat King simply loves that fact. Then he asks permission for a kiss, and it happens. And I would love a more explicit scene from them with lots of dirty talk and compliment kink, but I'll take any crumbs.

First time: in the middle of the case there may even be the cat finding out and going after Edwin and King Cat becoming super protective (and the team, obviously) and having another kiss in front of the people or later, in private. Or the second version, after the affair, like farewell sex, and Edwin talking about how he loved it to Charles or Niko and there's a cute moment of friendship.

Also in the scene there are two possibilities, either the boys and Crystal still living there with Niko to stay with her while she recovers or Niko finding out about the case through this ghost she found in the library or I don't know and talking to the boys and them coming from London (hence the farewell sex) and then returning there, or even the four of them living in London and the ghost going after them (or even Gato Rei asking for help) to ask for help and them going to city of Gato Rei (I forgot the name) and then returning to London (or maybe they stay and open an office?).

Anyway, maybe I thought about this a little too much.

#edwin payne #the cat king #catwin #cat king thomas #edwin x the cat king #cats #human sacrifice #fanfic #dbd fanfic #dead boy detectives agency #dead boy detectives #niko sasaki #crystal palace #crystal x charles #edwin x cat king #edwin & niko friendship #I thought a little too much about them #im obsessed #i love the cat king #i love catwin

[madwomansapologist]

hi, can you do headcanons about being klaus mikaelson's (romantic) soulmate or mate?

Being Klaus Mikaelson soulmate would include

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Klaus Mikaelson | AO3

synopsis: in a world where soulmates are more than just a wish, how unlucky was Klaus to have to live millennia before he found his?

warnings: vampire stuff, but that one is way more romantic than bloody

ps: thanks for your request! I didn't know if you meant a color!au or something like this, so I did it on my way. Feel free to ask for more!

• Two milennia lived and no sign of his soulmate. Two fucking milennia. During his life, Klaus saw sixty years old finding their soulmates at a asylum, politicians finding the love of their lifes in the competing political party, even teenagers falling in love at school, and two times he saw kids with less than five years finding the love of their lifes on a day care center. But he never did found his

• He did even think that it was Nature laughing at his successfull attempt to beat death. For a really long time he believed that his soulmate was dead and whatever chance he had to found them was turned to dust. But, fifty years later, Rebecca meet her soulmate. And it wasn’t just someone who was almost so old as then because someone that the Orginals turned into a vampire spread the gift: it was a person only twenty years old

• Klaus felt hope. He was now sure that Nature wasn’t so cruel. That one day he would finally find the person that will make his world burn. He dreamed about this day. But thousand years can make any hope just die. Maybe he did almost found you, but chose to look ar the opposite direction and lost his chance. Maybe you had died. Maybe Nature chose to be mean only to him. Maybe he, after all, didn’t have a soul to be completed

• That didn’t stopped him from living his life. He had a family, friends and plans. He felt hope, and anger, and frustration, and hapiness, and sandness, and pleasure. Klaus did failed to plan and planned to fail, but he also did win so many times and in so many ways. Klaus did not only survived, beating death, but he lived. And that life, that marvelous and machiavellican life, took him back to Mistic Falls

• And Klaus had plans, big plans, that worked in his favor. He did turned into a hybrid and, by the time we’re his mom organized a ball to celebrate the reunion of the family, he thought that Esther’s presence and his new status as a hybrid we’re what he was celebrating. Little did he knew that his life would change again, and in a way he couldn’t expect, that same night

• As mayor’s campaign coordenator, when he was invited to a party of the new rich family, going with him and his family was nothing but work. You we’re there to help him remember names, informations, and make sure that everything that happens around him was nothing but absolutely perfect. Thats the truth about election year: everything, even leisure, is work

• When mayor finally did something that didn’t need your presence (which was using the bathroom), you had a moment to breath in and breath out. You didn’t sit, he would came back quickly, but you took a glass of wine while talking to Sheriff Forbes. She is a great woman, talking to her was easy because she wasn’t looking for mistakes or gossip, she was just being nice and trying to have a great time

• But you weren’t the only person interested on talking to her, obviously the host would talk to her at some point of the night. You heard the mayor’s criticism that the new family talked to him while you weren’t by his side, which you respond that if he wanted you by his side then he shouldn’t make you talk to one of his campaing donor. So now, talking to Forbes, when a member of the new family approached, it was simply a fact: you two hadn't seen each other before

• His smooth voice was directed to Forbes, so you we're ready to just get out of this conversation and let then alone, but when you looked at his way and you both made eye contact, you with a kindly smile and him with a rough confidence on his eyes, the world tremble.

Klaus felt a blizzard burying him alive. His fingers froze. His eyes went still. Something inside him, something heavy and sharp, pierced through every layer of muscle and skin until it reached the surface. You combusted. Your chest felt like a forest on fire and your mind was intoxicated by the smoke. A hot emotion crept through your body, taking over every organ and limb, and lulled you into a calm never before felt.

Forbes was nothing but a acute voice, and even she stopped breathing, with the entire noom, when she notice. Your chest irradiated a heavy scarlet light, Klaus's glowed navy. Whatever space between you both was just a purple blur. Without sharing a word, the entire could see that you both lived to meet one another. Soulmates. So easy to understand, so easy to see, so easy to believed.

"Finally", that's what Klaus said, the first thing he could even think. He smiled, his entire body relaxing just because of your existence. "I had been waiting for you."

You could never really understand the weight of that sentence, but you felt the same. A life waiting for something you could never be sure if it would happen. A life longing to find the person who will not only be your love, but also a soul mate.

"I tend to arrive late", you whisper. You didn't have force to do anything else. "I have been dreaming about you my whole life."

Klaus took a step closer. "Do you need to be here?" You shaked your head, which makes Klaus to reach out to you. "Then came with me. I need to know you."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his hand and followed him through the night. Nothing, nothing, would have made you choose otherwise.

• Klaus waited a milennia and would wait another one if that means he would have you.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #the originals #the originals x reader #the originals x y/n #the originals x you #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x y/n #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the originals imagine #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson x y/n #ask box

[officialinuyasha]

Why did Rin name them "Towa and Setsuna"? - The meaning behind their names

I received a question about their names. The meaning behind Moroha's name will be in another post. Since these were things we previously covered I'll have the master post on Towa and Setsuna's name here -

In Yashahime Episode 15 Rin says "Towa and Setsuna" to their names. In Japanese - Towa and Setsuna mean One Moment and an Eternity. It's also said in each episode. "Towa and Setsuna, between us half-demon twins, two worlds exist at the same time; Human and Demon, Feudal Era and Present Day, Peace and War, Joy and Sorrow, Dreams and Reality, Now and Forever, and finally Love and Hate. A Feudal fairytale, Yashahime. We'll keep moving forward, overcoming the hurdles of destiny."

Katsuyuki: — What is the origin behind the names “Setsuna” and “Towa”?

**From the outset, I came up with “Setsuna” using “setsu” in “Sesshōmaru”. I chose the name “Towa” so that it would pair with “Setsuna”. https://ayuuria.tumblr.com/post/684458629287542784/yashahime-translation-official-guidebook

Setsuna means “moment” while Towa means “eternity”. - Hence, a pair.

Katsuyuki-san said that "Setsuna is a black Sesshoumaru" and Towa is "White Sesshoumaru" they are Yin and Yang.

https://www.tumblr.com/officialinuyasha/629334377576464384/this-was-a-translation-collab-between-esther-xiao Katsuyuki: "Setsuna and Towa inherited the "yin" and "yang" of Sesshomaru, respectively, but at the same time both yin and yang exist in Towa and Setsuna. Half-demons are self-contradicting existences, and that is the subject that has been passed down."

Rumiko also mentioned this https://ayuuria.tumblr.com/post/667032838479265792/yashahime-translation-official-guidebook

"Sumisawa-san told me “Towa is a white Sesshōmaru and Setsuna is a black Sesshōmaru”"

You can also find "Rin to Sesshoumaru" theme song in Towa's theme song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9lofIKeL_0

The voice actors said Setsuna and Towa's relationship seems to reflect on Sesshoumaru and Rin's - https://www.tumblr.com/officialinuyasha/646757262237597697/staff-thoughts-on-sessrin

"Towa seems to close that gap like *that person* (Rin" "Their relationship seems like that of their parents" "If you look at Towa, I think you can figure out who the mother is"

Their names are black and white, past and present, human and demon, one moment and an eternity. A pair.

#inu yasha #犬夜叉 #inuyasha #yashahime #sessrin #sesshoumaru and rin #sesshomaru and rin #inulysis #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime princess half demon #inuyasha meta #inu meta

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

🗒️ Vandal 🗒️

Word Count: 16,000+ (And nobody asked for any of it!)

Summary: A quiet high school student looks a little too closely at the tragic events afflicting their hometown. Can you uncover the truth while keeping your own secrets hidden? Or will a lapse in judgment expose you to a world of hurt? || Kol x disabled!reader || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: Some language, references to blood and gore, Kol being a psycho, and some dubious consent but nothing violent or graphic. This turned out a little more Yandere than I intended. Just expect ya gal's general tomfoolery.

A/N: Howdy-doo, this is your captain speaking. I know I promised a lot of you that I would have the sequel to Run for Your Life finished last week, but it's still not done and I'm really sorry. I wrote this instead. Please forgive me. I hate letting y'all down but inspiration has been really low as of late and, as some of you know, I've been facing some very serious struggles with people in my life. My sense of self-worth has been suffering, but writing this fic has been my best escape. So again, I'm really sorry to those who were expecting the Klaus fic, but I hope you like this one nonetheless.

🗒️ Story Begins Below 🗒️

When Niklaus Mikaelson confined himself to his studio, it was common knowledge among all parties of blood relation to the original hybrid that any sibling who valued their breathing privileges should promptly vacate the premises until such a time as that tortured artist ceased muttering his internal monologue aloud. 

Kol, for one, was quite fond of his breathing privileges, thank you very much. 

Ugh, breathing. 

The one thing he’d never thought would require adjusting to through the centuries was now yet another factor among a dozen others that required getting used to. 

The air of this new age he’d found himself in was thick and hazy with chemicals and other nonsense he didn’t care to think about. Drawing the filthy mixture into his lungs required significantly more effort from him than it used to. He wondered vaguely how the humans surrounding his seat at the bar of this stodgy town’s only decent restaurant did it with such ease. It must’ve been tiring. Perhaps that was why so many of the patrons around him seemed content to spend their morning religiously devoted to quaffing down as much of that - oh, what had Mary-Alice called it? - caffeine stuff as they could possibly contain. 

Though the name would suggest otherwise, Kol figured the only way the Mystic Grill, as the place was called, could remain in business was to serve breakfast, lunch, dinner, and drinks. Hence why the place was packed with half-conscious teenagers at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, stopping off for something to eat on their way to school. How did Rebekah enjoy this? Though she’d accompanied him to the grill, Kol’s sister had been quick to grab her coffee and ditch him. She wanted to arrive to school early so she could “talk”. (The notion tempted Kol to impale himself on a billiard cue.) 

Rebekah was also rather upset with him, or more specifically, his newfound enrollment in her high school. There was nothing he could do about that, however. If it was up to him, Kol would choose to spend his time literally any place else. Unfortunately for him, after that little incident with Rebekah’s date, mother dearest had been contemplating ways to keep him in line. High school was evidently what she’d come up with. It was Finn’s idea actually. Kol’s eldest brother - dull lout that he was - had suggested that perhaps attending high school with his sister would provide a convenient way for Kol to catch up on recent history, as well as assist him in developing some control over his appetite seeing as each family member had given their word not to shed the blood of any locals. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Esther had done more than just readily agree. She’d also cast a tracking spell on him. If he strayed beyond the town’s limits, she would know. 

Rest assured, he would find a way to weasel out of it - that was certain. But for now, Kol was stumped. This resurrected version of his mother wasn’t quite so dismissive of him as she’d been in Kol’s human life. He should have liked that - should have reveled in it. Yet, having her attention this time around came with a cold harshness he wasn’t so fond of. For now though, he would have to endure his punishment. Thanks to Klaus, he couldn’t even skip out.

Thus Kol found himself in an overly crowded restaurant, at six in the morning on his first day of school, surrounded by teenagers.

Kol desperately wished he could eat one or two of them. 

They were so rowdy and obnoxious. The whole world it seemed had grown significantly louder since he’d been daggered in nineteen fourteen. So much information assaulting his senses constantly. It was maddening. Being surrounded by thirty or so warm bodies didn’t exactly help. The chorus of their heartbeats fell on his sensitive ears like the cresting of ocean waves and like a riptide, he would surely be carried away if he allowed himself to listen much longer. 

The boy’s throat burned. He was hungry. Always hungry. He could practically taste the relief on his tongue. The high he could get from just one little cheerleader…

Kol got up from his seat, grabbed his bag, and shoved his way out the door, cursing Finn’s name to Hel and back. He reached the end of the street and stopped. Raking his fingers through his hair, Kol rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Wrong move.

A gentle autumn breeze swept past and carried with it a hint of something sweet. No, that was too tame. That scent on the air was like pure sugar and spring water, something like berries and roses and cotton candy all rolled into one supremely tempting aroma so overpowering he nearly choked. White hot pain shot through him and his mouth watered. He was standing in the midst of town square before he even realized he’d moved. 

There, kneeling hunched over on the ground, all alone in the early morning, was a young woman who looked about the same age as he did. Any view of her face was obscured by the curtain of her hair as it fell around her in something of an untamed mess. Her clothes, nothing fancier than a t-shirt and shorts, were rumpled and irreparably stained with just about every color one could imagine as she focused intently on whatever she was doing. Scattered all around her were about a dozen cans of paint and at least a hundred individual sticks of chalk in a variety of shades. She was decorating the walkways, Kol realized as he watched her dip her hand directly into one of the cans of paint before slathering the color over the flagstones she was working on. Once satisfied that the area was evenly covered, she sat up.

The girl paused to wipe her hand on a wet rag before shuffling back around to a different section where the paint looked a little drier. 

Kol had just enough time to register the pattern of scrapes that decorated her hands and knees before that delicious scent washed over him again. It was stronger now that he was so close and like a punch to the gut, just a whiff of it knocked the wind out of him. His throat seared and his fangs ached. She was right there in front of him, trickles of blood seeping from her hands and knees - rivers of temptation. Whatever ichor was rushing through that girl’s veins would certainly be divine. Kol wanted it. He wanted to taste her warm human skin - wanted to lick the scarlet from those teasing little scrapes she’d made. No one was around. He could have that sweet, sweet crimson ambrosia all to himself. 

There was just one problem. This girl was a local. Her residence was clear from the tags dangling from her backpack which she’d tossed a few feet away. Kol couldn’t eat any of the locals, he’d given his word on it. 

Unfortunately for him, that boy’s sense of honor apparently wasn’t enough to keep his legs from moving. He was standing over her shoulder in a matter of seconds. His looming shadow must have caught her attention because the girl paused her work (she was rubbing lines of chalk into the paint now) and twisted around to look up at him, squinting against the rising sun at his back. Her cheeks were twinged with a delicious shade of pink, likely due to the warm, humid morning, and she smiled in a friendly, albeit slightly confused way.

“Hey!” She greeted - voice practically a chirp. The girl lifted a hand to her face in an effort to further block out the sun, but the offensive light couldn’t dampen her smile. Kol fought the urge to roll his eyes at her sunny disposition.

“Good morning, darling.” He flashed her a grin - the crooked one that made girls like her faint. Kol gestured to the swirling mix of hues currently stinging his eyes. “What’s this going to be?” 

The girl blinked and tilted her head. “Could you say that a little louder?” She asked. Her voice was soft but rich with a delicate, wispy quality to it like a warm caramel stretched apart. He supposed it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to listen to.

“Are you painting something specific or is it more abstract?” He wondered, raising his voice a little. Abstract was certainly the most polite term for eyesore, he thought. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! It’s Mystic Falls,” She said brightly. Then she paused. Her face scrunched up a bit and even Kol could admit it was a little endearing. “Um, I mean, not the town, but like, the falls as in the waterfalls… yeah.” Her voice tapered off into a whisper at the end and she cast her eyes away. 

Kol hummed. “I see.” He didn't actually care, however. He’d seen enough. This girl, tantalizing as her blood might be, wasn’t worth his time - nor his mother’s wrath should he break his oath. There was no thrill in chasing someone like that, girls like her gave in too easily. 

Without warning, the little artist stiffened and whipped her head back up to face him, drawing Kol from his thoughts. 

“Say, what’s the time?” She wondered, biting her lip anxiously. Her lips looked rather tasty when she did that.

Kol raised a brow and checked his watch. “Ten to seven,” He answered. 

She cocked her head again. “Sorry, what?”

“Ten to seven,” He repeated a little louder.

“Huh?”

“Bloody hell!” The boy huffed. “It’s six-fifty! Are you Deaf?”

She snorted. “Uh, huh. Yeah.” Kol’s eyes narrowed but the girl only turned her head, shoving a lock of hair back to reveal some technological array perched over her ear. The artist shrugged and faced him again. “It’s the accent, I think. Plus, it ain’t my fault you mumble. What time did you say it was again? I forgot.”

It wasn’t the disability that annoyed him, he wasn’t that shallow. It was her attitude he couldn’t stand. 

“Six. Fifty. One,” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened. “CRAP!” 

The annoying little artist sprang to her feet, scooped her bag from where she’d flung it, and dashed off just like that. He huffed at her lack of tact - not so much as a word of thanks. It was probably best for both of them if they never saw each other again. That mouth-watering ray of sunshine was unlikely to survive another encounter with him.

As he debated whether or not to just wander around aimlessly for the remainder of the day, Kol caught sight of an object that must have tumbled out of the artist’s bag. Only the slightest bit curious, he bent down to pick it up. Upon taking a closer look at it, Kol raised a brow. Well worn and faded, the sketchbook in his hands was nothing special - almost every artist had one, that was no surprise. What caught his attention, however, was the design on the cover, or more accurately, what had been made of it. Whereas the front of the sketchbook had once depicted a quaint scene from what he recognized to be the story Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with little Alice looking up at the Cheshire Cat perched lazily in a tree, the girl had turned it into something far more sinister. 

For one thing, she’d given Alice a broadsword. Her dress had been redecorated with dirt stains and blood. As for the Cheshire Cat, the artist had transformed the feline into a marionette with blood-stained teeth and dreadful claws. The background had been scribbled out with a black marker. All save for a grinning silhouette, tugging at the strings of its Cheshire Cat puppet, and a line of bold, bloody letters spelling out the phrase: “We’re All Mad Here.”

It was a delightfully grotesque perversion of a story Kol had rather enjoyed reading when it was first published. Perhaps that girl wasn’t quite so boring after all. 

Kol smirked and slipped the sketchbook into his own school bag. Serves her right for being so disrespectful. Besides, the book was steeped in that exquisite aroma of hers, and if he couldn’t devour the poor thing then keeping a little memento was his next best option. If she wanted it back, she’d simply have to prove herself deserving of it. Until then, that little book of horrors was all his.

Who knows what he might do with it?

No matter what, this was bound to be… entertaining.

***

You’d never liked cheerleaders. They’d always seemed so shallowly chipper - the sort of nice that giggles behind a person’s back. Most people said you were just jealous, wishing you could have their beauty, body, or popularity. They were wrong, of course, cheerleading simply wasn’t your thing. As for appearances, at least you were confident enough in your looks that you didn’t require validation from fellow minors. You never corrected the masses though. You let them think whatever they want. (After all, you had other, more important things on your mind.)

All feelings about cheerleaders aside, they were excellent subjects for drawing poses. It was them or the football team and you couldn’t be paid enough to go anywhere near them. Besides, you had already obtained permission from the members of the cheer squad to sit in on their practices. They figured you must have been lonely and seeking their approval. You didn’t correct them either. The girls on the squad were nice enough, though you didn’t know any of them very well. Just some first names. 

Caroline, Bonnie, Amber, Laura, Rebekah. 

Now that Rebekah was an odd one. She sort of unnerved you. Like the rest, the British blonde was nice enough, but something about her wasn’t quite right. She’d just dropped off the map for a month and a half and then showed up today as if she’d never been gone. Then there was her relationship with the other cheerleaders. Half of them avoided her like the plague and the other half worshiped the ground she walked on. It wasn’t normal.

Life isn’t like the drama shows all over tv. Kids in the real world don’t act that way. 

You hadn’t grown up in Mystic Falls. Your parents moved your family into town one year ago. Though you were just a sophomore then, you knew enough to understand that something about this whole town and everything that had been happening within the last year just wasn’t right. Within your sophomore and junior years alone, no less than twenty-six kids were reported missing. At least six were later confirmed dead.

Was it really any wonder you kept to yourself? 

You were fine with being alone. It didn’t bother you. 

What bothered you was that you had somehow lost track of your sketchbook. That bundle of pages hardly ever left your person. You never went anywhere without it, and yet when you had sat on the bleachers and reached into your backpack to pull it out, lo and behold, it was nowhere to be found. Who knew what small-town hic had gotten their grubby little hands on it? 

Alright, that was mean. You just wanted your book back. The idea of someone else flipping through your sketches irked you to no end.

“Well hello again, darling!” A semi-familiar voice rang out from behind you on the bleachers and you twisted around to face him. Had that kid been up there all this time? The boy grinned down at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You offered him a tight smile. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly. “Fancy that.”

The boy was pretty, that was for sure. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong brow, and a sharp jawline. Not to mention that smile, you’d sooner light yourself on fire than call it “dazzling” but you would like to draw it sometime. All in all, he was probably the closest thing to masculine perfection you would ever lay eyes upon. But you weren’t dumb enough to judge a person off of looks alone. 

Though you had nothing to go off of aside from your brief meeting that morning, you didn’t quite like that kid. On the surface, he seemed alright. A little impatient but still pretty normal. It was the way he looked at you… it reminded you of the feeling you got back in your old town whenever you noticed that your best friend's pet boa constrictor was watching you from inside its tank - how its eyes would follow you no matter what you did. It wasn’t an exactly pleasant sensation. Those onyx eyes of his - when you looked into them, you couldn’t see much of a person looking back. His eyes sparkled when he smiled but behind them… behind them there was nothing. A charming grin without a person inside.

The boy’s odd smile only broadened. 

“You know, I-I didn’t take you for the cheerleading type,” He said. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, squinting against the sun in your eyes. Did he always have to position himself so you had to blind yourself to look at him?

“I’m… not.”

He chuckled. “Obviously.” Climbing to his feet, the boy hopped up onto the seat in front of him and walked gracefully down to your level - at least, as gracefully as one can while walking on bleachers. You should probably warn him about the-

“Careful, that next one wobbles,” You spoke up. Your voice never seemed to come out as loud as you intended, yet he didn’t seem to have a problem catching it. 

“Ah-” He tested the next row with his foot and stepped over it lightly. “Thank you very much.” He grinned again as he jumped down beside you.

The boy was much too close for your liking. 

“You’re welcome,” You mumbled, shuffling away slightly. He only leaned in closer.

“So, if you’re with the cheerleaders, but you’re not one of them, then what does that make you?” He wondered, oblivious or insensitive to your discomfort. You couldn’t tell which. “Unrequited lover or wannabe?”

He raised a brow, smirking in a way that appeared bemused but you could sense its condescending edge. You just shrugged. He could think whatever he wanted. 

He was baiting you, that you were sure of. The dark-haired senior wanted you to answer. He waited for you to answer. But his was a lure you weren't going to bite.  You just kept on drawing - filling in lines, and fine-tuning expressions. You were sure he would give up eventually, kids like him always did.

“Are those your chemistry notes?” He asked finally. 

You hummed and nodded. You’d never been too much of a talker. It had nothing to do with your hearing loss, or maybe it did. That was just who you were either way.

“And you’re sketching in them?”

You shrugged. “Lost my sketchbook.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” At least he had the decency to sound sympathetic. “Did you have it this morning?” You nodded. This boy was persistent, you would give him that. He kept talking. “I see… Well, I'm sorry to hear that, darling. I would have loved to see it,” He said. 

Your lips twitched up in a smile. You wouldn’t have shown him anyway, but that didn’t matter.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

"You never answered my question," He pointed out. He was trying to get to you - get closer to you - and while any other girl would do backflips for the attention of a boy like him, you weren't any other girl. If he wanted to know you, then you couldn't let that happen. If you did, he might figure out your secret. Then you could lose everything - your education, your clean record, and the only money-making opportunity you were likely to get in this tiny, provincial town.

"I know." You sighed and closed your substitute sketchbook, just a little fed up. Maybe it was time to let the sunny, shy-girl facade drop. Perhaps a quick glimpse of who you really were would deter him. "But you're here too. So which are you? Unrequited lover or wannabe?"

The boy threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. His laugh sounded like a stone splashing into a calm pond. Sudden and unique - one of a kind. When his gaze returned to you, he seemed to look you over as if reevaluating his previous judgment of your character. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and shrugged. 

"That's a fair point you make there, darling. I'll have to disappoint you, however, as I am merely here to pick up my sister." He gestured to the girls practicing on the field and then shot you a smirk. The boy held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, darling. I'm Kol, Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes flicked to his outstretched hand, weary.

"I…" 

Glancing up, you met the endless black pits that were his eyes. Your stomach felt queasy. Better to be safe than sorry.

You pushed his hand away. "I… don't particularly care." 

Without another word, you packed up your things and skipped down the bleachers. Exiting left of the football field. 

Perhaps you'd left him stunned. You didn't bother looking back to check.

You started seeing Kol quite often after that, which wouldn't have been weird had he not been a year above you. If it wasn't coincidence that saw you sharing both lunch period and study hall with him, then you didn't want to think about what it was. He kept his distance, which you appreciated. Kol didn't approach you for a while, but whenever you were in the same room with him you couldn't seem to shake a feeling that you were being watched. Closely. 

The day that pattern changed was the day you walked down the hall and found yourself greeted by photocopies of your art taped to every locker. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes landed on that first row of metal doors. The papers fluttered in the wind generated by passing students but you would recognize your art anywhere. 

It was one of the pages from your sketchbook - one of the sketches no one was supposed to see. 

This one depicted the football team, gathered on the field for practice. The sky above was dark and they had their helmets off. Each player's complexion was ghostly pale and their glowing red eyes all stared soullessly at the viewer. Their expressions displayed no emotion, but together they stood in a threatening formation. You had taken inspiration from both classic zombie movies and The Matrix for that sketch. In the top left corner, you had etched the title. You called it "The Hive." 

The only problem was, you hadn't exactly obtained the team's permission to draw it. 

To make matters worse, someone had added an inscription to the image that read: "Members of The Hive possess no individual thought or personality. Furthermore, they acknowledge only other facets of their collective consciousness." The words were scrawled across a crumpled sticky note attached to the top right-hand corner of the page. You hadn't written those words, but it sure looked like your handwriting. Your name was even signed at the bottom.

Someone had stolen and altered your sketchbook, and now they were using it against you.

Panic and paranoia welled up inside you. Clutching your books to your chest, you quickened your pace, catching glimpses of more and more hallways decorated with your sketch. Whispers followed you as you rushed down the hall to your locker, hoping to escape and find solace in your first class of the day, but you had no such luck. Reaching your destination, you gasped at the sight before you, recoiling in shame and confusion. It was like a shot taken straight from a television drama. This thief - whoever they were - had covered your locker with copies of that picture. 

Who would do something like this? You had only been in town a year - you wouldn't have thought that long enough to garner this degree of animosity from anyone.

"What the actual hell, Y/N?" A student exclaimed from down the hall.

Your mouth hung, gaping in shock and you floundered for something - anything to say. There was nothing. No defense. 

"Yeah, Y/L/N! What did Matt and the team ever do to you?"

Your eyes widened. "What?" You shook your head, blinking rapidly as you tried to explain, but your voice refused to rise over the commotion, accusations, and judgment. "N-no, they didn't. I mean, I wasn't trying to-to…"

"You realize how sick this is, right?" Another kid demanded, closer to you this time. "Like, seriously. Judgy much?"

"No, it's not like that," You insisted. It felt like your whole world had been tossed upside down. "I-I just-" You stammered, hapless. For once, it was the people around you who couldn't seem to hear.

"What a creep," Muttered someone else as they passed close enough for your hearing aids to register. Was that what everyone thought of you?

"No! Y-you don't understand! I-I didn't mean it like that. I-" Your heart sank. Shame overwhelmed you and you buried your face in your hands, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Your heart felt like a voodoo doll, impaled with all sorts of pins. You'd never felt impressed to explain yourself to anyone. You had never cared what anyone else thought of you. But when you had imagined all the ways your life might fall apart, this wasn't one of the ways you had envisioned. That drawing and the dozens of others like it - they were yours. 

You wished you'd never made them in the first place.

Shaking your head, you switched off your hearing aids and hugged your arms around yourself, perfectly content to stew in your own misery. A dull roar met your ears as students passed by. None stopped to address you. A few of them tossed crumpled-up photocopies of your sketch at your head but you ignored them.

Then a hand settled itself on your knee. 

Startled, you peeked between your fingers, expecting someone like the assistant principal or guidance counselor to be kneeling in front of you. Instead, you were met with the concerned countenance of none other than Kol Mikaelson. 

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. 

He proffered a gentle smile and said something, but his words were lost to the prattling hum that encompassed your world without hearing aids. You preferred it this way. It was your natural state. You saw instead of listened, it was what made you such a good artist. Or so you'd thought.

You shook your head at him weakly, pointing to your ears, and mouthed, "I can't hear you."

Why was he here? Was he just going to tease you as he had a few weeks ago on the football stands? 

Kol nodded. "I know," He signed. His movements were small and lax - nonthreatening. 

Unsure how to interpret his sudden kindness and understanding, you shifted to sit up a little straighter, eyeing him. Kol's lips pressed into a thin line that tried to look like a smile. Without warning, he removed the textbooks resting in your lap and stood.

"Let's get you out of here, yeah?" He sighed, offering you his hand. Hesitantly, you reached out and took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You stiffened as the boy let go of your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you swiftly against his side, shielding you from the view of others in the hallway as he hastily but gently herded you down crowded hallways and out the heavy steel front doors. 

Just outside the school, there were picnic tables set up where students could sit to study or eat lunch. Those were deserted by now as first period was speedily approaching. Kol guided you to one of them and dropped your books on the table, gesturing for you to sit. You weren't overly fond of being told what to do, but you figured this was probably Kol's best effort to be nice so you obliged. He sat down in front of you and cupped your jaw in his hand. With his brows furrowed and expression drawn the boy seemed to be inspecting your face, though for what you couldn't be sure. 

Absently, you noticed that his hands were very warm despite the changing season. (Why that thought made your stomach queasy was a question for another time.)

Kol's thumb brushed over your cheek and you wanted to look away to hide the flare of heat that consumed your cheeks, but he wouldn't let you. 

"Well, you're not panicking," He observed after what felt like an eternity. "That's good." 

His words were muffled without your hearing aids but now, away from the commotion of the bustling hallways, you could understand him well enough. 

You gave a small nod and, refusing to meet his eyes, focused instead on the grass beneath your feet. 

"I'm fine," You whispered. Your voice was a little hoarse but he didn't know you well enough to recognize that. 

"Are you sure?"

The question was inevitable, yet you found yourself scowling anyway. 

Of course you were fine. You were always fine. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn't want his pity, that you weren't some distressing damsel and that he needed to mind his own business. You weren't some charity case he could use to prove to all the senior girls that he could be a sensitive boyfriend. (You'd been there once. You weren't going through it again.) But, as always, the boldness in your head could never seem to leave your lips.

"It's not your responsibility to take care of me," You told him instead. In your lap, your hands fiddled and tugged on the too-long sleeves of your sweater. You'd gotten chalk on your jeans again.

He let his hand drop and the swirling autumn winds cooled your cheeks. You sort of missed the warmth.

"I know that." Kol's concern morphed into a smirk. This was it. You prepared for the incoming ridicule. It never came. "You don't like anyone getting close, do you?" He guessed, casually leaning back as though he already knew the answer. (And respected it.) "Makes you uncomfortable, I'd imagine."

You shrugged and picked at the loose threads on your sleeve. Honestly, he was right - you were just a bucket of trust issues in a Technicolor wrapper. But was that any of his business? No.

"Why are you here?" You wondered in lieu of an answer. 

Kol raised a brow. "Apologies, darling. I was unaware that it's illegal for a bloke to be a good friend 'this side of the pond." 

"It's not illegal," You said. Your eyes narrowed. "But we're not friends."

You'd made a handful of friends since moving to this town. None of them had come to your aid. Then again, none of them knew about your sketchbook.

Kol smirked. "Consider this an application then!" He surmised, eyes glinting. Those unnerving tar pits seemed a little less dead today than they had before. What changed? He chuckled, amused at your loss for words, and continued. "Besides, I get the feeling I'm just about the only one who knows that sketchbook of yours was stolen from you. The only thing I want to know is, what made you draw that picture?" 

Maybe… if you told him the truth about the sketches, he wouldn't look any closer. 

"I don't like Stefan Salvatore," Came your quiet answer. 

That didn't seem to be what he was expecting, but he didn't look disappointed. Kol's lips twitched and he wet his lips in a way that betrayed a certain excitement. 

"Go on."

You took a breath.

"He and I were the only two new kids last year," You began. If you said this, you were going to sound like a lunatic, that was why you'd always opted to draw it out instead. "Strange things happen in this town, and they happen around him. No town has as many "animal attacks" as this one and those only started when he showed up. People started going missing. Some were found dead. Mr. Saltzman is our history teacher because the guy before him got ripped up right over there in the parking lot just before Stefan's first game as part of team. The police said it was a mountain lion, but I was there; I saw the body and there were no scratches. Then there's the way some of his friends a-and Mr. Saltzman look at him sometimes - I've seen them do it - like he's about to murder everyone in the room and they don't know how to stop him."

Kol stared at you. His expression had grown increasingly weary the longer you kept on rambling. When you finally closed your mouth, he nodded slowly, brows furrowed. You bit your lip, awaiting his response.

"That is…" He trailed off. To your great surprise, however, he nodded as if he actually believed you. "Deeply disturbing, darling." Kol's eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. "You say you saw your teacher's corpse?" He asked.

You nodded. "The "bite" on his neck looked a lot more like buck-shot to me."

His eyes widened. "You think someone killed him?" He hissed.

"And the police covered it up."

"So why draw the football team?"

You hugged your arms around yourself. "Because Matt Donovan is in on it. It's him, Tyler Lockwood, and Stefan Salvatore - they've been acting so weird. Two months ago, Tyler and Stefan started acting really mean all of a sudden and the rest of the football team just started acting like zombies, doing anything they said. It was really freaky."

"And you drew it so you wouldn't have to be afraid." Kol nodded, smiling softly. "Put all the horrors in a little book and out of your head."

This kid had you dead to rights.

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater. "I never meant to hurt anyone," You sighed.

"I know," He said. "For the record, I quite liked your little interpretation."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I'm not sure yet," The dark-haired boy admitted with a shrug. "Honestly, I've never known another town to have as many functions as this one."

"Right?!" You exclaimed. Finally, someone else saw it! "Smells like organized crime to me…"

"Or cult activity."

"Or that."

"Or maybe you're just a little paranoid," Kol surmised. "But if that's the case, then who am I to judge?"

For the first time in a while, your shoulders shook with a genuine laugh. 

"Thanks Kol."

"Anytime, love."

And that boy lived up to his word. Over the span of the next several weeks, more of your sketches were spread about the school. It wasn't long before your so-called friends had all cut contact. Kol became the only person in town willing to talk to you. Every time a drawing was leaked, no matter how dark, twisted, or gruesome the image, Kol was always there to comfort you and compliment your art style. 

Each drawing that circulated the school was more damaging to your reputation than the last. Anyone you thought was in on the secret of Mystic Falls' suspicious deaths, you turned into a monster in the pages of your sketchbook. 

Jeremy Gilbert became a tortured Voodoo doll. 

("Well, there's an odd comparison," Kol commented idly, inspecting the array of pages that had overtaken your locker. "I quite like it."

A student shoved past you on their way to class, ramming painfully into your shoulder. You winced, aware that the action was purposeful, but you didn't say anything. Kol, however, glared at the kid - a cold, chilling sort of glare. 

You shrugged, readjusting your backpack.

"He just always seems so pained lately. 'Looks at everyone like they're gonna kill 'em.")

Elena, his sister, you portrayed as a prim, psychotic puppet master. 

("I'm sorry, but have I done something to you?" The popular and gorgeous former cheerleader asked when she confronted you about the sketch she clutched in her hand. Seniors Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donovan stood with their arms crossed, flanking her on both sides. The sight only served to reinforce the role your imagination had given her - the girl wore her ex's around her like accessories. They were always there to cover for her strange behavior.

"N-no, it's not like that. I-I-I swear!" You stammered, eyes flicking between her broad-shouldered bodyguards. You swallowed thickly. 

"Look, Y/N," Elena sighed. "I'm not mad at you, but whatever is going on in your life, you can't take it out on me. Or anyone else." 

"That's not what I'm doing," You mumbled, shuffling your feet. She didn't seem to hear you. 

"You know, if there's something bothering you, then you need to tell someone about it," Elena said. You were only a few months younger than her, yet she talked down to you as though you were a toddler. You wished the anger that flared and frothed inside you, didn't look like shame as it stained your cheeks. "I know we're not close, but you can always tell me if something's happening, okay?"

"No thank you, I'm fine." 

"Y/N, it's okay to let someone in." The girl pressed. 

You gritted your teeth, wishing she would just go. "I-"

"Pretty sure she doesn't have to tell you anything, sweetheart," A melodiously snide voice hummed from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Kol a relieved smile. He dropped a quick wink in return before focusing on his fellow seniors. Elena and her posse seemed to tense up around him for some reason. 

"What's it to you, Kol?" Stefan demanded. 

"Oh, I dunno. Basic human decency? Nothing much," He replied. The dark-haired senior shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked, smug as a bug. 

"How 'bout you mind your own damn business for a change," Matt snapped. He almost made a move toward your friend but Elena stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Kol snorted at their reactions. "Why so defensive? 'Weren't expecting this lovely young lady to have some back-up?" He slung an arm around your shoulder and began twisting a lock of your hair around and around his finger. You sort of liked him tugging on it the way he did.

"We were just a little concerned," Elena claimed.

"Right." Kol smiled thinly. Releasing his fingers from your hair, he took a threatening step forward. You hadn't realized before just how tall that boy was. "Well, as Y/N said, she doesn't need your concern. So why don't you run along and take your puppets with you." 

The three seniors reluctantly surrendered under the force of Kol's steely glare and you watched them go, hugging your arms around yourself and shivering. Kol turned back to you. His hands found their way to your shoulders and he stopped down a little to look you in the eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked. His eyes were still dark, but not the pits of tar they'd been before. They were more like soft dirt now, holding the promise of future life. 

Kol gently smoothed his hands over your arms, spreading a gooey, molten warmth everywhere his skin touched. There was something bubbly in your lungs and the shudder that ran down your spine this time wasn't from nerves. 

You took a breath and tried to ignore how his touch made you want to melt.

"I'm fine," You lied. You were fine. You were always fine.

The boy smiled as though he didn't quite believe you. "That's good." He tilted his head in the direction Elena and the others had disappeared to. "You were right about them, though. There's definitely something strange going on there."

You nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course, darling.")

Bonnie Bennett, by the grace of your overactive imagination, had been transformed into a wicked witch. Ancient runes glowed in the air, surrounding her dark ritual. Oddly enough, the thief had changed a few of them, though you weren't sure why.  

("If I might ask, why a witch for that one?" Kol asked as the girl herself scowled venomously at you from the other side of the gym.

He sat with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, leaning in close so you would hear him though he spoke softly, having stayed a little longer after school to help you with your chemistry homework now that no one else would. You could smell cinnamon and something tangy on his breath as his lips brushed over your ear and you tried not to shiver. The whole school probably thought you were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case. 

"There's some weird looking stuff in that girl's locker," You whispered back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the daggers she was glaring at your head. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees. "At the fundraiser we had last year, there was this car that just caught fire outta nowhere. The thing wasn't even running and it just exploded. Everybody was freaking out and running but Bonnie just stood there, staring at it like she was possessed."

Kol glanced up at the Bennett girl again. "You know what?" He decided, tilting his head. "I can see it." He sent Bonnie a little wave and turned back to your homework. "I loved the runes you included in that drawing, though," The boy added. 

"Yeah?" You couldn't help but smile.

"Absolutely. Most of them were even correct," He shot you a crooked grin. "It was impressive."

You raised a brow. "Can you… read Runic?"

"Mmhm," He hummed, checking off another problem on your homework. "Remind me and I'll teach you sometime."

You were about to ask where and when he would have learned something like that, but the question was plucked from your brain before you got the chance.

You drew in a sharp breath as his hand, which had previously rested like a ghost's on your hip, slipped deftly under your shirt. Unsure whether you liked it or not, you couldn't decide as your brain had simply quit functioning properly. All you could seem to register was that Kol was touching you and it wasn't a "just friends" sort of touch. Your cheeks felt like they'd caught fire as you glanced up at him, blinking owlishly, only to find that he was already watching you with an unexpectedly sweet smile. He studied your expression, waiting for you to protest - to say no. 

When you remained silent, that sweet smile twisted into a smirk. Leaning down, you felt a soft, tender kiss to your cheek just as Kol pressed his fingers firmly into your skin, wasting no time before he began to explore. His hand was warm, gentle, and soft as he stroked and petted your stomach. Something warm and jittery built up in your chest. It climbed up your throat, threatening to spill out. You whimpered quietly, unable to hold it back. Yet, that only seemed to encourage him. Kol hummed and slid his hand lower with another kiss to your cheek. What was that boy doing to you? Your whole body burned as he continued to fondle and caress you shamelessly. Shuddering, you bit back a moan and curled yourself closer to him, fisting his jacket as though he could hide you from the world. Kol just smirked and continued going over your homework. 

He didn't let go of you - didn't stop touching you - until the bell rang. Then he just got up, shot you a wink, and left without another word.)

Slowly, that boy earned your trust because, though you didn't know exactly how to define your relationship with him, he was always there for you. It was nice to have someone who knew why you had drawn those pictures. Not because you were self-righteous and judgemental, but because there was something very real and very disturbing going on and you needed a way to purge the constant fear from your mind.

Kol believed you. There was something wrong with this town. You weren't crazy.

But no one else could see that. 

The day a sketch of Sheriff Forbes - Caroline's mother - made its way around the student body was the day you were called to the principal's office. The picture displayed Sheriff Forbes as a creature like the Other Mother from Coraline, dutifully sewing shut the mouths of townspeople and stitching buttons over their eyes. The Sheriff was a kind woman. She didn't deserve to be depicted that way. But at the same time, you knew she was hiding something.

So there you sat on the wrong side of the principal's desk, eyes locked firmly on your lap as the graying woman watched you with a disappointed frown.

"Y/N, this is not acceptable," She said, tight-lipped with tired eyes.

"I know," You mumbled.

"Then why did you draw these pictures in the first place?" The woman demanded. 

You shrugged haplessly. She wouldn't believe you if you told the truth. She'd probably recommend you to a mental health institution. 

The principal sighed. "Y/N, it's not my business what you do in your free time, but this has to stop. You need to stop."

"It's not me!" You protested. "Someone stole my sketchbook."

"Well, then you had better find a way to get it back, and once you do I highly recommend you burn it. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to suspend you," She said, folding her hands atop the desk. "The mayor has also been made aware of these sketches and she asked me to warn you that, should another one of these offensive images appear, you can consider her commission canceled."

Your heart stuttered and sank. 

You wanted to scream and cry and tell the world it was all so unfair but all that came out of your mouth was, "Okay."

The principal nodded. "Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N."

That was your cue to leave. 

You exited her office and shut the door behind you, letting go of a long sigh. Kol was sitting outside, waiting for you. He was always there for you. Upon seeing your distraught expression, the boy got up and wound his arms around you, holding you close. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and grinding your teeth as you buried your face in his chest. 

Kol pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you alright?” He asked, just as he always did.

You took a deep breath-

(You were fine. You were always fine.)

-and let out a string of cuss words so foul they’d make a sailor blush.

He hissed in sympathy and hugged you tighter. “I take it that’s a no.”

Kol was a good friend. True, his words sometimes carried a sting to them and some of his touches lingered a little too long to be just friendly. But he was good. The two of you had come a long way since you'd first met him. When he pulled away, he probably should have rested his hands on your waist but Kol grabbed you by your hips instead. His hands were very warm and you found yourself blushing. But if you were being honest, you liked the way he was touching you - the way he had been for a while now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, hesitantly watching your face though you refused to meet his eyes.

"No," You answered. 

Kol offered you a strained smile and tugged you back into that tight hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said, gently.

Kol had been such a good friend to you. The least you could do was show him some trust.

"I'd rather show you." 

***

Her hand slid down his arm to his hand which Kol reluctantly lifted off her hip. Then, without another word - because she didn’t talk all that much - she led him off down the hallway. He allowed her to pull him along, amused (and two other things he was trying really hard to ignore.)

There was this funny feeling he got when he looked at that girl sometimes, with her chalk and paint-stained clothes, messy hair, and tired eyes. It was warm and pleasant and it reminded him of how he felt after a really big feed, except not like that at all. He felt satisfied, content… full, but there was nothing sinister about it. Kol found himself unsure how to label that sensation seeing has he’d so rarely felt it and when he had it was fleeting - gone before he could enjoy it. 

This time, however, when it came, that feeling lingered.

And not because he’d killed anyone recently! Kol Mikaelson had not rubbed out a single soul in that miserable little town. (A surprise to all, certainly.) That odd feeling stayed with him day to day, and he tried to ignore how pleasant it was because surly it would disappear any day now… But it never did. Kol knew it had something to do with his little artist but, honestly, that just confused him further. More baffling still was the notion that, over the past few weeks, he hadn’t found himself craving the high that exacting death always afforded him. Sure, he felt a little… hungry (that didn’t seem like the right term) on the weekends, but then he’d see her in the hallways and he felt content again. It wasn’t the sort of satisfaction he took from any of his games either.

That’s what this whole thing had started as - what it was. (Just that he had to remind himself of that fact was unsettling.) It was just a game. He’d played it hundreds of times before with hundreds of girls like her. It was the game where he came into their lives from out of the blue, stripped away every single thing they cared about - robbed them of their friends, their reputation, their comforts, their dreams - and did that all while making them love him for it. Then, once he got them into his bed, he shattered their illusions right before he killed them.

He was so close to winning this one too. Her friends had all abandoned her, half the town was convinced she was schizophrenic, and her dreams were one little sketchbook page away from being crushed. There was just one problem. 

This time, he didn’t want the game to end.

This time, he felt an uncomfortable stabbing sensation in his chest (not unlike the point of a dagger) every time she flinched. Every time she switched off her hearing aids, every time she hugged herself and sighed, every time she pursed her lips on the verge of tears - Kol felt something he hadn’t felt in well over nine hundred years. Guilt. Because he was the one spreading that girl’s naughty little pictures through the halls just so she would want him around. 

Kol simply didn’t understand what made her different. She was human. She wasn’t strong or powerful or even witty. The girl was shy, she hardly said a word to anyone but him, and when some kid shouted abuse in her face she just stood there and took it. She was so plain and boring that Kol often found himself wondering why he hadn’t eaten her yet. 

Sometimes though, she surprised him. 

She surprised him when she shoved her way though the front doors in the middle of the school day. Previously, Kol was convinced that girl had never broken a rule in her life.

She surprised him when she cussed like a sailor and didn’t apologize one bit. Was a girl like that even allowed to say those words? Legally?

But most of all, she surprised him when she tugged him along by the hand in the drizzling rain through the backwoods of Virginia, off the hiking trails, and down into a ravine where she only stopped in front of a looming chain-link fence. That fence had a big, red “No Trespassing” sign attached to it.

She suprised him when she was always fine. That girl accepted his hugs, his touch, his comfort - but she didn’t need it.

Thus, Kol was well and truly floored when his tiny sweet, delicious little artist dropped his hand and scrambled up and over that fence like a monkey scales a tree. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She had absolutely, positively, and without a doubt just broken a law. That couldn’t be right. She was too shy to break the law. This was the same girl that apologized when she broke her bloody pencil.

"You coming or not?" She challenged. And then... Then, she smiled.

The sight of it took Kol's breath away.

That smile. He didn't understand it. Y/N was no witch - he knew that for certain. But somehow there was something magical about that smile.

There were moments - only a handful of them - like the one he was in right then. Those times were so rare but when they occurred, Kol's tiny, sweet, piquant little artist would look back at him, usually over her shoulder, and send him this... this smile. The twist of her lips he'd seen her wear when he'd first met her, the one she passed out to her so-called friends, was a fake he came to realize.

This real one was so much prettier.

Words had so rarely failed him, but there was no language Kol knew that could quite describe just what that smile looked like - what it made him feel or why. That smile of her's was just so real - so deeply heartfelt - that it always made him want to smile back. Her's was never never a silly or obnoxious grin that she gave to him. It was this tiny quirk of her lips that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow a subtle, appetizing pink. Her beauty wasn't like that of the models in those magazines Bekah liked - she wasn't spectacularly eye-catching. That girl's smile didn't light up a room, but it lit a fire in his chest the likes of which he'd never known. It twisted his stomach and Kol felt so hungry every time he got to witness that smile. Except that hunger wasn't the sinister kind he was so familiar with. When she smiled at him, he didn't want to hurt that girl.

He just wanted to pin her against a tree and kiss those beautifully curled lips until the taste of his extraordinary artist was seared into his infallible mind for all eternity.

It wasn't just lust either. It was more than that. Kol didn't want her just because she had a pretty smile. He needed her because that smile only appeared for him - no one else. Kol could make that girl smile and it had nothing to do with his physical appearance. His little artist's smile was reserved just for him simply because he was there to see it. She smiled because he existed and that idea was one he couldn't help but revel in. After all, when was the last time he got something all to himself without having to fight tooth and nail for it?

“Say, love, are we getting close to the bridge?” He wondered. It was the bridge or the falls, but he couldn’t be sure. Y/N didn’t reply. Her lovely, perfect, scrumptious little laugh was all he got in response. After a few more minutes of walking in silence - which he found he liked better than all the other girls he’d ever played with who always felt a need to fill the gap with meaningless prattle - they reached their destination.

So, Kol grinned. That was his real smile too. Only she could bring it out. "Of couse, darling."

He jumped and scaled the fence with the same ease as his quiet companion who took off again as soon as his feet hit the ground. It wasn't long before his enhanced hearing caught the sound of water rushing nearby.

Once free of the tree line, Kol glimpsed the dreary silhouette of Wickery Bridge breaking through the haze of rain and gloom. His little artist glanced back at him with something wild and ferocious gleaming in her eyes. For a moment, he was taken aback by the sight. But that moment was swiftly overtaken by sheer, lucidious excitement. He returned her smile and she bounded off down toward the water. He followed, enraptured and curious as she came to a stop underneath the bridge. 

“Alright, my sweet, I think I’ve let you go on long enough,” He said upon catching up with her, not that doing so was any struggle. “What’s so important that you brought me all the way out here?” 

The girl didn’t say anything. Instead, she began climbing up the mess of rocks and driftwood that had collected on the banks of the river, making her way up to the crevice where the bridge split from the shoreline. As she did, her hand slipped on one of the rocks and she spat out another string of cuss words that would peel the scales off a snake. Normally, Kol would have been impressed; however, he was a little too busy focusing on the minuscule part of him that didn’t want to rip out her throat. 

She’d cut her hand on those rocks and it wasn’t just a little scrape, like the ones he’d grown accustomed to. This was a long, jagged slit across her palm and her all-too-tempting blood was spilling down her arm in beautiful crimson rivers. 

And terrible, awful, horrid reality came crashing back in on him.

For a while there, Kol had almost forgotten the two of them weren’t the same. Somehow he’d felt full enough - full of something, full of her - for long enough that he’d forgotten he wasn’t who and what he was pretending to be. He’d forgotten about what he was doing and why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing with her. He’d forgotten that he was the predator and she was the prey. 

He was there solely to charm her into surrendering her blood and her body. That was it.

THAT. WAS. IT.

Kol hurt people. That was what he did. He screwed up, and he hurt people, and he laughed about it.

So why did the thought of sinking his teeth into that artist’s pretty little neck seem to tear his lungs to shreds? No - not his lungs - that thing between them. That thing he ignored. That thing he didn’t have. Most people call it a heart.

What was that about? Kol was a monster. He hadn’t felt anything in years, aside from rage, hunger, and the occasional apathy. One thousand years of never giving a damn about the value of human life. And now what? His heart suddenly decided to garner affection for one lonely, miserable, pathetic, perfect, baffling, innocent, gorgeous, plush, soft, disillusioned little artist? Now?

Why now? Why her?

(It had been so long. And he’d had no one.)

She was the only one who ever smiled just for him. The only one who ever trusted him enough to let him see how terrified she truly was. She was scared, so scared all the time that something would spring from the shadows that lurked around every corner to snuff out her soul. She should be, he knew. She was right to be scared. Because Kol was right next to her and he was the only person not in her sketchbook. Sure, she’d never had the chance to put him in there but he’d asked her once what he would look like if she were to draw him like she did everyone else, and his tantalizing little artist had told him she didn’t see Kol that way - that he was her friend. She didn’t know it, and he didn’t want her to know it, but she should be scared of him. 

Kol wanted to kill her - needed to kill her. He craved so desperately to ravish that appetizing girl right where they stood. Bloody hell, she should be terrified! 

Yet, he didn’t want to scare her - didn’t mean to. He was just hungry - that was all. No one was around. No one could stop him. She didn’t need to be afraid. He could make her feel good. She might like it. Kol was just hungry - he didn’t want to hurt her. One taste wouldn’t hurt her so bad, would it? She would forgive him. One bite would be enough and then he’d stop. Except he wouldn’t and Kol knew that. He would drain every last drop of scarlet from her body and he knew she would be the most exhilarating high he’d ever get. But he didn’t have to feel bad about it. He could dump her body in the river and he’d never see her again. 

Oh.

That was it.

He’d never see her again.

No. No, he wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to listen to all of her secrets and wanted that girl to let him touch her for real. No. No, no, no, nonononononononononono.

And all this ran through his head before his artist had even finished cussing. 

Y/N waved her hand in the air, displaying her cut. “God hates me!” She called down to him cheerfully. That sunny demeanor that had once annoyed him so now brought him a laugh.

“That’s on you, darling. Perhaps if you were to tell me what it is that you’re trying to achieve, I might be able to assist,” He pointed out, still chuckling to himself. The girl shrugged and reached into the crevice, feeling around for something. “If you get bit by a snake, I’m going to laugh,” Kol mused. She twisted her other hand around and flipped him the bird. After another moment of watching her grope around in a dark hole, his little artist let out an exclamation of success and retrieved her arm which was now attached to a large, black duffle bag. Carefully, she climbed down and tossed the bag on the ground. 

“Ta da!” She grinned at him. It was an odd expression - like her face didn’t quite know how to express her current joy to another being.

Kol raised a brow. “Wow,” He deadpanned. “Color me impressed.” 

Her smile didn’t falter.

“The council just finished renovating this bridge,” She said as though that explained everything.

“And?”

Instead of answering, she simply bent down and unzipped the bag at her feet. Meanwhile, ever the gentleman, Kol forced himself to turn away from admiring the exquisite view of her cleavage this action presented him. He wanted her, yes. Kol delighted in reducing his little artist into a blushing puddle when he touched her. But if he was going to have that girl, he was going to have her everything. Her smile, her heart, her mind, her body, and her respect. Everything. Not just empty lust.

From out of the bag, Y/N drew a pair of gloves, a mask, and two cans of what Kol now recognized to be spray paint. Then, donning the gloves and mask, she marched down to the concrete trusses of Wickery Bridge and got to work. The giant concrete slabs were practically one perfectly untouched canvas for her to exploit.

Suddenly, all those strange behaviors made a whole lot of sense.

“Bloody hell, the girl’s a vandal!” Kol barked a laugh. "I wondered what it was you were so desperate to keep me away from,” He said, shaking his head. “I had my suspicions but this… was not one of them.”

“Oh really,” His artist scoffed. She started out her mural with layers of red. “And what were those suspicions?”

“Abusive parents was number one,” He listed, stretching out casually on the ground, back against a rock. Not the most uncomfortable position he’d ever held. “Self-harm was number two, and number three was a sordid drug habit.”

“Do I really come off that pathetic?” She wondered blithely. 

“Most of the time, yeah.”  

The girl snorted. “Good for me!”

“That desperate to hide your little crimes, are you?” He chuckled.

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Well, mostly-” She paused to switch colors, going with black now. “-because if Mayor Lockwood ever found out I was the one painting her little town red, I’d lose my commission to paint town square and uh… I like money.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I sense an “and” coming.”

“And,” She continued with a slight laugh. “I might have possibly tagged a few properties worth a lot more than a bridge.” She hesitated. “Or a town… or a castle.”

That last remark was enough to have Kol sitting up straight. “So you were the miscreant who wrote out “Blood Money” on the side of my house!” He exclaimed, wide-eyed. It was impressive as no one in his family had heard anyone approach the house that night, yet the message had been there in bright red the next morning. How had she pulled that off?

The girl froze in her painting. “That was your house?”

“Indeed it was.”

“Whoops.”

Kol waved a hand. “Eh. No harm done.” 

“So… not a mafia base then?” 

He wished she was wrong. Kol really wished he wasn’t everything that terrified his precious artist. But he was. And that wouldn’t change.

So he laughed.

“Well, if I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” He joked. Except it wasn’t a joke. But he could let her think it was. He could pretend he believed that too. He could pretend he was just a normal kid, enjoying the company of a beautiful girl. He could pretend that.

She threw her head back and laughed. 

What a beautiful thing.

“Okay! I’m done talking now!” She announced without providing any segue whatsoever. He liked that about her though, that she was blunt and direct. It amused him. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” He protested. He wasn’t all that broken up about it. Just being around that girl was enough to sate his hunger for her. That's what his little game had turned into. 

She shrugged and flipped her hearing aids off, so he supposed that was the end of it. 

“You know, I’m actually a vampire,” He told her. Kol knew she couldn’t hear him and his words fell on deaf ears. He figured he should tell her the truth though. Even if it was only this once. At least then he could say he had. 

“I’ve murdered hundreds of thousands of people - plenty of them for no reason at all. As for you…

“Well, I’ll probably kill you one day. Hell, I almost did just now. I’m not all that great at self-control, you see.” He let go of a bitter laugh and scooped a pebble off the ground, laying back he tossed it over his head and caught it again and again. “But I’m really great at screwing things up!”

“I stole your sketchbook,” He admitted, a little quieter. “It was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but it’s not fun anymore. I-I don’t like to see you hurting. I could stop. That bloody school would never see another picture.” 

He lifted his head, watching her back as she continued painting. 

“But would you still love me if I did?” Kol sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would. You don’t need me.”

This time, when he tossed the rock, he didn’t catch it. The stone flew and landed in the river, lost to the moving water.

“Nobody does.”

He was glad she couldn’t hear him. He could talk to her and she would never know. Blissfully ignorant, he could watch with a lazy smile as she swung her hips and just kept on painting, without a care in the world. His horribly lovely artist sang quietly to herself as the light of the setting sun bounded off the water and carded through her hair, casting an ephemeral glow all around her. He wondered if her quiet verse might be meant for him. He knew that wasn’t the case. For someone so observant and suspicious, she could be quite blind. He doubted she could be in love with him or that she understood how he felt for her. But like with the rest of this bittersweet scene, Kol could pretend. 

“Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together

Brighter than a lucky penny

When you're near the rain goes, disappears, dear

And I feel so fine

Just to know that you are mine…”

***

Robert Frost had been right, you decided the day your world fell apart. You would have preferred your world had been destroyed in one giant, raging fire. Of course, you didn't get to choose. Your world froze over slowly. The cold strangled your opportunities and relationships one by one until you were left entirely alone.

You stood in front of your locker that day, staring at the final nail in the coffin of your reputation and future. This was how it was to end. In ice. You felt like ice as you stared at that final drawing - cold and despondent. 

That sketch was of Alaric Saltzman, your kindhearted history teacher who believed in infinite chances for a student's grades. He always wore a pained smile - it was a smile for everyone else because he was still hurting but wanted the kids he taught to look forward to the rest of their lives as he no longer did.

You had drawn him differently.

No smile. Just the pain. Pain that had morphed into bitterness and bitterness into hate. He was sitting in his desk chair, facing towards the door - toward the viewer - with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and a gun in the other. Smoke rose from the barrel of that gun, and the viewer's perception was tinted red.

You had drawn your history teacher murdering you in cold blood. 

Who does that?

"So…" The silky lilt of Kol's gentle accent tugged you from your thoughts and brought just a little relief. Even if you had nothing, you had Kol. "Do I want to know what inspired this one? Or would I rather sleep tonight?"

You shrugged, apathetic. The weight of the moment yet to sink in.

"I saw a gun in his desk," You answered tonelessly. 

"No shit?"

"Uh, huh." You nodded. "Right next to the colored pencils."

The boy whistled. "I'm regretting some of the things I put in my essay now," He said. 

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "As if you did it."

"Ouch, darling. That hurts." He chuckled lightly and you felt his arms encircle your waist from behind. He tugged you close, resting his head on your shoulder. "You don't know everything about me."

He was trying to joke, for your sake. But nothing could make this better.

"What do I do now?" You asked with a sigh. Kol pressed a kiss to your cheek - light as a feather. For whatever reason, it felt like an apology.

"Well, if I were you," He said. "I'd go out with a bang."

You nodded and shrugged - indifferent. "A bang sounds good."

Kol released you as you slipped your backpack off your shoulders. Eyeing you with a mix of confusion and anticipation, your best friend's eyes flew wide as he watched you wander over to the nearest window, arms reeling back. 

With all your might, you flung your back through the window.

It shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The raucous hallway fell silent and a few dozen pairs of eyes locked on you.

"One of you bastards stole my sketchbook," You told them, not bothering to raise your voice in the slightest. "Is that what you wanted? To see me fall apart?"

No one answered of course as you glanced between stunned expressions.

"Well, I hope you're happy now," You rasped. Shoving a few kids out of your way with the harshness that had been building inside you for months now, you left that school behind you and didn't look back.

The only sound to be heard was Kol's low whistle as the heavy steel doors swung shut. The tears streaming down your face were silent.

You sprinted home through the driving rain, the sky dark and close, almost like a blanket. Perhaps the whole world was crying with you. After all, it always seemed to rain when you were sad.

To your relief, your parents were still at work. You had the comfort of crying in peace. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, slid to the floor… and screamed.

This was your life and it was crumbling in your hands. What else were you supposed to do?

A light knock tapped against the door. So quiet you wouldn't have heard it if the vibrations weren't centered right next to your ear. 

"Y/N?" Kol's voice called from the other side of the wood. You didn't say anything, though your ragged breathing was far from quiet. "Y/N, I know you're in there. I can hear you crying." He laid his hand flat. You could hear that ring he always wore scraping against the wooden surface. "Please let me in?"

You shook your head. "I'm not some charity case," You choked out, throat raw.

"Perhaps to someone else you are," Kol said. He must have been kneeling on your front porch. "But not me. I don't have charity, darling. I'm rather selfish actually."

You huffed a laugh. It was humorless.

"Then why come?"

"Because I'm selfish," He replied. Then quieter. "I don't like to see you cry." His ring tapped against the door a few times. "Darling, please let me in? I want to help."

Your teeth clenched like a vice.

"I don't need you."

For years you'd longed to say those words. Finally, in this haze of fury and anguish, they weren't so hard to speak.

"I know." He sighed. "I know you don't, darling. It's part of why I like you so much."

Well as long as he understood, perhaps it was alright 

You scraped yourself off the floor and opened the door. Kol stood outside, drenched to the bone, same as you. His eyes weren't dead anymore - not the distant black holes they'd once been. No, his eyes were warm chocolate now, melting with something sad. He really did care.

"Come in," You signed, too worn out to speak. 

Kol's brows furrowed. He seemed worried for a moment, though you couldn't guess why. Then he took a tentative step through the door, smiled, and stepped closer, closing the door behind him. 

You watched him take his shoes and coat off through the dim light. Your house was dark. You hadn't bothered with any lights. Once he'd finished, Kol glanced up at you questioningly. You regarded him for a moment. After all, these sorts of situations never seemed to turn out well in the books you'd read and the shows you'd watched. The characters in those stories always seemed to end up doing something they'd regret.

Or maybe they didn't regret it. 

You thought you would though. 

So, contrary to what Kol was likely expecting, you didn't throw yourself into his arms. You just turned and shuffled into the kitchen. You finally switched on some lights. After a moment, he followed you, watching intently. Milling about in science, you collected the supplies required to make the two of you a cup of tea. Your quiet nature combined with your parent's distrust of humanity meant you'd never really had a friend like Kol before - someone you brought to your house and shared food with.

"You hungry?" You asked, waiting for the water to boil. Your hands shook a little, but you didn't feel like speaking. He leaned against the counter opposite you and offered a thin smile you felt you didn't quite understand.

"I'll be okay," He signed back after a moment. He took a deep breath. "I'm more worried about you."

You grimaced involuntarily, eyes shifting to the kettle on the stove. Inside, the pressure would be building until it all rushed out.

"I'm not broken, Kol," You whispered, voice hoarse and thick with more emotion than you'd ever known how to say.

"I know that-" He began, lifting his hands defensively.

"Then why do you look at me like I am?"

Kol's lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. You'd caught onto his ways a long time ago. That boy had been eyeing you like no one you'd ever known since you'd first met him. The only difference was now you were brave enough to call him out on it. So what if he saw you for who you really were? He'd seen enough of it by now. You were sick of hiding anyway.

Kol sighed and pushed off the counter. He made his way toward you with soft eyes and tentative steps until he stood just inches away, boxing you in. You met his dark chocolate eyes and refused to back down even though you knew your cheeks were stained pink. You'd never let anyone this close before.

Pursing his lips, the boy glanced down at the space between you and lifted his hand. He trailed his knuckles hesitantly over your side, then met your eyes again as if to ask permission. You swallowed thickly, but didn't tell him no. With a ghost of a smile, Kol laid his hands on your hips and squeezed firmly. You couldn’t withhold a shudder. His thumbs slipped under your shirt and rubbed your skin softly as he'd done for you a few times before, knowing how much you liked it. His hands seemed to fit perfectly over your hips as though he'd been made to hold you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you relaxed into his touch, letting go of a sigh. His searing hands felt nice when the whole world felt so cold. You needed him closer. 

Reaching up, you fisted the collar of his shirt rather harshly and dragged him toward you, pressing your whole body against his. He flinched slightly, surprised by your newfound eagerness, but he quickly reciprocated. Kol chuckled softly and you felt his lips graze your temple before he clinched your hips tighter and lifted you to sit atop the counter. Your heart stuttered and raced in your chest and you gasped sharply, drawing back enough to catch the smirk dancing on his lips. Your cheeks reddened further as he urged you to spread your legs so he could stand between them. His arms circled around your back and you hesitated.

So what if he was a senior? So what if you were a couple of months younger than he was? He'd been a good friend to you. 

Shaking your doubts away, you wrapped your legs around him and rested your head on his chest. Kol hummed quietly and pressed another soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

"I know you're not broken, darling," He said. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging a blazing heat into your bones. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is that you really are."

Your hands on his shirt clenched tighter.

"I'm angry,” You admitted. 

“Why?”

His question prompted your lips to twist into a scowl as a hysterical laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Really? You’re asking me why?” You huffed, shaking your head. “How ‘bout why not? I’m sick of it, Kol. All of it. The lies, the expectations - nothing is right in this town and I hate it! I’m seventeen! I should get to feel safe but I see people and they’re dropping like flies. And you’d think I’d at least get the luxury of being terrified, but no! I have to act like nothing is wrong!” You looked up at him, tears returning to sting your eyes. “I tried to. I really did. But it was too much and I couldn’t and I had to put it all somewhere. Now some idiot who thinks they’re funny just up and ruined my whole future. I’ll never get a job here now, not like it matters because mom and dad are shipping me off to some mental institution-”

“What?!” Kol cut your rambling off suddenly. Reeling back, he stared at you with wide eyes. You just shrugged. “Your parents are sending you away over this?” He demanded.

You raised a brow. “Kol, this is kind of a big thing.”

“How?!” He exclaimed. His grip on your hips tightened. He seemed agitated - more than you would expect. “You drew some creepy pictures. So what?! Who cares?!”

“A lot of people care,” You deadpanned. “I drew the likeness of people around me without their consent. That's a big no-no. My parents are worried I’m overstressed, narcissistic, and paranoid. They say I need help.”

“No, that’s not-” He cut himself off this time, teeth grinding. He wouldn’t look at you, just squeezed his eyes shut tight. You waited for him to gather his thoughts. 

“They can’t take you away from me.” 

Finally, he looked up. Smoldering black eyes met your own with a determination that couldn’t possibly have belonged to an eighteen year old boy. It was etherial - hard to capture and even harder to understand. His eyes seemed darker all of a sudden. An odd trick of the light. 

“That’s a nice sentiment,” You said quietly. “But unless you’ve got some hard-core magic up your sleeve, it’s not gonna change anything.”

Kol nodded stiffly. “Magic, eh?” His voice was dry - strained almost. He let go of you and took a step back, bracing his hands on the counter. The breaths he drew were long and deep - shaking. His eyes flicked back to yours, blazing with something needy. He cursed. 

“Screw it.”

The boy surged forward and his lips caught yours before you could even blink. His arms wound around you again and held you tight and close. One hand wove itself into your hair, tugging on the strands greedily. You couldn’t seem to focus enough to keep your eyes open, they fluttered closed as Kol pressed closer to you. You weren’t sure what to do or how to react, so you just tentatively kissed him back.

Kol flinched. Actually flinched, like he hadn’t expected his affection to be returned.

He pulled away, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. 

Had you done the right thing? Would you regret this tomorrow? Would he?

“Kol, wha-”

His lips on yours shut your doubts up pretty quickly. 

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” That boy whispered into your mouth. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m going to fix everything, darling. I promise.”

He left you no time to think. He just pressed you closer - as close as he possibly could and you felt warm. Warm and safe and wanted. His fervent kisses grew increasingly heated and desperate by the second. It was like you were in a haze, possessed almost. There was a sweetness and hunger to him that you were entirely unaccustomed to. Holding the back of your head with a gentle hand, Kol was tender and patient yet determined as he licked at the seam of your mouth. You gasped, flinching as you felt his arm around your waist constrict almost painfully. Seizing the opportunity, Kol swiftly deepened the kiss with a hum of satisfaction. He wasn’t harsh or forceful about it. You just weren’t sure. A tiny whimper escaped your throat but he just swallowed it eagerly. Did you really want this? Were you ready? 

You felt suffocated, trapped, and unable to breathe. You pulled back, trembling. But Kol wouldn’t let you go. He broke away, shaking his head.

“No, no. Darling, shhhhhh.” He combed your hair back with his fingers. It was comforting. “You’re alright. I’m not doing anything.”

“Kol, please-”

“No, you’re fine. Everything is going to be alright. Just trust me,” He promised. The boy smiled and settled his lips on yours again. You didn’t fight him. All you could seem to do was shudder as he captured your lower lip and bit down. On his shirt, your hands relaxed. It was almost as if he’d drugged you. Something about that was disturbing, yet you clenched your thighs around him nonetheless.

“See?” Kol flashed you a soft grin as he broke away this time, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay, love. This isn’t me hurting you.”

Then what was?

Kol’s hands slid beneath your shirt and they were so warm as he ran them over your waist and higher onto your ribcage. You had half a mind to let him do anything he wanted, but something wasn’t right. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks at terminal velocity. 

On the stovetop, the tea kettle screamed a warning.

Magic was your first clue. That and he’d said he’d fix things. 

What if he already had?

You stilled. All the warmth in his touch faded in an instant and you let go of him. You didn’t cry out or shove him back. You just quit moving.

Kol’s mouth slowed soon enough. He pulled his hands away and stepped back. The boy eyed you for a moment, but you wouldn’t look at him. Then he cursed. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened.” Throwing his head back, he scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was a disgusting thing to do. Please forgive me?”

You didn’t. You just drew your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball. The tears came back. Your ribcage shook with your pained breaths. 

“Y/N?” His voice was faint and far away. “Y/N, please look at me?”

You hardly heard the words that left his lips. You were too busy processing his greater sin.

The declaration came out as hardly a whisper. 

“It was you.”

Kol blinked. Then he frowned. 

“Darling… what are you talking about?”

You shook your head. Tears streamed down your face.

“Why?” You seethed. “Why would you do it?!”

He took a step back, seeming hurt. “Sweetheart… I’m sorry but you’re not making any sense.”

You weren’t going to play that game. Wordlessly, you hopped off the counter and strode over to the kitchen doorway. Kol had dropped his backpack there. You tore it open and rummaged around until you found it. A little book covered in black Sharpie. 

“How many high school students do you think know Nordic Runes?” You challenged softly.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Probably quite a few. I suspect it’s a relatively common niche interest.”

You hummed. “Let me rephrase then: How many high school students in Mystic Falls do you think are fluent enough in runic languages to correct it when they see a mistranslation?” You whipped around, displaying your oh-so-precious stolen sketchbook in your hands.

The color drained from Kol’s face.

“Darling… I can explain that,” He tried, voice raw - desperate for you to believe him. You wouldn’t. 

You offered him a smile. That same fake, hateful smile you offered to all the people in this town who lied to you. 

“Leave.”

Kol looked as though he’d been shot. 

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

You shook your head. 

“I won’t say it twice,” You spat. Then, switching off your hearing aids, you turned away and started for the stairs. “You know where the door is,” You called over your shoulder, half growling the words. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out… bastard.”

Upstairs in your room, you locked the door and cried. This time you didn’t make a sound.

***

Kol had screwed up. Royally. 

In fact, he was convinced that this was even worse than that time he’d accidentally played god on the continent now known as Australia. (Mammals shouldn’t lay eggs and none would if not for his hubris and an escaped lab rat. Or in this case, a lab platypus.) However, this time, Kol couldn’t just run away. Of course, there was mother dearest’s spell to consider but, that wasn’t the only thing keeping him from leaving that girl and her stupid precious tears behind. For whatever reason, he couldn’t stand what he’d done. He knew this for a fact because he’d had all night to think about it.

Her face, sparkling with fresh tears, was an image burned into his memory. Kol couldn’t seem to forget the tremble in her voice as she’d pulled that bloody sketchbook out of his bag. He could still hear her crying on the other side of her bedroom door. No matter how long he’d begged her to let him in, that door had remained locked. 

This wasn’t how things were meant to go - not when he’d been so close. He couldn’t stand it. 

She’d almost been his. Kol had finally held his sweet little artist in his arms and nothing, nothing - no drug nor blood-induced high he’d ever experienced - could ever compare to finally getting to touch her. He could have had more. He could have won his prize - could have kept her forever.

But he’d screwed up. Now, she loathed him.

He could stand losing a game every now and again. That was what kept things fun. But this wasn’t a game anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He couldn’t lose. Kol refused to lose.

Luckily, his delicious little artist was very, very human. 

He would go to her one more time, he resolved, to try to explain things. Truthfully, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done, but that couldn’t change the facts. Kol needed her. He wouldn’t give her up just because he’d been dumb enough to let her snatch that sketchbook from his satchel. It wasn’t her fault. Had their roles been reversed, he wouldn’t forgive himself either. But luckily, his steel-spined artist was human. Luckily, Kol could erase his little mistake. 

Perhaps he could grab a quick bite from her too before he wiped her memory. A little taste might aid his patience for her - he didn’t fancy slipping up again like he had the night before. If he hurt her without realizing what he was doing, Kol knew he would kill his little artist far too soon.

He’d made his decision. The only thing that gave him pause was the wrinkled sheet of paper Bekah found that morning. 

“Kol?” Her voice rang through their brother’s mansion carrying confusion and worry. “I think you might want to see this…”

He’d been at her side in a split second, snatching the paper from her hands. It was a drawing, and Kol recognized its style of it instantly. Her lines were intimately familiar to him now, even as harsh and erratic as they were in the sketch he held. 

His beloved artist had finally drawn him. 

The twisted image was startlingly and horrifically accurate. Something clenched in his chest at the sight. She’d drawn his countenance pale, his hair was a wild mess and his eyes were black, empty holes. A vicious snarl warped his lips, accompanying razor-sharp fangs that looked all too real. In the picture, he knelt in the driving rain, cradling a limp corpse. His lips were coated in thick, crimson blood. Enamored as he was with his nightmarish likeness, Kol’s eyes were drawn to the most lifeless part of the image. He would have recognized those paint-stained clothes anywhere.

Now, Kol had added little notes to the drawings he’d stolen from his sweet artist’s sketchbook. This time, she had included her own. 

The harsh, hate-filled words read: “Vampire - a creature that feeds off the misery of others.”

At the bottom of the page, his artist had left him one more note.

“I hope you’re satisfied.”

Rebekah, peering over his shoulder now, whistled lowly. 

“That’s not Nik’s work,” She noted.

“No.” His voice came out sharp, clipped. “No, its not.”

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

Kol shrugged and tucked the drawing in his pocket. “No one important,” He lied. 

Shortly after that, he arrived beneath the trusses of Wickery Bridge. He knew where that girl would be - knew his artist couldn’t leave a piece unfinished. If she noticed him coming from a far ways off, she gave no inclination. Kol, however, noticed quite a few things. The tremor in her hands as she moved a can of paint back and forth in front of her. A used sleeping bag laid out among the rocks. A banana peel displaying the only proof she’d eaten any sort of meager breakfast. He noticed. He always noticed. 

His feet crunched on the gravel as he approached but he doubted the girl heard it - more than likely she had her hearing aids powered off. He could see the appeal in it. After all, it got quite loud in his head sometimes. Turning off the sounds of the world might be nice, but such was not his curse. 

Kol wound his arms around her waist from behind and leaned down. Her skin was so smooth and perfect, it was hard to resist simply biting down and taking her all to himself, but instead of piercing her throat he opted to kiss her a few times, gently. He knew how she would react by now. Y/N wouldn’t fight or squirm, she wouldn’t even scream. 

She just relaxed. 

Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. 

A spitfire when angered, she could be quite impressive; however, when confronted she would always resort to that last option.

He could scent her fresh tears as they slipped down her face, while in his arms her body shuddered, though not quite the way he would prefer. Only one word could seem to manifest through her pain. 

"Why?" She didn't say it out loud, just signed it. Kol held her tighter, shrugging.

"Because I'm an attention whore," He answered simply. It was the truth too. "And I don't know when to stop."

He would always need that artist more than she needed him. From the first moment he'd met her, that was how their story had gone.

If it was even possible, that girl melted further into his embrace. Her head rested against his collarbone and she sighed.

"So you think I'm crazy too, huh?" She smiled and it was a miserable thing.

"I never thought you were crazy, love," He admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just didn't care for a while at first."

"What changed?" She wondered, brows furrowing.

"You smiled at me."

The girl barked a laugh. "Oh, well that's nice." She rolled her eyes.

Kol pulled her closer to him, as though he could make her feel the emotions he couldn't explain. "Don't believe me?"

"Nope." And she never minced words.

"It does sound rather cliche, doesn't it?"

"Ya think?" She scoffed. Her chest still shook with sobs she tried to suppress. He twisted her body around to pull her into a proper hug. Again, she didn't resist. She'd completely given up. 

Kol didn't like this hopeless, hysterical version of the strong, dagger-sharp artist he'd come to adore. He'd seen this sort of apathy before and typically it bored him. In her, it only seemed to hurt. It impressed him to hold her close until she finally understood that he was bloody sorry!

"Can you ever forgive me?" Kol found himself asking. Funny, he couldn't seem to remember another time he'd wondered such a thing. 

Y/N snorted humorlessly. 

"Maybe in a million years," She replied sourly. "Or maybe when the nut-house straightens me out - whichever comes last."

Those words stung like poison. It had been so, so long since he'd made a mistake he couldn't fix with a snap of his fingers. Accountability was a nasty, uncomfortable thing. 

A voice in the back of his mind reminded Kol that he could always compel his pretty little artist. But… he'd rather hoped her affection for him might be real. He didn't want to ruin that just yet.

Kol groaned quietly and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, fixing his lips over that girl's pulse again. The effect was somewhat calming despite making his fangs ache like nothing else. 

"I care about you, darling," He mumbled into her skin. 

"And I trusted you."

He understood. That girl didn't trust anyone. Now he was just another reason why.

A police siren flared to life in the distance, drawing closer. The artist in his arms chuckled dryly.

"Sounds like my ride's here," She observed, void of all life or emotion. The wheels of a police cruiser pulled to a stop not far off. She'd be caught in the act and Kol happened to know the police force had been set on vervain. 

"I won't let them take you," He swore, tightening his grip on his little artist. A car door slammed shut. Footsteps began approaching.

"And what are you gonna-"

Kol picked her up and ran. Consequences be damned. That girl was his. 

He stopped on the pretentious front porch of his brother's mansion and allowed her to absorb her new surroundings. She trembled in his arms, eyes round as saucers as she glanced around.

Her eyes met his and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Kol?" Her voice was thick with dread. "What… just-"

"You're okay," He assured her in lieu of an answer. He spoke calmingly, but she wouldn’t allow him to step any nearer. "You're safe now."

"No." Her voice was bold and firm. She held out a hand, increasing the space between them. “Tha-that wasn’t right. We-we-we were, uh… We were there… a-and now we’re here. What happened? Tell me. Tell me what you did!”

“Relax darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” He lied. The boy smiled disarmingly, voice a honeyed guise - it had worked before, back before she’d trusted him. “It’s just me.”

“No… No, y-you’re not-” She bit her lip and retreated further, blinking rapidly. 

He took another step closer, shushing her disoriented protests. “You’re alright, love. It’s. Just. Me.”

“NO!” The girl cried out with a tone forged from steel, but Kol watched as her resolve warped and cracked. He could see it rise to the surface - that all-consuming fear in his delectable little artist that he so relished and despised. “No… Kol, stop. Please.” Her sweet melody of a voice came out as a hoarse whisper now. “Y-you were my friend, and… I-I still want you, I do. But you need to stop. You’re not supposed to be like everyone else. Stop lying.”

Kol sighed heavily. His artist had been betrayed, time and time again. He couldn’t be like the rest of this godforsaken town - not if he wanted her. Yet… If he told her the truth - if he revealed himself to be everything that terrified her so - how would she possibly stand his presence?

“Do you truly wish to know?” He asked, unable to meet her gorgeous, all-too-perceptive eyes.

"I have to,” She whispered, almost to herself. “I’m not crazy. I-I didn't just imagine that!"

“You’re right.” He nodded and offered her a slight, halfhearted smirk. "You see too much for your own good, sweet thing. But please remember, you asked to be shown this part."

Kol thought about her - about his gorgeous, perfect artist. He inhaled deeply, taking in her mouth-watering scent. He focused on her heartbeat - wet and strong - let it lull him. He pictured that adorable, appetizing blush that always spread across her cheeks when he touched her. Kol allowed himself to imagine just how sweet, how lush, how devastatingly succulent that girl would taste just beneath her soft, warm human skin.

Then, welcoming that corrupt temptation, surrendering to it, he opened his eyes. 

His little artist screamed.

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[choicesficwriterscreations]

November Creator of the Month: Lizzybeth1986

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @lizzybeth1986 We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Lizzy, absolutely 😁

*Center art by @sazanes

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing mid 2017, I think. I played the flagship books (TF, TCaTF, MW), and def preferred TF at the time.

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Tumblr fandom in 2017, around the time of the TRR finale. Mostly because the Liam hate at the time was intense and I wanted to write metas about why Liam was, in fact, not “a dick who betrayed the MC” 😂

I did have a Tumblr account before that (made it in 2015 to follow Bollywood film posts), but never actually used it.

How did you pick your blog name?

I was lazy af so it was my middle name plus my birth year haha

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it! 

I started out with a couple reblogs, but my first actual post was about the romance points mechanism in TRR1. There was a point in the middle of the book where one nice word to Drake would give you an automatic romance point, and I was like, “Huh??? Either treat him like shit or risk him catching feels for me? Is that how it is???”. Thankfully, that stopped after two chapters. After that, I did an essay series analyzing Liam’s actions in the finale called “The Crown, The King and The Flame.” Romance Points Post The Crown and the Flame

How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Almost 6 years now! I started doing Liam fics around the beginning of TRR2.

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

I’m the most invested in TRR and PM, but between the two I’d probably say PM is my fave book overall. But yeah, my favourite book to write about would be TRR, because Liam, Hana and Kiara are such fantastic characters to write about! (Hayden and Sloane, too, but I’m still in the process of getting comfortable writing them).

Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

It was Keychains, my two part fic series featuring my MC and Liam. It was set around the time the MC was waiting in the airport in TRR2, just before Maxwell and Bertrand intervene. It had a follow up with Liam’s PoV too.

I really like it. It included some really good hc’s I made at the time, like Esther buying an apple keychain to represent Cordonia at the same time, and Liam calling her his wife in Greek and Esther not realizing what the phrase meant. I thought the pathos and slight humour was quite well-done. I can’t think of much I would want to change in the story.

Keychains 1 Keychains 2

What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

As a series – Eleanor’s Kitchen! It’s ongoing, and it’s a joy to write. I love exploring food from a cultural lens, and since Cordonia was a fictional country, I could explore a variety of ethnicities and food cultures. Liam had a literal diamond scene that explored gastrodiplomacy, and I wanted to explore his childhood and Eleanor’s friendships too.

Individually – I would say my Kiara fic “An Ear to the Ground”. Kiara is a delightful character and exploring the social season through her eyes was a real journey! I also love “The Stars (Are Out Tonight)” which explores the early days of the Sloane & Hayden friendship. I used asterisms and constellations to symbolize moments in their friendship.

Eleanor's Kitchen An Ear to the Ground The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cordonian Waltz was definitely a surprise in terms of reception!! It was written in the style of headcanons I was seeing at the time, and I wrote it in second person. It became my most widely-read fanfic very fast, and every once in a while it would experience a major surge in readership. I enjoyed writing it and thought it was a lovely, romantic piece, but I really wasn’t expecting it to finally have 250+ reblogs out of it, and people coming and telling me this was the fic that got them into Liam x MC in the first place. I find that deeply gratifying 😍

There’s a lot of fics that I feel need more engagement and appreciation, but I can understand that those characters also don’t exactly get much of an audience. My entire PM set comes under this category; they typically get low readership. I think my Hana and Kiara fics too could do with more of an audience.

@twinkleallnight once told me that when she reads my stuff, she usually takes a long time just to ruminate on the story, and I like to believe that often, that’s why the engagement isn’t always immediate. Which I like too!! I like that some of my stuff can make people stop and think, and I like to believe that over time, the work will have its own impact.

Cordonian Waltz PM Set

If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Probably fluff but with a lot of observation and sometimes somber reflections. I’m not that great with angst…and I’ve never actually tried smut? But maybe one day 😄

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! Some of my MCs are v different from me but I always incorporate something from my life experiences in them. Like Esther taking photos of the sunset or Basil not being science oriented but still having an interest in space.

Character wise I find I put a lot of myself into a lot of the characters I write. Notably, Liam, Hana, Kiara, certain Haydens and Sloane. Liam’s love for learning, different aspects of Hana and Kiara’s experiences as queer women, Sloane’s experiences as a neurodivergent woman, and especially my Scholar!Hayden’s (Iris) observations. I tend to incorporate a lot of my feelings and experiences more into certain canonical characters than in MCs.

What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Dialogue, I think. Especially when it’s a character I don’t relate to that much. But also sometimes when it’s a character I love but am only starting to write because then I really overthink it!

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Hmm…probably neglected wouldn’t be the word I’d use…I just take a very long time to kickstart them 😂

But yeah, definitely my Petals and Thornes series? That’s the fic series I’m doing for Hana x Kiara, that is supposed to explore TRR2 and 3 from their PoV (with significant changes). So far I’ve only been able to do some one-shots and hcs in that universe, but I do want to start the actual series soon!

I have some essay series’ I’d love to work on too! My Hana essay series which has two essays left, The Hayden Young Project, and a possible series on the alternative Lis of TRR!

Petals and Thornes Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Hmm. A few people have asked me, actually, and while I’m not fully opposed to showing them I’ll probably take some time before I do show my work. I’ll probably overthink how much will be understandable to a reader who doesn’t have the context of the source, and what they may not understand.

What to show them first? I’m not sure! Maybe the smaller ones first, like Cordonian Waltz. Or my RCD fic Snowstorms, because it doesn’t have more than 2-3 canon characters featuring and I do talk a little about being a closeted queer teen figuring out their sexuality through cinema, which is an overall relatable experience to some! Snowstorms

Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

In my early years I used to emulate Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s style. Much of her work that I read as a teen was pretty flowery, sometimes bordering on purple prose, and I really loved that style and tried to go that way. But now I think a variety of writers from different genres inform my writing. In terms of published authors, Jhumpa Lahiri, Helen Hoang, and non-fiction ones like Rukmini Pande, Ruby Hammad and Mikki Kendall.

In Choices fic, @callmetippytumbles for sure – a lot of the questions she was tackling with her MC in her Home series served as inspiration for some of the ideas I’ve been having in mind for Petals and Thornes. @thefirstcourtesan is a great writing buddy to have, too, and she has a knack for saying a lot in very few words! There’s also my amazing group of friends (shoutout to @cassiopeiacorvus, @thecapturedafrique, @mand-delemonde, and @beyonceswigs, as well as @twinkleallnight , @dcbbw @mariemarieohcontrary , @choicesfrog, @grapecaseschoices and @ohsnapitzlovehacker…the discussions are so good and leave some much to think about afterward 💖💖). All these discussions ALWAYS fuel my ideas and make me think out of the box.

I’ve also recently started writing polyamorous characters and relationships, and @angelasscribbles stories and resources have been such a great help in navigating that!

Home

@angelasscribbles Poly Resources

Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Haha! I’ve not even started the proper series yet but I think Petals and Thornes? But besides that maybe Eleanor’s Kitchen may work as a series idk 😄

Do you write original fiction?

I do try! I’ve done a few short stories but before I started fanfic, I did a lot of spoken word poetry and that was fun.

What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, watching video essays, spending months on hyperfixations 😂 and a little cooking. My kid’s gotten into craft recently and has succeeded in taking me down that rabbit hole too haha.

I used to be into making fruit wines but have gotten inconsistent with that over the years.

What’s your favorite emoji?

Because I have a huuuge thing for nerds – this one: 🤓

BONUS – tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

A story my mum often tells about how I got into writing, began with some good old-fashioned sibling rivalry. Apparently as a child I was notorious for writing things on the walls of our house. One day my older brother got a hardbound royal-blue covered notebook to write in, with gold lettering on the cover…and I got instantly jealous that I didn’t get one (I was 6 or 7 and already fond of telling stories). When I complained my mum made me a deal – she would get me the same notebook…IF I stopped writing on the walls and began writing in that instead 😂 It worked. My mother is a smart woman.

I love spoilers!! I will read the end of a novel I’m reading and then go back and read the rest. Sometimes I even read books all the way backwards lol.

I love romance, and my favorite tropes include second-chance romance and mutual pining while believing the other person will never love you back! Because, at heart, I’m a dramatic bitch.

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc creator of the month #the royal romance #perfect match #lizzybeth1986 #playchoices #playchoices fanfic